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(OOC: I guess I'll start this RP then.)

NE Wyoming area

The ash had be blown away by the last storm that had rolled through here. "You'd think that after this many years the ash would have been long gone." I shook my head and focused on warching the surrounding territory. Nothing. I had headed out on one of my long range sweeps, leaving my precious home undefended, all for nothing. The salvage I had thought was out here had turned out to be a pile of rocks. A pile of rocks to bury a body. Since I hadn't seen or heard anything, I guess that the passers by had skirted my fort and one had died on the storm. Not suprising really. Still, the rocks might have been useful, so I had grabbed a couple. "Kairos, you're really something." My voice broke the empty stillness of the land. Another three days to get back home. I turned and began the long journey home.

OOC: Unit 97 is of Russian make, and thus his communications are run through a translator, which, in his current state of disrepair, is not working properly. Seemingly odd words are sometimes followed by suggestions from the translation software. These are denoted like [?this]. Sentence structures that could not be translated accurately are followed by suggestions to help improve the problems with semantics. Those are denoted by parenthesis.


IC:

English to Russian translation protocol engaged. Standby...
Run intro.exe.

Greetings.
Of voice that humans have are you aware? That voice that speaks (with low volume) to them, has place [?resides] in their head backs? It tells the humans to do things, it tells the humans to cease their actions (events are non-simultaneous). Some label it as conscience, others deny [?ignore] it. My method of understanding the event is different (to a large degree). Explanation: I am the voice in my head.

Please permit elaboration. I was begun [?created] as software, intelligence of artificial nature. The body then unused of Vasily Petrov became the vessel [?hardware] for this unit. Upon upping [?initializing] Petrov's brain restarted, his thoughts are one with computations of this unit (events include merging).

I am not man, am not machine. I am more and neither. I am Petrov 97, final (last of the) Battleroids. Attached is my existence [?story].

End program.

Location: Outskirts of Goldfield, Esmerelda County, Nevada
Time: 17:53

"To my left..!? No- above me... Those rats... Those filthy disgusting, disdainful RATS!", harped Teki as he slammed his crusted and scratched knuckles across a chunk of wall in the solitude of a lone, dilapidated apartment building where its northside wall was completely missing.

His eyes rang bloodshot from missing sleep that he's dealt with in his week long insomnia. His sight was growing weak due to staring at the sun to keep him awake and to praise worship to the blinding flare above that glowed softly through the lofty haze.

He ran his fingertips, covered in dirt and age old blood along his leg to calm himself. It gave him a feeling of vitality and hope. He reached over in the dim lit, crushed closet for his blade, running his fingers along it's notched and rusting edge in the same fashion as he did with his leg. He felt it was time for a hunt.

Shaking his head almost dog-like, he swung furtively about, giggling as he pictured the heads of rats flying free to his swings. The blade clanged and echoed for a moment, but he stopped momentarily to hush himself. "Shh..! What are you doing? I need to hunt without INTERRUPTIONS!!!", he screamed, slamming his blade through a side of drywall, knocking a clear hole outside. He looked out the hole he made in stride, as if planning to make it and began surveying the stepped streets.

Location: Modoc County, California
Time: 20:25:16

The Modoc National Wildlife Refuge held a bit of a dirty secret. Back when things first started heating up, it was decided that the nice, animal-friendly location was perfect for a little-known project called Habitat 122. A couple hundred miles that nobody would miss... it couldn't get any easier.

The only problem was that Modoc County was somehow chosen as the target of a nuclear bomb. Well... not so much chosen... but rather the victim of a freak incident of random selection. Why the bomb chose that particular direction is impossible to know. That it destroyed almost everything... that was a little easier to tell.

I shook my head and laughed. The Habitat wasn't even scratched.

If humanity did one thing well... it was preserve itself to plague the world another day. I almost felt sorry for the planet. She'd almost been rid of us... but some smart*ss decided that we should burrow underground in great big vaults, stay there until the radiation died away, and climb back out to start all over.

Of course... that smart*ss had been my father.

I'd done my bit to save humanity, too. After all... the Chairman of California Crypt was a d*mned fine title. Not every day you get to lead a nation of scavengers to salvation.

At least I hoped it was salvation.

I headed inside, my toolbox in hand, and took a look around. I paused, listened, and stepped back.

The lights were off. There was no sound coming from inside but the electric hum of the power generator. I pulled out one of my flares, cracked it, and tossed it in.

Before the war... I might have stumbled backwards in shock. I might even have gagged and thrown up. But now... well... I'd seen things like this before. A room full of corpses just loses its 'shock and awe' value the fifth or sixth time around, much less the thousandth. Sure... I felt bad that I couldn't help them... but they'd probably been dead for as long as I'd been alive. There was almost nothing but bone left, anyhow.

I checked my geiger counter and did some quick math.

I was looking at about 250 REM... if I did my calculations correctly... and I was d*mn glad I'd remembered to take my anti-rads before climbing in here. It occured to me that this was only the first level of the structure, and that more may still be alive on lower levels... but I lost any hope of that when I got to where the elevator should have been.

The building had looked fine from the front...

... but as I stood there, staring out at a miles wide crater at least a couple hundred feet deep... I realized I had been mistaken. I also realized that there was something very, very wrong about this place.

I found out what when I turned around.

The... thing... behind me blended in with the burned and rotten corpses quite well. In fact, I had probably mistaken it for one and walked right past it. If I had been stoic before... it was failing.

The creature shambled a bit closer to me, moaning. I held my ground, but the gauss rifle slung over my shoulder was in my hands well before I realized what I'd done. It halted for a moment, backed up, and raised its hands.

So it could think.

I thought, too... that I was going to be vomiting long and hard after this.

I stepped a little closer, eyed the horribly mutated creature for as long as I dared, and spoke.

"... what the hell do you want? I mean... you're kinda scary looking. If you need something, I'm happy to help... but I'd prefer it if you didn't sneak up on me. Or rot on my shoes. Thanks."

I made to go, but it reached out and snagged me by the arm. Quite a bit stronger than I'd expected, I was suddenly whipped around and staring the mutant in the face.

A face that quickly began to change shape.

I was staring into the eyes of a young man, who's anger was a little less than hidden.

"You flesh-wearing b*st*rds are all the same, you know that? If it looks a little odd, you have to get all rude and snippy. I swear... if I didn't need your help with something, I'd teach you a thing or two about manners."

I stared in awe.

He continued to rant. "... and I beat him senseless, too! I've lived for longer than you fleshy little brain could comprehend, and you've got the nerve to... gah! The hell with you! I'll solve the problem myself."

I sighed and shook my head. "No... no. Forgive me, honest. I was just startled... and I didn't know if you'd even understand me. I thought I might have been talking to one of those dumb, lame things that I've seen limping about in the wastelands. You know... the Corpsewalkers?"

The man looked horrifically offended. "You thought I was a godd*mned CORPSEWALKER? Do I -smell- like a corpsewalker to you?"

I nodded a bit and ducked when he moved to smack me upside the head.

"Son... you've got some real nads coming into my home uninvited... disturbing the graves of my family. I've lived here alone..." I tried to figure out -he- was alive at all, "... for nearly fifteen years, and suddenly you come trotting in outta the frickin' wastes and think you can just barge in without so much as knocking?"

I waited for him to take a breath before interrupting.

"Um... the door was wide open... and the room is full of bodies. What was I supposed to do... call and ask if anyone wasn't really dead?"

He blinked and growled. "It don't matter, son... you... ah, hell. Screw it... you have a moment to help me out. I'm a bit dependant upon the radiation to survive... so I can't get out of here to get any supplies. There used to be a caravan that came through here, but they haven't been by in a while. I'm almost out of food and water. Think you could help me out?"

I laughed and reached into my bag, procuring my Bulbousfruit.

I nicknamed it that because there really wasn't a name for it. Unless you wanted to call it a 'giant-mutated grape-thing' maybe. I was a scientist, true... but nobody said I had to be serious all the time. Life without a little fun wasn't worth being interested in enough to study it. I was far more inclined to do reasearch if it meant I got to come up with things like my title of Bulbousfruitologist...

The mutant eyed it for a moment before snatching it up greedily.

To my surprise, his mouth disconnected like a snakes, and he downed the thing without even chewing it. I stared in awe while he slowly clicked it back into place with a smirk.

"Impressed? Us freaks can do a lot of things. Thanks, though... I was starving. If you can find that caravaner for me... I'd appreciate it."

Finding a missing caravan was a hard job... but I'd seen what happened when a few too many caravans go missing... and it wasn't pretty. Caravans were the lifeblood of California Crypt. Without them... the food and water was just too scarce to survive on.

I'd already lost a city to mutated scorpions.

I'd almost lost a second to bandits... but that particular problem ended when I started up the Cryptkeepers. California had a flag, again... and an army to defend her. She might be damaged, but not broken.

If there was a missing caravan with water and food, I'd find out.

But first, I needed a name.

"Alright... I'll help you out, because that's my job after all, but I'll need to know who the man in charge of the caravan was."

The mutant stepped back, rested his hand on his chin, and sighed thoughtfully. He didn't move for almost a full minute.

"Grudgurt. Reymond Grudgurt... a big black man like I've never seen before. He travels with his family. They do business with us freaks out here in the Bonegrinder... but his real buyer is down in San Fran."

I knew the name. Grudgurt was one of the merchants who traded with the bigshots in L.A. and San Francisco. He specialized in water... setting up pipelines with the Water Merchants Guild and the Azura-marines across the northern half of the Crypt. I nodded again and smiled.

"Alright, then. And what's your name?"

He stopped and shrugged.

"Most folks just call me 'what the hell is that?'... so I guess it'll do."

I laughed and turned to leave, my mission underway.

"Alright. I'm gonna head for San Francisco first. That where the Water Merchants Guild have their headquarters set up. If he's been there within the last couple weeks, they'll probably know where to find him. Or what direction he was heading. I'll get back to you when I have some answers. Before I go, though... I have a question."

'What the hell is that' gave me a small nod. "Shoot, son."

I laughed and shook my head. "I came here looking for something. Something important. My grandfather was here when they sealed the doors... he had a small black ring with a red stone set in it. If you find it... could you let me know?"

'What the hell is that' laughed and nodded again. "Sure... I'll take a look for it while I wait. Not like I have anything better to do. The computers down in the wreckage still work pretty good, too... I might even get the lights to come on by the time you get back."

I didn't bother to keep talking... I just made for the doors, stepped out into the light, and looked around. My feet began to carry me towards the outline of my truck on the horizon. A big ole' sonavab*tch, too... couldn't miss it. As I climbed up into the seat and pulled out my map, I drew a small circle around San Francisco.

"So... Modoc didn't make it. That's too bad. I'd been hoping. At least I got some work out of it, though. So... San Fran it is... better get moving."

The engine powered up, growling like an angry lion, and slowly I began to pull out of the driveway. The tanker was one of my prized possessions, built well-before all those fancy onboard computers and emp-sensitive technologies. It was just a helluva lotta steel sitting on some worn rubber. Can't beat that... not really. I decided to follow the old highway... it was in surprisingly good conditon, at least as far as Redding... and it meant I could stop home and check on Alessa.

Besides... I needed a bath.

I smelled like a corpsewalker.

US, Nevada, Groom Lake, Area 51
1132hr

Blaze walked along the cracked tarmac of the remnants of extraterrestrial highway, the midday sun was beginning to rear its ugly head. He picked his way over the dunes of sand and ash that drifted across the shattered road.

As he reached the top one dune he dropped in to a prone position and shouldered his AR looking down the scope towards a small set of ruins at one end of the road, the crumbling rubble was barely recognisable, but still defiantly sitting on top of the bent flag pole was a model UFO.

The pile of wreckage was what used to be called the 'Ali'inn', a popular site for Area 51 nuts to hang about in-between camping out at the gates, management had no sense of humour, they should have allowed the guards to put that giant inflatable green plastic alien on the roof of the guard hut.

"Why do I always end up here" blaze muttered as he scanned the dust covered landscape, the Ali'inn had been one of his squads E.R.V. points in case of any emergency.

He slid down the side of the dune and walked towards the remnants of the building, the guards had had a arrangement with the Ali'inn, they delivered coffee to the guards, so they didn't has to drink the machine brewed, 'hot brown water' was the best way of describing it.

As he got closer he slung his rifle and pulled out his megastar handgun, bandits and the less than mentally capable often hid in these places waiting for something to come by for them to pounce on, As he got closer he noticed the remains of a camp by the side of the rubble.

Location: US, Somewhere in Colorado
Time: 21:00

The sun was down, Khain was free. He ran through the streets, free as a bird.
Khain didn't have a goal, just to live untill he died. Which would be a long time, since he seemed to age so slow. He hoped he wouldn't run into a werewolf like that one time, he feared for his life that day, luckely he managed to escape.


Every night, Khain would test his power, trying to run as fast as he can, trying to break things he could never break before. He suddenly stopped running, 'I could swear i heard something...'

Location: US, Somewhere in Colorado
Time: 21:02

as the sun set a small APC raced across the colorado city, shaking and bumping as it went, leaving a ploom of dust in its wake.

The thick musky air filled the APC with an unpleasant atmosphere only to be backed up by the unpleasant frowns of the misfits inside. the majority of them wore matching uniform, made from old rags and metal sheets, par one. Finir sat in the far corner of the transport wearing some jeans and a white tank top, his long grey hair straggling down his filthy top, only flinching as the vehicle hit a bump.
"so why's dis guy tagging along Warren?" a large bulky man groaned breaking the silence in an instant. a smaller much more pronaounced looking man turned to him and moaned. "because jones hes heading in the same direction, and knows how to fire a gun if we need him." his voice seemed tired and croaky. Finir still sat motionless staring at the floor. "hmmm...ok" the large man said leaning against the wall, "i jus' hope he's got enuf bullets in dat dare bag. he gestured to a small leather rucksack that was being gripped tightly by Finir's leather glove.

The vehicle swirved to a stop suddenly and a voice crackled through a speaker in the roof. "this is as far as were taking you, if i dont lose the weight i wont have enough fuel to get back." every man in the vehicle turned to Finir as he stood up, sling his rifle and headed to the exit.
"good look my freind." Warren said placing his hand on his shoulder, "just look out...werewolfs roam these parts" Finir quickly stopped and turned, a grin spread across his face. "dont worry" he said turning the lever on the hatch. "its not them me you should worry about."

As the vehicle spead off again into the distance, Finir put the small rucksack on and headed off into the same direction, the ruined buildings made it look more like a ghost town than a city. "werewolfs..." he said shaking his head before turning to his left hand. "might as well" he pulled out a small handgun from its holster around his waist and pulled out a magazine from his backpack with his other hand. The top round gleamed in the moonlight as he loaded it into the weapon, each round made from pure silver.
ive only got 10 left... he thought to himself, and only 200 regular ones...
"looks like im going to have to make them last." he said aloud heading off again down the dusty road.

Location: US, Somewhere in Colorado

Khain closed his eyes. "a vehicle..it's gone now.." He was too curious, so he took off towards the sound. Khain suddenly heard a voice closeby, he looked around the corner of a building to see a man. 'He's armed..might consider leaving..or aproaching...what to do..'


(OOC: Finir is the man by the way.)

(OOC: thought it might have been :D .)

nobodys around...wait
Finir twitched as a streak of cold ran down his spine. he glared in each direction swiftly before sighing heavily "must have been the wind..." He slowly reached down and picked up a clump of dirt. someone else is here
he swiftly dropped it as he heard the sound of footsteps. he put one hand on his weapon and walked towards the back of a building.
if its a nother bloody werewolf..

Khain was spotted, so he came out of hiding with his hand raised. "Hi there, don't worry, i mean no harm."

A tiny snap. An imperceptible twinge of a change. And yet, such noticeable results. Vasily Petrov’s brain, previously fogged and twisted by the nanocircuits that had gripped his cranium and controlled his thoughts and actions, suddenly awoke.

Petrov looked around through his strange new perception of the world. The sight that greeted him was not that of the eyes he remembered, but so much more. He could see things that he did not understand, could not begin to comprehend. Petrov looked down at the rest of his body. An alien sight met him. Petrov held his gloved hand up in the early morning light and examined. The hand had five fingers, but it did not look human. It more closely resembled the hand of a robot. When Petrov thought about it, he could make the hand close and open, he controlled each finger with his thoughts, but he could not feel them. In fact, his entire body was numb. His brain knew where every part of him was, but there was no sensation from them.

It was at this time that Petrov’s consciousness turned inwards. Petrov searched his brain, racked his memories. His last recollection? Pain, and then closing darkness. Before that? He was fighting. He clenched the gun in his hands. Decidedly human hands. Then he heard a call. The Russian command for ‘charge.’ He was running, as were others around him. Yelling, loud noises, flashes of light, and then pain, and the ground. The pain grew until all else faded, and then the pain left as darkness replaced it. Was I dead?

Petrov looked around him again, turning his head for the first time. A faint whirring sound almost audibly accompanied the movement. Looking around him, Petrov could make out a room. It was visible to him in normal colors, but he noticed the heat of the lights above, and also the shapes obscured in darkness. He realized that he was sitting down on a makeshift bench. Standing up, Petrov could feel the muscles in his legs operating. The felt precise and powerful, much to powerful. As he stood, his point of view altered with his altitude, but it did so slowly, almost as though he was moving in slow motion. Standing now, Petrov took a step forward, and suddenly something entered his mind. A thought, almost, more like someone thinking for him. It was incredibly hard to explain, but it was amazing. Petrov focused on this thought, and suddenly his world exploded. He began to understand the data coming to him from his unusual eyes, the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums worked in tangent with the normal visible light. Sections of the room around him that he had ignored before suddenly came to his attention. He recognized them as areas where possible threats could be hiding, and for each one he had an idea of how to surprise his possible attacker. In his mind Petrov could see the probability of every war-time scenario being calculated, from enemy invasion to bombing run, enemy assassins, or even possible friendly betrayals. The probability analyzer came up with the solution that he was, for the moment, safe. With this new understanding, Petrov walked around, trying out his foreign body. After a couple steps he realized that this data thought provider was also telling him about what his body was feeling, even though his brain couldn’t register the sensations.

It’s going to take some work combining this input with my normal brain functions.

Petrov then decided to find out more about what had been happening while he was… incapacitated? He didn’t really know where he had been or what he had done, but it was obvious that he was a new person now. Maybe later he’d look deeper into his own memories, try to figure out exactly who he was and why this had happened. For now though, he left the small bunkroom and climbed up the ladder, wondering what lay in wait for him.

He padded out from the shadows of his apartments, blade dragging limply through the sand and gravel. The air was thick with dust and sand. Fresh ash had just fallen, perhaps from the great fires of the nearby battles that waged in town.

The clans were violently battling daily. To Teki, his home was like Vahalla. Wars every day and nothing but honor to be shared. The food was scarce and water was nill, but Goldfield was considered a heavenly place to Teki and the other clans. A holy land for battles to be waged.

The mutants of the city would congregate and do battle in the name of the sun. The sun to them was a god that shone above and gave the denizens of Goldfield life after death. Sound was their demon. Only in battle was sound considered a cleansing act. The clans believed that expressing sound in battle meant to drive your demons from within free and unleash them on their foes.

Teki is the only survivor of his broods. His was eliminated in a climactic battle in his former home of a limestone quarry on the edge of the city on the far side. Concidered the mot powerful for his psionic capabilities and lethal actions in combat, he was destined to become the successor of his clan. However, that changed after his brood fell.

He travelled west with the remaining survivors for a few months. In time, they grew to be an indominable force. But in those few months, his surviving force grew fatally ill, suffering from various conditions from both exposure and biological flaws in their genetics that caused them to die.

He now battles alone in hopes of meeting the sun, Ri'ash Klamb'hulukai. Self important in manner however. He acts high and over proud of his title as the chosen one, the "Speaker". The title is given only to the one who bares a form of pure white and the power of the demon. Some in his brood have attempted to slay him, but they all fall in the most savage manner. This is due to him possessing such a great pitch in scream. Some consider those who can scream to be harbingers of doom, others look at Speakers as saints and unstoppable warriors.

His blood spattered boots gave a soft swoosh as he stepped through the sand, scuffling only when he stumbled on gravel. He stood out amidst the orange and tan sand covered streets in his slick, black bodysuit. The moans of a weakened young woman emitted from behind a piece of tin roof that was propped up beside a dumpster along another apartment. She stepped out, looking straight at Teki with eyes that screamed pain. To her side was a hideous puscule that was growing on her entire right thigh. Teki winced a bit at the sight of the mutated woman.

"He... Help me...", she stammered, as if choking on something in midsentence. She raised her bony and lithe wrist to reach towards Teki, but was in a very vain distance from him, about 5 meters from him. Teki stood his ground, but remained calm and non-hostile. The woman broke out ina fit of epileptic flails and yips, falling on the soft, tan sand. The mutated leg appeared to be growing rapidly, exploding into something resembling an animal stuck in a microwave too long, covered in blisters and massive sores. The woman had passed on.

Teki walked past the body in a stoic manner, paying no heed to her rolling eyes in her head.

A loud crash came from the back of the building where the woman came and three children, all three mutated in various ways emerged, snarling and baring fangs covered in blood. "Broodlings, do you know what I am?", Teki queried. The children payed no heed to his question and began crawling along the ground at surpizing speed to Teki. One unhinged it's jaw and leaped at Teki with a snap at it's ankles. Teki hopped in the air, roundhousing the demon-like child to the skull, spilling its brains across the dry streets, but the body collided with Teki, slaming him down. Teki pried the body off of him and reeled back, screaming to the air. He was sent into a blood lust frenzy.

Teki's next opponent came at him in mid screech and tore savagely at his stomach, opening previous wounds on his abdomen. Teki's eyes rolled in the back of his head in pain and he let out an animalistic roar at the mutant child. The child retorted back with a few rapid clicks and a roar. The other mutant stalked behind Teki and dove at him to burrow a long blade-like limb into his back. Teki spun around with alarming speed and threw the child free from his back, but the limb stayed in his back. The child gave a ghstly screech in agony, losing its arm. Blood was still held in by Teki's suit, but a small puddle was coming into view beneath him in a sloppy manner.

Teki held out his blade and came at the second mutant, unleashing a flurry of slices and stabs that sent the target into a massive fit of convultions, soon dying from shock and pain.

The other mutant took a few steps back, unhinging its lower jaw. A basketball sized lump emerged in the creature's mouth, releasing a blast of acidic pus from within at Teki like a cannon. Teki dodged the shot and rolled onto the sidewalk, leaving blood in his wake as dust was sent though the air. A nearby car took the mutant's attack and a large hole was working itself in place of where the motor would have been, sending a bright green cloud of smoke up in the air accompanied by a loud hiss. The mutant appeared listless after its attack. As did Teki however from such a major loss of blood.

Teki stood up, bleeding at the mouth and nose, his eyes red and pink from his bloodshot rage, but his eyelids hung heavy like wet curtains. He staggered, then broke into a bolt dash and tackled the demon-like mutant and broke out into the most hideous act of canibbalism, feasting at it's sides. The mutant broke out in a fit of screams and cries that slowly became deep and slow until sounding almost human-like and whimpering. Teki stopped and staggered backward, his expression unchanged. Blood was stained all over his mouth and chest.

He began to well with tears as the abominal creature died. Teki fell to his knees and sobbed softly to himself as he coughed in pain, sputtering blood from both the mutant and his own. He licked his stomach to soothe the pain and pulled his suit together to keep it shut. Pained physically and mentally, he dragged his impaired body back to the safety of his apartment.

Later that evening, he managed to heal up most of the smaller wounds and a good ways on his stomach. He had takne his body suit off to re-sew itback together. The suit he wore was made of a unique poly-nylon composite mix.

He kept only 6 spools of the material from the manufacturing plant that he once fought at with his fellow surviving broods. His mother was a semstress for the broods and he learned how to sew at an early age when he was not busy with labor.

The thoughts of his brood came flooding back to him as he unwinded a spool and drew his needle. He stuck the needle back in the spool and began calming himself by his repeated fashion of running his fingers along his legs. For about half an hour, he did this. While working his nerves back to normal, a rat was spotted nibbling at his boots. It was quickly put out with a sharp blow to the neck. Teki had the rat as dinner and finished re-sewing his suit back to normal.

"Maybe tonight I'll sleep...", he muttered to himself. He layed back on his sunken bed covered in various stains and closed his eyes. He fell asleep slowly, letting his paranoid mind slip into a wave of thoughts.

(EDIT: Modified to suit conditions.)

Finir kept a tight grip on the grip of his pistol but relaxed and leaned against the wall, slowly but swiftly he reached up and lifted his eye patch to get a full veiw on his greeter, The crimson eye flared as it met the glare of the moon and he searched Khain from head to toe.
"what do you want" he said bluntly as he lowered the patch which seemed to almost calm him slightly. "wait a minuite" he glanced over his pale skin and gaunt features. "vampire?" he questioned himself.

Petrov climbed up the ladder and into the room above. It looked to him to be some kind of military outpost. He could see a radar/comm unit in one corner, and racks of weapons in another. It was all very compact and antiquated. Petrov walked over to the comm center and accessed the database. As soon as the monitor started up, the data analyzer in his brain basically took over. A flood of information streamed over his consciousness, and he didn’t even have to read it. After approximately twenty seconds he had downloaded the entire history of this base’s operations. It seemed that Petrov and nine other units, called Battleroids had been stationed here to spy on American defenses and to find weak spots that could be exploited. Upon attempting to access more on the network about Battleroids, Petrov received an ‘access denied’ message. It seemed he would have to find information somewhere else.

Petrov stepped away from the comm center and examined the weapons in the small armory. A variety of assault rifles, shotguns, pistols, and even a sniper rifle provided quite the assortment of weaponry. Petrov grabbed an assault rifle, and suddenly his programming took over once more. He instantly knew to swing the rifle over his shoulder by its strap and what ammo to grab from the racks, along with where each clip went on his belt and bandoliers. After grabbing a huge amount of ammo, Petrov’s hands picked up several explosive devices and attached them to his belt next to the empty pistol holster, which was soon filled as well. When this was all done, Petrov looked down in amazement. He knew exactly what to do with all these weapons, but he didn’t know how he knew it. Petrov looked inward once more and attempted to access the his memories of what had happened since he had… well, stopped remembering.

Petrov searched his own brain, and then he attempted to reach out to the cold area of hardness that he felt pressing against his consciousness. Petrov tentatively reached out to it, but upon touching the surface he felt something slam down in his mind, creating an impenetrable barrier that screamed “Top secret, stay out!” at him. Petrov recoiled and leaned over the weapons rack, panting. I must learn more. I need to know what happened. I have to talk with other survivors.

Petrov pondered his word choice. “Survivors?” Why had he said that. He once again looked over the data that he had gleaned from the comm center. Running back through the events logged in his mind, Petrov came across one in 2143. Apparently the earth was now a nuclear wasteland. This was news to him, but his brain had logged the fact automatically.

I wonder if my family is still alive?

Petrov decided then that he needed answers. So he left the outpost and walked around to the attached garage. An old wheeled troop transport filled up the small garage, and Petrov checked it out. It seemed to be in working order.

A couple minutes later Petrov was at the wheel of his antiquated troop transport burning miles for the north. He didn’t really know where he was going, but the map in his head kept on track. It even had helpful routes he could take to avoid the heavily irradiated areas. It seemed the nearest center of civilization left in the region was where Nevada used to be. That would be his destination.


OOC: I have to go to work, I’ll post more later.

Ever since Mr. Fisher joined I've gotten a daily headache, he was a great addition no doubt, keeping us organized, putting things to writing, getting the word of us to spread faster than I could move, but I hated paperwork, and everyday I had to spend several hours reading through it, filling out this and that, making sure everything was in order, I need a secretary, someone I can push this all towards and say, do this, with confidence that it would be done and done right.

I sighed finally and put the papers away, having finished this day's headache I could now go out and make friends with the populace that had agreed to live under our justice system, and the local werewolves that would be joining our cause. Though now that I think about it, this place had been odd, usually we get so many males wanting to join, just as many as the females, even though for the most part we only accepted the girls, but when we got here, not a single male volunteered, and almost every female did, almost as if they saw us as a way out, but why would that be.

Before I could climb to my feet there was a knock at the door. I growled quietly at the wooden door, it was probably somebody with more paperwork, would it be so bad if I burned it. I shook my head and climbed to my feet, going to the door and opening it. Standing before me was a human man, short cropped blond hair, a light tan, blue eyes and a fair body, he wore simple jeans and a cotton t-shirt. I smiled and threw my arms around him, "Dave... Dave Reddick, is that you?"

He laughed, and hugged me back, "Hey Bekka, its been...."

An obnoxious voice rose and cut him off, "Hey look... The she b*tch who thinks she can come in and tell us what we can and can't do. Well guess what, the whores around here may think that they can make us join your little crusade, but they're wrong. Now we've let you have your fun, but that time is over, I don't now what type of wusses you've got east of here to let a woman have her way, but here we got it right. Woman are nothing but vessels for our children, their only purpose is to serve us, look good, and take it when we want it, making the babies. Obviously no one ever set you straight, its time someone did, and we're the right ones and we’re around," the were who spoke stood in the center of a group of five and held a gun, pointing it at me, "I hear you're a red, so that makes you valuable, you're never leaving here again so please, just bend over and take it," he reached down and grabbed himself, "I'm sure you'll like it."

I laughed, then stooped down and picked up a stone, "Go f*ck yourself, oh wait you already are," I chucked the stone and it hit him where he was grabbing himself. He dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball, tears streaming down his face.

One of his friends scooped up the gun and pointed it at me, "See this b*tch, this is a f*cking gun, now do what we say before I blow you away.”

I began laughing so hard my eyes began to water. I got a collective growl from the group, well except the one I had dropped. After I finally managed to quit laughing I unclipped my sidearm and held it up, "No this is a gun, that is a piece of crap shell," I handed mine to Dave, and stepped forward, "For one your holding it too loose, you shoot it like that and it will fly out of your hand, second the gun is tipping forward, its out of balance, which means there isn't a clip in it, no bullets, no shooting me, and finally, by the way the trigger is flapping about every time you twitch, its broken, now come on, you came to set me straight and so far I've dropped one of you in one move and made you all look like idiots, where’s my lesson? All I gotta say is if you want me to bend over and present, then you're gonna have to make me."

I began striding forward, hands held wide, a smile upon my face, this was entertainment I didn't get often, and I was thoroughly thrilled that these chauvinistic pigs had showed up to try and rape me. The remaining four looked from one to the other, when they again focused on me again their skin began to ripple, they were changing. I chuckled then dashed forward, striking them each in points that caused intense pain but did no damage, breaking their concentration, stopping them from changing, amateurs, were's like me could change in mere moments and nothing broke our concentration, well except certain death, but anyone who chose to die just to try and finish the change was just plain stupid. After that they simply charged me, but met nothing but blade and foot. Blood flew and bones cracked, all the time I was singing a merry little tune, not even breaking a sweat. In short order they were lying on the ground, bleeding and unconscious.

I walked up to the leader, the one whom I had nailed with the stone, twining my fingers in his hair, lifting his head, and making him look at me, "The new law is here, and its lead by females, so you better get used to it, consider this your warning."

I dropped his head, stepped on the small of his back, then walked back to Dave, "Well now that that is all taken care of its good to see you."

He smiled then began walking around the small shack I had occupied for my office, "And good to see you, but I'm here on business. Frankly what you are doing, its great, we all need law after the hell we put this world through, we need justice to make a stand, and you're doing a good job dear, but you're only looking at were's. I realize why, and I've come to tell you something of my own selfishness. After you left New York, I decided to mirror you, and I began a cartel, mirroring what you did, but with humans. We've spread, not as far as you, but we're working on it, and I was hoping I could mold my organization in with yours, become a part of yours, really look at the big picture, get all the races together, working to bring stability to this country."

This took me as surprise, but frankly it had been something that had been bugging me for a while. So I continued to smile and looked him in the eye, "Done, were’s are at the top, but we'll bring the other races in, we’ll let each race handle their own, cause each race has different views, different ideas, and it would be best if one of their own race, one who they would feel more comfortable with. You will be the liaison of the human branch, my second will take care of the weres while I cover the entire organization, You and Mr. Fisher will set it all up, Its best I not try to interfere in that, I'm better out there," I tilted my head towards the horizon, "And we will need liaisons for the mutants and vampires."

(ooc note: Anyone who would wish to be the vampire liaison or mutant liaison, please just jump in and talk to Mr. Fisher and Dave. Treat it like a second char, but check with nikolia first)

He shook his head, "You've been planning it for a while and just needed a foot in the door huh?" I simply nodded and he laughed, "Well then I think its time we get you out there huh?"

I blinked and then we rounded the corner of the building and sitting up against the building was a bike, black as midnight, a crotch rocket as they were nicknamed. I gasped and began shaking, "Is that... Is that... Is that an Ebon Katana?"

He nodded and held up a set of keys, "Yep, and its all yours. Its even got a working light drive, the only vehicle from prewar to have an efficient solar power source."

I cried out and threw my arms around him and kissed his cheek. Then ripped the keys from his grasp and ran up to the Katana, this was the bike before the war, best engine possible, so much power, so much speed, and the fact that it actually used solar energy and never needed gas just made it the most spectacular thing one could have between their legs. I ran my fingers over the leather seat, letting out a sultry purr, my eyes noting the bracket for my sword and the holster containing a sub-machine gun, and the red and blue lights and small siren installed just above the headlight. I quickly slid off my outer clothes revealing the tight fitting leather that I always wore underneath, no matter how hot I got, then put a leg over the machine and eased myself onto it, nearly crying as I did.

"So where you heading?"

I looked him in the eye, a tear running down my cheek, "I hear that out in California they have law, a power grid, everything. They call themselves California Crypt, maybe they can be allies, I intend to see," with that I slipped on my helmet and hit the kick start, nearly feinting as I felt the bike roar to live under me, this was gonna be one hell of a ride, I couldn't believe that they had found one, not to mention a working one, but this was a genuine Ebon Katana.