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This is not fun. It is dark scary and lacks hope. This is what will happen In the End. |
| [Introduction]
Journal Entry January 16, 2075 Written by a young national The world has gone to shit. This is something that we've known for decades. We hear the old men and women gabble about a time when hope was a international pasttime-- waste of energy, if you ask me. But that's the nature of things. From what I have observed, there is a major disconnect between the generations. The elders believe that there is still a chance that the ideals of the past will return and create an America of the past. The younger generation, myself included, knows that the only way out of this mess that has been building for centuries is a total fall and rebuild, something we may never see. This is the truth of it: There is no America. In fact, there is not a distinction in countries. The universal government of the past is here, but not because of a unanimous agreement from all countries. A dictator with a hunger for power was given too much slack and eventually overthrew EVERYTHING, not only the world, but the moral of it's people. 3 decades later the shambles of his reign are evident in the destruction of foundation, of the desecration of religion, of the demolition of the human spirit. We are merely the survivors of the end. We are decendents of mighty men but also of idealistic men who fooled themselves into believing that if a problem is ignored it shall disappear. And we must continue surviving in the filth left behind by them. The only light in this darkness (a term that must be stemmed from the ideaological past as a sign of hope) is that because the world is too busy attempting to stay alive, there is little time for a government to do foolish things. There is no war amoung countries for there is no country. There is no political intrigue, because politics is for government which we have very little of. There is no greed, for there is no money. There is no hope. The years have not been kind to the world. Tattered remains of the cities and country sides of cultured lands are all that the survivors of war and famine have to live off. As a species, humans have an uncanny ability to survive and muddle through any sort of disaster. This is no exception. The world's resources are weak. Nuclear war has dwindled what little it had left. Humans have learned to harness the power of light, water, and steam to make up the necessary power to live in moderate comfortability. However, another ability humans have-though curse might be a better term-is to create discord, war, and bitter rivalries with their own kind. Journal Entry February 1, 2075 Written by a young Regent Times are changing. I know there are many of our rank who believe that our attempts are in vain, but I have hope that our plans will continue into a greater world. This month we have created the plans for a new base of operations. The officials of the tyranical government our country is run by had completely destroyed the last base. I am, however, thankful that we had a small window of time to evacuate and did not lose too many of our members. The aristocrats (what the officials are calling themselves these days) are making it difficult for the Regency to obtain the supplies, but we have a operation in the works that will take what we need by force. The days of idle politics are gone. We will not be denied our ability to make our lives better. We will remake our country or die trying. These are the days of the Regents and we will not be ignored. These officials are all that's left of the distant governmental past. They are in control of most food sources, which gives them complete control over civilian masses. This power has proven to be bitter, and has created a harsh brutal life. The term "aristocrats" is what they call themselves to appear more regal. But there is nothing regal about the corruption and pain that these men and women are causing the "scum-sucking civilians". This stories is not light-hearted. It is dark, scary, and lacks the luster of hope. This is what will happen In the End. It documents the beginning of a brutal civil war on the continent once called North America. Rules are as follows: 1. No god characters. Flaws are what make us who we are. Our characters should reflect that. 2. Gore, death, sex are expected in a story like this. But excess is never a good thing. Just ask those who live in 2075. 3. Additions must be well written and thought out. A few errors are expected. I know I am not perfect, after all. Therefore, I cannot ask our works to be either. But do not expect to get away with poorly constructed sentences and paragraphs. 4. I am not a stickler for promptness. However, if your addition takes longer than a month, I will skip you. If it continues, I will dismiss you from our story. 5. Use your imagination. This is a new world with an old foundation. I am considering this a steam-punk style of sorts. This world has the knowledge for all the technologies of our age, but not the resources. The Aristocracy has men working night and day to find new ways to improve power. However, the energy is still fickle. Any technology the Aristocracy invents or rediscovers is promptly stolen and copied by the Regency who then use it to keep refugee camps and their small army running. The Nationals avoid all technology, for it is a sign of past crimes and must be dismissed. They live in squalor and filth waiting for the rebirth of the Earth. BIO BLOCK shall be your first addition. You will introduce your main character to the story. Here is a skeleton to use for it. Name: Age: Affiliation (Regency, Aristocracy, Nationals): Appearance: Personality: Brief Background: |
| Name: Tandaly Kashing "Kash" Age: 26 Affiliation: Regency Appearance: Kash is a short girl, standing at nearly 5' 2". She has long fiery red hair that, due to its udder unwillingness to be tamed, is always roughly braided down her back. She is curvy and fit (being a regent requires one to be so). Her heart shaped face would be pretty if it weren't for the scowl she generally wore on it. Her lips are full when she smiles, but thin during a glare. Her eyes are a deep brown so that when she is angry enough they look almost black. For attire, she wears the usual regent style: Black leggings, tall sturdy brown boots, a black tank-top and a black leather vest. She is never seen without her daggers one on her thigh and at her hip, a six-shooter strapped to her side, hidden under the vest, and a medallion in the shape of a tree on fire around her neck. She has the regency emblem, a celtic circle encompassing a triangle, tattooed on her left shoulder and a thick scar on the right side of her neck, from the ear to beneath her right breast. Personality: Kash is cold when one first meets her. Her calculating mind gives her a general advantage over her peers, but she rarely uses it. She seems pensive and brooding when those who do not know her, study her. However, Kash is a loving friend and a sarcastic conversationalist. She has a huge sense of responsibility and an even bigger sense of patriotism, even if it is only valued among other regents. Because of the dangerous nature of a Scout for the Regency, Kash rarely makes close friends. When she does, though, she is fiercly loyal and will destroy herself to the betterment of those friends. Her conversation styles lack in finese. She is sarcastic and blunt, and doesn't care if you are her superior officer or a random aristocrat. She will tell you exactly what she wants to, when she wants to, and how she wants to with little thought towards your response (unless she likes you, but that's rare too.) She is very good at telling people what to do, less good at being given instrustion. She leads her unit well, but tries not to get attached (she always does). Brief Background: Kash grew up in an aristocratic house. Her father was an officer of the city once called Chicago, now dubbed Gowerson. He was a bitter harsh man with little love for his people and less for his family. At the age 14, she was given to the overlord of the area as a peace offering to be his sex slave until she either died from mistreatment or was killed for insolence. She escaped at 16 with a huge wound on her neck and an unwillingness to EVER discuss the incident. The Regency found her wandering in the slums of Gowerson that locals called End. They took her in and healed her wounds, mental and physical, and she has been a loyal servant of the Regency since. They began to train her to be a public relations officer, but soon found that she was a better fighter and was transfered to the more milita styled units of the Regency. She became a Scout (as the fighters of the Regency call themselves) at age 20, one of the youngest, and is now a superior officer. She believes in the cause and will die, if need be, for it. |
| Name: Jack Verance "Verance" to most "Jack" to a select few. Age:27 Affiliation Regency Appearance: To sum Verance up in one word it would be intense. His short jet black hair is accompanied by a short stubble beard, over his straight jaw line, that never seems to quite leave his face. His grey eyes always seem to be searching, it leaves you with a feeling that he is always thinking about something, though you may never really find out what it is. Often he looks off into the distance, seeming cold and hard but when you pull his attention into the present his features lighten and his eyes seem to give a warmth . He stands at 5'9 and is slender, yet defined in muscle from the years of physical activity as a Regent. He has a scar on his chest but that is covered by a Black shirt form fitting and a brown leather jacket. He wears dark jeans that he can move quite easily in and black and white converse shoes. The inside of his jacket, on the right side at the bottom, he himself sown in the regent emblem. On his hands he has black cotton gloves with the fingers cut off and they have leather pads sown on to the palm and the parts that still cover the fingers; once again his own work, he is quite handy with a needle. Personality: Most often you will find him with a slight grin as if he knows something that others around him don't, this adds to the mystery of this man. He is generally quiet, speaking only when he needs to. His biggest attribute is he knows how to survey a situation and he does just that most of the time. He keeps a level head in most situation unless it involves those that he cares about, in that matter he tends to do what is necessary at all costs. Brief Background:The Regency means a lot to him, but they have also put him through a lot. He grew up on "the other side of the tracks" if you will. He spent most of his younger years getting knocked around, until one day he decided he would try to fight back, so he did, and he did it very well. The first time he had enough he left the kid with a broken jaw, and so from the age of twelve kids figured out not to mess with him. From then on he went through different stages of life first becoming very aggressive, until he realized in his late teens that he had become the exact thing he hated. He spent the next years of his life fighting with the regency when they needed him, but no more unless he saw fit. Keeping himself in control is a big deal to Verance, and he will continue to work at helping others he cares about no matter the cost to himself. |
| Sweat dripped from Kash's brow, alighting like dew onto the ragged and dirty mat. Her opponent, a young capable, but cocky recruit, gazed at her from across the drawn ring. His hands were up in a defensive stance, but he attempted to look casual. His appearance, it seemed, was more important to him than his protection. Kash smiled bitterly. She was ever so use to opponents who disregarded her as a threat because of her small stature. This was not a problem, she would soon show him his mistake. That was her job, currently, for she was instructing a group of second term Scout trainees. It was not her most favorite task, but a mandatory one given her station as a commanding officer. The man, Giff he was called, smirked. "Master Kash, it looks as if I have tired you out. Would you like a break?" He mocked the accent that Kash was renowned for. These were brave jibes, and the inhales and gasps from the rest of the group were proof that her prowess was not wasted on all. However, Kash was aware of at least four injuries the rash man had already sustained and was attempting to hide; a bruised rib, a twisted wrist, a pulled hamstring, and a broken finger. Instead of responding, as the man had assumed she would, in like taunt, Kash merely widened her grim smile. The man was nearly 6ft tall. His reach was far longer than her own. She would wait for him to lose his cool and attack. All she needed was one misstep and he would be hers. They circled each other. Kash had to admit that Giff had great posture, but he was a brawler and not use to long bouts. If she was a gambler, she'd wager that he was the one tiring. The quiet was expanding. Not even a whisper from the 15 men and women surround the ring was heard. The air was tense, and she could see the doubt in his eyes finally start to shine. Kash broke the silence. "Giff, if I am correct, you are stalling," she said in a quiet purr. This was enough to cause the man to act. He suddenly sprang across the short expanse, aimed a haymaker at her head, slow and imperfect. Kash had enough time to snort her derision before grabbing his wrist. Using his greater mass against him, she threw Giff over her hip, twisted his shoulder painfully, and--making quite sure to put extensive pressure on his broken finger-- wrenched his sprained wrist into an uncomfortable position. In the next breath, and to the great surprise of her opponent and his peers, a dagger was placed at the nape of his neck. "Kill," she said coldly in his ear. Disengaging, Kash stepped off the mat and turned to the group who all eyed her wearily. "What did he do wrong?" Her tone was business like showing no emotion. Behind her, Giff groaned quietly cupping his injured hand. A tall woman, old for a trainee smirked. "He lost his cool, miss. He ain't got no reason to try a poor punch like that." Kash nodded but said nothing. Soon the group realized that she wanted more. A pale boy with a wicked black eye spoke up. "He showed his weakness." Kash raised an eyebrow. "And that is?" The boy shrugged. "The leg, wrist, finger, and probably a rib." Kash nodded approvingly. "How did he show it?" "He took too long to attack you. As you circled each other, it became obvious where he hurt." Giff appeared at her side, "Bullshit. I want another go. We ain't allowed weapons on the mat." He was purposefully standing too close, obviously accustomed to his size being an intimidating factor. Kash turned slowly to look at him. "Trainee Giff. Do you think the aristocrats Dogs are going to fight you based what is allowed? In a fight, everything is fair game. However, if you wish for me to beat you again, I will consent." Giff's face turned purple in anger. He was clearly exhausted. His sides heaved, and he was cradling his hand like an infant. A look of defiance streaked across his face, but he was very suddenly aware that Kash had once again drawn a dagger without notice and was twirling it between her fingers. "No Master Kash. I have learned enough lessons for the day," he replied through gritted teeth. She nodded and the dagger disappeared. "I think we've all had enough for today. I believe it is nearly lunch. How about you leave a bit early so you may clean up?" The group rushed out of the large building and hustled to the barracks to do just that. Kash sighed and rolled a smarting shoulder as she walked to a nearby table. Taking a towel from it, she mopped her dripping face. A deep voice from the door said, "Good lesson Master Kash." It was her comrade, Max. He was a very large, very muscular, very black man. "I reckon that lad will think twice before misspeaking in yer class again." Kash rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "Max, who is that pale faced boy with the black eye?" Max smiled wide--a very disconcerting image on his scarred face. "That's Trainee Willins. He hails from Old Las Angeles. Small boy fer his age. Says he's 18." Kash snorted. "Probably more like 15. How did he get recruited?" The two fell into a practiced partnership. They cleared the room of mats in mere minutes. "He escaped from End. They had him locked up fer thieving food. Had no family, no nothin. I brought him here myself. Good lad. Smart." Nodding Kash said, "I would recommend starting him in strategy training soon. He's got an eye for that sort of thing." "Yeah. A black eye. He noticed Giff's clothes were dirty and tried to give his help. Oaf hit him in front of me yesterday. Willins didn't even wince. But Giff's clothes haven't been seen since." Max's laugh was a boom. "I've already suggested him to Strategy." A load voice echoed over the compound from a large microphone. "Lunch time, Scouts!" Max opened the door for Kash, "Let's eat." ******** Kash inhaled her food, as if her life were being threatened. It was a habit, picked up from too many hastily eaten meals on the job. She sat next to Max and few other comrades whose names she never felt it necessary to learn. Silently, she soaked in the conversations around her until a name was brought up at her very table. "Yeah, they say he just arrived. Said he brought in five new recruits." "I heard he died in Gowerson last year!" Max snorted into his cup of coffee. "Ye can't kill men like Verance. Like a cat, he is." "Thank you Max," a tenor voice rose behind her. "It's good to hear compliments from so large a man." Max smirked. "'ello there, Verance. Have a seat." Verance plopped down next to Kash. "Master Kash." He said in acknowledgment. "Verance," she replied with a nod. Verance was known to her. They had spoken rarely, not out of discontent with their persons, but more because they rarely worked together. Having two great Scouts in one unit was rare. And he was good. In fact, he was almost as much of a legend as she. Of course, he never had to worry about his hair of all things becoming his trademark attribute. It was true that most Scouts had short hair. It was pratical and easy maintenance. It was actually protocol to keep it short, but Kash would not allow hers to be cut. She never said why, but many people suspected it was because she was mocking her aristocratic upbringing. Some, though, assumed it was just because Kash was a vain woman. Kash lapped up the remainder of her meal and stoked her long, red braid thoughtfully. "I hear that the compound is moving base again," he said conversationally, "but no one seems to know where yet." "That's because it's on a need to know basis, Verance," Kash said quietly. "You obviously don't need to know." Her lilting accent with it's aristocratic tone had never seemed to completely vanish, and so the sarcasm was noted easily by all listeners. Verance smiled slightly as if he knew more than he said. "I suppose not, Master Kash. Forgive my insolence." Kash's lips twitched hiding a shadow of a smile. "Forgiven." She nodded to her comrades and left the mess hall. |
| He rubbed his hands together, feeling the rough pads on the palm of his gloves work against each other. It was cold, really cold, he looked out over the burning planes as the sun rose, and saw his breath in a deep cloud as he exhaled and looked on. Behind Verance were five bodies, young men and women, laying underneath some wool blankets they had picked up in from small regency camps along their route. These kept them somewhat comfortable, or what comfort could be had with the chill in the air. The burning plains laid on the outside of the Imperial town Clout, previously named Kansas City. The area from Gowerson extending to Clout and even a few hundred miles West had been bombed during the fall of the government, and the small hills that had inhabited the area were laid to waste. The trees and habitation that had previously lived and thrived in the area never grew back to their full strength, leaving the land sparse for resources and no wildlife anywhere. The layout made it easy to see for miles in any direction. He knew the land well, and it was easy travels to get back to the headquarters that had sent him off. His eyes were unwavering, as he thought of all his questions that would get swept under the rug. Even questions that he had to ask himself, why did this delivery differ from the rest? How did he mess up so badly? How could he have been so foolish? At this time, miles off in the distance, he could see the outline of Clout to the East, the city that they had just narrowly escaped… Verance had spent a week in the town on orders to retrieve a boy named Joshua who had been captured in a traveling convoy. He was an outstanding marksman, and a good fighter, but the interesting thing about this 16 year old boy was his communications skills. He could decipher, read, and speak any language that was shown to him on paper. This skill was unheard of in this day in age; had the imperials known about him, they most likely would never have turned him over to be a sex slave. Joshua was a smart boy but even he didn’t quite understand the value he held to the Regency. The building that held Joshua was fairly large. It was clumsily rebuilt from the damage it sustained in the wars and smaller revolts. From what he could tell, the security wasn’t much, but he knew from experience that he would need a key from the guard’s station within the building to get into the slave’s quarters; or he could just make them open it for him. Scoping out the building was the easy part, gaining the information systematically, watching the layout of guard shift’s and keeping tabs on who was pulling extra hours on the building. Two on the front door and four more guards placed within. He knew he didn’t have the luxury of time so he made up his mind quick. At dusk, when the streets were emptying, Verance took a stroll down the street past the main doors of the building. Seeing the street to be visibly empty, he casually asked one of the guards to verify his map of the town. With a quick jab to the throat of the unsuspecting guard at the door fell to the ground unable to breath. Verance quickly maneuvered around the second guard placing him in a sleeper hold. Then turned back to the struggling guard on the ground and with one swift motion of his fist he knocked the guard out clean. He checked the pockets of the now sleeping guard, grinning at his luck, for he had found a key. Easier than he had imagined it, Verance was in. He slipped inside the doors and silently moved down a long hall that led into a guard station. All four of the guards inside were there, two of them had their back to the entrance hallway and they cheered on the other two who stood at a makeshift pin pong table converted from a sheet of plywood and four chairs with a line drawn through the middle. They paid no attention to Verance, who slipped in and edged his way along the wall into the next hallway. Once he was in, he made his way down that hall into an opened room that contained the holding cells. There were 50 or so gaunt faces of children between the age of 14 to 18, looking back at him from 5 different holding rooms. Taking a quick surveillance of the room he noticed one boy sitting up in the back of the farthest cell, skin black as night, eyes jet blue and understanding. He knew his target right away, he had been told about his features, but it was a little unnerving to see them in person. Making his way to the back holding cell he motioned for Joshua to come to the door and be silent, by putting two fingers to his mouth and motion with two fingers on his other hand. Reaching the door he inserted the key and opened the door. The boy slipped out and as Verance turned to lock the door back up Joshua grabbed his hand. The two locked eyes and Joshua mouthed the words that Verance would soon regret. “All of them.” Verance knew this was a futile attempt there would be no way that all 50 or so of the slaves would make it out of the city alive, he would be lucky to get more than one out. He shook his head no, and Joshua’s blue eyes lowered, he put up both his hands, counting ten. Verance winced at the thought, but he gave the ok, and Joshua motioned back into the cell. The ten members of that cell exited some stood tall, while others hobbled from the cell. Verance knew this would be a problem. His exit strategy was going to be changed drastically, and he quickly weighed his options. Just then Verance heard a pop on the window nearest the hall and he saw a hand held up against the glass with the first two fingers in a peace sign. Soon he heard another, followed by one more, before long the remaining four rooms had hands up against the glass all with the same signal. Then the pop turned into a bang, and hand after started slamming against the glass, Verance motioned for the group to stand up against the wall along the door. The noise soon rose to a dull roar, and Verance knew what would come next. He stood next to the door and as they swung opened he saw two guards enter through the crack. He stepped out from behind one, and placed a precisely aimed punch to disorient the guard. The other guard, startled, turned to see Verance dropping low and a leg took his feet from under him. A quick elbow to the neck rendered him useless and the first guard regaining his balance turned for the door. He was able to utter a quick shout as Verance tackled him from behind, smashing his head into the floor and swiftly knocking him out. Knowing that there was no more time for silence Verance called for the group of kids to stay close, and they started off back down the hallway. Peering out from around the corner Verance saw the empty station room, and he quickly had the kids follow. Reaching the outside door Verance glanced out to see the two fallen guards before were missing, he grinned as he thought of the way out of the city, he just loved a challenge. Turning to the group clustered behind him, “Stay close, and whatever you do, don’t stop for any reason.” Verance kicked open the doors and took off to his right down the now abandoned street. He heard no signs of alarm, which he took for good news, and continued towards the city wall to the West. The wall had it’s blemishes and he knew of a hole just big enough a small man could crawl through and not get caught if he was lucky. For ten of them he knew it was going to be an act of God. Making their way across the last park before the wall, Verance pulled Joshua up to him and said, “Get under the wall and keep going towards the setting sun. If it rises and you are facing it, then turn and run hard and fast. Get away from the city at all costs. I’ll find you soon enough just keep going away from the city.” Joshua looked confused but he didn’t question and he started off. Just as the fourth member of the group was getting through and the fifth one started a gun shot rang through the night. Verance knew that he had been lucky so far, and his luck had just ran out. As he ducked and turned to see ten or so guards coming in from the North and East directions, he also heard two screams come from some of the children nearby. Both of them had be shot and the wound looked fatal on such frail bodies. Verance gritted his teeth and looked south along the wall for an exit strategy, just then from the hole in the ground he saw a boy’s face with Jet blue eyes pop his head back in to the hole. Verance screamed, “Get out of here!” As he saw the tears in the boys eyes when he was forced to retreat back through the hole. Grabbing the remaining three survivors Verance took off to the south and made it to the line of houses with the guards in hot pursuit. Two more shots cried out through the night and another scream as the last girl in the group fell cold. Verance cursed himself yet again for agreeing so easily to try and help so many. He took a sharp turn to his left down a dark alley way and made his way back East through the city. Eventually coming to the crossroad that led him back to the slave house, and he crossed up North following this road alongside the building he was set to double back around the guards and sneak through the hole had they left it unattended. Just then two more shots rang out and both of the kids who were nipping at his heals fell down dead for good. Verance ducked into the alley to the North glancing back and seeing two of the guards that he subdued to get into the facility. The kids were just steps from making it around the corner and out of view from the guards, and Verance had an unwieldy rage bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t move far back down the alley, but just stood around the corner from the fallen children and waited. Sure enough both guards came up to the children one was glancing around for other escapees, and one knelt down to check the pulse of the two on the ground. In a gruff voice, “This one is dead, now for the other li’l shit.” Just then Verance stepped from the shadows and with a swift kick landing square on the jaw of the man kneeling down, he stepped forward to jump and swing a round house kick that knocked the other man unconscious once again. This time Verance bent down, and pulled out a small sewing needle from a case in his pocket. Quickly inserting it strategically three times into each man’s neck letting it knick the esophagus having both men bleed out slowly while choking on their own blood. He skirted the roads back to the park next to his hole, and as he had suspected the guards overlooked what they had been doing there in the first place and left it unattended. He could hear sirens and loudspeakers blaring. He was sure that he had made quite an uproar in this town. Sneaking along the wall he made his way back to the hole and silently slipped through to the other side. He looked at the city walls one last time as he took off after the lucky survivors of what should never have happened in the first place. |
| That morning began like all other mornings. Kash brushed her hair methodically. 50 strokes on the left, 50 on the right, and ten back. She braided it tightly and let it fall against her straight back. She made her bed and tidied her room. Carefully, every morning, Kash breathed—in through her nose, and out through her nose—and tried to think of nothing at all. This was a trick she had picked up from the Master General back when he was her direct superior and she just a grunt scout. The exercise gave her mind rest, even if it did not require it. She had trained herself to return to the serenity of these moments in stressful situations, giving her clarity when she needed it most. Like every other morning, she breathed while she went through a rigid stretching routine, losing her stiffness and waking up her tired muscles. Then, she breathed while she ran the four miles that encompassed the temporary Scout Compound and ended near the mess hall. The difference that this morning had over the others, though, was that she shared her run with Verance. He had jogged up to her as she began her first mile, and his long legs easily matched her hard pace. There was a deep silence in his company, not unpleasant and Kash found that she did not mind his presence. When they entered the mess hall, sweaty and short of breath, Kash found them water. They drank in silence. At this point, Kash had an uncomfortable feeling that Verance had ulterior motives and didn’t just want the pleasure of her harsh company. She had just decided to ask him when Max and her other Coop Officers-the men who served directly under Kash, Bleath, Walt, and Crese, found them seated at one of the long tables boasted by the large dining area. They squeezed in around their Master officer and began wolfing down the meal. No one ever talked much before the sun rose, and the room started to fill with the silence of utensils against dish, and chewing jaws. Kash drained her mug of coffee and finally turned to Verance. “What is it you want?” Her voice was rougher than she had intended, but she quietly blamed that on the high temperature of the coffee. Verance grinned. “No courtship necessary with this one is there?” Kash felt her face grow hot and stifled a groan. She hated when her body betrayed her emotions . He continued, his eyes twinkling with closely contained mirth. “I was hoping I might have a private word with you Master Kashing.” He used her full name, attempting to announce subtly that it was a professional inquiry. Kash stood abruptly. She rarely did anything delicately. “Max, bring me the lists of new recruits. I want Crese to start with writing tomorrow on our second years. I’m annoyed at how little of the simple skill they know. Walt, go see if they have any missions for us will you?” It was a hopeless thought, but she sent him everyday to see if she would be allowed out of the blasted confines of the compound. The men nodded and left to take their now empty trays to the kitchen staff. She turned back to Verance who had watched the exchange with a guarded eye. Kash flicked her head to the door, indicated he was to follow and strode out of the mess hall that was quickly filling with scouts. She stopped outside of the Stables, so called because it housed the vehicles used by the scouts in missions. They were as alone as one in the Scouts could be. She turned and looked at Verance with only a hint of a question in her eye. He waited a breath, as if steeling himself to begin—Verance wasn’t a man who asked questions easily, and said, “There is a boy. Black skin. Blue eyes. 5’ 6” and about 150 pounds. He’s currently staying in the general housing.” Kash raised an eyebrow. It didn’t sound like a question. In fact it sounded more like an official description, one the man would have been given before he was sent to rescue someone.“He was hurt. Not bad.” Verance brushed his face with his hands. “Listen Master Kash, I need a favor.” Kash sighed. “What?” It was not uncommon for grunt scouts to ask favors of Masters. Masters had much more freedom to move within the compound, to ask questions. However, Kash had a strict policy against doing such errands. She was not a message boy, nor did she want to be one. If she gave herself a moment to think on it, Kash would know that her curiosity was rising. Verance wasn’t making much sense. How was the boy hurt? What happened to Verance to make him seek her out? Verance uttered a growl which might have been comical if it hadn’t startled Kash. She glared at him. He had wasted time and he was beginning to annoy her. She refused to think about the fact that it had been a long time since anyone had actually startled her before. “Scout Verance, either tell me what it is you want or walk away. You are wasting my time with your idling.” He finally mumbled. “I’d like to talk to him.” Kash was confused, and she didn’t like being confused. “So go talk to him.” Verance cursed under his breath. “He’s being guarded. Not to be seen by anyone without a station before their name.” He looked into Kash’s eyes, an activity she was not use to. Kash nodded. “Dismissed Scout.” He left. She hadn’t agreed or disagreed to follow through with the request. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.But the questions race uninhibited in her under worked brain.Who was this boy and why did he matter to the scout? She attempted to brush off the question and return to her daily duties, boring strict daily duties. ~*~ Later that evening, when her lessons were taught and her nerves nearly fried by the monotonous routine of compound life, Kash was in the Stables fiddling with her beloved motorbike. It was in pristine condition a result of 6 months locked in the compound with a bored owner. She was thinking about Verance. Or more accurately, she was contemplating his request. After he had asked it, Kash went to her superior officer, General Murray. The two soldiers did not exactly get along, but Murray was a staunch backer of protocol and Kash had learned to work around it when dealing with the large man. She went straight his office in the administration building near the rear of the large compound. She had always been uncomfortable in office buildings. There were too many places to hide enemies. She knocked and quickly entered his office. After giving him a full report on the 20 odd recruits she was training, she eyed him, sizing up the man’s mood. Murray was large, especially around the middle. He wore sharp and clean civilian clothes, like the other generals. Most of his work these days was devoted to the Regency Council and their bidding. He was a soldier at heart, but made a fine politician in his late years. His greying hair was cropped short, and his blue grey eyes studied Kash coldly. He was in a sour mood . “Anything else Tandaly Kashing?” He called her by her birth name, given to her by the damned aristocratic father who’d nearly killed her. He was in his right to use the name, but he only did it because he enjoyed watching the young Master squirm. “Yes sir.” Kash braced herself. “I was wondering if you’d found an appropriate guardian for the new asset, sir.” It was a huge gamble. Verance had said that the boy was locked away and guarded. He must be special in some way. These assets were rare people, and if the boy was one, he needed a Scout guardian, glorified babysitter. Murray raised a thin eyebrow while his lips pursed. “Wanting to take up nannying, Scout?” Kash blushed but held his gaze. “No Sir. I had thought that my man Max might be suitable Sir. That’s all.” Kash was within protocol to advise the man on her own officers. She sent a silent apology to Max. She hadn’t had any time to actually talk to the man yet. Murray stared at her. “And how would you know what was needed? The asset should be a secret, girl.” Kash shrugged while keeping her sharp stance. “This is the Regency Compound, Sir. People talk.” His eyes narrowed. He was attempting to detect insubordination in her reply. Finally he sighed. “I had thought of Maxign Fress myself. We will schedule a time tomorrow for him to meet the boy.” “I reserve my right to attend, sir.” Kash said it formally looking somewhere over the man’s left shoulder. Murray shook his head in resignation. “Who would have thought that Kash the Warrior would have a girlish curiousity.” Kash bit her inner cheek to keep herself calm and breathed in through her nose and out through her nose slowly. She was regaining her thoughts when he said, “Fine. Tomorrow after 1st bell. Dismissed.” Kash left the room. She was going to see what this boy was all about, and why Verance was so keen to see him. It may have been a girl’s appetite for gossip material if Kash had ever been the type to follow such nonsense. But it was more than that. Something about the way Verance asked, or the fact that he asked at all was nagging at her. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was so interested, but she finally put it down as pure boredom and left the thought alone. |
| Name: Everleigh Condroy Age: 19 Affiliation (Regency, Aristocracy, Nationals): Aristocracy Appearance: Everleigh stands at the staggering height of 5'8,she has a slim build and what little muscle definition she has she got from lifting her silver spoon. Her fair skin is complimentary of her platinum blonde hair which can often be seen in a low bun that compliments her long neck. Everleigh's full lips are always curved in a mischievous smile that seems ever present. She loves dressing in lavish and quite expensive clothing, with pastel colors mainly catching her eyes, which are green like her mother's. Everleigh very much so looks and dresses the part of an aristocrat. Personality: Everleigh is cunning and mischievous. Although she has enjoyed the perks of her lavish life style, she finds it quite boring at times. She is always looking for a new adventure and is never afraid of the danger it may bring her. She is smart and quick witted, but can seem very naïve at times. She has a hard time relating to other people's problems since hers have seemed much bigger in her mind. Brief Background: She grew up as the daughter of Heinrich Condroy, Governor of Grenoble (formerly known as New Orleans). As the only child her parents felt a great need to provide for their daughter all of the things she wanted. They love her and even though she gets bored with their love, she knows it's very uncommon so she reciprocates. From a young age Everleigh had the capability to persuade many people to see things her way or agree with her. For the weaker minded people it would almost seem that she can force her will. This capability makes her an asset to the Regency. Her own yearning for adventure got her caught up in one that she may not be able to handle. She was captured by the Regency while sneaking away from her home and has been attempting to escape ever since. |
| Sweat dripped from his brow down to the dusty floor. Another fist came flying into his midsection, and Verance doubled over in his seat. His hands tied tight behind the chair kept him from falling off of it, he seemed to not have much energy left to sit. The light was minimal in the room a single window in the corner of the room casted the sun’s rays on the wall across from him. The only sounds to be heard was the footsteps of interrogator and the deep breathing that Verance put forth to keep his resolve. You could taste the stench of the two men in the room, most of this caused by the humidity. Verance was timing the footsteps the man made while pacing back and forth. Left right, left right. He was measuring how far across the room the man would walk before he would stop, turn around to look at him, approach and slug him again in the stomach. This had been going on for some time, after each approach the man would stand across the room and size Verance up, judging the amount of pain he was in. Smiling to himself as he cracked his knuckles, the man seemed pleased with himself. The light cast from the window lit up the lower half of the man’s dirty smiling face, showing a mouth full of missing teeth. “It’s not torture if you don’t make me suffer…” seeped out an audible whisper. Standing on the far side of the room, “Oh let’s see what we can do for you.” His hand slowly came out of his pocket accompanied by some brass knuckles. The toothless grin widened as he began his approach again. Verance listened to the footfalls judging the distance. Taking a deep breath in he leaned back in the chair whipping his legs up, catching the man in his chest with two feet. The man staggered back losing his balance and ended up falling against the wall. Verance kept his hands as flat as he could as his chair fell backwards crumbling under his weight when he hit the floor. Both men struggled to catch the air that had escaped from their lungs. Verance knew that within moments the other man would be on top of him. He rolled to the side dragging the mess of the chair with him trying to wriggle his hands out of the knots holding them together. He could hear the man struggling from across the room, “You little bastard, come here.” Standing up he took three quick steps and was on top of Verance. He felt a rough hand grab his throat and begin to clench down around his wind pipe. Gasping for air, Verance could taste the putrid breath of the man on top of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flash of a fist coming down towards his head. Connecting along the side of his face, Verance could feel the bones crunch in his cheek, and a warm tingle of blood start dripping down his cheek. The hand on his throat pulled away, Verance then saw another fist from the other side come flying towards the front of his face. Pulling his head to the side, the man’s hand connected with the concrete below, the audible sound of his breaking knuckles soon turned into the screaming pain of the man above him. His hands coming free from the ropes behind his back pushed upwards. The sudden movement made the man topple forward headlong into the wall. Hitting his head the man was out cold with not so much as a grunt. Slowly getting up and dusting himself off, “Well, that was easy.” Verance muttered to himself. He had been held in this cell for over a week, so he knew it well. A bed to the side behind him, along the same wall as the window in front of him, and a door to his right. He stood silently for a moment trying to pick up any sounds from the other side of the door, it seemed that no one noticed the scuffle and he was relieved for that. Taking a deep breath he focused on steadying his breathing and the events that had led him into this holding cell. He was going to leave, and no one was going to stop him. *** The morning opened cool, a crisp breeze was blowing through his hair. He was up at least an hour before the sunrise from his assumptions. The morning birds were just beginning to chirp off in the distance. Jack Verance had headed East from the compound, partly to get fresh air and collect his thoughts, another part of him enjoyed being away from the compound and other people. The connection to Kash and some others were nice, even though it was professional and very structured, times to relax came few and far between. Sometimes he need to be on his own, and you just couldn’t get that within the compound of Clout. This morning he found his thoughts drifting back to Joshua, the intense look the boy had, and the friends that he wasn’t willing to let go. He wondered if others he knew held the same loyalty towards him. Then the thought of Kash, she was really the closest thing he had to a friend, and he wondered not only if she would be that loyal to him, but himself towards her. Justice and helping those who could not help themselves always brought Verance to action, but what about an injustice from a friend. Would he still be sympathetic? He shivered as he shook the thought from his mind. The sun peaking over the hills signaled the start of his day, he packed up his gear and began to head east once more. The land here had patches of trees that had been re-growing for years. It definitely wasn’t grasslands and meadows, but it was the closest thing to it. The mountains began to form and Verance picked out a rock face that he wanted to climb, and he started towards it. This brought him into a steep valley heading up towards the mountain face. Suddenly he became aware of a faint cry that was farther up the valley, it echoed off the rock walls to each of his sides. The distance of vision was becoming smaller and smaller, as he headed towards the sound. The trees here, having a somewhat steady flow of water, were allowed them to grow a bit taller reaching for the sunlight, which was just a bit higher, then down in the lower hills of the valley. As the noise grew louder and more frantic Verance picked up the pace, trying to stay hidden in the shadows of the trees as he moved. Spending years sneaking around he was no stranger to being able to move in complete silence. The sound of the girls screamed almost at once silenced and Jack halted listening for any telling sign of what might have happened. It was the smell of death that caught his attention first. Up ahead he glimpsed an opening in the trees, a small meadow as it were, he slowly made his approach. No sounds were being made, not a creature moved, and the smell was getting worse. Making his way to the edge of the clearing he then saw what looked to be a girl laying face down in the grass. Items of a camp were strewn about. Edging his way around to the south side of the clearing Jack then caught site of what was causing the smell. Twelve bodies were strung up into the trees. Some had body parts that were cut away, others were simply hung from the neck. Most of them had been stripped naked and mutilated. The one body in the area that still had clothes was the little girl. A stillness crept over the area, Jack held his breath for a time, when all of a sudden he saw the faintest movement of the girl laying on the ground. She was still breathing. She was still alive. Forgetting his place, Verance took a swift look around and made a quick dashed to the middle of the clearing. He gently rolled the girl over onto her back checking her neck for a pulse. It was there. It was strong. Her eyes opened, a smile formed, and a giggle escaped her lips. Then there was nothing. *** He shuddered at the memory. His caring nature left him vulnerable, and now he had no idea where he was being held. He was left alone except for meals, even then the person who brought him food said nothing. Verance had been in a very bad position, left alone, with no one around. There was no hope of escape for the man, until just now. He was missing his jacket and belongings, though there wasn’t much he wanted to find those things first. He knew his best defense came from his own sewing kit that he could turn into deadly weapons with the flit of his fingers. After that he would figure out where he was, and why he was being kept there. But everything to come in due time, he had gotten into this mess by being hasty, he wasn’t about to be put back in his cell. He turned to the man and tied him up with the rope that had been used on himself. Searching him for a set of keys, he found them in his front pocket, he turned to leave his cell once and for all. Opening the door he poked his head out into the bright hallway, his eyes adjusting from the dark cell he had inhabited for so long. The corridor seemed to be deserted, the only company he seemed to keep was the humidity that seemed to be as heavy as the man he just knocked out cold. He retreated into his cell looking back at the body on the floor, he hoisted the overly large man up onto his bed and began to take off his long jacket with a weird symbol on the shoulders. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant. Throwing the jacket on he dusted it off as he opened the cell door and strode out into the hallway. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this mess, but he knew that this was a good start. |
| “This place sucks balls!” Everleigh screamed rather enthusiastically as she paced around her suite trying to find something to fill the mind numbing void of her boredom. There were books and games that were kept on hand in her room but none of those interested her. She longed for the simplicity of human interaction but she wasn’t getting much of that at the Regency. The only thing that kept her going was a window in the door that led to the hallway which housed many other doors like hers, entryways the other assets. “Asset 232, if I have to tell you one more time to keep it down I’m going to tie a scarf around your mouth.” One of the patrolmen said casually as he walked by her door. They never stopped and talked to her for long, they weren’t allowed in her room, and for the most part they weren’t allowed to even look at her. She was considered valuable in the Regency’s eyes but they had no clue how to control her. The idea made her laugh, like anyone could ever control her. She could hear the footsteps of three others coming down the hall. Glancing through the window she saw two men and a woman walking with purpose. She knew one of the men, his name was Murray, he was one of the bastards who kept her here. The other two she wasn’t quite sure about but they looked as though they could be interesting. She knew what they were doing and that it would in no way shape or form involve. Being assigned a handler wasn’t in the pages for Everleigh, even though she wanted one desperately. Partly because she was bored out of her mind, but mainly because it would be her best chance of getting out of this place. “Hey Murray!” Everleigh shouted as he passed by. “What, 232?” He bit out, his annoyance obvious making the exchange all the more pleasurable for Everleigh. “You know, I’ve been thinking. You know what you could use around here?” She asked innocently as he turned his back towards her and stood in front of the door. Protocol. “What’s that Everleigh?” He asked with little interest. “You could use a pop machine. I’ve been thinking and I’m pretty sure team morale would boost by the hundreds if you’d just give people some pop. Maybe if you’d give me some pop and a proper meal I’d use my asset for the greater good.” She smiled at Murray’s back as he stiffened at the way she mocked their goals. It’s not that she hated the Regency, she just liked the Aristocracy more. “I have a better thought. I’m going to keep you here forever.” He said as he motioned the others to walk away with him. She caught the woman glancing, well glaring, at her as they walked by. Although Everleigh took interest in everyone that came walking down these halls, she took felt a great need to know this one. This woman could be her ticket. “Hey, hey you!” She frantically pounded on the window trying to get the woman’s attention, which proved to be a hard thing to do. The gal refused to turn and look at her, which annoyed Everleigh more than anything. She started pounding harder until finally the straight backed lady turned around slowly and glared at her. “What?” She was a feisty one. Everleigh shrunk only the smallest bit at the response but she soon regained control. This was yet another opportunity that she’d have to take. “Can you play blackjack? I have a deck of cards and could really use the company.” She pleaded, her lips in a full pout as she blinked her doe eyes at the woman trying to get the answer she wanted. “No.” Ok, this was going to be harder than she thought. “Look, I’m bored, no one here knows how to play, just one game please?” Everleigh pleaded. “I can think of a hundred things I’d rather do.” The answer surprised Everleigh and she was sure it shown on her face. She wasn’t the only one who took notice. Murray was listening to their conversation intently with an interested look on his face. Surely the woman had been affected in some ways by her but her face definitely didn’t show it. At this point they were in a staring contest that Everleigh knew she was going to lose. She had never met anyone who could so easily shield themselves from her will. “She’s a pusher, and one of our strongest at that.” Murray announced matter of factly. Both women redirected their stares towards him. “Asset 232, Everleigh Condroy. You may have heard of her at one point, Verance brought her in about a year ago now. We haven’t been able to let her outside of her room since.” Murray informed the woman. “You seem to be holding up your own, though, Kash. What do you say? Want to become a handler?” Though it was in the form of a question Everleigh could tell from his tone it was anything but. She wondered if this Kash gal would stand against Murray, because she’d always wanted to see someone tell that fat bastard off. “With all due respect, General, my schedule is very packed as it is. What with training and teaching I really don’t think it’s in the asset’s best interest to have a handler who cannot devote herself completely.” Oh this was rich, Everleigh could feel her wicked smile spread across her lips as she was beyond amused by the exchange. She didn’t even have it in her to try to convince Murray to let her outside, knowing full well he would. “Master Kash, I know for a fact you carve three hours out of your schedule daily to work on your motorcycle. It’s been three years, Kash, I’m sure it’s fixed.” Everleigh found herself desperately wanting popcorn. “General Murray, do you think it is in the best interest of the Regency for me to watch this girl?” Kash said gesturing towards Everleigh. The question was an honest one, something that surprised Everleigh, the woman was obviously dedicated to the cause. “Yes, Kash, I do. Now we’ll do a trial meet tonight. I want you to have dinner with her. You guys will be watched in case she pushes you into doing something you’re not supposed to.” Everleigh grinned at Kash, who looked absolutely annoyed. Before dinner started Everleigh was filled with hope, two minutes after Kash arrived at her suite to eat she had completely lost all of it. Kash was a blocker to Everleigh’s pusher, which would be the only reason Murray felt comfortable assigning her to Kash. In her past Everleigh had always been able to get what she wanted, she could persuade people to do things her way or think her way and she grew older her ability got stronger. Soon she could make people do what she wanted with the blink of an eye, and never once had she ran across a person who shut her down totally and completely, until now. Kash didn’t talk much, she wasn’t particularly fond of pleasantries and she refused to play any type of game. Everleigh thanked the mighty silently when the food arrived. Finally something could preoccupy her time with the most boring person she had ever met. There was a small table in one corner of the large room with two chairs, they sat there and began eating. Taking dainty bites then counting to twenty in her head before she swallowed was what her mother had always taught. She couldn’t appear rude and uneducated to anyone she might meet. Kash hadn’t learned that. Everleigh watched in horror as the woman practically took the plate and shoveled it into her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Everleigh said dramatically. Kash looked up from her plate, unembarrassed by the obvious insult. “Why are you here?” Everleigh asked, annoyed with the woman’s lack of talking. There was no point in her having a handler if the lady wouldn’t even say one word. “It’s an order.” She said simply shrugging her shoulders as she took a napkin and wiped her face. She was done with food before Everleigh had gotten halfway through hers. “That’s stupid.” Everleigh snapped childishly. “That’s your opinion.” “What’s your opinion?” Everleigh asked curiously. “I listen to General Murray. Greater good and all.” She shrugged again. Everleigh sighed a hearty one. It was like trying to pull teeth to get one word out of this woman. She was already annoyed that she had a handler. “You grew up in the Aristocracy?” She asked out of curiosity. Kash’s back instantly stiffened at the question, this was obviously a sore subject and one that Everleigh planned to thoroughly exacerbate. “Yes.” The short answer was a warning, one that Everleigh couldn’t find it in herself to heed. “Your accent is very strong, though I’m presuming you’ve been in the regency for a while. What made you come here?” “I like it here.” “Hmm, I find that odd. I definitely love my home more than here.” Everleigh said thoughtfully as she looked around at the meek room. Other assets loved it here but her home was much nicer and more comfortable, plus her parents were there. She longed to be back with them so badly but there was a little voice that told her she’d never see them again. She had to try though, even if it meant pushing her power to a place it had never been before. She wanted nothing more than for her parents to wrap her in their arms. She was safe and loved with them, which she was neither of in the Regency. “That’s your opinion.” Everleigh rolled her eyes at Kash. The first time she said that it annoyed her, now it angered her. “My home is amazing, and my parents love me. So forgive me for not thinking this place is a palace like the other assets.” Everleigh shot angrily. She had never met someone who could anger her so easily, but somehow Kash did. She was losing all hope for a handler being her way out. They sat in silence for a long while. They stared each other down, seemingly sizing up the opponent. Everleigh wanted Kash to leave but the damn woman wouldn’t. Just when the silence got too awkward to bear Kash smiled to herself a bit. She looked up at Everleigh and the smile grew wider, making her grow uneasy. “I think this is going to be good. I’ll come get you in the morning, we can go for a run.” With that Kash got up and left, maybe there was a small sliver of hope that she could use her new found acquaintance for her own good. Everleigh flopped on her bed after the run, her hair matted, lungs on fire, and legs shaking. This would never work. |
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