Huddled in the back of the SUV along with some other deserters, Marcourt Gallant, a self proclaimed rebel against the oppression realized he just wasn't as tough he thought he was.

So this was it huh? All the information he had gathered throughout the years, use of firearms, military tactics and strategies, technical knowledge and manufacturing of weapons and munitions. He had the opportunity to put all to it to use tonight. He imagined himself fighting against Noah not cowering at their sight. But when the moment of truth was upon him all his daydreaming was just that. Only in his mind. All that yapping about how he would fight to death for his cause, if he would have found supporters to it and what had he done? Nothing, just hiding and running. He had seen death up close tonight and it frightened him, to his core. If he would have only been brave enough. At the rendezvous point, he saw a woman-A woman for crying out loud-unarmed struggling with an agent to disarm him. She died, but she died fighting. During the assault at the big barricade he saw how deserters were pinned down and flanked by droids and agents, if he would have been there he would have foreseen that maneuver. He saw the deserters destroyed tanks and helicopters for their freedom. Didn't he want to be free as much as they wanted? Wasn't he as dissatisfied If not more then any of these people around him? He was too much of a coward to be in the heat of the battle.

“Who else is out there?” He heard the driver say, he was too ashamed to look up.

Even tough he could distinguish many of the weapons he had seen tonight, at the bar or laying next to a corpse. Know how to break them down and put them back together and how to use them he had not fired a single round. Even a brick would do. He hadn't offered assistance to anyone one his way, not to wounded in the crossfire, or by passing ammo to anybody low, or at least giving a tip on what to do. He looked for cover whenever he saw agents nearby instead of alerting the people around him to save their lives.

Only time he showed a small amount of courage was when he removed the chip.

It was so disgraceful.

Even though he was a coward he had made it. Or that's what it looked like for the time being. They were out of Turpis. The desert stretched out in front of him, above the sky was turning from black to dark purple to a dark orange. The sun would come up soon.

Kel was in the far back of the escalade- yes, even past the seats. In fact, she was laying on her side, in what could be considered the "trunk" of the vehicle. Longer digits where weaved through the mess of dirty blonde hair that was mattered to her head by sweat, and she wondered why the driver was using the radio to call for help, she doubted any one else was out their.

Sure, there where four of them in the car, with bullets and choppers and other fanatical stuff but that didn't mean -anything-. No one was crazy enough to be on foot in the little of a metropolis being torn down, decimated with bullets and blood, at least she hoped not. A soft whimper left the girl's mouth as she, attempted, to curl up more, light blue eyes darting around the interior of the car as she, quickly, peeked up from her hunched up state, starring at the other's in the car.

One was wounded, from what she could see, the other seemed to have the same look that she guessed was mirrored upon her face. The "Oh shit, i'm useless," look, and she cracked a smile before the sound of gun shots, so loud, forced her to cringe back into her old position, curled up in the trunk, hoping not to get shot.

What is life?

What is passion?

What is hope?

I asked myself these things moments before everything I knew was at an end. Everything I had done in my life suddenly ceased to have meaning. My life had gone stale. Cooped up in this prison of slowly decaying organic matter, I wondered "What was it all for?" To simply survive was not enough: it had to be for something... my life had to have some meaning.

A moment just like this one flipped my life upside down several years ago... a decision to rescue a young boy from a lab just before the oppression of Turpis fully set in. He was a troubled child, damaged by the cruel treatment and experiments done to him, but I raised him like family. Before Alex I was just a drone... All of my hard work... my training... it all boiled down to which orders were given to me.

Finally, I had something to live for.

It took time to heal him, but the Wolfwood clan philosophy of strength in body and mind seemed to give him direction. His passion to improve seemed to drive away the demons that haunted him, though even now I still catch glimpses of the withdrawn and tortured soul that I had carried out of that lab and into the world. It frightens me to think that the darker side of Alex could still be lurking in the back of his mind somewhere, and I wonder what could trigger it to come forward... and what it is capable of.

Just what would happen to Alex if I weren't there to guide him?

That was the most pressing thing on my mind as the flaming wreckage of an Apache gunship hurtled down towards us from the heavens, the incriminating trail of smoke from the stinger rocket that hit it still lingering in the air. As the passenger on this race to freedom or death, I could not throw Alex to safety... nor block the danger with my body, nor was there some foe to defeat. Everything I knew how to do was useless... and I had to trust that Alex could see the danger and avoid it.

Though I could only see the back of his helmet, I knew Alex had that deadly look of determination in his eyes: Nothing would stand between him and his freedom. I felt that determination waver as the balance of the bike faltered. The tires were shredded and the back end had broken free... the sound of tires popping on a spike trap had been lost in the chaotic turmoil of gunfire and explosions.

As the mass of the bike pulled us towards the rapidly passing asphalt and the plummeting gunship wreckage closed in on us from above, I had nothing left to do but close my eyes and hope... Perhaps in the end, my purpose was to bring Alex to this point, and to prepare him for the outside world ahead.

The last thing I see is the moon and fire lit desert sea of sand... and then darkness.

"Sev!!" Alex's voice was nearly lost to the tumultuous roar of wind and fire as he pulled himself shakily to his feet and made his way towards Seviryn's body, which had not quite been thrown free of the wreckage. The flaming and smoking pile of twisted metal neatly blocked the gate, preventing pursuit from foot soldiers, light meks and most light armored vehicles. Alex guessed the heavy steel tread tanks could push through with little effort, and there was still nothing to stop any choppers or planes from simply flying over the wall to chase them. All of this was being shoved aside by a pressing need to find his brother.

"SEV!" Alex pushed back towards the gate, even though his body urged him not to. He couldn't feel his left leg... the one that his bike had fallen on top of when he lost control of it. He could still move his toes and he didn't find any broken bones when he checked it, but it was badly scraped and burned. Alex had a feeling his leg, among other things, would begin to hurt badly when the adrenaline from the crash began to wear off. He was shaky, but all of his limbs, fingers, and toes seemed to work properly. His left eye felt sticky when he closed it and the fact that he was outside the gates hadn't quite dawned on him yet.

Some movement in the firelight caught his eye, and he rushed towards it as fast as his injured body would let him, shoving debris out of the way to uncover the body of his brother. He pushed through the fog in his mind and remembered to check for a pulse. Pressing his fingers shakily to Seviryn's neck and expecting the worst, it was a long and tense moment before he could feel anything beyond the throbbing of his own heart. It was weak, but a shallow beat of life was answering his touch. Seviryn was badly injured and needed medical attention... they probably both did, but they were both alive. For the moment, at least, which the distant but closing rumble of heavy meks and tank treads bitterly reminded him.

Alex carefully removed his brother's helmet which had, judging by the amount of damage it had sustained, made the difference in saving his life. He pulled his brother free of the wreckage and dragged him to an open spot in the sand so he could take a quick audit of what had survived the crash. Sadly, there was no saving Alex' motorcycle. Even though he lamented the loss of the machine, he knew they would have had to abandon it outside the gates anyway. Alex' supercharged Hayabusa was made for tearing apart smooth paved roads, not for trekking across desert sands.

By some miracle, Seviryn's FN P90 survived as well as the family heirloom magnum he always carried and Alex's sword, though his baldric had been damaged and he was unable to pull the blade free of it for the time being. The .50 caliber Beowulf had been lost somewhere in the wreck and Alex assumed it was destroyed along with a good deal of the ammunition Seviryn had been carrying. Alex managed to salvage three magazines from the remains of Seviryn's tattered security jacket and took a quick moment to reload the weapon before he slung it over his shoulder alongside his sword. He made sure the magnum was secured inside its holster before he moved towards his ruined motorcycle... the only person who could wrangle in that gun was currently unconscious and bleeding, so he left it alone.

Alex popped open the one hardened saddle pouch that hadn't been crushed when they crashed and was relieved to find that it was the one stocked with the hydration pack. He kept it stocked with a couple days worth of meager food rations, a small first aid kit, and a crank operated emergency flashlight. Thankfully it had only been a few days since he'd last cycled out the water in his pack, so the taste of stale plastic would only be mildly unpleasant. Better than dying of dehydration...

"Alright fatass... we need to get the heck out of dodge."

Alex fixed his hydration pack on his back and with a herculean effort, pulled Seviryn up over one shoulder and began to slowly limp in the direction the vehicle tracks led off into the desert. He knew his chances for survival would have been much higher if he'd left his brother behind... but even if he weren't carrying 160 pounds of dead weight, his leg was still injured and he was beginning to feel it. It was likely that his injury would slow him down too much to escape anyway.

"Why not die together, eh bro? Fitting end... gunned down from behind while dragging your fat ass across the desert. Or we could starve... or die of thirst. I think I'd rather be shot in the back by Turpis terrorist scum," Alex grinned as he trudged through the sand, ignoring the stabbing pain that had begun to shoot up his injured leg every time he put weight on it. The copper taste of blood lingering on his tongue sent an invigorating shiver up his spine and the pain only seemed to amplify his resolve. Alex' blue eyes glinted coldly in the moonlight and he felt something old and familiar stir within him.

"Yeah... fitting end."

(OOC: I haven't had the inspiration to write the post I wanted to write, and so I decided to write this one and maybe I'll edit it it later into the post it was supposed to be. Basically, I was going to have something happen, but I'll hold it off for later or never. The convoy is to get as far from the base as possible. Let's say some hours have gone by and everyone is resting from the intensity of the trip. During this time one of you could go and pick up Xian's characters. At the end of this post we stopped and we're doing a check on the injured, food, water, gasoline, etc. We're checking supplies. So the vehicles have stopped in a ring. Sorry guys, I just haven't been rping on the forums at all since this summer. I've been burnt, I'm back in the university. It may just only be a phase.)

There comes a time in life, when you find that you think... How the fuck did that happen? That's what Shale was thinking in the blackness. Did I really just lose consciousness from a flesh wound and a bullet in his shoulder? Oh wait, there was the 50 lb machine gun that had dropped on his legs... But really?

At the edges of consciousness, he felt someone feeling his body. Vaguely, he noted the pain as she probed the two bullet wounds and groaned a bit. The one that was lodged in his shoulder hurt, far more than the bullet that had gone through. Under him, he felt the uneven surface of the truck bed. It bounced up and down lightly as the pickup glided across the sand, masking the sound of the engine with the whisper of sand rubbing against sand. The heat was growing quickly in the hooded camper, probably from the rising sun. He realized that the truck bed would soon be like an oven and he would be cooked alive in the back. His mind clawed for the surface, grabbing at full consciousness slowly but surely. He heard a soft, firm female voice above him.

“The guy in the back’s been shot. Twice. I can’t find an exit for the bullet that went through his shoulder. Who knows where the hell it’s embedded. He could have internal bleeding, for all I know. He’s unconscious, isn’t responding to me or my groping of his wounds which means he’s down under.”

Just the "guy in the back"? Come one, the least she could say my name... Oh right, I haven't introduced myself yet... to anybody yet as a matter of fact. Darn. I gotta do something about that.

Shale's silent reverie was broken by the feel of cold steel on his chest. Gentle fingers brushed his chest, shoulder, and arm, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. He felt the fabric peel off of his skin, the blood making it stick to his flesh. There was a strong pressure on his arm and he became aware that the voice, the medic, must be wrapping a bandage around his arm. A second later, he felt the pressure go to his shoulder. The pressure grated at his nerves and he tensed. Again, he felt a bandage go around his body, this time on his shoulder. The presence moved away as soon as the movement he felt through the bandage stopped.

The female voice sounded again, “Cael, the sun is rising. The sun is deadly out here. Either we find shelter or we take the time to stop and put this guy in the cab. I seriously doubt I’m going to be able to push his butt through this tiny opening. It’s barely wide enough for me. And he can’t stay out here. He’ll be cooked alive. Which, granted, would stop the bleeding, but I don’t think he’ll appreciate it so much.”

THAT woke up the normally calm killer. His eyes jolted open and he pulled in a deep breath, pulling himself to a sitting position-- and promptly collapsed. Shale yelled, "ARRRGGHHHH." His left arm had buckled under him, unable to support his weight. He shook off the pain and used his right arm to pull himself up, hair grazing the top of the camper. He turned to the female voice. "Hi there doc...", he paused, wincing, "I'm Nax Chan. Or Shale, whichever is good..." Shale paused again to consider the woman, her back turned to him. A moment later, he saw her face. His jaw dropped. She looked like a supermodel. Her long black hair was draped in waves over her shoulder at the moment, the pale white of her skin nearly glowing in the soft light under the camper. Bright grey eyes that plunged into a soul. Shale was at a loss for words. He never expected that someone who so looked like they had it made would try to escape Turpis. Several seconds later, he managed to stutter out a few coherent words, "Uh... did... uh... wow, thanks for fixin me up doc."

Shale turned away, looking out the back of the truck, telling himself that he was just checking to see who was following them, but really to hide his face. He blushed, something he hadn't done since high school, furiously. That girl was amazing. Then his rational mind kicked in, smacking him around a couple of times.

Focus Nax, focus. Remember? You're sitting in the back of a pickup travelling at 50 or 60 some miles an hour away from the only civilization that you know of in a massive desert wasteland. Massive, as in the entire planet EXCEPT for where you just fled from and are now an enemy of the state. Think about girls later you moron. Focus on getting to some shelter ALIVE first. And of course, helping anybody else who managed to get out the gates.

Reasoning having reattached his jaw to the rest of his face, he turned back to the woman and looked through the small window in the back of the cab. Directly at the guy who called himself Cael. His voice came out measured and level, with a soft, but powerful undertone of authority.

"What next, boss?"