Realistic or Modern 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 — at the end of the world

[Aegis]

SCENE THREE
The Fight​

Connor's eyes darted here and there as he drank in as much information as possible. Sure, he was a captive and this wasn't going to end well for him, but at the end of the day he wouldn't stop trying to get himself and Tanner out of this until he was an oozing corpse on the floor. He was elated to see that they treated Tanner well, and even despite his embarrassment as the kid's question he couldn't help but let a smile creep across his face as he watched on. Yet, it wasn't to be for long as the kid was ushered off somewhere else. The soldier's heart sank and in an unconscious reaction his hand twitched to reach out for the boy, but the words from Sir's mouth was enough to freeze him cold with fear in his tracks, 'Never see him again.'

Connor knew the game. He had been taught briefly about what to do should you be captured by the enemy, but that was a long time ago and he had a few years after that to sit on his couch before things went to hell. Still, he had to do his best for both him and the kid. If Weston was the guy behind the frier absently taking an order then Connor became the fryer itself. The soldier sunk into the landscape as he shoved all expression and emotion deep inside of himself and slammed the lid shut with lock and key. Connor was glass: his eyes were mirrors, his soul clouded, and his surface serene-- calm, despite the grime and gore.

"Understood, sir. I'll do whatever you ask of me."

It was curt but concise. How could anyone expect it to be any other way? True to his word, he made not a move nor a complaint as he taken away to be searched. The room was cold, desolate, and he imagined it was meant to be so. The thought of sitting naked on a chair that frigid made him shutter for just a second, but the overall atmosphere of the room began its grim work on his will. Yet, he was no easy nut to crack and it would take more than a clichéd interrogation room to begin to chip at it. For now, his will was the battlements of a great castle under siege by a horde of barbarians, and he wouldn't let them see what was inside.

The thugs exposed that which should never be done by force, but Connor had no choice. First fell the plate carrier, underneath was a plain-color, gray, long-sleeved shirt that seemed to have avoided most of the prior carnage. Next, his shirt and pants. There was nothing particularly alarming about his legs aside from a few scarred masses where he had been injured since things fell, but when they removed his shirt it was a different story entirely. Connor's arms were bandaged and every item of skin that wasn't sheltered by his clothes was layered in thickened blood and dirt. Unravelling the bandages was a gruesome sight to behold, his arms were chewed by scars and damaged skin as though he had stuck both his arms into a furnace for several minutes. They were red and raw, recent enough. Despite the tinge of guilt and embarrassment inside, Connor kept a straight and unaffected face. Otherwise, he seemed to be in decent enough shape. The soldier was well-toned and muscular-- albeit, perhaps a bit too lean from a lack of consistent food. The only other notable thing about him was a military tattoo across his back 'ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ', or for the uninitiated, "Come and take it."

The men did their work and before long Connor had been thoroughly examined to the result of finding nothing of interest.

Connor cut his gaze to Weston after the search and then to the chairs. He had two choices: sit down or wait to be told to sit down. On one hand, sitting down of his own accord could show compliance, but it also showed an intelligence and perhaps a decisive nature; it could either work toward earning respect from the Sir or distrust of intention. Alternatively, waiting to be told to sit down showed a submissiveness and adherence to command, but likely would gain no respect from the man whatsoever. It was a gamble, but it was something to consider.

Connor took his chances and sat-- naked, in the seat with the cuffs.

--------

Tanner didn't quite know what to make of the situation, but what he did know was that he could be satisfied with that answer. In a twisted way, he was glad to see other people again after Sarah. Connor had been quiet and reluctant to reach out to others since that day, and well... that other day. He loved Connor and he was his entire world, but sometimes he just wanted to talk to someone else, too. Sometimes. So, when the lady-- man? When, Muther asked him to come along and get mac n' cheese.... a-and hot dogs! How could he resist that? Tanner wanted to meet other kids if there were any, and maybe-- if he was lucky, he'd land himself a girlfriend. Tanner beamed at the thought.

"He's not my dad... he had to kill him, but he's even better than a dad!"

It was morbid, but Tanner was wholly unaware of that or too used to it to notice. Besides that, this lady liked to ask A LOT of questions. That was cool, though, because he had become very used to just doing whatever Connor had done. Yet, as he made his first few steps away from the man he had spent the last portion of his life with-- Tanner couldn't help but stare back.

"S-sure! I'd like a big bowl, but only if you get a big bowl, too. You and Connor. Then we can eat together."

NanLia Bullyboy Squad F foolish99 Safton Jabroni sanatanas The Cat Man ​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

SCENE ONE
The Convoy​

I'm listening.

That's all that Font had to say and that was enough. Cabrera downed his drink in a one hasty swing and set the glass down with a bang.

"Good, let's start from the—"

The crackling of the walkie talkie shattered the quiet evening with an angry message that sliced through the stillness of the room. It thrust both men into an instant state of alertness.

Cabrera's gaze clashed with Font's wide eyes and like with a switch, both of them jolted. Xander hurriedly closing his pants and Ignacio snatching the holstered pistol off the desk.

They bolted for the door almost in the same heartbeat but Cabrera was faster. And his intentions were not clear as he gripped the gun tight after hearing one of his men was in trouble.

But as he caught the handle and yanked the door open, he gave Xander space in the same fluid motion. Letting the father take point. Springing right after him.

Worry and determination etched deep lines on their faces. The mad run was a blur, with the two dodging around corners and sprinting up the stairs. They charged down the hallway, their boots pounded against the floor in a frenzied rhythm. They hit the last stretch like two racing horses, their breaths burning in their lungs.

*

The few wispy locks fell to the ground when the Samaritan froze. Knife still pressed against Minnie's dark hair but no longer cutting it. The cold muzzle of the gun a promise of what would happen if he continued. The man growled with bared teeth.

"The kid stabbed him like a maniac, you blind?" He let go of the girl but didn't lose the grip on the knife. Staying still just to not provoke the female scavenger.

Nate snapped at her. "Pull that fucking trigger bitch and you'll have to explain to boss why you're in the room with two dead enforcers."

That was when the sounds of the boots beating at the ground echoed around and drew Roz's attention. Nate used that as an opportunity to grab her gun and jerk it up while sending a sucker punch to her gut.

Being freed from the deadly threat the other enforcer moved back toward the girls, going to grab Minnie by the hair again. Kids needed a heavy hand or they wouldn't learn.

That's when the two shirtless men barged into the room.

MokaChan Togy Safton @Processed Stardust BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow The Cat Man @SlaughterMelon ​

 

[Safton]

Scene One:
The Convoy
​

Xander had heard Cabrera's radio squawking, listening to it as a matter of habit -- trying to discern anything he could about the School's occupiers. Then the man on the other end mentioned them. Haewon and Minnie. A fight. Someone hurt. His mind had gone blank at that point as Xander stood up, not bothering with a shirt as he darted for the door. He had felt a brief moment of frustration and panic as Cabrera blocked his path at the threshold and he thought the Samaritan might look to keep him here, to prevent him from getting to the girls. He decided there in that split-second that there would be no words, no negotiation if that was the case. He would fight his way past this man or die in the attempt.

Luckily, it didn't prove necessary as the door swung open and the bandit allowed him wordlessly through. Font didn't dwell on the implications, instead staggering out into the corridor at an awkward jog that soon picked up into a pained sprint as years-old injuries protested in the form of aches and pains... pain that he managed to force down through stubbornness and the sweet release of adrenaline into his bloodstream. The corridor was silent beyond the sound of his and Cabrera's heaving breaths, their feet padding against tiled floor until finally they arrived at the room in question. Already Xander could hear anxious voices, sounds of a struggle.

He entered the room, panting, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as his eyes took in the sight. One Samaritan woman down, clutching at her gut. One of her compatriots standing over her, gun in-hand. Haewon was just behind him. And there, closer to Xander -- was Minnie. Blood streaking down her arms, down her forehead. Tufts of her hair littered the floor. A meaty paw reaching out for her forearm, the Samaritan it was attached to looking up to give Xander a dumbfounded look of surprise.

He was moving before he knew it, heedless of the fact that the other Samaritans in the room -- perhaps even Cabrera himself -- might shoot him in the back. Xander was on autopilot in that moment, having given up any pretense of being the cool, calm voice of reason or the level-headed negotiator from hours earlier. Now he was little better than a scorned father lashing out at someone who had hurt one of his own.

The Enforcer grasping at Minnie didn't raise a hand to defend himself, whether due to the sudden speed and unexpectedness of Xander's approach, the fact that he was currently shirtless and thus presumably unarmed... or the fact that it wasn't a punch that came his way. Instead, Xander took two long strides to close the gap between them, sinking down low into his haunches before surging upwards in one single motion, propelling the front of his skull into the man's nose like a a battering ram. Xander was vaguely aware of a pathetic, pained moan as the man grasped desperately at his own face as it poured a fountain of red. Xander ignored it, wrapping up the Samaritan's legs, scooping them out from under him and taking him to the floor as if he was back on the wrestling mats as a teen. Straddling the Enforcer's hips who now lay flat on his back, Xander balled up his fists, letting out an unintelligible shout of his own as he prepared to rain down blows on the figure beneath him.

​

NanLia Bullyboy Squad Miaow Crono MokaChan Togy BeyondDandy @SlaughterMelon The Cat Man ISHTAR

​

 

[Namazu]

SCENE THREE
The Fight​

Waiting for the search to be completed gave Weston time to duck off to grab a clipboard, paper, and something to write with. Luckily enough he found lined notebook paper and a black pen, which in his mind made this seem more official. Put together and planned, even. Not like the time they interviewed that pair of stragglers with yellow construction paper and a red pen that kept skipping. For some reason, that minor inconvenience still irked Weston months later; it wasn’t a good look.

Settling himself in the empty chair across Connor, he gave the man a brief look-over - a disinterested study. He’d been informed no contraband or weapons had been found, and that the man had some kind of military tattoo. Those doing the search didn’t know what it meant, nor did Weston, but accurately enough figured it was probably military.

Weston cleared his throat, resting the clipboard on one knee.

“So this is how this is going to go,” Weston started, clicking the pen three times. “I’m going to ask you some questions, get to know who you are and how you wound up stumbling into my people. I’ll jot that all down. Keep a record, y’know? We’ll discuss it among ourselves whether you can stay here, or whether we’ll send you on your way with best wishes and a full stomach. You’ll answer honestly, because it's in your best interest to do so. Got it?”

He didn’t wait long for Connor’s response. It actually didn’t matter if the man got it or not. The questions started out predictable. Full name. Age. Place of birth. Marital status. What he did Before All This. Military service. Whether he had a criminal record. Then came the health questions - was he reliant on any medication? Did he have any chronic health problems or injuries? Did he have any STIs? Whatever Connor said, Weston wrote down. Weston made no effort to conceal his notes from the man, so he’d see that if he refused to answer, Weston would jot down “D/N/A” - short for Did Not Answer - on the paper.

The hard questions came next - or maybe ones that Connor would be even less willing to answer.

“What’s your relation to the kid?”

Aegis NanLia Bullyboy Squad Safton Jabroni sanatanas The Cat Man ​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

SCENE ONE
The Convoy​

Ignacio's brain worked on full tilt. It snatched the sight and rapidly transformed it into a synaptic message that hurled him forward.

Sweat-covered muscles bulged, burning through another injection of adrenaline. He moved with effortless precision, often seen in his pit fight days. His trajectory crooked and he used the bed to get higher ground. Steel cap boot boosted from the frame before his knee connected with the enforcer's jaw, sending him reeling backwards with a surprised cry. The pistol smoothy yanked from his loosened grip in the process.

Cabrera landed as gracefully as a dancer but his body braced into a fighting stance, aiming the gun at Nate's face.

"Get on the fuckin' ground." He snarled at the man who just barely regained balance.

Nate spat bloody drool. "Boss-" He slurred, a little dazed and speaking with teeth-cut tongue. "They attacked-"

Cabrera wordlessly tossed the gun back to Roz and simply grabbed the man, shoving him face down next to the other that was getting pounded by the local leader.

"Xander." Cabrera used the other's name for the first time. With an icy warning. "Stop."

MokaChan Togy Safton
BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow The Cat Man @SlaughterMelon ISHTAR ​

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
The Convoy
​

Haewon wiped the blood from her nose as Xander stepped foot in their bedroom, their eyes meeting... or eye, as one of Haewon's had already begun to swell shut. She swallowed, seeing the rage in his eyes as he looked down at Minnie. There wasn't time to explain, she wasn't sure her head was clear enough to even attempt to. Xander was on the man threatening his daughter, ruthlessly beating him. She felt a little sick. She'd never seen Xander so angry before.

Her eyebrows furrowed as Cabrera followed suit. What the fuck was he doing here? If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened. If he'd just pissed off home and left them alone-- Why was he attacking his own men? Was he actually on their side? Haewon was staying to find out.

She grabbed Minnie's shoulder, carefully helping her to her feet. God, there was blood everywhere. It was matted in her hair-- well, what was left of it.
"C'mon, we gotta go," She muttered, holding her head against her side in an attempt to shield her from the tirade their father figure was currently on. Minnie held onto the back of her shirt, stumbling over her own feet on the way out.
"Where's Nari?" She asked meekly. Surely if she was in bed, she would have been woken by the commotion, right?
"I don't know-- Come on," Haewon ushered her ahead. They had to get to the nurse's office before they lost any more blood.

Safton Bullyboy Squad NanLia​

 

[BeyondDandy]

Six months earlier…

An exotic animal is defined by its rarity among other creatures. The one that found itself caged inside Lincoln walls was known as Ignacio Cabrera - a beast of a man brutal enough to murder multiple Samaritans with his bare hands. The small amount of light that crept into solitary confinement gave life to him, displaying the glistening sweat that dropped vibrantly off his body. Against the dark surroundings he shined, looking like an expensive jewel on display in a glass box. Though on the contrary, he basked in the recent death of his enemies and his actions brewed the interest of the highest rule.

Out of his high throne came King, looking to put a face to the person creating chaos in his kingdom. At first glance there was nothing to see. The uncanny visitor lay naked and vulnerable in the weakest of positions. Lincoln was notorious for birthing true monsters within its walls. Those unfortunate enough to find themselves booked in Lincoln could either cower under the savagery or rise above it with devious intention. The shell of a man before him seemed the former, but the gossip that circulated from cell to cell was the latter.

King fiddled with the dog tags in his right hand, hearing Freddie’s voice in the background but not really listening. His mind wandered to his past life, connecting dots he had forgotten once existed. “You can leave us,” he instructed Freddie. Giving the man a chance to walk away before adding to his directive. “And pick up your feet, we’re not animals.” The silent footsteps faded as King gazed upon his new guest. He waited patiently for Ignacio to show signs of intelligent life, a remark or a look but to no avail. He closed in on the room, a foot away from being in the metal box himself. “Ignacio Cabrera…” King announced, attempting to gather the man’s attention.

Next to King was his bodyguard, a rotund giant known as Big Dave (Big Dave died three days later from a peanut allergy). King shuffled the dog tags in his hand, swinging them like a toy to make enough noise and force Ignacio to react - nothing. He then shoved the tags in his inner coat pocket in frustration, adjusting himself to give Big Dave some space to enter the room. “Get his ass up.”

Big Dave looked at Ignacio then back at King. “But he’s naked,” the giant muttered in his deep Shaquille-like voice. King returned with a stern look, which granted him a reluctant nod from Big Dave. The guard stepped into the metal box and as if trying to tame a wild animal, inched his way towards Ignacio with caution. Forcing his sausage fingers on the man, Big Dave ragdolled Ignacio to his knees. He had one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other under his chin. He looked weaker than before despite all the muscle, but it could just be fatigue.

King stepped into the metal box and with his stature blocked all the light in the room. They now stood in what appeared as total darkness. “My name is Marcus King. You may not remember me, but I remember you. I don’t know how you found this place or why fate decided to bring you to me, but in a fortunate turn of events there may be use for you here.” King came inches from the animal and knelt down to come face to face with it.

“I’m building the future Ignacio and I want you in it to remind me of why I started this in the first place. You are the bridge to my past and a building block to our future. What do you say old friend?” ​

​

Bullyboy Squad

 

[NanLia]

SCENE One
The Convoy​

Earlier …

Dutchess stood outside the classroom doorway waiting for Cabrera to be done with his impromptu meeting with the High School Queen of the Populars. She hadn’t spent much time in school, probably less than most would assume but Nari struck as the type. Everyone liked her, she was cute and pretty and acted shy. Dutchess had yet to determine if that shyness was a real trait or an act. She’d seen enough women play to the hearts of men, hell, she had done it herself on more than one occasion. It wasn’t criticism, perse, but Dutchess’s new look on life, after the apocalypse centered on her own liberation, and seeing people be utterly reliant on others made her cringe.

The door was open wide, and while it would easy to listen in on what they were discussing she knew better than to tune in to this particular conversation. It couldn’t be good. Others that Cabrera had been meeting with milled in the halls and then all stood taller when Nari burst from the room and dashed down the hall, visibly upset, sobs … or maybe gagging, echoing along with her footsteps.

Dutchess whistled between her teeth before turning into the room herself.

* * *​

Am I a fucking babysitter?! Dutchess raged as she strode out of Cabrera’s new meeting room, teeth clenched, eyes narrowed, looking for the first person to step into her way just so she could throw down. Sadly, (or maybe fortunately) no one dared, the rest of his men scrambled out of her path as she made her way out the front of the school to get prepped for the trip back to the prison.

She was thankful to be leaving, playing house as long as she had been here was irritating beyond belief. At least on the Ranch, she had freedom. She’d been able to come and go as she pleased, didn’t need to report to anyone and the open air was freeing … almost. Here? Here she was indoors nearly every day, save when she was out scavenging for the school. And her time outside the gates was literally timed; she needed to report back almost constantly and then fully debrief when she came back. Sure, the council here wanted to know what she’d seen and where but it was fucking annoying when her own boss didn’t give a fuck unless she saw something good. Had the trust in her to call out important shit and not bother reporting every minuscule detail.

Outside she rallied her squad, three men, boys really, to start packing up the truck and refueling for their trip back to the prison. The fourth she flagged to follow her back in. “We need to find ourselves and engineer.” How the woman had earned herself a trip back to the prison was beyond her, truthfully, she hadn’t thought anyone was capable of pissing off Cabrera enough to warrant being pulled from the school. Fuck, even the prisoners were staying behind.

​

After the meeting with Cabrera Nari had fled to the girl's washroom where she spent what felt like an hour throwing up. Over and over again until there was just nothing left inside of her. Shaking, from exhaustion and terror, she staggered out of the stall to the sink to wash out her mouth and then her face. She gripped the sides of the porcelain, trying to focus on what she needed to do next. What she could do to try and safeguard her people, her girls, from anyone else.

Her mind kept slipping back to the last thing he’d said, the feel of his hand on her body, making her skin crawl. His voice, a growl over gravel. And then you’d carry my babies. Her hand started to quiver again and she leaned forward to dry heave into the sink, inhaling through her nose, fighting to control herself and failing.

She needed a real distraction, needing something to do with her hands and her mind. She knew she couldn’t return to the girls like this - they would immediately know something was wrong and then want to fight for Xander. Too much to risk. Exiting the bathroom she made her way to her mechanics' classroom where she threw herself to work, repairing whatever gadget was brought to her last.

* * *​

Nari looked up as the door to her classroom opened and in stepped Dutchess. She frowned. “What do you need, Dutchess?” She asked, eyes darting to the man that stepped in behind her.

“Let’s go, princess.” The tattooed woman nodded to the door. “We’re going on a trip.”

Nari didn’t move, her body frozen in place. Her heart thumped in her ears as her mind raced at the possibilities.

And then you’d carry my babies

“No.” She whispered, and Dutchess’s face twisted into a glare.

“You walk on your own, or he’ll drag your ass out. Last chance.”

Nari couldn’t will herself to move, and she wasn’t certain if she even uttered another word. Suddenly the man was at her side, grabbing her wrists, shaking her hands to drop the tools she was still clutching before dragging her off the stool and onto the floor. She did fight, briefly, until he hauled her up to stand, wrapping an arm around her, pinning both her hands against her chest, his free hand gripping the hip of her jumpsuit, lifting her feet off the floor. “I like it when they fight,” he whispered in her ear and her body stilled in shock.

“Shut up,” Dutchess growled, turning and leading them out of the classroom and down the hall to the front of the school.

Nari desperately searched for a friendly face but with everyone sequestered to their places of work, she was alone with the Samaritans. Outside she was hefted into the back of a truck and Dutchess ordered her to sit down before she climbed in after her, the doors closing.

“Please.” She whispered to the woman. “Just… I need to tell Xander, my girls.”

Dutchess sneered but when she went to reply the radio cracked, silencing both of them as the call went out. “Well,” Dutchess shrugged. “Looks like they’re busy. I’m sure Daddy Nacho will let them know where you’ve gone.”

​

​

Safton Miaow Bullyboy Squad​

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[Togy]

Scene 2
Fight or Flight​

Jamie was still talking even as Marco reanimated behind him, retelling their heading and position on the map after almost every minute change. When he was nervous-and he was really fucking nervous today-he defaulted to running his mouth. The habit had gotten him chewed out by his COs more than once, but it was a hard one to break. He was so focused in his own little world, he didn't even notice Marco's dead body slam itself against the back of his seat until they grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him against the headrest. There was just enough time for Jamie to realize what was happening and for the uncharacteristically calm thought of 'well, that's that then' to pass his mind before Denise slammed a knife through Marco's skull.

The helicopter jerked from Marco's interruption, Jamie's control momentarily slipping before a hyper-focus fueled by a deep desire not to slam into the ground in a deceptively fragile steel capsule overcame him and he managed to right the helicopter's course with only a slight patch of turbulence. Sparing a glance behind his pilot's seat to make sure Marco had been a freak encounter rather than the forewarning of a horde suddenly appearing in the fuselage, Jamie refocused on the controls. Finally, the shock of the situation hit him and he let out an incredibly delayed "Holy shit".

Today had just been a day, hadn't it? He'd had plenty of close calls with the marines before, but never this many in short succession. Everything about the situation had built up to such a monumental clusterfuck so quickly that it was almost laughable. Almost. He was still stuck between whether having a panic attack or pissing his pants was the appropriate response to today's events. Once the panic finally wore off, he'd probably look back and laugh at his own unbridled shit luck. Maybe between the nightmares, anyway.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and combined with his lack of sleep he'd probably pass out on the spot sooner or later. Thankfully, they were only a few minutes out from Lincoln. He thought so, anyway. All he had to navigate with was a road map and a Dunkin' Donuts he thought he recognized from the ride over.

Lawrence started yelling behind him, and after a glance to make sure he didn't have a murder weapon aimed at him, Jamie decided he wasn't worth listening to at the moment. Toni and him could settle things on their own, so long as no one drew a gun in the helicopter mid-flight. He could do just about jackshit to stop them if they did other than threaten to turn the helicopter around if they didn't settle down.

Lincoln came into view below them and Jamie began to decrease his altitude. There was a space in the yard cleared out for the helicopter to land in anticipation for the helicopter. A makeshift fuel pump for homemade aviation kerosene and boxes full of tools and spare parts were the only objects lying near a stark empty patch of grass in the middle of the prison yard. Grass and crops waved from the beat of the propellors overhead and stray Samaritans looked up in fascination as the flying machine eased into a hover over the designated landing area. Everyone had heard King's grand speech for the helicopter months ago, but clearly not everyone had believed it. Litter and stray dirt blew in every direction as Jamie decreased the throttle and lowered the machine onto the grass, landing gear touching the ground with little more than a bump.

Killing the engine, Jamie leaned away from the stick and took a deep, calming breath as he slumped against his seat. He didn't move afterward. His eyes had drifted shut and he was out like a light in less than a second.

Bullyboy Squad The Cat Man Namazu BeyondDandy ​

 

[Safton]

Scene One:
The Convoy​

Xander's fists and elbows pounded against the Samaritan's face with hammer-like blows, filling the room with the sound of the meaty impacts. The man beneath him had tried to struggle... briefly. Bucking and bridging with his hips in a futile scramble to try and throw Xander off of him and then -- when that failed -- resorting to covering his face with his hands in some desperate attempt to mitigate the damage.

It didn't help. Xander's blows found their mark and soon the he was aware of how the burly figure had gone limp beneath him, the back of his head bouncing unnaturally off the floor as his elbow collided with his temple. Font heard a voice somewhere in the back of his mind, his name being called. He tuned it out to lift his arm in preparation for another strike as his heart pounded in his throat, sweat running down his forehead. His vision had constricted into narrow tunnels, his victim beneath him the only thing on his mind.

Then he heard them. Minnie and Haewon -- and though he couldn't make out their conversation, their tones hushed and seemingly distant to his mind -- they managed to cut through the rage-filled haze that clouded his faculties all the same. Far more so than his own name had moments earlier. Xander turned, seeing the girls scurry from the room. He plopped over from where he was mounted atop the Samaritan, gracelessly crashing onto the floor -- wracked with the oncoming fatigue of an adrenaline dump -- before forcing himself to his feet. He began moving, making eye contact with Cabrera who was holding the other Samaritan facedown. He couldn't make sense of it right now and didn't want to. Font half-expected the bandit leader to stop him, but no words were spoken between them in those tense few seconds.

Xander took his chance. He staggered out of the room like a drunkard, feeling the cool tile below the soles of his feet. His eyes widened as he saw Haewon & Minnie just down the corridor... and the other Samaritan who had been in their room, curled up in a ball when he arrived. She had her hands on Minnie and Xander started to open his mouth to shout, surging forward -- only to stop short when his eyes made sense of what they were seeing. The woman was binding Minnie's arm as best she could. "Wait," he croaked, announcing his presence as he lurched toward them, still breathing heavily. "Are you okay?" the question was desperate.

Xander unceremoniously knelt down to examine each girl's wounds, his jaw clenched. As he gently brushed back Haewon's hair to get a better look at her black eye, he froze as he realized how much blood covered his hand. Some his, most of it decidedly not.

He quickly pulled his hand back to wipe it -- scuffed knuckles and all -- against his jeans before nodding. "Okay. Infirmary," he said between pants. Xander gave Minnie his best reassuring smile before taking the hand of her uninjured arm in his own, giving it a soft squeeze as the group continued down the hallway toward the former nurse's office.

​

NanLia Bullyboy Squad Miaow Crono MokaChan Togy BeyondDandy @SlaughterMelon The Cat Man ISHTAR

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[Bullyboy Squad]

SCENE ONE
The Convoy​

Cabrera frisked both bodies in a swift, trained manner. Tossing any tools and weapons they had on aside. Away from arms reach.

"Stay down." He barked at both enforcers, one wheezing for breath, and he straightened up above them. He lightly kicked Diego on the thigh while pulling out his walkie talkie. "Flip to the side. Turn your face on the side." So he didn't choke on blood. It was goddamn everywhere.

Cabrera squeezed the device, his own shiny chest moving faster with just then calming breaths. "Send me backup and a medic to Level 2."

Then he kicked Nate's leg, reminding him. "Stay down." And he stepped away from the two, walking up to Roz that just reentered the room. His brows knitted as he reached up to her face after wiping his hand to his pants. Gazing into her watery eyes he cupped the side of her jaw, brushing a droplet of red off her cheek with his thumb.

"Hey, chica..." His words soft and quiet, filled with soothing comfort, just for her ears. "You alright?" He looked her over briefly, making sure she wasn't wounded.

MokaChan Togy Safton

BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow The Cat Man @SlaughterMelon ​

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
The Convoy

Collab with Safton Togy​

Minnie clung to the back of Haewon's shirt as she stumbled into the corridor, leaving a bloody handprint behind. Haewon held onto her tightly, keeping her upright.
"It's not far," She reassured her as her feet dragged with each step, "We're almost there."
Minnie said nothing. All of her energy was focused on staying awake, she worried any distractions would cause her legs to give out.

She didn't want to stop as a voice called out to them, desperate to get to the nurse's office as soon as possible. She could hear Haewon speaking, though everything was muffled, she couldn't concentrate on her voice.
"We don't want help from a fucking Samaritan," Haewon spat. This woman was with them, sure, she'd helped, but how could Haewon know if her intentions were good? She was a scav. She was the one feeding the men, giving them the strength to attack her and her sister. Maybe this woman had done something similarly terrible. Either way, she was part of the takeover, and she wanted nothing to do with her.

She watched cautiously as she wrapped her sister's arms in her hoodie sleeves in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She kept a hand on Minnie's shoulder at all times, keeping her guard up. Minnie winced, clenching her teeth as she tightened the makeshift bandage, tying it firmly around the worst of her wounds.

Haewon couldn't help but feel relief as Xander ran over to them. She didn't want to be alone with a Samaritan, especially in the state she and her sister were in.
"I'm fine," She told him as knelt in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face to examine her swollen eye. Her head was sore, though the adrenaline was numbing a lot of the pain. She frowned at the sight of his hand.
"Jesus--" She muttered, "Are you okay?"
Xander took a moment, visibly distracted before realizing that Haewon had spoken to him. Then, shaking himself as if waking from a dream he gave her a single brisk nod.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get you two to the infirmary, okay?” he said gently, leading the way, his hand still wrapped around that of Minnie. Every few steps his eyes darted down toward the girl as if fearing that she might bleed out. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her to speed the process along that little bit and would have done just that – much as he had on the day Minnie & Haewon first arrived – if not for the fear of potentially exacerbating any unseen injuries.

Moving as fast as they were able, the trio made their way to the old nurse’s office-turned-infirmary. Xander all but shouldered the door open.
“Doc! You in here?” he called out, cursing the fact that he didn’t have his radio with him thanks to the Samaritans… and Cabrera, in particular.
Mackenzie lifted his head up from where he was bent over Harry's bedside, pulling the comatose man's feeding tube out of their throat just before turning to look. Xander's tone hadn't boded good tidings, obviously, but for just one moment Mackenzie had dared to dream there'd been some disaster other than someone crawling to his door dead and dying, again.
"Another one?" Mack groaned at the sight of Minnie, mental and physical exhaustion scrawled across his face, "Fuc-Alright, Haewon, set her down, Font, give me a sitrep here."
Xander helped Minnie over to the exam table with Haewon, lifting her up onto the plush surface before giving her a small smile and turning back to face Mackenzie as he did his best to centre himself.
“Don’t know all the details. Minnie’s got pretty severe lacerations on both of her arms, that’s probably the worst of it. Haewon’s eye is swollen shut and she might have a broken nose, maybe a concussion. They’re both covered in bruises,” Font tried – and failed – to keep his voice from shaking as he recounted the extent of the girls’ collective injuries.
“What can I do?” he asked the corpsman, almost desperately as he took a reluctant step back to give the man space to examine Minnie. She didn't want to let go of his hand, letting her arm hang from the bed in an attempt to cling on. Her eyes drifted close, though she fought to keep them open, occasionally blinking herself back awake.
"They got her in the head, too, I don't know what with," Haewon explained, carefully brushing her hair out of the way to show the cut on her forehead. It was small, but head injuries liked to be dramatic. The tiny cut had covered her forehead in blood. She watched her eyes flicker closed.
"Stay awake, okay?" She told Minnie, to which her eyes opened once more.

ISHTAR​

 

[Crono]

SCENE 1
The Convoy

Collab w/ Bullyboy Squad and MokaChan ​

The sound of the multiple steps bounced against the corridor walls. They brought the convoy leader and a few of his enforcers to the door of the HS cell. The keys jingled and then the dim light streamed into the bathroom, glinting off the old tiles.

Ignacio walked inside, ordering one of his men. "Lock the door." The enforcer was dumbfounded but didn't dare to protest. He closed the cell and the sound of the lock echoed in the narrow space.

Cabrera, still half naked, watched the two men in silence. No questions or orders. Then he pulled the gun off his waistband and set it down with a clink of metal against porcelain.

He took a step away from it and kept staring. Waiting. He was the one who invaded the community. The one who was responsible for the death of the child the two men cared for. And now he seemed unarmed.

During the time he remained locked up with the other man, Arthur had taken time to inspect the wound on his chest. It wasn't too deep, but it stung like a bitch and the ends of skin had already begun to form a dark red scab. Might need stitches, Arthur thought bitterly. Not the worst injury in the world. Neither were the dark bruises. He hadn't said much else aside from answering the question about Miyu. He didn't really want to talk. He was thinking of ways to escape from their cell, trying to spot anything that he could remove with blunt force and use as a weapon, because his grief always turned into anger. That anger was going to continue to fester and grow until he had murdered every last fucker involved, but he knew that had to wait. Things like this took time. It always took time. Let them get their little group settled in. Let them get their new rules in place. Let them believe he was an obedient resident. He could listen.

Arthur started to sit back down until he heard approaching footsteps, making him stand up again. There he was. Cabrera. Any anxiety he felt was pushed away by his anger. A muscle jumped in Arthur's jaw as he glared at him, blue-grey eyes flicking down to the gun as it was put someplace. The temptation was right there and thick in the small room. He moved forward to grab it, aiming the weapon up to shoot Cabrera in the chest three times. Then the shoulder. Then two more in the head. Sometimes the murder fantasy had Arthur getting into a scuffle before hitting the fucker's face over and over with the gun like a blunt weapon. He wanted to do so many violent acts, his body and survival-ready mind screamed at him to do so, but he remained exactly where he was. Unmoving. Hands clenched into fists at his sides with a deep frown on his face.

Kurt had hardly moved from his spot as the hours passed. Only occasionally shifting to work out a stiff muscle or sore joint, and standing once to stretch his legs. The room had grown darker as the sun set, something he'd grown accustomed to over the last few months. He found himself staring at the middle of the floor waiting for the moonlight to inevitably make it's way through the small window. His cell-mate had been surprisingly quiet, not that he was complaining. A hundred different thoughts running through his head took time to really concentrate on.

When the footfall's started in the doorway he cast a glance in that direction. Unsurprisingly the door opened, but what he didn't expect was for Cabrera to step through alone and unarm himself in front of them. Kurt narrowed his eyes from his sitting position before shaking his head and looking back at the ground. It was an obvious test, one that he had no interest in. While Kurt didn't see who had been the one to shoot Miyu, he was confident it wasn't this Cabrera. No, it'd been one of his lackeys. Not that it mattered, any fight he had was gone. At least for the time being. And given the lack of movement in the room it seemed Arthur wasn't taking the bait either.

"So, did we pass?" He asked, not bothering to look over at the man or the weapon on the ground.

Ignacio looked at the two men and scoffed. "That's all you got? My men kill your kid and you don't even try to punch me?" He stared at them, shoulders squared, like a bully watching two school losers hiding in the bathroom.

"No," Arthur growled finally, quietly. "We ain't about to attack someone who just invaded our home." His lips held a hint of a snarl. "If your group murdered one kid and any of us decide to raise a hand against you, who's to say another kid won't get killed?" Not only that, but Arthur didn't want to get more involved with the Samaritans more than he currently was. The longer Cabrera was around, the higher his old anxiety rose. Arthur's hands clenched and unclenched. "What the hell do you want? Spit it out and then leave."

Arthur's choice of words didn't go unnoticed. The other man either considered Kurt as one of his people, or didn't realize Kurt didn't consider a cell as home. Kurt didn't however ignore Cabrera this time, "You want to bring in the guy who pulled the trigger...or better yet, the asshole yelling about a kid having a bomb? I'd be happy do something. But you?" Kurt shrugged his shoulders and raised his still partially bloodied hands up, "Besides, I got my licks in on one of your guys already if you recall."​

​

 

[MokaChan]

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝟷 The Convoy​

Cabrera listened to what they had to say. He seemed to assess their behavior before stating coldly.

"One of my men almost raped the two young girls. Beat them up." He cocked his head. "Still nothing?" Glancing briefly between the gun and the two men. "Was brutal. Or so I've heard. I wasn't there. Was just about to fuck your leader's ass."

Arthur merely glanced towards Kurt, figuring he didn’t have much problem with Cabrera and it made sense because Cabrera hadn’t done anything to them. Not exactly. Only had his men do shit to their group. Cabrera hadn’t raised much of a hand against them. That still didn’t mean that Cabrera was good, or deserved forgiveness in Arthur’s book.

The next words that came out of other’s mouth made Arthur feel sick to his stomach. His chest grew cold and a voice told him that he had failed his little girls again. There was a long, long moment of silence from him as he stared down at his shoes and Arthur raised his head. And his body moved before he could think, grabbing Cabrera by the neck and slamming him against the wall. Then he punched him. Hard.

A mixture of a hiss and a growl. “They. Did. What?” The voice that came from Arthur wasn’t him. It was an old, darker self he had pushed down. A mad dog that was starting to take over, when he had been lost even more in the new world.

Kurt's anger rose at Cabrera's next words. Not nearly as much as his cell-mate, but enough to have him stand up. The moment things started moving, so did Kurt. Even if it was a cell, this room was still his space for whatever that was worth. Not to mention Arthur was someone Miyu had cared about, so sitting there doing nothing wasn't going to cut it for him. Reaching the gun left on the floor he picked it up, "Wouldn't be the worst thing to rid the world of one more asshole."

The Samaritan saw what was coming and still he barely had time to react as the man lunged at him, fueled by the anger and desperation of a father who's just learned his daughters had been raped. His hand caught Ignacio's throat and fist swung wildly at the raider's face.

It missed.

Cabrera braced in an instant and despite his restricted airways he ducked his head to the side enough for the blow to just graze his cheek while he countered. Landing a precise kidney jab before shoving the man to stagger him back.

Pain flared in his abdomen causing a cry to fly from Arthur’s lips. He didn’t have a lot of time to catch himself from stumbling with his back hitting the wall. One of his hands slammed against the cool surface while the other held the place he was hit, breaths coming out in heavy gasps. Cold, blue hues watered, yet no tears fell, and he flared up at the other through his messy bangs. Arthur’s jaw clenched and as much as he wanted to get right back up and try to hit him again, he forced himself to stay put. It took every ounce of patience to do just that.

It looked like Ignacio was in complete control compared to Arthur. His body and mind working in perfect harmony, evidently unscarred by emotion. But his eyes were no longer on the older male, trained on the barrel that was rising to point at him.

"Do it." He barked and strode the few steps at Kurt. All three of them trapped in a claustrophobic space that was the perfect choke point for the trained man. "C'mon!"

Cabrera's body moved like a well oiled machine once he was close enough to press the muzzle to his naked front. He sidestepped. One hand already getting a hold of Kurt's outstretched arm while he punched man's solar plexus with the other.

He twisted Kurt's wrist in a painful lock, getting behind him in the same fluid motion and yanking man's arm back while the gun clattered to the floor. He pulled Kurt close then ejected him forth, slamming into the other prisoner. He was like a fucking kid playing with dolls.

"That's all you got?" Cabrera snatched the gun from the floor and finally fixed his hard, heated gaze on the two men. His chest was calm, pulse steady. It's like he didn't even break a sweat.

"Try and do better next time. I'm throwing both of you to the pit against the rapist tonight." He tucked the gun to the back of his pants and gave the two men a good one over. "Only one of you comes out alive." Then he smacked his palm against the door to signal his enforcer to open up.

Kurt watched as Cabrera moved through Arthur, and pointed the weapon at the man. Finger twitching on the trigger as he was told to shoot. Miyu crossed his mind, and the gunshot that ended her life echoed in his mind. In his hesitation Kurt found himself suddenly outmaneuvered, before he could regain it however he received his second blow of the day to his stomach area that knocked the wind from his lungs. Just like that he was disarmed and thrown into Arthur. Cabrera announced a sort of set fight before leaving, that only one person would be walking away from.

Recovering his breath he stood and got himself disentangled from the other man and crossed halfway across the room before letting out a breathy chuckle. "I always somehow end up in these shit situations." Ever since he could remember, from the age of twelve and spending his first night in Juvenile Detention. Kurt glanced back over his shoulder at the other man, "Looks like we don't get to be cell buddies after all." He added half-jokingly, before going back to his original seated position while momentarily nursing the wrist that had been twisted.

You and me both Arthur wanted to reply, straightening his back some, keeping his hand on his abdomen. He shared the glance with Kurt, only letting out an annoyed sigh. No, they wouldn't get to be cellmates. They were being thrown into some area that sounded like it was basically an arena. A death sentence. "...What's the Pit?" Arthur asked finally, cold gaze locking with Cabrera's.

Ignacio paused in the doorway and glanced back. "Your ticket out of this cell." Then he was gone, leaving the two men alone while he headed for the infirmary.

Collab with Bullyboy Squad and Crono ​

 

[Namazu]

In collaboration with

SCENE THREE
The Fight​

"I understand. Food sounds good." Connor shifted slightly as the question dropped on the metal table like a cartoon anvil but with none of the comedic timing or atmosphere.

"He's not mine. His parents died back when everything started and I picked him up after... well-- after it. I guess, I'm his guardian." Connor kept his details vague, but gave enough information that he felt was informative for his captor's purposes.

Weston clicked the pen a few more times, raising an eyebrow at Connor's answer. Not surprising, given the state of things, but also not what he would have guessed. "How did his parents die?"

The soldier's eyes visibly flinched mid-blink as his interrogator brought up that particular topic. However, he hadn't a choice but to answer, "I shot them both after they came back. They were trying to crawl into the car after Tanner, so I didn't have a choice. I shot them-- shot them with my service rifle."

Nodding, Weston jotted down an answer. Should Connor attempt to look at the paper, he'd see it documented very simply: Saved the kid. Not his. A trite way of summarizing a lot of significant, difficult events. Taking a breath and slowly exhaling through his nose, Weston scratched at his beard.

"Here's the thing. If you two stay, you'll be expected to work. Pull your own weight. Earn your keep. If you can do that, excellent. You get to enjoy the safety of our walls and an orderly society again." Or some semblance of a society again, at least. "If you can't - if both of you can't - then you'll simply wind up another mouth to feed with no benefit to us." He tapped the clipboard against his knee a few times, staring at Connor. "Do you have any desire to stay, or would you rather we toss you out?"

The way the man compartmentalized the events that he and Tanner had struggled through sent a furrow through Connor's brow, but how could he blame them? People had enough sorrow and misfortune in their lives before they opened themselves up to another person's grief. Connor didn't like this too much. However...

"C-can you protect the boy? Can you help raise him?" Worry and fear became suddenly pronounced in the soldier's eyes as though the conversation had overturned a rock to find fleeing insects beneath.

Chewing on his lower lip, Weston's expression softened for a moment at that question. He glanced behind himself - the door was shut. It wasn't easy to hear what was going on in here from outside, with the thick walls. Holding the clipboard in both hands, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and leveled a steady stare at the man, lowering his voice.

"We can do everything we can to protect him. But raise him? That's on you. A lot of the people living here were in the prison before all the shit went down. Think about that. Yes, there are some guards, but there are also former inmates. If you want him to grow up to be a good person, you should stay here with him. Keep him on the right path." He sat up straighter, voice going back to his normal volume - demeanor going right back to normal, as if he'd just shared a secret and now was going to pretend he never said it. It was manipulative no matter how you looked at it.

"How old is the kid? He might be able to work in the garden or something. I'm sure we can find something for you to do too."

Connor's face settled into something close to neutral as Weston seemed to brush close to the topic of honesty with him about things around here. Criminals. Criminals plain and simple. The soldier wasn't exactly pushed to the backfoot from this, however. It was only a matter of common sense, and even then some of his best friends during basic had some questionable backgrounds-- it was just how it went sometimes.

"I understand, but," He leaned in for a private conversation man-to-man, "Some day... I am going to die. Each morning I wake up, I get the impression that time is not far from now. I'm worried about whether this is a good place for a kid if that were to happen." Connor retreated as Weston did, "He's almost thirteen. Tanner is pretty competent. He's killed some of them before-- it's just how things are out there. So, I imagine he can pick some vegetables. As for me, I'm a pretty skilled shooter and fit, I have a basic understanding of combat aid, and I have a background in administrative duties so it's up to you how you choose to use that."

Weston jotted down more notes on the clipboard, handwriting messy but readable. "You would have to earn our trust first before we arm you, You understand. But-" He glanced up at Connor, eyeing him. "That's good to know. That makes you more useful. Especially the combat aid part. Lean on how useful you can be to us, and how you can make sure the kid stays in line, and you'll be a resident in no time." He clicked the pen a few more times, seeming to have a hard time stopping himself from fiddling with it, before standing from the chair.

"The name's Weston Jones. I'm second in command around here. We'll see, once King gets back, if he'd like to meet you and the kid before we give the final okay." He offered no handshake before moving to the door, pausing to turn and motion back at Connor with his clipboard. "Get dressed. You're alright in my eyes. I'm going to go see about getting you some food, and some Twinkies for the kid."

Not held up with any other questions from Connor, Weston slipped out the door, leaving Connor alone to get dressed, and sit there to weigh his options.

Aegis Bullyboy Squad NanLia Safton sanatanas The Cat Man ​

 

[BeyondDandy]

SCENE TWO

King watched as Samaritans filled the courtyard in amazement. They watched from below as the helicopter landed safely on Lincoln soil. With arms raised, they shielded themselves from the wind generated by the propellers. As they stopped, King basked in the success. “We’ve done it!” he exclaimed as cheers came from outside the machine. Clawing onto Gunderson’s shoulders with his talons, King woke the man from his well-earned slumber to see the masses. “Tiny aren't they all?”

His gold rings dug into the pilot’s shoulders as he leaned in to whisper secrets in his ear. “You’ve earned yourself another day soldier.” With his signature chuckle he stepped over the dead man in his path and slid open the side door. Two of his personal guards started towards him, prepared to escort him back to his chambers as people gathered around the machine in awe. King brushed the lint and debris off his coat and adjusted his collar before stepping out of the helicopter and waving at everyone. “Lawrence, escort Gunderson back to his cell. Have him cleaned up, he dines with me tonight,” he instructed as he smiled at all those around.

King glared back at the chopper for a second and looked at Tony. “Get rid of him and clean this thing. I want it spotless.” With his bodyguards by his side, King marched towards his castle - preparing to handle the wake of his absence.

—-

King sat in his Eames lounge chair, leaning back in comfort with his hands toying the cigar on his desk. His facial expression read irritation, but one could never know exactly what he was thinking. Wearing his most priced suit, a navy blue and white striped houndstooth cashmere Kiton, he goggled his informant with displeasure - trying to decipher how true her words were.

He clipped the bud of the cigar and lit it, letting the smoke disperse through the room a little before smoking it. He took a big puff, enjoying his fruition with luxury. With a signal of his free hand he called for the guard next to the door. “Weston,” he said, instructing the man to bring him his second in command. The guard simply nodded and started out the hallway to do his job.

He turned back to his informant, raising his hand as he watched her try and follow the guard. “No, you’ll want to stay for this,” he muttered, another cloud of smoke leaving his lips. He chuckled, taking the pistol from under his lap and placing it on his desk. ​

Bullyboy Squad
Togy
Aravis Kandosii
Namazu
sanatanas

 

[Namazu]

SCENE THREE​

A FLASHBACK...

They’d driven hours, crossing over the state line before finally stopping. It was the only way they could be sure they wouldn’t run into anyone they knew. Neither of them could afford word getting back to the club. The first hour or so of the drive had been tense. Weston kept looking into the rearview mirror of Dave’s beat up Chevy, expecting to see familiar motorcycles behind them. Weston was driving, because Dave didn’t like to drive long distances anymore. Not since Iraq.

“I wish you’d relax,” Dave murmured, reaching over to put his hand on top of Weston’s as it rested on the gear stick, giving a gentle squeeze. “We’re not going to run into anyone. Besides - shit, even if we did? Would it really be that bad?”

“It fuckin’ would be that bad.” Weston sighed, taking another glance in the rearview mirror. Nothing but a Honda that took a left exit and disappeared off into the distance. “You don’t know them like I do. You didn’t grow up with them. You didn’t see or hear the shit they said - which they entirely believe, by the way.”

“And do you believe it?” Dave leaned forward, turning the music down. Aerosmith was on the radio. Dave always did that when it was time to have a talk.

“No, of course not.” Weston responded flatly, casting Dave a sideways glance. “Please, you know this.”

“Then why do you stick around?” Dave rested his arm in the window of the truck door, tapping his fingers against the peeling upholstery. He could probably afford a new car, but no way Dave was going to spend that kind of cash on something he could barely use without having a panic attack.

“Why do you?” An honest retort. They were quiet the rest of the way, their only communication the touch of their hands. They both knew why they couldn’t escape the club. Eventually, the radio was turned back up.

The motel they stayed at was a nondescript truck stop, next to a gas station and a diner. The only visitors were truckers, a few unfortunate locals, and a family of four that stopped to eat. They were headed to a relative’s place up north, according to what they told the waitress that sweet talked her way into a large tip by the end of the meal. Their story? Weston and Dave were headed to go see an old Army buddy. The waitress thanked Dave for his service. They got fifteen percent off their meal. Dave tipped enough to make up for the discount anyway.

The sun was setting by the time they finished dinner and locked the door of the motel room. Weston closed the curtains and set the deadbolt while Dave sat on the side of the bed, rubbing what was left of his leg. His prosthetic sat propped up against the nightstand. It was ill-fitting, but the best the VA hospital could do for him. Despite the stress and anxiety of making this little getaway, Weston had a grin on his face by the time he did crawl into bed with Dave.

It was worth it.

CURRENT DAY

Weston jolted awake from a dream, sitting up so fast he almost fell out of bed. Someone was pounding at his door - loudly. He swore for a moment he heard an Aerosmith song playing somewhere, but he couldn’t remember the words. It faded as he rubbed his eyes.

“What the fuck - I’m coming, hold your shit in.” He called out, shoving his feet into his boots and lacing them up quickly. He had otherwise fallen asleep fully dressed, as he often did - which was good, considering one of King’s enforcers decided to stop knocking and shove the door open.

“King wants you in his office.” The enforcer looked at Weston for a moment, then ducked out of the room and waited in the hallway. *Christ,* Weston thought as he pulled himself together, glancing in his mirror to make sure he didn’t look quite as rough as he felt. Like most times, he had no idea what King wanted with him this time.

Stepping into King’s office, Weston was a little surprised to see Valentine there - and a little concerned to see King’s pistol sitting out on his desk. He swallowed as the enforcer closed the door behind him.

Standing in front of King’s desk, he gave the man a nod. “King,” he greeted simply, glancing to Valentine with a raised eyebrow. “Is everything alright? Ain’t behind on my tab with Temma, am I?”

BeyondDandy Bullyboy Squad Togy Aravis Kandosii sanatanas ​

 

[BeyondDandy]

SCENE THREE

King sat silently at his desk, writing on his notebook as Weston walked in. He glanced up momentarily, making eye contact when greeted before returning to his work. He lifted a finger and nodded left and right in hopes of silencing Weston - his voice annoyed him. With that the room grew completely quiet. Valentine stood there nervous, but remained poised - King did not appreciate weakness and she showed none.

Minutes went by and King finished up whatever it was he needed to write in that book. He put his pen in his coat pocket, a gold colored Santos de Cartier that was found in the mansion of a sports icon and slid his notebook to the end of the table to make more room for the shinny firearm his guest had been staring at this whole time.

He looked up at his second in command as he leaned back in his chair. His hands clasped together in his lap and he looked quite comfortable. “I need you to gather everyone at the cage tonight for another show. Have Emmett prepare his men for a special night. Get Mr. Parker cleaned up and have the kitchen crew prepare him whatever he’d like.”

King leaned forward in his chair and hovered his hand over the weapon on his desk. He grabbed it and tossed it on the floor between he and Weston. “Pick it up,” he ordered, waiting for the man to do as he was told. He appeared hesitant but eventually gave in to command like a good ol’ dog. King chuckled, “You look like a gangsta!”

“So what do you want to do with that gun? Missy over here ratted you out…” he paused, watching Valentine’s eyes widen and turn towards Weston with a gulp. She was not expecting that. “…or do you want to point it at me?”

King watched Weston carefully, wanting to see how the man reacted. He didn’t look comfortable, that was not the intention. “You’re on your second strike boy. I am growing tired of having to clean your messes. What happened here the other night is weakness. This gives those beneath me hope. Hope of getting a damn gun in their hand and get the only shot they need!” King yelled as he stood up assertively and caused his chair to tumble to the floor.

He swallowed and fixed his coat sleeve that had creased when he stood. “Tonight you hang the boy (Parker) in front of everyone, then you put a bullet in his head. I will not be there, I have an important dinner to attend to.” He looked at Valentine and signaled her to leave with a simple gesture from his eyes. The girl nodded and walked out, closing the door quietly as she left.

“I heard we have new guests, a boy and his father. Separate them, no contact. Put the father in the cage tonight, see what he’s about. The other fighters are ready, put him against however is available.” King turned to pick up his chair, adjusting it so he could sit again. He slid the notebook back to the center of the desk and opened it back up before getting his pen out of his pocket. He looked up at Weston one last time and the silver eagle.

“You can keep that. You’re going to need it.”

Bullyboy Squad
Namazu
The Cat Man
sanatanas
Aegis

 

[Namazu]

SCENE THREE
The Fight... Continues​

Getting used to, but still unnerved (and annoyed) by King’s tendency to pull shit like this - making him stand there and wait in silence like a trained dog - Weston knew well enough to just stand there. In silence. And wait. He didn’t give Valentine another look, nor did he spend much time looking at the gun - he stared right at King. Waiting. Half expecting to be shot where he stood for God knows what this time.

Since he knew King would want him to pick up the gun as ordered - follow any order as given - he did as told and picked it up. He checked to make sure the safety was on and checked to see if it was loaded, as is a good habit when picking up a weapon.

He glanced at Valentine when King revealed she had “ratted him out”, giving her no indication as to how he felt. Ratted out for what? The other night at the fight pit had been intense, but he thought it went the best way it could in the end. He made a good example of Andrew in the end, and the kid was left pissing his pants. As close to a win-win situation as they’d get. He had the crowd properly spun up and turned against Andrew. Not that King would ever give a shit.

Weston did his best to put on his most impassive, neutral expression in the face of being shouted at, folding his hands in front of himself.

“I got no reason to point this gun at you, King. We’ll get the pit ready for tonight. The kid’ll hang.” He glanced aside at Valentine before she scooted out.

“Ain’t gonna need a date for this one.” He didn’t verbalize it, but the rest of that sentence in his head was ’you stupid bitch’.

At King’s additional orders, he nodded. “Yeah, we do. The guy’s name is Connor. I had him searched and asked him the usual questions. The guy’s military. Says he can shoot and has some medic skills. The kid ain’t his - some stray he found along the way. Maybe he’ll be useful. Temma took the kid.” Weston shrugged, giving an indication he wasn’t strongly swayed one way or another about what happened to either of them.

He slid the gun into the back of his waistband, for lack of a proper holster on him, and headed out of King’s office.

Weston headed straight back to his room, closing and locking the door behind him, calmly moving in front of his dresser. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair - then grabbed a book off the dresser and whipped it across the room with all of his strength. It hit the wall with a loud thunk, then landed on his bed, corner of the spine dented in.

“Fucking whore!” He screamed at nothing and nobody in particular, sucked in a breath, and held it until he felt the anger starting to subside.

Once his shit was together enough to think, he clicked on his walkie-talkie. He clicked it off again, hesitating a moment, then clicked it on again and spoke.

“LT, you copy?” He waited until Wes responded in the affirmative.

“Get the pit and your men ready for tonight, we got bodies on deck. Get Kenny cleaned up. Send someone down to the kitchen and have them make whatever he wants. Have someone read him his last rights, offer him a handy, whatever the fuck he wants for all I care. We got an execution to handle. King’s orders. Hanging, so get out the rope. Afterwards, a fight. Grab the new guy. The one that came with the kid. Toss him in the ring with someone - I don’t care who. Grab whatever unlucky bastard we got sitting around. Over.”

He clicked the walkie-talkie off and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the opposite wall.

Despite all the bullshit bluster he showed at the fight pit the other night, he really didn’t know if he was ready to kill a kid. Not that he had a choice anymore.

BeyondDandy Bullyboy Squad The Cat Man sanatanas Aegis ​

 

[NanLia]

Flashback
Two Weeks Prior to the apocalypse​

Xander stood outside of the shop class, taking several deep breaths to psyche himself up. He couldn’t remember being this anxious in a long, long time. Not since he had accepted the job offer at the school and had his first day as a teacher, surrounded by hormone-fueled teens. Maybe even before that, back when he’d been in the Marines: expected to lead and inspire those serving under him. And now here he was, shaking like a leaf. The school had dismissed a few minutes ago and Xander had to be at the gym soon to pick up his coaching duties. But he didn’t want to miss this opportunity after putting it off for over a week.

Xander took one last breath before peeking into the classroom, and seeing Ms. Nochizuki behind her desk, shuffling several papers. Even in this setting, she was beyond cute. He cleared his throat, knocking on the threshold twice to get her attention and offering her a smile. “Konnichiwa,” he said – doing his best to use the correct accent he had learned during his years stationed in Okinawa… before kicking himself. Was it demeaning for him to try and speak to her in Japanese?

He pushed the thoughts away before speaking, in English now. “Do you have a moment?”

Nari shuffled and reshuffled the papers before her, flustered. Teaching was proving to be far more difficult than she'd expected. Half the class didn't pay attention, and the other half did but continued to fail. She wondered if it wasn't her calling after all. She jumped hearing the knock on the door and she turned to see Xander stepping through the threshold. She flushed and smiled hearing her homeland greetings and politely bowed her head. "Ohayou gozaimasu, (Good morning) Mr. Font."

She settled the papers and gently clasped her hands on her desk. "Of course, I do. How can I help?"

Font’s smile widened at Nari’s reply. However, his anxiety only increased as he summoned forth his courage and forced himself fully into the classroom, approaching her desk – every step feeling as if he was sinking into quicksand. He cleared his throat. He had rehearsed this conversation perhaps a dozen times over in his head and now he stood here, perplexed about how to even begin. But he couldn’t simply remain silent like some kind of creep, staring at her silently.

The words came tumbling out. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in meeting me after school sometime?” He paused. “...For dinner or maybe a coffee, I mean?” Xander quickly added. The two of them had shared lunch several times over the past few weeks and gotten along well enough, but the subject of getting together outside of work had yet to come up. He flushed furiously, feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest as he awaited her answer.

Nari waited quietly for Xander to speak, he seemed nervous, and that nervousness quickly transferred to herself. She shifted in her seat, chewing her bottom lip as he finally spoke. This was far from what she had expected, and it took her a moment to process what he'd asked her. She fully recognized that she stared at him dumbly for several silent seconds.

"Oh!" She flushed and smiled, "I hadn't realized, I mean, I'm sorry - I'm not being clear." She paused, trying to control her thoughts and mouth. "Yes, I'd like that."

Xander was already formulating his apology and some attempt at a graceful retreat where he could gather what scraps of his dignity remained to himself. Nari was silent, staring at him after all. That couldn’t be a good thing.

Then she was speaking, smiling at him and he resisted the urge to frown at her confusing words, wondering what on Earth she was saying. Then, suddenly, she said she was interested. Did she want to go out with him? He blinked rapidly, his chest warming and his heart thumping as he registered the sentence.

Xander scrambled to speak, “Uh, great,” he said breathlessly. “Does Friday work for you? I can pick you up in the evening. Or we can just meet somewhere if you’d prefer?”

Nari smiled and nodded. "Yes! I mean of course, yes Friday is good. I'll meet you there. Say seven?"

* * *​

For three days Nari was a bubble of excitement waiting, without patience, for Friday to come along. School ended and she went to the nail salon and then the hair salon before returning home to get dressed in her chosen outfit, a soft cream-colored cotton dress with extra long sleeves paired with a long woolen coat. She called an uber to bring her to the restaurant.

She stepped through the doors and met the host. "Oh, uh, I'm meeting someone here tonight."

Xander showered and shaved, donning a tasteful amount of cologne before dressing in his best navy blue blazer and a pair of comfortable jeans. As he prepared, he listened to the radio – doing his best to calm himself to the beat of the music… when it wasn’t being interrupted by the commercial spots droning on about news of celebrity gossip, a small riot in which there were several casualties or some strange new illness.

He headed out to the restaurant to claim their reservation early, being led to the table by the waiter. Xander spent the next several minutes sitting impatiently, his knee bouncing beneath the table. Part of him wondered if Nari would even show up or if she had reconsidered, perhaps realizing that he was bad news or that dating a coworker was a bad idea. He had absolutely no basis on which to form such a notion, of course, given that she wasn’t even close to being late… but still his mind ran rampant.

Then she was there, entering the restaurant’s front door and approaching the staffer at the front. “Over here!” Xander called out, waving a hand to get their attention. As Nari was led over to their table, he scrambled to stand up, pulling out her chair for her. He gulped hard seeing her – she looked absolutely stunning. After the two of them gave their drink orders to the waiter, he sat down across from Nari and smiled at her. “It’s great to see you,” he said, almost breathless. “You look amazing,” he remarked with a flush.

Nari has a brief moment of worry that perhaps Xander wasn't there yet. She was early, by a few minutes, but she soon heard him calling out and the host was leading her through the tables toward him. She smiled and blushed, sitting down across from him. She ordered a cider, not wanting to drink alcohol and risk embarrassing herself. "Thank you," She said quietly. "You look great too."

Xander was thankful that Nari ordered her drink first – non-alcoholic cider. He ultimately ordered water in a near-panic that he managed to luckily suppress. He had been about to suggest a wine for them! What if she didn’t drink? What if she had strong feelings about alcohol and those who partake? It struck him then that in some ways they hardly knew each other. Pushing the thoughts away, he focused on the woman across from him, flushing at her compliment and waving it off. “Thanks.”

After a moment of them each glancing over their menus, he cleared his throat. “You, ah, seem to be settling in well. The students and other faculty have really taken to you. It says a lot,” Xander remarked with a small smile. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”

Nari smiled at the question and swiftly shook her head. "No, actually. I took the job because my VISA was expiring and I'd have to return home otherwise." She shrugged sheepishly. "I honestly feel like I'm hardly keeping my head above water most days."

She momentarily thought she might have offended him and quickly continued. "What about you? Have you always been a teacher?"

Xander shook his head. "No, I've actually only been doing this for about two years myself, actually. I was in the military before. I felt just like you do now, but give it time," Xander remarked with a sympathetic smile.

Nari's eyes widened in surprise to hear that Xander had served. She accepted her drink, took a sip, and thanked the waiter. He soon requested their food orders. She ordered a pasta dish and waited for Xander to order his meal.

"It's very American?" She said quietly after the waiter left. "To join the military?"

Xander didn’t miss Nari’s reaction to his answer, waiting to hear her follow-up once the waiter departed. He cleared his throat, considering how to reply before giving a patient response. “It depends on the person, I suppose. Some people, like me, are born into military families and follow in the footsteps of their parents as children often do. Others do it to learn a trade or earn a steady paycheck for college or to see the world.”

He took a moment. “You understand what I do at school, yes? The JROTC?” he asked, cocking his head. “The student cadets I teach… they’re usually interested in learning about the military: its organization, its history, and its lifestyle. That’s what I introduce them to. I do not recruit them. Some go on to serve, others – most, actually – decide it’s not for them.” Xander paused, transitioning to Japanese. “Watashi wa nanrakano katachi de karera ni eikyō o ataenai yō ni shite imasu.” (I try not to influence them one way or another.)

He flushed, shrugging before returning to English. “Serving is where I learned what little Japanese I know. I was stationed in Okinawa for several years.”

Nari listened to Xander's explanation of what his role within the high school was. She'd known it was military-related but not exactly how directly tied it was. She smiled in surprise to hear him speak further Japanese and nodded her head as she understood what he meant.

"You speak it well," she reassured. "And it's nice to hear of home. Did you enjoy your stay in Japan? Were you able to explore it at all?"

Xander smiled as Nari complimented him, shaking his head. “You’re too kind,” he murmured. His command of the language’s grammar & vocabulary was – at best – “adequate”, but his American accent was atrocious.

“I did,” he said in response to Nari’s question. “I got to visit the mainland a couple of times, but I spent most of my time in the northern part of Okinawa – a city called Nago. It was beautiful. A lot different than what I was used to back here. The people were quiet, but very polite. I used to love visiting the castles, the beaches, the little fishing villages and their markets.” Xander paused, his smile growing wistful at the memory. “It was a different time,” he remarked quietly before rubbing at the back of his neck and taking a sip of his water.

He cleared his throat. “What about you? I hope you’re enjoying your time here?”

Nari smiled hearing that Xander had the opportunity to explore her home during his service there. Hearing about it made her miss home and it was times like this thought she'd made a mistake by staying in the U.S.

She blinked at the question and nodded slowly. "I have, for the most part. Up until recently, I haven't had much free time to sightsee. Do you have any recommendations?"

Xander nearly blanked as Nari asked him for recommendations. His mind scrambled to formulate an answer to the question. “Well, we’re not exactly the biggest tourist destination,” he said with a chuckle.

“But if it’s fun you’re interested in, let’s see,” he raised a hand pretending to count items off. “There’s a lot of state parks around us. They’re lovely, especially if you enjoy hiking and nature. There’s also a small lake near the city limits. For something a little closer to home, right in the center of town, there’s a bowling alley next door to a little cinema. The whole thing has been running since my parents were kids, I think.”

He swallowed hard, summoning the courage to speak the next words. “We could go together sometime… if you want,” Xander offered, his voice almost a question more than a statement as he lost his nerve, unable to watch for her response, and turned to take another sip from his water.

Nari listened to Xander's suggestions, she wasn't really the outdoorsy type - despite being thin she was far from athletic. The lake sounded appealing, though what did people do at the lake? Swim? Look at it?

He came around to suggest the cinema and bowling alley and she smiled. "I'll be honest, I've never gone bowling."

Xander returned Nari’s infectious smile as she seemed to meet him halfway on his offer. He decided to press his luck, clearing his throat lightly and fiddling with his napkin idly as he spoke.

“Well, we should fix that for sure. It’s a lot of fun. I can’t promise to be any good, though. And maybe we can catch a movie afterward if you like?” Xander offered, his voice little more than a murmur as he added the last part with a flush.

"That sounds good," Nari agreed, feeling a thrill of excitement at the prospect of a second date before even finishing their first one. Soon enough the waiter returned with their meals and Nari waited quietly as he set them down and left once more.

* * *​

The dinner and date was – in a word – amazing. Nari was incredible company and every bit the lovely person Xander imagined her to be based on the time they had spent together. As things wrapped up and they split the check (at Nari’s insistence) Xander volunteered to walk her to her car.

The crisp night air surrounded them as they chatted, the conversation gradually dying off until finally, they walked in companionable silence the rest of the way to Nari’s awaiting Uber. The atmosphere was charged, but Xander didn’t know what he should do or say. He didn’t want this moment to end as she lingered at her door, so he settled with preparing his farewells. “I had a fantastic time with you tonight, Nari,” he said softly, forcing himself with great effort to hold her gaze and swallowing hard. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed myself this much,” Xander added with a wry smile. “I hope you did, too.”

Nari walked with Xander through the parking lot at a slow, lingering, pace. She'd run out of things to discuss but didn't want the evening to end. As they arrived at her Uber Xander proceeded to end the night she was disappointed but couldn't offer anything further for their evening.

"I did, thank you, again, for inviting me. I look forward to going bowling next time." She smiled and bowed respectfully. She turned and opened the door but paused. There was something very American she knew they did at the end of dates.

She turned back to face him, stepping into his space. She lifted up onto her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

Xander tensed in surprise as he felt her soft lips against his own, his chest blossoming with warmth. It took only a moment for the surprise to give way to instinct as he returned the kiss, closing his eyes and leaning gently into it – though as if sensing the moment and surroundings – they both seemed to pull away at the same time before it could deepen. He opened his eyes and looked down at her with a bashful smile, reaching down to slowly take her hand in his own and give it a soft squeeze.

“Ki wo tsukete, Nari,” (Take care, Nari) he murmured under his breath before reluctantly taking a step back to allow her space to leave, his smile never fading.

Safton ​

 

[NanLia]

Flashback
One week after the start of King's Reign​

Dutchess stood in the intake department of the prison for the first time in several months, nearly a year, in fact. She hadn't been due for release for another two years on her sentence, but, of course, this wasn't the same kind of release. She half listened to Weston as he went on about King's expectations from her and her team, priorities of what to source first: ammo, medical supplies, foodstuff. All great things she was sure, but he was solely focused on her priorities.

They were swiftly loaded into a vehicle, handed out radios and a knife, and dropped miles apart from one another in small towns or along a city. Thankfully Dutchess had been given the opportunity, based on her previous work, on deciding where they should be dropped and was able to select exactly where she'd been dropped. She waited for as long as she thought was a good measure for the drop-off team to leave before heading directly for her destination.

Prior to being brought in, her husband had given her the name of a storage facility - long since abandoned before the end of the world - a storage locker number and combination to a lock. These details weren't written anywhere but recited, daily by herself. He'd promised her that when she was out she could go there, find her ride and everything she needed to rejoin him and the MC and she believed him. This would be her only opportunity to escape the prison. If he held to his word, which he had done so every time before, she would be finding them in no time.

She found the storage facility with ease, Weston giving her maps of the area had been a huge help and despite her lack of education, she knew her memory was excellent. The facility appeared to still be abandoned, by living and dead, though there was minimal evidence something had been in and out in the past days.

Dutchess found the locker, a smirk crossing her lips as the four-by-four door was still closed and locked. She swiftly unlocked and unlatched the rolling door, pushing it upwards only to suddenly feel hands, like a vice grip around her ankles, grabbing her and pulling her inward. She fell backward, her hands still occupied with the latch and the lock, and cracked her head on the cement floor. She groaned, but that was all she could do before darkness swept over her.

* * *​

She woke up slowly, her head throbbing and she couldn't quite recall where she was or what she was doing until it all rushed back at her in a flash. She gasped, forcing herself upwards despite the feeling like her brain was jelly, and scanned the room, eyes pausing on a seated figure across the small storage unit … "Earl."

"Morning Princess." He drawled, a slow smile coming to his lips. "Sorry 'bout your head. You're not the first to try and break in here."

Dutchess sat back against the wall, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, only to hiss at the pain. She reached up to touch where it stung, only for her hand to come away slick with her own blood. "Fuck, Earl. You coulda killed me." Despite this, she returned his smile. "You lookin good for the end of the world, where's the club?"

Earl stood, gathering some gauze before dropping down beside her, pressing the gauze into her hair. His free hand tugged her into his lap, resting on it on her side, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. "They're headed south, through Kentucky then Tennessee. They'll wait for us, in Atlanta for a time. Heard rumors it's not all shit out there, that somehow Mexico doing just fine." He paused, pulling the gauze away and folding it, only to reapply. "Missed you, baby, wasn't going to head south without ya, only didn't know it would take you this long. It's been weeks, girl, what took you?"

Dutchess closed her eyes and hissed, frowning in surprise. "Coulda left a note." She murmured as she considered how to answer him. She knew better than to tell him everything, the assault in the prison before King came into power wouldn't settle well. It has been her fault, she'd been dumb enough to think there was safety in her own cell and she had dealt with the consequences. Besides, the man was already dead. "It was chaos in the prison. Some of the guards left, left us locked in there. People rioting, killing, raping. I couldn't get out right away. Some guy took control, another inmate. Kept us locked in but put the fights to rest, he's their … leader now, I guess. I had to wait for him to let me out before I could get here."

Slowly she felt his hand slip down from the back of her head, resting on the back of her neck, the other slid up and she opened her eyes to look at Earl to find rage in his eyes, his face twisted into a hateful grimace. His strong hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing. She gasped or tried to, hands grappling at his wrists, clawing at her own throat to try and free herself.

"I waited for you, Princess." He growled, leaning into her ear. "You've been livin good for weeks, under another man's house, sleeping in his bed, eating his food, while I sit out here in the cold waiting for your ungrateful ass to show up?" He released her, shoving her away as he stood. "You think you're going to trade up from us?"

Dutchess gasped for breath, coughing as she dragged herself away from him. She grappled with loose tools on the floor until she grasped a screwdriver, just in the nick of time as Earl's strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and flipped her over, ready to strike. She screamed, stabbing upward with the screwdriver at his belly, over and over again until he rolled off her, onto the cool cement floor, coughing up blood.

She scrambled back, tossing the bloodied weapon aside sitting with her back against the wall, dragging her knees up to her chest. She fought back tears but lost, feeling the warm droplets run down her cheeks and she wasn't sure what she was crying over; what just happened, or that the only person she had loved and trusted with her life tried to take it?

Earl sputtered, his hands gripping his torn-up abdomen, and blood pooled around him. He wheezed but spoke, something that confused Dutchess. " 'Course I'm going out with my guts spilling, makes sense."

* * *​

Dutchess didn't move for what felt like hours, watching and listening to Earl slowly die and then finally take his last breaths. It took that long before she was able to will herself to move, her body stiff and cold.

She staggered through the small storage facility, finding her radio and turning it on, only to hear a broadcast indicating that her pick-up was scheduled soon. "Fuck." She croaked, rushing through the unit and gathering up everything of value before pulling up the door and stepping out. She rolled the door closed behind her and reset the lock, leaving her bike behind for another day. She couldn't leave now, couldn't get back to the MC without Earl, and had nowhere else to go.

Dutchess hit up a few other locations on her way back to the pickup spot and was greeted by enforcers and a truck.

* * *​

On the ride back she was debriefed, the other scavengers that had returned were fairly profitable, two were dead at their pick-up locations, items gone (if they had any). No one questioned the bruising around her throat or her bloodshot eyes.

At intake she was searched again, Emmett's pat down far more delicate than the ones she'd had in the past. He finished his search but asked softly. "What happened?" Dutchess frowned up at the man, whom she'd never spoken with directly in the past. "The dead aren't what you need to worry about."

 

[Aegis]

SCENE THREE
The Fight... Continues

SOMETIME IN THE PAST...​

Man, it just never seemed to end-- the snow that is. Every log or leg of chair tossed upon the fire going in the mantle was but a brief rush of warmth against an eternity of cold, and for the better part of three weeks Connor and Tanner had weathered such conditions. Even in the shelter of a family's home, the wind seemed to wiggle through the seams of the windows and bring a fresh, powdered chill to the bones of the two within.

Tanner had been bundled and sleeping on the couch for the last few days as the child seemed steadily weakened by the lack of food and the temperature sapping his energy; not to mention the sickness he had begun to develop. The coughing fits that drew infected to them at night-- infected that Connor had to deal with in a manner that was quiet enough to not bring the town down on top of them. Food... that was a resource in high demand but sparse supply as the snow piled up two or three feet high at times. Yet, between some canned tuna, a stick of butter, and half a bag of rice they were desperate for something more. Compounding the issue, Connor needed to get Tanner some medicine lest the nights become even worse, or even worse...

Regardless, the soldier needed to act while he still had some strength within him. Connor bundled into his warmest clothes and snagged the aluminum bat along with his colt .45.

It was a merciless trek through biting cold as he waded through the knee-deep white-- blinding like diamond dust refracting a beating sun, but it wasn't long before he noticed a fatal mistake, smoke. It was a gray billow against an otherwise dimmed blue sky. He felt his stomach curl in excitement and hunger at the sight; the hunger so profound and malnourished that he found himself at the front door before he could even think about whether or not he should do this. The door was simple and homely and the outside was draped in actual Christmas light connected to a car battery that dashed a red and green brilliance against an otherwise cold and dark world, but all Connor could feel was his numb fingers and toes, his cavernous stomach, his mind consumed by the thought of medicine for Tanner.

The door seemed to open itself, unlocked, with a puffing grind from the snow that had piled near the door. It occurred to Connor that perhaps they weren't expecting the living and as a matter of fact it was a miracle that they were still alive with security this poor. The soldier's hand sunk to his holster and gripped at the handle of his sidearm as he swept through the entryway of the house and into the living room. There, sat upon the couch, was a woman and her teen son. The two of them sat bundled and leaning against one another, a warmth in the room, cookies and a half bottle of wine open and on display before them. Wine?

The soldier's eyes darted around the room as he searched for anyone else, but nobody was present. Perhaps they had a bit too much and fallen asleep on guard? Connor didn't know and he hadn't a second to lose. The soldier crept through door-by-door until he found a few backpacks stored in the master bedroom. Supplies: A few cans of food, some ramen packets, and a couple pill bottles: Advil and Prozac-- it wasn't perfect and sure there was more, but he felt the pit opening in his soul as he plundered. Having taken enough to get by, Connor cranked around and made for the door. However, as he went to leave the bedroom he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Hand met handle as the soldier withdrew his sidearm from its holster and aimed at the door. A few uncareful steps outside alerted Connor that whoever it was drew closer.

A man's voice, "Honey, get up. You forgot to lock the door after I left, again."

"...Good morning, did I? I'm sorry, Scott. You know how I am after I take my meds."

"Yeah... I know."

"Morning, Dad. Didn't want to bring me with you?"

"Not this time, buddy. Besides, I was hunting for Christmas presents for you two and didn't want to spoil what I got."

The mundane nature of the conversation froze the soldier in place for its duration until steps drew close. Connor's heart sunk as fear surged through his veins, and as the man rounded the corner into the bedroom-- smile on the father's face, he rushed the man down. Connor seized the man's throat with his spare hand as he rammed him against the wall in the hallway outside while he shoved the barrel of the pistol directly against the Father's stomach. Fear, fury, confusion-- these emotions and more lit up in the man's eyes as he went to struggle against The Soldier, but Connor knew he couldn't lose these supplies.

Three squeezes. The gunshots echoing through the home as they burrowed holes through The Father's stomach-- blood washing the wall in their wake. Connor felt the immediate rip of guilt in his heart as the man slumped to the floor clutching his abdomen, but the suddenness of the situation combined with his desperation was enough to drive him past it.

"DAD!"

"SCOTT!"

The other two rushed toward the hallway in an attempt to help their loved one as Connor froze them with his gun, "Don't move! Back away and maybe you can still save him."

They couldn't. They'd need surgery of some kind to put him back together and that simply wasn't available.

The two complied as they threw their hands up in surrender, and without so much as a look at their faces or back at the home The Soldier fled. Two things settled on his mind as he took a roundabout way back home: he would never choose to rob someone again, yet he would do ANYTHING he needed to for Tanner.

NOW...
​

It was a while before anyone came to retrieve Connor. He must've sat in that room for the better part of an hour until finally some people came, clothed him, and then began to guide him to god knows where. The hallways of the Prison seemed suffocating-- as they were designed to be. However, Connor took strange solace in the fact that Weston seemed to be a decent person beneath everything-- honest, at least.

Well, wherever he was going, it didn't seem like he had much of a choice at the moment.

BeyondDandy sanatanas Namazu Bullyboy Squad The Cat Man​

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
The Convoy

A flashback​

Minnie sat at the entrance to the corridor, staring at the bathroom door at the opposite end. She swallowed, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt with one hand. Her eyes didn't shift from the door, watching the shadows move in front of the gap underneath. She adjusted her grip on a kitchen knife, her knuckles white from squeezing the hilt. She glanced down at the blade. She didn't want to be alone in this house...

Hands scuffled along the linoleum floor, an occasional soft groan erupting from the room. Her eyes shot back up to the door, wrapping both hands around the knife. She glanced at the front door. Please hurry up...

She'd set herself up with a little camp... She had a glass of tap water, a packet of (very stale) biscuits, a book... but she couldn't really focus on reading. She swallowed, gazing longingly at her snack. She'd been rationing these for weeks now... Her stomach growled. She frowned. crossing her arm across her stomach to try and suppress her hunger. Maybe just a bite. She reached for her biscuits.

She flinched as her arm struck her glass. She clammered to catch it, but simply made it worse as it hit the wall, chipping the glass. She swallowed. She tentatively looked at the bathroom door. The shadows were still. Maybe she'd gotten away with it.

She jumped out of her skin as something slammed against the door, causing it to shake in it's frame. She clutched her kitchen knife, slowly rising to her feet. Fingers scratched at the wood, hooking under the door in a feeble attempt to claw their way free. Her hands trembled as she slowly approached.
"Auntie Ichika..?" She called out meekly, her shoulders hunched. She froze, a monsterous growl erupting from the bathroom.

She flinched as the apartment door opened.
"Minnie?" Haewon called out, locking the door behind her. She stuck her head into the corridor, frowning at the scene before her.
"She got worse," Minnie muttered. There was a pause as Haewon ran a hand through her hair, contemplating the next step. She took the knife from Minnie's hands.
"Go to your room."
"Huh?"
"Just go to your room and push something against the door. I'll come get you."
"Why? What are you gonna--"
"Just go."

Minnie looked to the bathroom door, stepping over her pack of biscuits and into her room. She shut the door behind her, crouching by her chest of drawers and pressing her whole bodyweight against it. Her feet scrambled against the carpet as she slid the piece of furniture in front of her door, pinning her back against it. Then, she waited.

She listened as Haewon took a breath. She heard the bathroom door swing open, the growls of her aunt becoming louder, more aggressive. She covered her ears with her hands but the noise still broke through. Haewon was yelling, her aunt was screaming. She tightened her grip over her ears, her eyes shut tight, her knees pulled up to her chest. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't block it out.

Then, it was quiet. All that was left was Haewon's breathing, heavy and laboured. She sniffed, her footsteps passing Minnie's door as she paced.
"Shit..." She whispered. Another sniffle. A running tap. The bathroom door shutting, locking. Then, a knock at the door.

Minnie was hesitant, her eyes teary. She eventually got to her feet to remove the barricade from her door. As she opened it, she was greeted with Haewon, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks red and damp. She simply stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her little sister and pressing her head against her chest.
"It's gonna be okay."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

"It's gonna be okay," Haewon assured her, standing by her legs now. As she rested her hand on Minnie's shin, she could feel her shivering, her skin cold from the reduced bloodflow. She looked to Mac and Xander for some reassurance, swallowing as Minnie's consciousness continued to dwindle.
"I'm gonna get Pandora," She told them, running from the room.

Safton Togy​

​

 

[Safton]

​

Scene Three:
The Fight​

Wesley had just finished checking his gear back into the armory when his radio squawked with the familiar voice of the Second-in-Command.

“LT, you copy?”

Wes snatched his walkie from his belt, stalking over to the side of the armory to get some semblance of privacy before keying the transmit button. “Emmett here. Go ahead.”

He listened closely as Weston gave his instructions, feeling a vague pit in his stomach form as the man mentioned Kenny… and his fate. Wesley was no fool. He knew this was a distinct possibility given how the cage fight had ended. And if it was on King’s orders it was gospel. He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he considered the rest. The stray with the kid was going to get tested, too… was the Boss Man putting on a show to make a point after Andrew’s bit of grandstanding? Was the Chief Enforcer next on the list?

Not if he followed orders. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

“Copy, I’m on it,” he acknowledged impassively through the walkie before striding back toward the quartermaster. The man glanced at him curiously.

“Get me the rope,” Wes said grimly.

The man behind the counter looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened in sudden understanding, cocking his head as if to ask Emmett whether he was certain. Wes simply stared at him. The quartermaster practically bowed under the glare, ducking out of sight and returning moments later with the rope in question. It was a light-brown hemp – a bit frayed in spots – but as sturdy as ever. He took the heavy roll into his arms, turning to scan the armory where other enforcers were checking their gear or chatting.

“Lonnie!”

The young man whirled around like he had seen a ghost as Wesley called his name, likely expecting a tongue-lashing of some kind. Instead, Emmett stepped forward and dumped the rope unceremoniously into his hands as the junior enforcer stared at him in confusion.

“Get a work detail together. Full kit. Ready the gallows. Then have one of your guys find the priest to give Ken– Parker his last rites. Give him a decent meal, too, if that’s what he wants.” He let the gravity of the words sink in before continuing. “Where’s the new stray? The one that came in with the kid?”

Lonnie bit his lip in consideration before answering. “Uh, I think Weston had him in isolation. Wanted to question him.”

Emmett nodded. “Good. Keep him there and under watch until I come to collect him. He’s got a date in the Pit tonight.”

Wes went to turn around when Lonnie called out to him. “LT? Where are you headed?”

The chief enforcer glanced over his shoulder. “To find him a dance partner.”

***​

Wesley stepped into the infirmary and spotted North sitting on one of the beds, a doctor hovering over him as he painstakingly worked stitches into place along his brow. More than a few telltale bruises marked his face. The man getting into scraps was nothing new, but Emmett was used to seeing North being the one doling out the punishment. It made him morbidly curious just what had happened at that settlement, a brief flare of worry welling up inside of him – and not for Anthony – before he squashed it down.

The enforcer strolled in, Anthony giving him a slight side-eye of acknowledgement as the doctor worked. “You need something?”

Wes crossed his arms. “Well, I was here to see if I could get you inside the Pit, but…”

The doctor suddenly perked up, shaking his head and leaving the stitches half-done as he leaned away. “Absolutely not. Anthony, these lacerations and contusions are the least of your worries. You’re showing signs of post-concussion syndrome. If you receive more head trauma without giving your brain a chance to reco–”

North waved his hand dismissively. “Fuck that.” His eyes turned toward Wes, focusing on him after a brief moment and finally that familiar hunger was apparent. “Who and when? I’m good to go.”

Wesley answered immediately. “Stray we picked up while you were gone. Don’t know much about him. 20s, well-built. Looks like he knows how to handle himself, I guess – well enough to stay alive out there anyway,” Emmett shrugged. “It’ll be tonight, right after…” he stopped himself. “It’ll be tonight.”

The doctor was pursing his lips, clearly eager to speak his mind again. North simply grinned. “I’m in.”

***​

As Wesley left the infirmary, he began checking Lonnie’s progress on the radio and also ensuring that the other enforcers were appropriately equipped for the night’s festivities. He had no idea how the crowds would take to King’s display of power and it was better to be over-prepared than caught with their pants down if another insurrection started brewing.

Emmett approached the new room where the stray was being held – one just down the corridor from the Pit – and addressed the guard. “He been fed?”

The enforcer nodded and Wes returned the gesture before striding inside to eye their “guest”. “Connor, right? You can call me 'Lieutenant'. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll let you in on what’s going on.” He waited before clearing his throat, crossing his arms in front of him. “I’m told Weston had a chat with you. You’re willing to put in work, to prove yourself. That’s good, real good. Unfortunately, what our community has in mind for you may not match up with your… preconceived notions.”

His eyes bored into the new arrival as he spoke. “I’ll be straight with you. You’re going to fight for your place here. Tonight. And I don’t mean that in some flowery, poetic bullshit sorta way. You know that hallway behind me?” Wesley gestured with his head.

“The opposite way you came down leads to the Pit. You’re gonna get locked in there with another guy who will be willing to take your head off. Last man standing gets to continue reaping the rewards of our civilized society here. We’ll be watching, too, so I hope you don’t get performance anxiety,” the last remark wasn’t a mocking jibe so much as an impassive, matter-of-fact statement.

“You’ll be searched before you head out, so don’t think about trying to smuggle anything in. If you want to talk to a priest or any shit like that beforehand, that can be arranged. Until then… you got any questions for me?”

Bullyboy Squad Aegis Namazu BeyondDandy​

 

[NanLia]

SCENE Three
The Fight
Colab with Safton ​

Wesley was leaning against the wall of the corridor as Dutchess filed in along with the rest of her crew, North and a new face. They had returned, finally… only to be met by Wes and his enforcers.

“You know the drill,” Dutchess said resignedly to her “team” as they lined up to be frisked for contraband from the High School. Some of them grumbled, but all obliged.

Wes made his way toward the blonde, giving her the smallest of smirks before gesturing toward her to turn around. Dutchess returned Wes's smile as he pulled her out of the line to personally frisk her. She turned as instructed, holding her hand up and at her sides to allow Wes's hands to roam her form. As she did so, he placed his gloved hands on her shoulders and began moving them along her body at a steady pace. “Just like old times, huh?” he said in a low tone, his breath at her ear.

It was… and it wasn’t. Somehow their proximity was different this time as his hands drifted over her midriff and hips, pressing at her pockets, albeit as respectfully as he could. As he finished his “inspection”, Wes swallowed hard as he paused.

“Good to have you back, Dutch,” he murmured under his breath. Dutchess felt his warm breath against her earlobe and it took effort not to react visibly, but Wes had already turned on his heel. “This one’s clear!”

Dutchess gathered her packs, having 'passed' inspection, and turned to leave the line behind and head back home. "See you around soon, Officer," she murmured as she passed Wes before heading into the prison proper.

She didn’t make it more than a few steps before she was flagged down by an enforcer, standing next to Nari. “What?” She hissed, the enforcer hardly put off by her tone, though Nari seemed to wince. Already North was gone, ushered way to the medical wing to get treated, the supplies were being carted by.

“What are we doing with her, ma’am?”

Dutchess scowled at the title but didn’t bother to correct him, turning her lightly-hued eyes on the distressed woman. “Not my problem. Wes should be here to do the interview and get her settled in.”

“Uh, well, he’s in with King.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think he’s coming back.” The enforcer, looked rather uncomfortable as he glanced around for something, or possibly someone. “You see, there was a fight tonight, in the cage and it ended … weird. I just heard that there’s going to be another fight, like right now.”

Dutchess inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly, partly to calm herself and prevent her from raging and partly because she needed to think about what to do with Nari. She knew better than to free her into the general populace of the prison without the interview conducted, and she doubted greatly that Cabrera or King would appreciate the asset at risk. She was tired and annoyed and wanted nothing more than her own god-damned bed. Once more she turned her gaze to Nari. There wasn’t a chance she could conduct the interview and whatever plans Cabrera had for the engineer it was above her pay grade.

“Fine, take her to a holding cell until Wes can come get her. Get her some blankets, food, and water.” She watched the enforcer's face twist in confusion. “Problem?”

“Uh, well ma’am. We don’t normally give new prisoners amenities, like that.”

Dutches shifted her stance, planting her fists on her hips. “Who told you she was a prisoner?” She didn’t wait for the enforcer to clarify. “You see her here in cuffs? Anyone holding a gun to her when we walked in here? Did I say she was a prisoner? I didn’t fucking think so. So fucking get her in a cell, get her the shit she needs, and then tell Wes that she’s there waiting for when he’s fucking ready.”

She spun and started away, set to drop off her belongings and figure out just what the fuck was happening in her home while she had been away.

Namazu BeyondDandy Bullyboy Squad Safton Aegis ​