Henrik strolled down the road with Lisa, his dog, heading towards the river to get something to drink. Henrik whistled a happy tune as he passed apartment buildings which were now in ruins, walked around craters done by missiles from the previous war, and now and then there would be a rotten corpse on the street, and when they did appear, Henrik would bring his scarf up to cover his mouth and nose and pick up the pace to get past them as fast as possible.

He came to the river, looked into the clear, yet still polluted-looking, waters, "It is this, or my own urine," Henrik said and then walked over to a mail box, which had been split open by an unknown force, and pulled out a plastics bucket which had a line of rope attached to it, so he could throw the bucket into the water and pull it back out again, "Bloody heck...I have to find the other bucket as well, I can't remember where I placed it last time," Henrik said with his rather odd accent, and then turned to get to work.
Getting the water from the river and back to the abandoned chapel, further north took time and energy, plus along the way, Henrik would stop and get some extra wood for the fire he would need during the nights.

"Lisa! Don't stray from me!" Henrik called as he noticed his dog had begun to walk a bit too far away from him to his liking, she was after all the only friend that Henrik had left to be with,and if it hadn't been so Henrik could imagine himself as a crazed man sitting and petting himself in the corner of a ruined building. The thought gave him shivers.
Entering the abandoned chapel, Henrik placed the bucket of water near the rusted barrel where he kept his fire going, usually at least, and the wood in the far end. The chapel was still intact, the roof was fine, the windows were slightly smashed though nothing he couldn't fix, and the walls were intact, though there were small holes from times when the chapel had been used as a bunker against enemies and the result was a nice pattern of shooting holes, in fact when Henrik had first come here, he had found a revolver which he had kept ever since as a form of protection against wild animals and other humans.

Taking the water and placing it in an iron bowl, he lit a fire and began to boil the water to get rid of the worst of the bacteria and pollution from the river and when that was done he placed some outdated noodles in the boiling water and got out his guitar and began to play it softly in order to pass time as his food was getting ready.
He had a small storage in the chapel, though food was running low and it was getting harder and harder to find food in the nearby area, even the ones that he thought he had hidden.
"What's that?...Alright, I'll see what we have," Henrik said as Lisa came over to him and began to beg for some food. Going through the food, Henrik found half a bag of not too-long outdated dog food which he gave to Lisa, not too much nor too little just enough for her, and then he returned his attention to his noodles and continued to play the guitar.

No Mans Land - Miser's Informant Building

The air and tone within the 'No Mans Land' was as dull, stale and grim as ever. Dust clung to the ground and sides of what buildings remained as sunlight filtered on the fading shades of color around the area. Near the center of this discouraging location was a solitary building, said by many to be the center point between all gangs. It was not especially tall, possible three stories up and down. On the top floor was a crumbled section of the North western corner, large enough for a man to look out of from time to time, but not large enough to allow a view of the room inside. This, was Giles' bedroom. A poorly equipped area with a ruined mattress laying on the dust choked, cold ground that his feet passed over day, after day, after day. There was some dresser... or what was left of it, and inside were the simple clothes he managed to scavenge... or what the previous informant managed to collect. There was a solitary mirror, oval and chest level. It was broken. In the far North Eastern corner, out of sight from any window and the opening in the building, was a small black file cabinet.

Within the cabinet was only a small portion of whatever information was stored below. Yet this box was special... It held the most tasty and informative pieces of information that all the gangs wanted to get their hands on.... Information, for 'The Key'. This exact box was open, and to most it seemed to have scarce papers and wouldn't note the fact that one document had been removed. That document hadn't been stolen, merely removed and taken, down the cracked stairs to the second floor. This one was more... cluttered than the last. Which ever informant down the line i was, even Giles' old master didn't know, happened to hold the right idea and stole away as many big cabinets as he could and stored them in this room. From the stair way to stair way and everywhere in between, there were cabinets of all sizes littering the walls and, in some cases, the center of the floor. The largest of these metal, wooden and plastic containers remained behind a dull and dusty desk, maybe once a study case before the top was broken off and the drawers cleared out. Upon it were only more papers and scavenged pencils and pens, or any writing object possible. Behind this desk was a chair, an old metal folding one, the poor excuses for a seating pad, on both the back rest and seat were worn down and of little use.

Giles used it anyway, his feet propped up on his desk, leaning back in his chair, and using whatever light the sun could offer as he read the paper in his hands, over, and over, and over again:

"For eons, a legend has existed. The elusive Key has been passed down from generation to generation, ready to be used to save the world. The Legend is just that, a legend, but lately, it seems to have become reality. Before, people scoffed at the concept, but now people are searching for it. That brings us to another question. What exactly is the key? What does it open? What does it solve? In the present environment, people think that the Key is a cure to ADV. Skepticism must be employed at this point. What if the key is something worse than ADV? What if it destroys the world, a clean slate so to speak, for a new species to start? Was this key created to protect us? Maybe, just maybe, it was created to destroy us the minute we had unleashed something that we could not fix."

"As more and more people die in the quest for the fantastical key, one must begin to question it. What is the key? Where did it come from and what does it do? Where can we find it? All these questions remain unanswered to this day, although some assumptions have been made. It is thought that the key is something that has been carefully preserved and handed down through the generations. It cannot be lethal as it has passed through many hands in the course of time without causing any major disasters. It probably follows some law of inheritance created by its own creator. Experts think that perhaps the key is an heirloom, meant to be kept pure and unsullied by others. This brings us to the possibility that the Key has been safe guarded by a family or an alliance...."

Giles kept reading one line, one word actually over and over again. A simple word... yet a word that had broken the code that so many have sought. Giles brought his right hand to clasp over his mouth tho cough, the little fit ending in a massive one that drew up some mucus that he simply had to swallow, for not being near a window or outside. His eyes were a little puffy today as he had to bear one of the more troubling days of ADV-423. He thought it ironic. That he should have a paper that told of the key, yet here he sat, holding such a thing in his hands, coughing away and worried about when his life wold to crushed. Not that he was overly worried. He had a fine new apprentice he was teaching to be an informant, and honor among the Rogues that remained, since very few of them knew how to read or write, yet the Informant always knew how.

Giles slowly moved his chair back and rose to his feet, feeling a wave of dizziness from the sudden stand but then shaking his head and walking to the stairs that lead to his room. His feet stepping on old dust and new dust alike. Dust, dust dust... Dust and information... such were the royalties only the Informant could hold... Most of the others just had dust. He heard footfalls on the empty first floor and by their speed he knew his apprentice had returned and he slowly put the document away and shut the cabinet and went back down stairs.

For the past few weeks, Giles had rarely left his office, having food and water, or what meager portions Rogue families could supply, brought to him. Since he was one of the few hopes they had, since his payments he requested of the gangs was also food and drink as payment... He was one of the few that helped keep food from running out. Besides this fact, the weeks were spent teaching his selected apprentice, out of dozens of children, how to read and write, so he could then take the wealth of knowledge, when Giles no longer was around to run the business.

He coughed again and spat the annoying mucus out a window and frowned. He didn't know when the gangs would return to his building once more, but he did know that he would take what information he could from them and hopefully give some in return. In all reality his mind still spun around that document on the key. 'Oh Hannah, wherever you have gone now... You have given the answer to the search, yet still left the location a mystery. I wonder if this... Bloodline... even exists any more.' He felt a spasm of coughs coming but kept it under control as he returned down the stairs and to his desk.

Another day, another chance to deal and receive information...

"I won't eulogize Meg, I won't tell you all how wonderful she was or how she was taken so soon from us, you all know more about her than I, it would only be fitting if each of us to memorialize her in our own way, the one think though I believe that must be said is that what has happened was brought upon us by our own actions, Meg's death, our fighting, the virus, we as a race brought upon the Earth this plague, we did it... and we should be the ones to finish it, our ancestors did this to us, the inequity of the father brought our strife, now we must forsake our fathers, seek the "Key", we will be the one's to bring peace to the land, we'll be the ones to rebuild what is rightfully ours, our inheritance is out there, all we must do is ask for it, to reach out and receive it, it is there before us,"

---

Dominic watched the funeral pyre burn, entranced by the dancing flames. He laughed at it, not at Meg's death, but that heathen practice of burning the dead, that it would resurface after civilization had fallen. Maybe that was just part of human nature, to resort to the paganistic practices of olden times. How though, that was Dominic's thought, was it just practicality, or was it idealized by those who had no law, like the pagans of old, maybe it was just easier to burn the body than to bury it. Dominic shrugged his thoughts off, forcing him self to focus on the dancing flames, and the body now disfigured beyond recognition.

Dominic couldn't help but feel that maybe part of this was his fault. If he had been there, maybe if he had supported the rest like he should have, than maybe Meg wouldn't have run off. Maybe the extra hand would have been enough to keep her from being killed. It weighed on his heart. Dominic, despite the nickname "Slice'n Dice", he was a man who didn't lead or was point man. Dominic was a man who added to the group, his part was a synergistic part. He was there for the others, so they could do what they need to do, with him the gang was more powerful than the sum of it's parts. That's of course not to say he was desperately needed. If you asked Dominic, he would just tell you that was nonsense.

As the fire began to die down, and the gang began to gather closer as they prepared the final part of the service Dominic lead the group in a prayer. "Oh Heavenly Father," he began in a booming voice that carried, "we command this poor soul into your hands, that you may provide the peace she never knew in this world, and I ask that you give us peace as we wait for our turn to meet you in our rightful place, give us the faith to carry on, to be the model for others, that we may fill your will, may our quest be swift, and may it be easy, into your hands we put ourselves, may you carry us through, Amen."

Dominic joined the hymn. He hadn’t sung in a long time, at least out side his how quarters and loud enough for others to hear. His voice cracked slightly as he tried to hit some of those higher notes. He could hit those low notes like no other, but those high notes really did it for him. The song brought tears to his eyes, wiping away tears, he continued on. “Oh, the sea billows rol… whoooachghaghwhoack,” broke out in a coughing fit. Drawing a few looks, Dominic quickly left the group with his scarf held up to his mouth as he continued to cough.

Dominic plopped him self down on the nearest object about stool height. His body ached as he leaned forward, his cough sounding wet. “Oh, not again,” Dominic said to him self his lung tried to expel what ever was in his lungs. His body convulsed as the coughing grew more violent. He could taste it now, what ever it was, was now coming up. He stuck his tong out, the ball of phlegm dripping from the tip. Whipping it away with a clothe he on him, he looked at it intently.

It was getting worse. In the phlegm he could see a solid object. It was squish as he rubbed between his fingers. His immediate thought was that it was a piece of his lung. Whipping the mucus on his perch, he rubbed his temples as he in vain attempted to calm his head. His thoughts where every where. Part of him believed it was just the virus. Part of him said this couldn’t be, he wasn’t old enough yet. The last, smallest part of him had a bad feeling that this was something much worse than the virus.

Sitting there, Dominic leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The world seemed heavy, and now it was all upon his shoulders. “Oh dear Lord, give me strength,” he said softly into his hands.

Gilian sat, skimming through an old science book. The cover was a smooth lime green, and, in ragged, faded letters, read: "Science of the Body". In the book, on the inside of the cover, read in smugded, blue marker was a tangible 2008, along with a collection of unrecognizable names.

Staying here in the Eastern territory was rather boring, though the book held great interest to her. According to doctors of the year 2008, "The respitatory system is a delicate system of allowing oxygen into cells." Gilian was unsure if that was absolutely true, taking into consideration the elderness of the book, but stored the information away, in case knowing that would ever help her in the future.

Gilian had been one of few to stay behind from the Obsidian Knights' recent trip to Thanatos Instinct's territory, being rather new at the time. Besides, she doubted she would've been needed; over 90% of her gang had traveled there in hopes of retrieveing medical supplies. So, awaiting the return of many of her gang, she continued to read on, learning what the "circulatory system" was.

It had been nearly a week since the Adenovirus 4-2-3 took hold and the last stages of the virus slowly began to set in. What a damn shame to. How coincidental was it that as soon as Ulric declared war on Loki’s Kin (South) he would be reaching the climax of his life at age 22 – with only a few months standing in the way of him and his not so lucky 23rd birthday. His life was on thin ice and it would be a lie to say he truly had any hope of harnessing the ‘Key’ before it gave way. As more time passed Ulric began to grow all the more desperate and due to such a cause he was spiraling recklessly out of control. But harsh times called for extreme measures and Ulric had no time to play it by the book – there were no rules or sense of right and wrong. Only winning mattered and to accomplish this goal he would have to be swift and decisive with each step that he took.

Throughout the week he laid in bed aimlessly, and silence was like a plague as it contaminated every inch of his quarters. Ulric seemed lost and distant from the world, his mind straying from The Disciples and even more disturbing the coaxing words of his wife Milan – which didn’t make a dent in his condition. There was just too much to worry about and so little time to do it in and he couldn’t dare trouble himself with the most minor of distractions. He lived in fear that if he let his eyes off the prize, one small maneuver overlooked could lead to his downfall.

Milan had been at his bedside the entire time, leaving The Disciples alone without a shepherd to guide them. The sweaty palm of his right hand limply sitting in Milan’s iron grip, his bones creaked as he pulled his fingers inward, knotting them tightly in-between her own five digits in which had held him so close since the beginning. Groaning softly and blinking, he squirmed some in attempt to get comfortable, and while shifting over he came face-to-face with the most beautiful set of eyes he had ever seen. They still looked just as immaculate as the day they first met, the pale green glowing with a warm innocent gaze.

Ulric’s lips warped into a smile as he promptly embraced her, pulling her up against him and nestling his face into her neck, taking in the lush honey scent of her hair and the feel of her skin. His eyes watered up a bit as he shook his head back and forth while fighting the urge to find his voice again. Lips cracking, he coughed a bit before finally speaking. ”I feel… like I’ve been gone for a very long time. Where has the time gone? Tearing through scroll after scroll… I remember feeling cold steel grace the back of my neck as I turned around to meet you. We have come so far… and it’s still not over. My time is up and I have failed you…” Swallowing hard, he coughed again and hesitantly drew himself back, forcing himself to sit up as he revealed a handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping his nose and rubbing at his eyes, he felt worse than he looked.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he was a ghastly pale color, cold with little life left in his once rosy skin. The fine white locks that adorned his head were disheveled – as was his clothes – and his allergies were ragged. You could find no pattern in the way he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly and unexpectedly. Every part of him was shaking from the chills that ran up and down his spine but his skin was hot and blanketed in beads of sweat. Basking in his own filth, he looked like utter hell, and even though he hadn’t made it known that the Adenovirus had wormed its way inside of him, it was already obvious.

Terra Roshni – Thanatos Instinct

A wall of loud music emitted from Terra’s laboratory but it quickly dwindled out. Terra was getting a headache from her own music, something very unorthodox. She still had it running only quieter so that she could concentrate on the sound and to avoid reminiscing the busy week that had past. So much confusion and disorder crammed the endless summer air, leaving little space for work or comfort. Meg was dead now; Terra had come to accept it. Toby was injured and Crow was nowhere to be seen. On top of it all there was a new leader that had stepped up and taken control, Terra didn’t know him too well but he was a somewhat familiar face.

She had taken Adelaide’s blood a couple of days back for standard testing, like she did with all of the people there. Her program was fast but there were many things she had to test for, out in this desolate place she was the only doctor around. If anyone had a disease then they were done for if Terra couldn’t manage to make a mixture before it got too serious. The scanning process started the day before; she didn’t trust herself to work before then. It would be at the very least another day or two before all of the results were ready; such was the thoroughness that the program was made for.

All that she could do today was work on her compounds and try out new colors for new liquids. The colors told her which system each mixture was for, the one she was working on today was blue for the respiratory system. She knew that the ADV virus was one that primarily focused on the respiratory system. Her work had led her to disappointing results and she was left with randomly guessing which part of the system was the main cause. When she first joined the Thanatos Instinct she started on the trachea then moving on the mitochondria but had failed miserably at both. Having no bodies to work on was another problem. The deceased were either burned or too dangerous to come close to. The only thing she had to go on was stabbing into the dark until she got lucky, or better yet got a sample that was immune to the virus.

Terra decided that going to the burning wouldn’t be a good idea; she detested social gatherings and large crowds. Instead she would honor Meg’s memory by reciting a mantra in her name. An hour of meditation a day was a good habit for Terra to keep her sanity.

Terra checked her watch and saw that she had locked herself in for a bit too long, Adelaide was somewhere around, either resting or idling about. Terra felt bad for not being better company, but she was no good at these sorts of things. Terra opened the vault door and checked for any sign of Adelaide, hoping to find at least someone.

Dominic had spent the last few hours wandering around, trying to keep his head about his buisness. He was leader now and so he took it upon him self to check up on all of the member of Thanatos. Most of his conversations where either brief or longer drawn out sessions where either one of them rambled on. Dominic was fine with talking, but after so many people he just wasn't sure what to say any more.

The last member he talked to broke out crying. Part out of the loss for Meg, and partly because of the disparity of the situation the gang was in. Dominic reassured him that the gang will carry on, that they'll get the key. The boy broke out crying, running his hands across his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. Dominic patted the boy on the back, giving him a stout hug. The boy just clinged to him, crying on Dominic's shoulder. After ten minutes of just crying, Dominic put him down, the boy couldn't cry no more. "Listen," he told the boy, "don't fret about anything, soon we'll have the key and you can live on to a full life." The boy looked up a Dominic, his watery eyes stairing down Dominic, as if challenging him to prove it. Dominic couldn't answer that unspoken question. Patting the boy on the shoulders, he continued his way among his gang mates.

His next "appointment" wasTerra. She hadn't been at the funeral, and Dominic took it as either she wasn't attached to Meg or that she didn't feel like she could be their. Either way, Dominic wanted to see how she was doing, and maybe see what she could tell him about this cough of his.. He approached the vault door, moving to open it he was suprised as the door was opened by non-other than Terra her self. "Hey Terra, funny thing, I was just meaning to talk to you," Dominic smiled a bit, he gestured for them to go inside, his smile disappearing, "in private if you will." He let Terra lead the way.

"Stand up, idiot."

The cutting, scornful voice of the young girl sent shivers down the spine of the man who had thrown himself down before her, panting heavily and sweating profusely. Across his face was an unseemly gash, blood mingling with salty tears and sweat to form a foul, sticky mess over his unshaven stubble. His black hair clung to his scalp, soaked with grease and sweat after so long gone without washing, and a foul odor rose from his form as he slowly staggered to his feet.

"Now I'm going to say this one more time, pull yourself together and tell me what you know WITHOUT stuttering like a fool and making yourself impossible to understand."

Saira Morany, leader of Loki's Kin, sat on a grand wooden chair at the back of the main room of the old town hall that served as her home and seat of power, glaring coldly at the wreck of a man that stood limply a few feet away, her nose wrinkling as it caught a whiff of his stench, her pretty features spoilt by her disgusted expression. Her long dark hair was held clear of her face by a headband, and was clean and lustrous in comparison with the other's greasy mop. The man had arrived only an hour earlier, distraught and panicky, claiming to have vital news for her. He identified himself as Alex Godwin, another member of the Kin, and she looked carefully he was indeed recognisable through the muck and grime. He had left the Kin several weeks ago, on a scouting mission into Northern territory, as had another two of the Kin, each going to one of the other gangs.

Now Godwin took a deep breath, and spoke for a third time, doing his utmost to remain understandable.

"I was doing as requested, scouting in the Disciples' territory under the persona of a rogue merchant, when I overhead a conversation between two of them, speaking of their plans to... to invade our lands." he said

Saira's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and her grip tightened on the wooden arm of her chair as she heard this, breathing in sharply.

"Apparently," Godwin said, continuing on "They declared war on us recently, after one of us allegedly killed one of them. That isn't all, they believe we know something about, about the Key."

The young leader's thoughts were buzzing by this point, what would make the Disciples believe they were responsible for the death of one of their own? The two gangs never got along, and some might consider them enemies, but there had been no particular escalation in hostilities recently that would warrant such allegations, so why were they immediately blamed? The Disciples must be certain to go so far as to declare war, something foul was afoot. Perhaps that accursed girl had caused it, the one who so foolishly believed herself the leader of the Kin before Saira took her rightful place. She wouldn't have put it beyond her, the reckless idiot that was now presumed dead by merit of her own foolishness. But perhaps even more preposterous was that the North thought they had, or had information on, The Key! If they did, Saira had heard nothing of it. Once again, Saira suspected foul play, perhaps the Kin had made an enemy they did not know of, who was spreading rumors amongst their enemies that would bring ruin to their doorstep.

"Thank you, Alex. You can go and get yourself cleaned up now, you've done well to get this news to me so quickly."

As the decrepit man hastily retreated, Saira tutted under her breath and hopped down from her seat. Where was that damn old man when she needed him...?

Tryst walked up to the old run down town hall that served as the headquarters for the Loki's Kin gang. The place was ancient, having originally served as center of power for this small neighborhood. It had served that purpose until several decades ago, when the Adenovirus had run rampant throughout this area. All of the governmental officials and anybody else who ran it had died almost immediately and anybody that was old enough to take the position had died as well. That had made sure that this town hall would never be used again. But Trysts could care less about the town hall. He was here to report on the "Grease" shipments that he had been put in charge of. There was currently a myth going around that Grease could cure the adenovirus. Of course that was entirely false and a rumor started by the South gang to boost Grease sales.

As he walked up to the town hall, he was pleased with how events had turned out for him in the end. He had turned his life around. He had started out as a small kid living in the slums, cowering in fear that his mother's killer would go after him as well. The only clue after 3 years of searching for him/her were the initials "S.M" written on the murder note left by his mother's rotting corpse. Unfortunately he had stopped suspecting anyone with the initials "S.M" long ago as there were potentially thousands of people with those two initials. No, there were clues that needed to be found and the only way to find them would be to delve into the same industry his dad had been a part of.

It took him moments to climb up the marble stairs that were in front of the town hall. Midway up, he began to convulse. His brain hurt like it had many times before. This was a sign that one of his other personalities was trying to take over. Tryst hoped it wasn't James. Tryst liked to kill as much as anyone in Loki's Kin but James did it without purpose. Tryst did it when he was either ordered to or when the circumstances demanded it. In a couple of seconds the person who he would meeting's fate wold be decided. Thankfully it was his better personality that emerged. This one was called Jeff and was the more pacifistic out of the 3 personalities. This finally made the convulsions stop so he continued up the stairs, in search of Saira's quarters. When he got their he calmly walked in and cheerfully said "Good morning Saira. How are you today? I'm here to offer my annual quarterly report on Grease selling. Profits are up 22% and we've managed to increase our distribution channels 2 fold. Well now that that's out of the way, do you have an assignment for me?"

Krackerjack picked his way carefully through the ruined remains of several buildings, cradling his EBR and scanning the area cautiously. Satisfied no one was observing him he hitched the heavy backpack into a more comfortable position. Two weeks he had been fighting off feral animals, raiders and assorted wastes of air to claim his bounty. He hoped Crow would be satisfied with the haul, there was no caliber that was useful to himself but it was good to ensure the rest of the gang had something to fire should the need arise. He skulked up to the bases door and slipped inside. Krackerjack avoided verbally ripping the gate guards head off when he was challenged as the young boy looked close to tears as it was but simply waves, grinned and moved on. He carefully made his way to the makeshift armoury noting that everyone looked as if the world had fallen around their ears.

He grinned widely at the girl in charge of the armoury as he handed over his haul. "I bet Crow will be pleased with that." He commented.

"I dunno, hes gone, Dominic is in charge now, and Megs dead." The girl too, looked close to tears.

Krackerjack knew of meg, if not personally and that was something of a blow, along with Crow MIA. "So, I'd better go report, Where is Dominic?"

"He went off to see Terra."

Krackerjack waved and headed to the noiseome lab owned by Terra, another person he knew only by reputation, along with Dominic. Krackerjack was not in the best of moods, the news lowering it further than the diet of salted squirrel (Also having a detrimental effect on the digestion) and the heavy concealment vest laced with various local foliage making it look like some kind of bog monster was stalking the corridors. He consoled those he met and gave them some slightly cheering news of his find.

Terra Roshni - Thanatos Instinct

Terra was taken aback to find Dominic outside of her lab and was starting to panic; she hadn’t trained for random social encounters and was especially uneasy around a new superior. His smile looked innocent, even a bit childlike, but Terra wasn’t one to trust too easily. The only people she had ever easily made friends with were Meg and Toby, an achievement that took years of awkward silences, split liquids and a series of dramatic events.

The new leader mentioned talking together in private, hinting that Terra would lead the way. She got even more confused seeing as they were a couple of feet underground. Terra ran her hand through her unkempt hair and nodded feverishly. She hadn’t been out of the laboratory and felt a little sick. They made their way to the living quarter where Adelaide’s pleasant visage greeted them, along with the man she had come to know as Damien. Terra twitched slightly when Damien started talking.

“Has she talked to you yet?”

Damien briefly got acquainted with Dominic before averting his attention back at Terra.

“To be honest I haven’t really been around much lately.” She replied, staring intently at a line a wall, tracing it back to a corner.
Terra bowed her head dolefully. She contemplated the patterns on the floor, taking her time before speaking again.

“I… I took her blood sample. It’s now being processed; so far nothing unhealthy about her but we should start to see the ADV pattern pop up tomorrow.” Terra smiled sadly, stealing a glance at Adelaide.

The mood was dense and crowded, there were only four people in the room but it all felt very unorthodox. Terra was used to being in dark, heavy places but it almost felt depressing being down here. Terra blanked out for a minute, anything said or done was ignored with a deaf ear and a blind eye. The light seemed to flicker and Terra blinked her eyes a bit too violently.

“Hmm?” Terra looked around the room.

Dominic followed Terra inside. He had hoped to talk to her in private. Partialy because he wanted to connect with her on a personal level, and partialy because he want to ask her about his condition. He wasn't sure what it was, he leaned toward it being an early on slaught of ADV, but he just wasn't sure. It bothered him more so than it should, and he wanted closure on that.

When he saw Damien and Adelaide, his hope for talking with Terra alone went out the window. He could at least make sure Terra was doing alright, and maybe learn abit more about what was going on. When Damien put his hand out for a handshake, Dominic returned the gesture hardily. "Ya, congrats, maybe not so much, well it's nice to meet you, name Dominic by the way, Damien right," Dominic said in a friendly manner, "well Damien, nice to meet you and I hope to get know you more."

Dominic listened in as Damien and Terra conversed between each other. "I've been gone for awhile, long story I'll tell later," Dominic spoke to both Terra and Damien, "mind filling me in what's been going on, like who's she, and why did you take a sample of her blood?"

Things are going to get interesting, Dominic thought to him self, looking down to Adelaide and then back up to Terra and Damien.

Meredith stared blankly up at the sky. The funeral had reminded her of something that she had sworn to forget. . .

Laying face-up on a patch of yellowed, dried-up grass, she waited and watched.
Clouds drifted on the winds above her, looking like beasts of burden, mongrels, and fantastical animals she had only seen in books laying around in Terra's lab. The sun shone bleakly, its light casting momentary lustres upon everything.

The girl sighed and adjusted herself into a fetal position.

'Why me?', she wanted to ask, to plead, to beg. 'Why did this have to happen to me?'
Death eventually knocked on everyone's door, Meredith knew; Meg's death was proof of that. However, she couldn't help supposing that having no parents at all was more than relatively unlucky.

But she knew what people would tell her. She was just like any ordinary child born into the world, that Ay-Dee-Vee was something that wasn't uncommon, and most people lucky enough to be born usually had no parents by the age of three. Having one to six was practically spoiling her.
Mere wanted to be spoiled.

So she sat there, looking back up at the white-flecked sky, and wondered about what was so very wrong about her.

Krackerjack sauntered up to the heavy door, noting that a guard was loitering about. "You looking after the boss?" he asked.

"Yes sir." News like Krackerjack got around, and many of the more militant ones were unsettled by his ability to abruptly disappear.

"Good lad, mind if I join you?" Krackerjack smiled, stomped both feet, at the side of the door, spun round quickly and stood, rifle in the shouldered at arms position, eyes straight forwards.

The young lad took the opportunity to do similar on the other side of the door. They stood there for a short while before Krackerjack spoke. "Well done lad, thats the spirit, you keep us safe from attack." He spun around and knocked on the door, awaiting admittance. He was trying to not think about what he looked like, a very militant, well armed bush with a person in the middle. Not the best for first appearances but the reports were important and no time to change into his well cared for dress uniform.

Atticus Finch- The Finch Trading Caravan- Far East

A small wagon team rolled over the stony hill top looking down upon the Wasteland below. The Driver watched under a cloak staring at the human abyss that lay before them.
“Welp, this is a place as good as any?” The driver said as he jumped off the wagon. Another man walked from the back of the caravan up to the driver, holding his rifle tightly around his bruised fingers.
“Why have we stopped?” The rifleman put his weapon on his shoulder and looked at the Wasteland below. “Where are we.”
“We were told that the Capitol Wasteland was off to the Southwest. I guess this is it.”
“Why did we come here Lawrence?” The Riflemen asked as he bent down to look through his scope.
“Money like always, Traders live and die by their routes.” Lawrence turned and looked back at the wagons as the others got out stretching their legs.
“But we’ve never been here before.”
“We’ve never been outside the New England Region Eric. This is the first time in ages that the Finch Caravan has gone this far.” He walked around his wagon and pulled out for a jug that was hanging on by a rope on the side of the wooden frame. He pulled out a canteen that was tided to his coat. Pouring water into the canteen he then began to drink the nearly purified water. He then spit some of the crap out, still hating the taste. “Delaware Water. I can only assume that this place is twice as polluted.” Lawrence then bent over, starting to cough uncontrollably. Eric hurried over hand bent down to help Lawrence.
“Jesus Lawrence, you’re getting worse.”
“Cough.. Cough I know.” Lawrence said gasping for air. “I know.” He then stood up being helped by Eric. “But I can’t give up, the family is relying on me.”
“I understand that Lawrence, but you need your rest. You’re the eldest here, and nowadays that means your more like a senior citizen. What with this plague. We just need to find a cure.”
“There is no cure you idiot!” Lawrence pushed his brother away, starting to cough again, throwing out his arm using the wagon for support. Atticus walked around the wagon looking down at his brother, as he held his M4 tightly in his fingers. “What are you looking at?” Atticus said nothing, as he turned toward the Wasteland, and then starting walking off. “What do you think you’re doing.” Atticus pulled a gas-mask over his face, and looked back at Lawrence.
“Scouting ahead,”
“Fine, bring William and Kim with you.” Atticus nodded, turning back to the caravan.
“Kim, Will you’re with me.” Both nodded their heads as they rushed out of their wagons and followed behind.

Lawrence watched as the three walked slowly down the hill, then started to sprint as the slope increased.
“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Eric asked as he put his rifle on his shoulder.
“I don’t care, ..cough….as long as I get Atticus’ gun if he dies.” Eric looked down at his brother watching him bending down to breath. Eric’s glaring eyes faded as they shifted back to the Caravan.
“Alright everybody, were making came here for the night. We’ll be in town by tomorrow.” The others started to talk amongst themselves as they moved the Brahmans around, pulling the caravan into one massive circle. Eric was coordinating it all while Lawrence merely sat back in his wagon, sulking.

Cassandra, Lawrence’s wife stepped up into the wagon, seeing her husband hide with the shadows as the others prepared the camp.
“You are alright.”
“This damn…. Sickness…. Cough…I can’t take it. I just wish that the sickness didn’t attack you when you were so young.”
“Just relax, you need your strength..” Cassandra bent down and sat beside Lawrence, holding his side, petting his beard.
“What’s on your mind.”
“Atticus….”
“What about it.”
“He just so childish, he acts on his own, and doesn’t think about the family. Hell Jenny knows how to take care of this place, and yet Atticus is the one always looking lost.”
“Or maybe he’s just looking for something.”
“What? There is nothing here Cass. Nothing. Only this that is certain here is death.”
“Maybe…. Maybe Atticus isn’t looking for something certain, he just has hope I think.”
“Maybe…..cough…. well see.” Lawernce pulled a dirty blanket over his body and rolled in over, wanting to go to sleep. Cassandra leaned over and pecked him on the cheek then walked outside of the wagon, looking out to the Capitol wasteland. She rubbed her arms trying to stay warm as cold wind forced it’s way into the camp.

----------------------------------Atticus--------------------------------------

Kim looked around as she held her rifle tight to her tiny frame.
“What are we looking for Atticus?” She asked as she aimed in on something off in the distance. Atticus pushed up a wall made of wood, looking underneath, seeing a old corpse laying inside.
“Not sure, food, water, life. Anything to see if this place is even worth going to.”
“But Lawrence said that this place had a lot of people.” She leaped over a rock face , landing next to Atticus as he walked down the street. Atticus pulled at his sling, as he looked around at the bombed out buildings and homes.
“Well Lawrence can be wrong.”
“Hey Atticus I found something.” William called out in the distance. Atticus and Kim turned to the sound of the voice, and quickly jogged to the source.

As they walked up to William he pointed up high towards three poles sticking out of the ground, raised up high in the air. Upon the polls were corpses, arms outstretched, like they were flying, with other poles crossing over their backs, holding their arms up. The corpse in the middle had a crown on its head. Made of barbed-wire, sticking into the rotten skull. A large board hung upon the middleman’s neck. Written upon the board, in which only Atticus could read, said. “Welcome to Hell.” Kim looked up, trying to read the words. In the middleman’s mouth held a single grenade wrapped within its jaws.
“Atticus what does mean?”
“It means we should get the hell out of here.” Atticus turned and was about to walk out, when he felt the tight tug on his boot. Then a sharp clang. Atticus turned to see the pin of the grenade had been pulled out. Atticus and the others had fallen into a trap. Atticus turned and leaped toward his Nephew and Cousin, holding them tight as they hit the ground. “Get down!”

The grenade exploded, and caused the men on the poles to fall, making a loud chatter of noises, metal crashing, and glass breaking. Their cover was blown, and what ever wanted them to set off the trap, they knew where they were now. Atticus got to his feet helping Kim and William up. “We have to get out of here now!”

A loud horn then blasted around the area, voices and screeches came all around them. Gunshots fired off into the cloudy sky. “Shit! Hurry find some cover!” Atticus and the others raced into a small shack nearby, as bullets started to rain down on them. Atticus slammed the door shut, as bullets pierced through the wooden walls.

Atticus bent down, and hid behind a small wooden box as others found some cover.
“What do we do now Atticus?” William asked as he held his sub-machine gun to his side. Atticus paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as gun shots rang into the shed.
“Alright. William give me cover fire as I get outside. I’ll go outside and cause a distraction or too. Kim you’ve got to peck them off as you see them. Will I’ll call you for cover fire when I need it, got it?” The two shook their heads in agreement. Kim started to aim in as William got to the broken glass window, bending down low. Atticus got to the door, and waited for the two to get into position. William looked over at Atticus and nodded. Atticus shook his head back and kicked open the window. William instantly began to fire out into the open.

Atticus bolted out of the shed, and found a large enough piece of rubble to hide behind. He heard bullets whizz over his head, as he ducked down.

He waited for the gunshots to fade away, and then he looked around. 7 seven ugly looking bandits were all scattered around the area, facing the shed. Atticus gave William the hand signs to show what they were up against. He showed his fist, meaning basic infantry, then put up five fingers meaning he could see 5 men with guns. Then he showed William his index and pinkie finger, meaning melee infantry. Then he flashed a 2. Meaning that their were two guys with melee weapons. William gave Atticus the thumbs up, and then he turned to Kim passing on the word. Kim understood as she lowered her eyes down and aimed in behind the desk.

“Hey boys I think I got one!” The voice was close to Atticus as he heard footsteps charge toward him. It was one of the melee men. Atticus got up to see the thug had large club in his hand ready to swing. The thug gave a wide swing at Atticus’ head; the young man dogged it as he rolled to his side, pulling up his rifle. However he was too slow to react as the bandit swung again. Atticus raised up Endurance high, blocking the swing. Atticus then grabbed the handgaurd, like a bat, and then swung at the club-man. Colliding with his skull. The Club-man wailed back in pain, taking a few steps backwards. Atticus flipped Endurance around, and fired off a shot, right into the man’s chest, killing him dead on the spot. A rain of gunfire from the enemy soon followed as Atticus leaped back behind the rubble. “One down, 6 to go.”