RolePlayGateway™

"Shame on us;
doomed from the start;
may god have mercy;
on our dirty little hearts;
shame on us;
for all we have done;
and all we ever were;
just zeros and ones."

It sent chills throughout my body. "We are not alone, they live among us, they are us." It played back in my head over and over. "They are us." Perhaps I was the only one out of billions of people on this, now, insignificant planet. Perhaps only I had realized, if something was us, and it came from out there then it would be our end.

lip - Blip - Blip. The cursor blinked over and over on the glow of the monitor. "Internal says: Malice, you there?" Of course Malice was an online alias, the man behind it went by Ace to "real people". He appeared to be tall, hard to tell from his slouched posture. Ace had never actually met anyone participating in the current chat that he had been logged into; or so he thought. Black, spiked, hair had a small shine in it from gel he had applied before work that day. He managed to change into a more comfortable pair of shorts and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt before participating in tonight's session.

Malice says: Yeah, I'm here... I still cannot believe this though.
Internal says: No kidding. I find it amazing though.
Malice says: Not me, they said they are like us...
Internal says: I know, that means they are probably what put us here!
Malice says: Maybe, but why, and if they are like us... Then what? Maybe they are just like us; just as destructive.
Jadephire enters the chat.
Jadephire says: ZOMG ALIENS R REAL!
Internal says: Hey Jade, I know; crazy huh?
Malice says: Huh? Hang on, just ... I just felt my house shake.
Jadephire: OH NOES, INVASHUN!!1
---Connection terminated---

He hadn't much time to react. The house had been shaking, but he didn't realize from what. A small tremble had turned into a violent quake. His only instinct was to run for a protective hallway. The house seemed to crumble away around him. As bits of building were blown away, noise from outside became clear. Explosions, hundreds, maybe thousands of them. As Ace's world was slowly being destroyed, the pit in his stomach was quickly growing. Maybe he didn't want to survive this. Maybe he didn't want to go back to managing his community website. Perhaps dying would be the best option.

-Thunk- Everything went black to him. A blunt piece of wood struck him, he narrowly escaped debris flying toward him. It sank deep into the remnants of the structure that was protecting him.

"Sah-nahka!" Shouts rang out, following footsteps. Ace had been lucky, or unlucky, enough to have been buried by his house. He managed to be underground, in his basement at the time of the blasts. He could see people running. They did resemble humans, but they wore tight steel necklaces so tight it seemed they were embedded into the skin. The ears on them, they were slightly pointed. Every one of them had graceful movement, organized, intentional. It seemed what Ace had feared was right. He saw these "people" Running around to find survivors. They seemed to keep certain people, and not others. Ace could barely make out who or why they were choosing people. He did notice one thing, every one that had been taken was fairly in shape. The elderly and overweight were killed... Ripped apart, where they stood.

A wave of heat came across him, shock perhaps, it became hard to breathe, everything returned to darkness again.

OOC Thread, Click Here.

Vincent sat nestled in his room, lying on the bed and fully clothed. All black attire was the theme for the gathering but his mind had already been changed about leaving. His eyes were glued to the television as the newscaster uttered words that seemed to sear fear into his mind. "We are not alone, they live among us, they are us." It scrolled across the bottom of the screen... "I researched Area 51. I dun seen't everything there is on youtube. Read up on all these hoaxes. And not once did I find any of it to be plausible. Now I'm sitting here talking to myself while this garbage scrolls across my screen." Vince, now angry, confused, and fearful, grabbed the remote to turn off the television. Before his finger could press down on the power button his attention was caught by the loud sound of what seemed like an explosion.

Reassurance wasn't necessary as the house began to rumble violently. Almost instinctively Vince ran into the bathroom that was connected to his room and nimbly dove into the tub. Only then did he think of all the things he could have grabbed, the people he wanted to call. All of these thoughts were racing through his mind, along with even more severe feelings of fear and panic. It wasn't like him to panic, but it was obvious that the world as he knew was literally being brought to an end. This was it. Vincent's train of though was stunted as the ceiling above him began to crumble and fall around him. More explosions could be heard, but Vince's eyes were sealed shut. His body quickly lurched into the fetal position as he could feel the sheet-rock pound heavily against his back. The pressure was heavy and his breathing became rasp. "I love you." were the last words he mumbled out as sounds of footsteps came closer. Vincent knew nothing of his situation but knew full well that he would play dead to the end if it meant he could see the sunlight one last time. If he could see her, one last time...

Storm had come home from the dorms to be with her parents. Her mother was freaking out. There really were aliens, everything they had known was turning out to be wrong. Now people were saying that they were put on this planet, it wasn't the work of nature, Mother Earth didn't have anything to do with them. This was all causing Dove Rainwater an anxiety attack. Bearclaw Rainwater had to call his only daughter, hoping the girl could calm her mother down. But, there was no doing. The girl could tell her mother that everything would be fine. They would find a way that they could keep their faith, Mother Earth would never let them down.

After putting Dove in bed, Storm had gone downstairs to the living room and was preparing for a night of watching the news coverage when the entire house began to quake. She heard her mother fall out of bed with a thump as Storm herself ran for the nearest open doorway. When she read about earthquakes people always went for shelter in open doorways, because then nothing could fall on them. Too bad that when things went flying sideways, something sturdy over your head didn't help! She flew forward after something from the kitchen smacked her in the back and head. She blacked out, soon to be covered in debris from the house coming down around her.

She woke up hearing her mother's scream, then silence. It was too quiet. And then, she was out again, not sure about what was happening.

When the first shock hit, Don was lying on his bed listening to music through an expensive set of closed headphones. He was only vaguely aware that mere hours ago the government announced important news about aliens, and that anyone else would be watching TV news religiously. But this sciencey stuff only marginally interested him. The new album from The Neurocratic Constituent's Society was far more pressing news to Don, and he was adamant that nothing would distract him from his listening time.

But an earthquake certainly could. Don jolted upright at the first tremor, short and sharp, and slowly removed his headphones. He heard faint shouting and rumbling in the distance, and then, louder, the sound of screaming above him.

Ben sighed. "F__king typical."

Don scrambled to put on pants—the same jeans he wore earlier that day, belt intact, lying on the floor next to his bed—and bolted to the stairway. A second tremor hit. This one was much larger, and with his ears now free he could hear the explosive noise that accompanied it. Don held himself tight against the wall, and when the shaking died down again, he started walking more tentatively up the stairs. A third tremor hit, as if on cue, when his hand touched the door at the top of the stairs. This one shook Don completely off balance and sent him flying to the bottom of the stairs. Don felt his head thud against the floor; the carpet helped cushion the blow, but it was a big fall and smarted badly.

Hurt and frustrated, Don lay on the floor for a moment and tried to imagine the commotion that awaited him upstairs. He soon noticed that the loud screaming had stopped, and his imagination took a turn towards the worst: obviously, the screaming was from his mother. Why had she stopped? What happened to her?

With new-found determination, Don lurched his aching body up the stairs once more. He turned the handle on the basement door and pushed, cursed, pushed again, but nothing came of it: the door would not open. He slammed his head against the door in helpless exhaustion. Without warning, a final tremor blew the door off it's hinges and sent him down the stairs with it. The last thing Don saw before he passed out was wood grain—then, only blackness.

A cool breeze ran along Ace's exposed face. His house had mostly crumbled down to all but his reinforced basement. It was nearing dusk now. All was silent. Something hot ran from his nose to his cheeks, blood. He felt sharp pains in his legs as he attempted to get up and brush off. It was a weak attempt, as he only got to his bruised knees.

The neighborhood he once knew was not but rubble and destruction. Bodies lay, severed and strewn across the street and driveways. Ace slowly shook his head in disbelief. "Survivors." He muttered. "There has to be some. I can't be the only one left..." He made another sore, but successful, attempt to get to his feet. Nothing was broken, his body seemed in-tact. He began a search for anyone that may be alive, or able to survive. In the back of his mind, he could only catch flashes of the... people... that did this. He didn't call out for survivors, in fear of giving himself up. Instead, he shambled through each house, shifting through loose rubble; trying to find a warm body before night gave way. He needed at least one more person to be around.

Romeo and Juliet is the story of two lovers, forbidden from seeing each other because their families really hate each other...

Victoria took a long, much needed sip of her Starbucks latte, rubbing her temples as she stared at her computer screen. God, how she loathed marking freshmen papers. It wasn't that they weren't well written-though some of them weren't exactly decent-but more the fact that the reading material was excruciatingly dull. Romeo and Juliet, no matter how many individuals deemed it a timeless classic, had failed time and time again to pique any trace of genuine interest in Victoria Langstrom. Although she was somewhat forced by the Board to say differently, she found the entire book rather boring. To hell with all those so called die-hard Shakespeare fans, who probably hadn't even read the book in the first place.

Her cell phone abruptly broke out in a cheery, poppy tune, one that most definitely didn't fit her current mood. Reluctantly, she glanced at the phone's tiny screen, already knowing what it would say. Kathy had decided to give herself a personalized ring tone when Victoria wasn't looking, who, being as inept as she was in generally all electronics, still couldn't figure out how to change it.

With a resigned sigh she flipped the phone open and pressed it to her ear. "Hello, Kathy." Victoria didn't even try to pretend she was in a good mood.

"Hey Vicky!" Came her younger sister's bubbly, cheerful voice from the other line. Victoria cringed at the nickname Kathy had refused to drop, even when specifically asked to. She loved her younger sister and all, but honest to God, for such a tiny person she could be extraordinarily annoying. "Watcha doooing?"

"Grading paaaaapers." Victoria replied, mockingly imitating her sister's sing-song voice. Kathy didn't seem to notice.

"Cool, so listen," Victoria could practically hear the 19 year old twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger as she spoke, a rather annoying habit she'd picked up, "Shelly and I wanted to go to the mall on Tuesday, but Mum's taking her car to be repaired, so I can't borrow it. There's something wrong with the tire, or the engine, or something like that, but anyway, could you maybe lend me your car?"

"Why Kathy," she spoke with mock surprise, "Hadn't you said that you were getting your own car this weekend?"

"Yeah," Kathy let out a little giggle, "But you know, I think a made a wrong calculation or something, 'cause when I went down to the used car dealership this really big, grumpy guy said I didn't have enough which I'm sure I did 'cause I made sure like 20 times but apparently I was like..."

Kathy babbled on and on and Victoria sat back in her computer chair, all but ignoring her sister's girlish voice. She glanced out the window, where the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, the sky now a rainbow of reds and pinks. Due to her sister's ignorance towards the fact that Victoria wasn't paying attention, she was free to ponder the equally strange and exciting news report that aired nation wide last night. Aliens. The thought made a shiver pass through Victoria. Real live aliens, on their planet. Could it possibly be true?

"Victoria...Victoria? Victoria?"

Kathy's insistent repetition of her name forced the professor to return her attention to the rather one-sided conversation. "Sorry, what?"

"Victoria, did you feel that?" There was the faintest trace of anxiety in Kathy's voice.

"What? Feel-" Victoria's question was cut off short as the ground beneath her trembled. It was faint, and she wasn't surprised she hadn't felt in the first place, but...it seemed to be getting stronger.

"Victoria, what's going on? Is this some kind of earthquake?" Her tone was growing shriller and shriller. "I don't like this. Why are people running? What's going-"

The line went dead.

"Kathy?" Victoria had just enough time to croak. Then the explosion hit.



Slowly, Victoria's eyes flitted open. Above her, she saw sky, blood orange and quickly darkening. What? This wasn't right. Frowning, she closed her eyes again, trying to remember how she had gotten outside. She'd been at home, grading papers, then Kathy called, and...

The explosion. Victoria jolted up into sitting position. Big mistake. Blood rushed to her head, and with a sway, she fell back again onto the hard pavement. After a moment she attempted sitting up again, this time slower. Although her head continued to pound, she managed to stay upright and look around her.

Victoria had to do a double take. What had once been her neighborhood had been reduced to a deadly quiet street, nothing but depressing piles of blackened rubble where houses had once been, including hers. A cold, sickening fear swept through Victoria as she looked around her. There was nothing. No sound, no person in sight, no trace that anyone had ever lived there.

Shakily, Victoria stood, pain blooming through her right leg as she put weight on it. Blinking in surprise, she experimentally shifted her weight again. Ouch. A definite sprain, at the best. Sucking in a breath, she did a once over, half afraid of what she might find. Her arms and legs were splotched with the beginnings of bruises, and blood dripped from a long gash on her left arm. But then, she was probably better off than most people. That is, if there were any other people left.

A wave of nausea rolled through her at the thought, and Victoria hastily dismissed it. No. There had to be people, or even just a person. She couldn't be alone, not truly and utterly alone.

"Hello?" she called, though her throat felt like sand paper. Coughing, she tried again, clearer and louder, "hello?"

There was no answer, besides her ominous echo. Fighting hysterics, Victoria hobbled slowly down the street, calling out again and again. There had to be somebody.

Vincent awoke with a heavy series of coughs soon to follow. Almost instinctively his hand wanted to rush and cover his mouth, but it was stuck underneath something. In fact, Vincent's entire body had been covered by fallen sheet rock and planks. His body ached in all places, but at the sight of sunlight Vince could do nothing but think about escaping this tomb. "There's no point in dying now..." he mumbled under his breath as he forcefully pulled in his limbs from underneath what had fell on him. After curling into a hunch, Vincent would summon all the strength his weakened body could muster and push upwards. Luck was apparently on his side, as the boards above him rose with his body and slid off to the side of the tub. A small cloud of dust would rise in the air, hindering his sight momentarily; though there wasn't much to look at once the smoke cleared.

For now it seemed that the impending danger was gone from his area, but they left more than their mark. Vincent's eyes narrowed with disgust at the bodies strewn about the destroyed suburb. He slowly shook his head as he stepped out of the tub, stumbling forward a little as he lurched away from the pile of rubble that used to be home. His legs easily buckled and it took him awhile to become situated. It was only when he stood, that the pains of his head and body heightened. A gaze drifted down to tattered clothes that were now painted with stains of blood. Unsure of where exactly the wounds were, he simply ignored them and trudged forward.

Once away from the center of the heap, Vincent would kneel down and carefully observe his surroundings, or what was left of it. His mind raced with thoughts. "Am I the only survivor? Did any of my family make it? Did she make it? Are there even any more humans left?! Do I stay here and wait? Do I search around? The series of questions strung off into infinity. Normally the stress would result in him dismissing the issue at hand, but this was more than a simple issue. The world itself had been torn apart for all he knew, and here he was alon--

Vincent narrowed his eyes once more as the sight of what seemed to be another survivor. Instantly a feeling of hope emerged within him, which was unfortunately washed away again by the continuous stream of questions. Vincent refused to yell to get his attention for fear of possibly alerting any leftover threats. Instead he just knelt there, waiting. If fate were to bring them together then he would happily oblige, but if he were to stray away without noticing him then risky measures would have to be made to at least have someone there. "Bring your ass over here..." Vincent whispered to himself as he stared at the figure browsing through rubble.

He ducked quickly, "What the..." Escaped his lips. It was just coughing, followed by a rasped "Hello" It came from the debris that were diagonal to his own pile of home. Ace found himself staring at the rising body of Victoria. She had been a woman he'd never met, not entirely. He'd seen her around, if that's what a nervous hand-wave would be. He hadn't seen her first spill, but he knew enough to get to her quickly. His own weakened feet carried him to her aid, careful not to slip on any loose ground.

"I expected this." He wasn't positive why those, particular, words came from him. Perhaps he needed someone to know his feeling of 'I told you so.' He shook his head and offered her aid. Ace snapped his mouth shut in an attempt to correct what he wanted to say. Instead, a new set of three words came out. "Are you okay?"

Behind her, unfortunate for the victim, was someone she'd apparently not noticed. At the sight of an elderly man, pulled in half, Ace quickly dismissed the question and instead forced his aid upon her. He yanked her arm over him and kept his back to the sight. It was certainly a sight not fit for her, or her not fit for the sight. Now the end of the world didn't seem so bad as a final thought crashed into the back of his skull. I shouldn't have yanked her, that wasn't right...

Storm woke up, feeling everything going hot around her. It was like she was asleep under her blanket, something she always hated. Storm lifted her hand to push the blanket off, only to realize that it wasn't her blanket, but couch cushions. The girl groaned as the action of lifting the objects off of her caused her immense pain. It felt like she had a couple of broken ribs, and that her shoulder had dislocated. But her moving had somehow snapped it back into place. "Mom?" She called as the rubble fell away. "Daddy?" She looked around, the house had fallen down around her.. And then, in a corner, she saw it. "MOM!" She yelled, forgetting her own pain and hurrying to her mother. She was in two pieces. Storm looked around and found him. Bear was in the same condition as her mother, ripped in half. "Daddy.." She cried. She suddenly felt so alone. Were there any other survivors? She thought about her friends as she made her way to the street. Where was everyone? It was so deserted. The houses were a mess.

Victoria barely resisted crying out in relief as she saw another silhouette, headed in her direction. She squinted, and as he came closer, realized that it was a familiar face. Ace, was it? She'd seen him around, somewhere...did he live in the neighbourhood, or maybe he worked at the school...

She blinked furiously, as the pondering train of thought did not help with her headache. He came closer, and them seemed to look past her for a moment, a horrified expression crossing his face. Victoria didn't want to turn around, to see any more death or decay.

"I'm fine." she snapped at his question, but didn't fight him as he put one of her arms around his shoulder. She had been on the verge of hysterics only moments ago, and was determined not to break down. Not in front of someone. She would not let out the wrenching sob that had been writhing inside of her.

As her weight was lifted partially off her own two feet, Victoria was overcome with a wave of weariness. Staggering, she tried to right herself, but not able to resist leaning against this partial stranger-she barely knew the guy-for a few, brief moments. Honestly, she was just so...so...tired.

"Thanks." she muttered, taking most of her weight off of him. However, something in the distance made her entire body stiffen, with a mixture of shock and relief. With a shaking hand Victoria pointed down the street, to where another figure stood, his shadow stretching across the road.

"Look," she said quietly.

Sky sat in the living room, face half buried in his book, occasionally looking up to reply to someone on MSN.

Ali says:
Have you heard about those aliens?
Sky says:
Its probs just some conspiracy theorist nonsense
Ali says:
probs, but apparently the govenment belives it
*government

Then the first tremor went off, the house shook, small amounts of plaster falling from the roof.

Ali says:
Sh*t! Did you feel that?
Sky says:
What? You felt it too? But your like in britain!
Ali says:
yeah but you felt it too?

Then the second tremor, the house literally groaned, the age old grandfather clock crashed to the floor, Sky leapt up, "MUM!?" he yelled, running out into the hall and starting to climb the stairs, then the third tremor, and he fell back down, landing at the bottom in a heap "Mum!" he called weakly, as the house collapsed around him...

He woke up in darkness, pushing the plaster and debris off of him, he tried to stand, but his knees gave way and he fell again. Mum, he had to find her. Weakly pushing himself up he grabbed the remnants of a wall for support and looked around. All that was left was framework, and little of that. Stumbling towards the area where his Mum's bedroom would have been, his breath caught, he couldn't see his mum... but he could see the blood. Tears forming in his eyes he turned and ran as far as he could, sobbing freely and vision blurring with the tears that now streamed from his eyes. His foot caught on a piece of rubble and he fell sprawling on the ground. Swearing through the tears he sat up and gazed around. The area was still indentifiable, but only just, as his neighbourhood. Sighing and lowering his head into his hands, sitting in the middle of the street, he wondered if anyone else was still alive.

Storm was looking down the street when she saw people. She was almost positive she saw Ace helping someone and actually managed a half smile. At least someone she knew was alive. She cradled her arm close to her ribs, helping ease the pain of both shoulder and breaks, and started to rush over. "Ace?" She called quietly, noting that he seemed to be having a bit of trouble. As she drew closer, they were facing away from her, she noticed that the woman he was helping was pointing at something. She looked past them and froze. What was that? She wondered, a bit afraid.

((Sorry it's so short. T.T Still have a headache and feel gross. I will be able to think more in a bit.))

Vincent's eyes narrowed to focus on what was happening. Internal clocks must have been set to chime in harmony, as more and more survivors crept from underneath their destroyed homes and out into the streets. Knowing that lifted the dreaded feeling of loneliness, but that only gave room for other concerns to become more prominent. Though still weak, VIncent rose from his kneeling position and stretched out any kinks in his body. The pain of movement made his face twist in agony but he kept his groans quiet.

"Be spotted as a big group or die alone?" he thought to himself. Making his decision, he would begin to trudge towards the small group of people that was forming. Being in a suburb, their faces looked rather familiar to him even though he knew none of their names by heart. As he walked he kept notice of his surroundings. If he didn't remember anything else from the news report, it was that these aliens resembled humans. For all Vincent knew, he could have been walking towards his own death. A deep breath was taken as he clinched his fists. "I'ma get me a lick off before they rip me in half..." he grumbled.

A vivid dream: Don floats in a pitch-black void. There is no sense of up or down, no sense of direction at all. He tries to move his hand, but his joints feel brittle and threaten to break at the touch. A white spot appears in the distance; Don wills himself towards it and, slowly, it begins to take form. It’s his basement door.

Donald, regaining consciousness, opened his eyes yet again to the wood grain of his basement door. His head was ringing, but behind the buzz of his aching brain things were quiet now. Eerily quiet.

There wasn’t an awful lot piled on top of his body, so with a moderate effort he managed to push the door and accompanying detritus off. The stairway out of the basement was still intact. But the rest of his room was not so lucky. The ceiling had caved in leaving a great mound of wood, metal and dirt in the center.

To his embarrassment, the first thing Don thought about was his ruined equipment. Then, in a much greater panic, the fate of his parents.

“Muriel! Oh my god, Mom, are you alright?”

Don creeped up the stairs into the open air—his house was naught but rubble—and panic enveloped him. There was his mother, bent backwards on herself, impaled on a shard of mysterious shrapnel. His father was nowhere to be found.

The amount of grief and panic that Don felt at this moment was so intense to be unbearable, but it was gone in an instant. The emotional overload had numbed him, and all he could do was stare at his lifeless mother in dumb shock.

Out of the corner of his eye, and through a window of teepeed beams, Don saw a small distant gathering of other survivors. Saying a last farewell to his mother, he started toward them.

“Hey!” Don called out, as curiosity gave way. “Hey, over here! What the fuck happened?!”

One of the young men in the group shot Don a dirty look. Apparently, the last thing these people needed right now was a loud mouth.

Hearing shouting in the distance, Sky looked up, the tears that had flown freely mere minutes ago dry, and his before grief ridden face was replaced with resigned despair. The shock of the attack had numbed him, he could barely remember why he was out here. He vaguely remembered reading something about how the mind sometimes blocked memories of extreme trauma to protect itself from pain... perhaps that was what was happening, or perhaps he had no tears left to cry. Either way, staying here he was going to end up dead, either murdered by these aliens or else die of hunger or thirst.

He slowly and unsteadily got to his feet, his ankle must be twisted as it flared with pain when he put weight on it... not a good start but manageable. He then began to limp towards the source of the voices, hoping they would be friendly.

He had turned his head in her voice's direction. Ace couldn't make whether to be happy or not. Sure, there were survivors. He couldn't help question whether that made things worse. He shifted his own weight as he felt Victoria change her balance onto him. "I think I might have the only, slightly stable, basement for us to hide in." He spoke low to Victoria. "Should things, well..." His voice drifted. "Just try and get over there, they couldn't find me when they came through."

Ace had heard more voices, at the moment he decided to let them come to him. After all, if their injuries were too grave for them to escape, they may not survive the night. He hadn't said anything else as others had approached him. They were unrecognizable to him, even Storm. All a look of shock on their faces, perhaps he had one as well. They each suffered a change in skin tone, dust and grime had changed that for the most part. Ace felt it best to wait for anyone else he could see to gather, before he wasted his energy repeating the same words to each of them.

Victoria looked at him incredulously. "Your basement's still intact? How is that even-"

She stopped speaking, however, as the approaching survivors reached them. Even through the grime and wounds, Victoria was pretty sure she recognized a few faces, one of them being Storm, whom she was pretty sure was in one of her classes. The girl seemed to have fractured her arm or something, as she was holding it gingerly in the other arm.

"What the fuck happened?"

A loud, rude voice broke out, one that did not help with Victoria's pounding headache. That made her snap. With a glare on her face she pushed away from Ace and stalked over to the voice, although her hobbling didn't quite help with the impressive look she was going for. "You want to know what's going on?" She snarled once she was but a foot away from the man. "You want to know why all our houses are fucking gone, and why we're all battered up? You want to know why our families are dead?"

That was when she faltered slightly. Dead. Kathy. What had happened to Kathy? Was she dead? Were all her friends dead? The realization that these were legitimate possibilities hit like a wrecking ball, and for a moment Victoria couldn't breathe. Staggering, she took a shaky step back, but still managing to maintain her expression of utter hatred and anger. "I've got news for you. We have no more fucking idea than you do, so you'd do best to shut your mouth before any more of us get fed up." Her voice had lowered, but somehow remained just as intense.

With a glare she staggered back to where Ace was. Victoria hated the fact that she had to, but she leaned on him again, to tired to worry about how pathetic and helpless she looked in this state.

Storm watched the group, and wondered for a second what was wrong with Ace. She was glad that one of her friends was alive, and he didn't show any emotion. She looked at her hands and saw them coated with dust and drywall so much that she almost looked white. That made her laugh. Her, white. She must look ridiculous. Then, her thoughts turned to everything, the house falling down around her, literally, being outside with people who were mostly strangers to her, probably the only survivors, the only person she knew didn't seem to recognize her because she was white.

She doubled over laughing, not able to control it. It wasn't a genuine laugh, more of a hysterical laugh, that she couldn't stop. Her sides began to hurt, as she stood there, bent at the waist, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other over her forehead, her head started to pound. And she just kept laughing. When the older woman began yelling at someone, she laughed harder, but it wasn't long after that that she started to cry. Just bawling. She couldn't explain it. She just started to weep, her hand moving from her forehead to her eyes as she began to slowly fall to the ground in a weepy heap.

That was how she ended up, sitting on the ground, one arm, the injured one, still supporting her broken ribs, one hand covering her eyes, crying like a six year old. But, everyone was dead. Aliens were real. And she had no one. She was nineteen, she was supposed to have a bright future in front of her, instead she had a bleak, dark road that could be bringing death at any minute.

It was not long until Vincent had finally made it to the small huddling of people. His eyes carefully scanned the lot of them for any weird signs that may mean they weren't exactly human. His scrutinizing glare was about to be followed by a greeting, had this girl not run off on a tangent. Though a bit rash, he very well understood everyone's situation. While he did not show it, he had also lost family members, maybe friends, possible lover. Fortunate for him he could bottle up these thoughts and release his anger at another time, because this wasn't the time nor place to become hysterical. Of course, no sooner than he thought those words another girl began to laugh uncontrollably. Now, I know emotional reactions vary amongst people, but this girl had literally lost it. From laughing to crying, Vincent simply stared with confusion and slight disgust.

Vincent chose to stay silent. An introduction would have to wait. His eyes continued to drift along everyone that appeared. Skepticism had now become his utmost habit. "Why put my safety in the hands of a group filled with people who can't face reality; be it a very harsh and unbelievable one, but reality nonetheless."

Sky limped over to join the group, his ankle twinging every now and then. He saw a girl that couldn't be more than a few years older than him on the floor crying, as well as a man staring at her and several others milling about. He looked around at them each, recognising a few faces but unable to put names to any of them. He sat down next to the crying girl and put a hand on her shoulder "Come on, we can't afford to break down." he said, remembering too well his hysterics not minutes earlier, perhaps she would just cry all her tears away as he had, but he found it hard to think that the bleakness that replaced it was any better. "What's your name?" he asked, trying to distract her from the thoughts that had led to her weeping.