Crisis, Alpha Terra - Closed RP

[Script]

The sun rises over the last day of the city of Alpha Terra, its golden rays glittering on the surface of the water that surrounds the island city. It arrives with no panic, no wailing of sirens. The survivors will look back later, and fondly remember the warm breeze that graced the morning air, and the feeling of security, unchanged. The low hum of the traffic already beginning to fill the broad city streets can be heard, and within the thousands of buildings across the city, its weary citizens begin to drag themselves from their beds, with no clue suggesting that all but a few will be dead within twenty four hours.

When seen from a distance, the city is an amazing sight. A triumph of modern construction, every building seems to slot perfectly in its space in the city as a whole - and the city is just that, a whole. Everything fits together, from the towering skyscrapers in the center, to the peaceful suburbs on the city limits, to the winding freeways that encircle and cross the city. Even the intimidating and imposing Security HQs seem to fit perfectly where they are positioned, like a giant jigsaw.

As the morning progresses onwards, and the early commutes begin to fill the streets with bustling men and women in suits, and slews of cars that jam the roads, the presence of the Security Forces is ever present, a pair of officers on every street corner, holding their heavy assault weaponry casually, rarely needing to even raise it threateningly. The city is tame, the strong security presence and harsh penalties discouraging any crime to the point where it is virtually nonexistent.

The city seems, in almost all respects too perfect. The government is free thinking and democratic in all but their grip on crime, which many would argue is a positive development, and there is fair competition in the opposition. Daniel Gray, the mayor, is a kindly old man who shows a genuine concern for his citizen's welfare. The only thing anyone could ever complain about is the lack of access to any way out of the city, the tunnels and bridges constantly guarded by two patrols of Security Officers (not to be mistaken for the police, who are given access to simple blue uniforms and handguns, while the Security Services have full body armor and heavy weaponry) - but nobody has ever left the city in living memory; nobody even thinks about it, so why complain?

It is as the sun begins to climb up the sky that the 379 service to the city center pulls up at one of the suburb bus stops, the last one before it passes onto the freeway and thence to the skyscraper filled city center itself. For one reason or another, you are on this bus, or getting on it now - be it heading to work, to a friend's house, or to meet an associate - you are the passengers of the 379.

And this, is the dawn of the Crisis that would bring about Alpha Terra's downfall.


There will be no mercy.

[sdlangel]

Dressed in a knee length black dress that was bunched together as Lianna sat, knees up and booted feet perched lightly on the seat of the bus. Lianna looked out the window, hastily moving a hair from her eye as she glared out at the scenery and scoffed lightly as she turned back to her notepad which remained perfectly blank.

"Here" Her teacher had said, handing her some money while giving the girl a kind smile "I know you only bring enough for your lunch, and the bus is a different route to what you normally take. Pay me back tomorrow." Lianna had glared at the lady, despite the fact she was trying to help her.

"Why?" She asked suspiciously. Her teacher shrugged a delicate shoulder and Lianna's grip tightened on the strap of her black bag.

"Go to The Green. You need inspiration, and The Green is where I go when I have a" She paused and tapped her chin "Writers block so to speak, even though I don't believe in such a thing. As I said before, go to The Green, I'm sure an idea will hit you eventually." With that, she tapped Lianna on the nose as though she were a small child rather than an 18 year old college student, and gently nudged the girl out the door.

So now, Lianna was on the bus, her notepad being slightly crumpled up in her lap as she glared out the window wondering how on earth going to The Green was going to help her in any way shape or form with her writing. As the bus came to a stop at the last stop before it headed into the city centre, Lianna didn't even spare a single glance towards those getting on and off the bus and instead looked down at her notebook and began to doodle. (This for her really wasn’t much of a doodle as more of a sketch).

"Hey baaabe" Looking up briefly at the guy her age leaning against the seat next to her, Lianna raised one eyebrow at him before she shifted on her seat enough so that she could kick out at him and actually hit his leg.

"Fuck off stalker and get off this piece of scrap metal" Really the boy, who grunted and grudgingly walked off and got off the bus, should be aware of Lianna's violent tendencies. Since he normally got a punch or a kick, a slap or a scratch. Every. Single. Day.

[Prose]

|Mara Vallante|

It was a rather peaceful morning as the woman walked down the street casually, her step light and a small smile on her face. Morning was always Mara's favorite time of the day, as it was the moment which she would be making her way to her favorite place of all places: the library, her sanctuary. Never was their a more satisfying place than one with the amazing smell of book parchment and the sound of books being placed as well as taken from those lacquered wooden shelves.

Down the street a man had noticed Mara walking up the sidewalk and he blinked rather violently then rubbed at his hazel eyes with one hand to make sure that it was definitely her that was approaching him. He watched her for a little while longer as she made her way towards him, closing their distance which each step in those long sleek black heels. Sure he still loved her, but perhaps it was a different sort of love than it had been at one time. As soon as the woman was close enough to hear, he called out to her, “Mara...?”

Mara stopped in her tracks and looked up from the sidewalk, after getting lost in her thoughts about the various books she would pick up for herself today. Her heart skipped a few beats as she took noticed of the one who called out her name with such familiarity. A smile spread along her lightly glossed rose lips as her strange and rare colored eyes roamed over his figure. Joseph really had not changed too much since their divorce. He was still as striking an as handsome as ever with those broad shoulders, and his strong jaw, mostly though it was his brilliant hazel eyes which always held humor in them.

“It's good to see you again. Funny that we ran into each other like this Joseph.” Mara laughed a bit before biting down on her bottom lip while adjusting her rather large blue leather purse upon her left shoulder slightly. Blush riddled along her cheeks and she turned her gaze away from him. Even if they had gotten divorced two years ago, he could still cause those old pangs to pound away at her heart. Perhaps it was a mistake to leave him.

“Yeah... It's really good to see you too. Been meaning to call you or something. Ya know, to catch up over coffee or... ah well... something. Heh.” Joseph reached up behind his head and scratched at the back of his hair while grimacing to himself. He never was really good with associating with his ex-girlfriends and Mara being his ex-wife didn't help that at all. “Look... I've been meani-” “That's ok Joseph, I-I've gotta run, I've got a bus to catch, ok? Just give me a call sometime...” Mara mumbled a few words which were not heard by Joseph before she took off at a much more quick pace to the bus stop.

Joseph watched her walk away from him with a rather defeated look on his face and waved half-heartily. As soon as Mara was far enough away from him, he ducked to the side of one building and openly weep while hugging to himself. There was still too much love that the man had for Mara and he blamed himself for letting such a perfect woman go. After a long moment, Joseph gathered his emotions back to himself and clenched his fist tightly until his knuckles turned bone white. With his jaws clasped down tightly against each other, he stalked away in the opposite direction that Mara had gone. He was going to fix this. Joseph was going to make Mara love him again.

Meanwhile, Mara was wiping the tears from her cheeks while keeping that fast paced walk towards the bus station. She still loved him and there was no denying it really. Even the thought of just spending time with Joseph and him wanting to spend time with her, had shoved that knife right back into her already bleeding heart that much more. Reaching the bus stop, she leaned against a light pole with her back to the black steel structure with a sigh. “I'm sorry Joseph... I really am... I tried but it just didn't work out the way that we wanted...” A familiar screeching of bus wheels and that rush of the air brakes were heard, signaling the arrival of her usual bus 379.

Boarding it, Mara placed the tokens in the machine to allow her rights to ride it she just took a seat anywhere near the front and leaned back into her chair, clutching her purse close to her. What a way to start out this morning. She could not wait to get to the library and drown out the emotions that dared to well up on her chest. Mara needed her sanctuary... she needed her solace.

[Kita-go-nyaa]

"H-hey! Hold the bus!" A male voice called from up the block. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed a short distance from the blonde figure rushing to catch his morning bus. Llian, the young man running late, panted heavily as he reached the doors just after Mara stepped up to enter. A soggy piece of toast hung from his mouth as he dug in his pockets for his bus tokens in the pockets of his khaki slacks. He plunked them down into the collection box, taking the partially burnt and butter-laden piece of bread from his mouth with his now free hand, and turned to look for a seat.

His morning had not gone well. Despite the beautiful sunshine and the lovely day ahead of the residents of Alpha Terra, he had not only managed to break his mother's favorite dishes-- all sixteen plates-- but he also upset his beloved little sister, Molly, as well. He found out that morning that one of the teacher for the afternoon class, Ms. Amanda Slenderbroek, was ill with a cold. She had done him a favor a few months back, covering for him when he decided to take his sister down to the Green to play for the day. He promised to cover for her class, forcing himself to tell Molly that he wasn't going to be able to take her to the movie he promised after school that day. It would simply have to be done the next day, when he was free, but you explain that to a seven-year-old child. Molly broke into tears, making her mother, Ava, yell at Llian for a wrong she had yet to discover. Making his little sister cry was the last thing he ever wanted to experience. He adored the little trouble-maker, even if she was spoiled and, more often than not, a nuisance. To make matters worse for himself, he decided to wash the dishes before heading out-- already dressed with breakfast eaten-- to try and appease his mother as she tried to calm the seven-year-old tyrant. He dried a set of sixteen matching plates with elaborate decorations of birds and trees, stacked them, and went to put them away when he slipped on water he spilled on the floor. Ava was mortified to watch the plates shatter on the false-wood floor. He could say nothing in apology, Molly and Ava were both already running late, and he was soaked with water and shards of porcelain. He cleaned up the mess and hurried to change, realizing that the time had run away from him. His briefcase was yet to be packed and his meager breakfast of half an egg-- he shared the other with Molly-- and a glass of juice was already leaving him hungry. He managed to throw a piece of bread into the toaster before changing his entire soaked outfit for a light blue, collared shirt and khaki pants. Although he left it in for too long, he managed to get dressed and his briefcase packed with plans for crafts and colored paper along with several pairs of safety scissors and three vials of glitter. He slathered the piece of toast with butter, against his better judgment, and hurried out the door.

He sat down next to a teen with nearly platinum blonde hair, glancing at the others on the bus. "Sorry, do you mind if I sit here and eat my toast?" He smiled at Lianna, rubbing crumbs off his chin. He absently fixed his button-up shirt, checking to make sure he had everything. He was the polite type and would move if the female requested it. He preferred it if she didn't mind that morning, however, he was already having a poor day and having to get up and find a new seat was just another nuisance he wouldn't like to have to suffer. He resolved silently that he would stop by the grocery store after his work instead of heading down to the local police station to do some extra filing and buy his little sister a sugary treat to make up with her and to stop by another shop and browse their plateware for his mother. "Ah, and thanks for holding the bus." He smiled up at Mara, although he wasn't sure if Mara had done so at all.

[Rachelle]

Sascha always sat alone. If she attracted attention with her attire, it was only a brief glance and after that she was usually ignored and avoided. With her favorite pair of combat boots on, her darkest black cargo pants and her usual black tank top, she simply screamed freak. Her dark brown hair hung around her face, hiding the small headphones wailing metal music. Fortunately for her though, the work dress code was casual and none of the college students cared that the PC support tech looked like a cross between a goth and a solider. Actually, most of them thought it was cool.

Sascha loved routine, she boarded the same bus every morning when it stopped before her house, rode on it for a seemingly endless amount of time before arriving at work, then would dart from room to room to fix the computers, which usually broke beneath the pounding fingers of hurried college students attempting to use the intranet. Most would find her life boring, she practically retraced her steps at the house even, feeding Felix as soon as she got home and then taking a nap of approximately two hours, then of course, chores. It was the same, timed right down the minute. But for Sascha it was comfortable. There was nothing more relaxing to her than certainty, the certainty that everyday everything would be the same, and she would never have to worry.

Still, Sascha did worry. She was high strung most of the time, pessimistic and prepared for everything from a slight computer problem to a causality. She didn't want life biting her in the ass, and she was always two steps ahead of it. Occasionally she would pause her mp3 to listen attentively, as if the whole bus was sneaking up on her while she drifted along with raging tunes of her favorite bands. She took precautions against that too, and sat near the middle, neither too close to the front or the back. The seat was the same one she always picked and ever since she began riding on the bus no one would sit there. Sascha liked routine and everyone had her down in their routine as well. She may just seem like scenery to most, but she is much more than just a quiet PC technician.

[fangbanger]

Stella was always the optimistic, sunshiney girl. And today was certainly her day, or so she'd think. For as long as Stella could read, she has always been able to read in a car, or some other transportation vehicle. And there she was with her legs neatly crossed and a small romance novel in her lap, slender, freckled hands holding it open and her head dropped to soak in the words. Every so often she'd raise her fiery head to gaze at whoever was getting onto the bus, this time she eyed Mara, and the man who ran in after her, with interest. Then dropped her head and continued to read. The man with the toast in his mouth sat behind her, speaking to someone she hadn't noticed before.

Stella had always rode the bus to work, and it was a long, boring ride. Often times she left before dawn to catch the early morning bus, to open up her shop, but today, she was coming in later, having asked one of her workers to open up. Flowers, the girl smelled of a mixture of all kinds of flowers. She even wore a tacky flower printed sun dress that reached her knees. A dress a little too conservative for a young woman like her. Bright red hair were in thick curls, and a violet headband rested firmly cinching bangs upward. The girl looked lonely from afar, but her eyes never showed such a thing.

Although she was completely inside her book, she could hear conversations around her. The only time she tuned out was when the conversation was inappropriate or risque. Today, she was all about the listening, but she continued to read the book she has read so many times. Dusty green eyes rose to gaze out the window, and a soft pang of anticipation hit her. For the brief moment, she interpreted it as excitement to go to work, but some deeper meaning clearly was behind that vague feeling. Idly, but nervously, Stella glanced around.

[Riverstyx777]

Steam issued beneath the faded dark blue hood of a 1986 Ford Thunderbird, as the engine began coughing and straining. Before the vehicle came to a complete stop in the middle of the suburban road that led into the city, the owner managed to coast it off to the side. With a last heaving and spluttering cough, the engine backfired loudly and died with another burst of steam.

"Fucking A!" The pale youth shouted loudly and punching the wheel, causing several passers-by to stare in shock. Shaking his head like a dog ridding itself of a particularly flea, Mark Conway tried to clear his murloining thoughts. He switched the ignition off and slipped from the twenty-eight year old car and stared at the still slightly steaming engine with a blank look on his face.

His slim, tall figure was outlined perfectly by the rising sun as he stood before the old beater, trying to figure out what to do. This kind of thing had never happened before, the T-bird had faithfully transported him to the field everyday for a year and a half now. A dull vibrating was felt at his hip, and Mark looked down, shaking the curtain of long blonde hair from his face. It was his insulin pump, warning him of a low reservoir: it only had about ten units of insulin left before he absolutely had to change it.

"Great," he muttered sourly to nobody in particular, noting the time on his pump as well. He had to report for practice in less than an hour, and he had never been late before. Running all the way was out of the question; he'd be late for one thing, and his blood sugar would drop drastically. At least he could call his mechanic and get the car fixed. Sliding out his phone, Mark dialed the number quickly and waited for someone to pick up. It rang three times. "Donny, it's Mark Conway. My T-bird is shot, and I'm going to be late for practice. Right now, I'm sitting at the corner of Wood and Seventh."

"Why not try catching the bus three blocks over? I'll get your car at some point today, and hopefully figure out what's wrong with it before the big game tonight," came the reply of Donny's voice through the receiver. Donny had been a good friend of Mark's late father, and knew how important baseball was to Mark.

"Thanks, Donny, I gotta run if I'm to catch the bus, though," Mark said hurriedly, closing the phone and stuffing it into the bag he grabbed from the car. Running was really nothing for him, although it was a little awkward in his heavy black jeans. The equally as black band tee, dark green over-sized flannel shirt that he wore as a jacket, and dark green Converse high-tops made him look a little comical, running full-tilt with his large bag on his back.

Luckily enough, there was a kid a year younger than him trying to catch the bus as it was leaving, too. Panting a little, Mark handed the driver a five dollar bill, ignoring the man's reaction, and slid his headphones over his ears as he went straight to the back of the bus. Several people recognized him as the star centerfielder of the Parkside Brawlers, but none got up to ask for his autograph, for which he was grateful. Head moving to the beat, Mark slid out his supplies and went about changing the reservoir and the infusion set of his insulin pump, not caring who saw.

[Script]

Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep!

The incessant sound of her bedside alarm clock, sitting just out of arm's reach, greeted Rachel as she emerged from slumber, just as it had for countless weeks beforehand at precisely 5:30 AM. She lay there for a few moments, the clock still whining away as she gathered her bearings, mere moments ago she had been... well, she couldn't exactly remember where she had been, but it had been a damn sight more interesting than the middle of her double bed, the prospect of another day of sitting around doing nothing awaiting her. If she were to sit around doing nothing, she would prefer to do it in the comfort of her own home, rather than a stuffy hospital office. When she finally forced her eyes open, blinking back sleep, her pristine white ceiling seemed to stare back at her, its accusing cleanliness oozing disdain at her disheveled state of being, ordering her to clean herself, or get out of its sight that very instant.

With a groan, the blonde woman pushed herself up into a sitting position, leaning over to shut the still beeping alarm clock up with a rough slam, before pushing back the cream duvet and swinging her bare legs out of the bed. Her pale blue night dress hung limply on her figure, girlish in its proportions, as she stood and paced wearily towards the bathroom. Her bare feet padded on the blue carpeted floor heavily, as she lacked the energy to control their falls - this early in the morning, it was a challenge to walk at all.

Within the tiled bathroom, Rachel's nightdress fell to the floor in a heap as she discarded it, slipping it from her shoulders and letting it fall down around her ankles before she stepped out of it. Twisting the knob in the shower, Rachel made her way to the mirror, gazing at herself in a weary fashion while she waited for the water to heat up. Before long, she stepped into the glass box and into the shower, allowing the warm water to run over her face, waking her up somewhat and refreshing her. Enjoying the feel of the water running over her skin, she began to wash, scrubbing away furiously, as if she had taken the 'glare' of the ceiling entirely seriously. Rachel was like that, she was a clean freak, always scrubbing and cleaning both her home and herself - while she wasn't OCD (or at least not quite), and could deal with being dirty when it was necessary, she hated it otherwise.

After a few minutes of scrubbing, she stepped from the shower, grabbing a large and fluffy white towel from the rack on the wall and wrapping it around herself, and a smaller towel that she wrapped around her dripping blonde hair, she stepped back out into her bedroom where she set about drying herself. Taking up her hairdryer and hairbrush, she sat herself in front of the mirror and began to dry and (surprise surprise) brush. Once she was satisfied with her state of dryness, she threw her clothes on - a simple light blue t-shirt and her paramedic's uniform over the top, a hospital green top and trousers as well as a cap.

Now fully clothed, she threw some makeup on (I shan't go into the details here, not being an expert on the subject) and made her way out into the great-room that made up the rest of her apartment. It was a relatively large flat, with the large room that combined her living, dining, and kitchen areas in one as well as the single bedroom with en-suite bathroom. The great-room had a laminated wooden floor throughout, with a rug thrown over the top in the living area that consisted of two cream leather sofas with red cushions, and a flat-screen T.V. The dining area contained a single light wooden table with room for four places around it, and matching chairs, and the kitchen was an island like unit with marble tops and wooden cupboards, complete with washing machine, dishwasher, fridge freezer and oven.

Rachel made her way to that area now, quickly grabbing some bread from the aluminum bread bin, and slamming it down into the toaster, wandering around the kitchen area for a few minutes, keeping an eye on it as she did so (defeating the whole automatic aspect of it, but it was really necessary. The turny dial on the toaster lied, if she turned it to four, it came up three toast, barely done, and if she turned it to five, it came up six toast: all burnt!). When she judged it was the correct time, she popped it up, slapped it onto a plate and buttered it, pouring herself a glass of milk before slouching down on the sofa to eat it while watching the news.

Apparently there was a baseball game on later today, but Rachel really wasn't a sports fan, so she tuned out until the sports section ended and the headlines scrolled onto the screen. Nothing particularly exciting, the opposition party had announced some new policies that might get them one or two more votes, but wouldn't change much - the whole city was stuck in so much of a rut that any new decisions, like changing ones party support, could probably make the local newspaper if you worded it right. Rachel didn't catch the rest of the results, as a quick glance at the time told her she had to make her way down to the bus stop to catch the 379 to get to work.

Grabbing her coat, keys, iPod and phone, Rachel opened the flat door and exited, clicking the lights off as she left and locking the door behind her. A few paces down the corridor brought her to the front door - it was a two story building, and she was on the ground floor - which she made her way out of and into the rising sunlight. It was about 7:30 AM, and so the sun was already out and shining on the neatly trimmed grass on the lawn outside Rachel's apartment building, the early morning dew reflecting the light and sparkling faintly. Rachel made her way down the paved pathway and onto the pavement, walking the few blocks to take her to the bus stop.

As she walked, a faint smell tickled her nose, carried on the morning breeze, that caused her to quirk an eyebrow in surprise. It smelled faintly of brimstone, and must have been carried from outside the city - there was nothing that smelt of that within, certainly. For a moment she wondered on what existed outside the city walls, and concluded there must be a volcano at some point, perhaps a few miles away, before dismissing it from her thoughts - she would never need to know, after all.

There was a woman speaking to man of similar age as she approached the bus stop, and from what she picked up of the conversation it had something to do with meeting up, or apparently not. The bus arrived moments later, and Rachel stepped on it just before Mara finished her conversation with Joseph. After that, several more people got on, but Rachel waited patiently, seated near the back on her own, taking out a book and starting to read.

[sdlangel]

"I don't mind" Lianna answered Llain, figuring he would be better than some others who could have sat next to her.

Lianna had had her fair share of 'bus buddies' so to speak, and thus figured this man wouldn't bother her too much. The teenager could be quite strange, on occasion she would talk to herself, glare at thin air or move to the side as if someone were walking with her. She had even told people asking to sit next to her on the bus that they were blind, because it was obvious that someone else was sitting there. Though, it can also be argued that this particular oddity was merely because Lianna didn't want anyone to sit next to her rather than her being crazy. The oddities were all in some way related to her writing or drawing. Lianna would get engrossed in her imagination and the scenes she planned to draw or write to the point that sometimes her body would instinctively respond to something that had just gone through her mind. It was this that the man sitting next to her would have to be careful of.

It wasn't long before Lianna felt the familiar sensation that meant a random idea was about to make its way into her head. And indeed it did. Peering out the window, her eyes scanning the various buildings around them, Lianna let a soft smile play on her face and let out a little giggle as she rested her notepad against her knees and began to jot down various notes and quick sketches of what she imagined would become a very, very large project. Her grin widened as she hastily dug out another notebook from her bag, this one containing details of what she needed to do for her projects and any other notes related to college. She jotted down a note to thank her teacher for sending her on a wild bus ride and then quickly shoved the book back in her bag before returning to become lost once more in her notebook.

You see, Lianna more often than not will turn her various class projects into one big project. She will create pieces of art work based on the characters, places and scenes that appear in her writing. Her paintings always hold dear the saying "A picture says a thousand words" because she can get a complete story out of the piece, one that sometimes weren't there when she began. Her teachers were used to this; Lianna did things her own way which led to the best results. To allow someone to be creative you needed to be creative yourself. That, and Lianna could throw quite the tantrum when she wanted to.

Suddenly, the bus was filled with the blast of Lianna’s ring tone. The familiar tune instantly snapped Lianna out of her own little world and into the real one. Her features changing from happy to annoyed in about two seconds. Grabbing the phone she held it to her ear.

“You ruined it” Lianna bluntly stated, earning a giggle for her trouble.

“You’ll find it again!” Her sister Atra happily sang and Lianna wondered if the girl was on something. She had never seen the girl frown in her entire life.

“One of these days I’m going to remove your voice and put it in a box” She wasn’t speaking loudly, in fact, Lianna was speaking softly enough that only the few people sitting close to her could hear. She hated people who answered phones on busses and practically shouted down the phone so that everyone on the bus got an earful of what the conversation was. This could often get very disturbing.

“I’ll just steal it back again” Atra said, and Lianna could imagine the smug look on her face and admitted to herself that she probably would be able to do so. “Anyway, I rang to let you know we’re going to the baseball game tonight. And by we’re I mean you included” By the end of the sentence, Atra had decided to sing rather than talk, which resulted in Lianna holding the phone away from her ear so that she would still be alive by the end of it.

“Great. I love baseball” Lianna said sarcastically. In truth she actually didn’t, and didn’t care who knew she didn’t.

“I only pay attention because my friend at school was going on about how hot Mark Conway is and we went to a game one day and she is right he is H.O.T!” Now, before you go thinking Atra is a girl completely and utterly obsessed with guys and that’s all she ever thinks about, it would be wise to point out that it’s not really the top thing on her obsess over list. In fact, shiny things to steal were the top of that list, followed closely with the name of whoever she was going to play a prank on next.

“So…you want to drag me to a baseball game…because Mark Conway is hot?” Feeling her anger building, Lianna decided it would be best if she didn’t lose her temper on the bus. Instead she decided to rest the phone against her legs in favour of getting lost once more in her own little world which would allow Atra to happily babble on about whatever she wanted to talk about and then hopefully she would realise Lianna had got distracted with something else and then go away. Key word being hopefully.

Unfortunately for Lianna, this was typical for her phone conversations with Atra, and more often than not she would wonder why she ever bothered to answer it in the first place. They would talk for a couple of minutes, Lianna would get distracted, Atra would babble to thin air and then when her babbling required asking Lianna a question, be it her opinion or something else, Atra would realise Lianna wasn’t even there, and would thus hang up. If it was an important question, she would ring back (being clever enough to realise that Lianna wouldn’t wander away from her phone unless she was at home) and the situation would start again.

“I really need to stop answering my phone” Lianna muttered to herself.

[pantalimon]

Something cold and wet pressed itself against her face, a deep rumbling coursing through whatever the heck it was; whatever it could possibly be at this early hour of the morning. The rumble continued through her, physically shaking her awake from the inside out before she would raise her head off of the smooth, glossed wooden counter of her prized desk. This desk had been through hell and high water, but it was always there at the end of the day when she got back to her cozy apartment on the thirty-second floor. Strands of dark, frizzy hair floated around the edges of her vision, framing a beautiful face complete with full lips and startlingly green eyes. The messy bun piled atop her head--held in place by, of course, a pencil--wobbled with her neck as she glanced side to side, trying to find the source of her wakening.
"Toby." She addressed the striped orange cat that was rubbing against her forearm, purring profusely. This precious animal had been gifted to her by her parents when she was still seventeen; the cat was now four years old and had, truth be told, gained a lot of weight. Her adorable white 'buda belly' (as her owner liked to call it) jostled around between her back legs when she walked, and this made Arruelette Speer smile. "What are you doing up this early in the morning?" She mused, gently pushing the cat's side towards the edge of the table, indicating she should get down before she stepped on something important among the mess of multi-colored sticky notes and full sheets of paper.
And, as Rue sits up, she peels one of these forementioned sticky notes of of her left cheek. It read 'Bus by 7:15, do not miss! New client at last bus stop! DO NOT MISS!' As soon as she read this text, her mouth opened in a small 'o' shape, and a low 'Aieeeeeh.' type of noise came from her vocal chords. Within moments, she was running about the room and gathering papers, piling them together and shoving the stacks in her leather briefcase. This, in fact, was the only thing proffesional about the woman. Her excitable demeanor and frequant lack of planning or being on time always seemed to...dissuade her clientelle. Not that she cared, because if the person she worked for didn't like her the way she was, they'd either have to deal or find somebody else.
So, hair still in the messy bun pinned up with the pencil, an oversized t-shirt sagging at the shoulders hanging from her frail frame, and a pair of loose jeans that were much to long pooling about at her ankles, she narrowed her eyes at the window. If she took the regular stairs, or even the elevator, she would certainly miss the train. However, if she took the fire escape... Plain white Converse were laced up tight upon her feet, and her briefcase's long strap was slung over her shoulder. She could make it, even if the ladder was rusty and she would have to jump at the end and she was afraid of heights.
Her sliding glass door practically opened itself, welcoming her out on to the balcony so she could step over the railing to the corroded steps of the fire escape. "Bye October!" She called to her precious cat, who mewed behind the already closed door, though through the glass Rue couldn't hear her. Then she began climbing down the stairs, going at a jog until she reached the bottom. About five feet were between her and the ground, and she couldn't afford to miss her train and lose another customer. So she jumped.
Arruelette landed heavily, the impact causing her knees to bend and the rush of air forcing the leather flap of her briefcase open, leaving the papers to spill out and float lazily down so she could once again grab them, stuff them away, and run towards her final destination.
The bus pulled up just as she reached it; and as she was the last stop she knew she would have few seats to choose from. But her client was supposedly at the last stop made by this bus, and she needed to find him. So where was Mark Conway? Well, the answer to that was still beyond her, but mark her words she would find him! She disgruntledly boarded the vehicle, and made her way to the very back as it began to once again skud along on its route. Chik, chik, chik, chik, chik the wheels said, speaking in their own language that was far beyond Rue's understanding.
The half-asleep woman took her seat beside a man pumping insulin, which caused her to lean forward just slightly and turn her neck in his direction to get a better look at his face. "Mark Conway!" She nearly exclaimed,stifling her outburst in time that it was not loud enough for the man to hear and much to quiet for anybody more then two seats away to discern. He wasn't supposed to be on the bus! He was never supposed to have boarded the stupid bus, so why was he there!? Her mouth hung open lopsidedly, as she realized she had managed to take the seat right beside her recently-appointed client.

[Saken]

Kai's upper lip curled in repugnance, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the small, portly man before him. Though the man's thin lips still moved, his hands wringing nervously, Kai could no longer hear the annoying words that exited the man in the form of gasping breaths and wheedling tones. No, Kai had already heard the words, such an...atrocious idea, that he'd sputtered forth from those thin lips in the form of a want, a need. A demand. “Absolutely NOT!” He said, his tone cold and firm. There was no way he would be taking the city bus. No, not him, a Pop Star who ever one knew, who every teenager and college girl wanted. He would not be caught dead on public transportation.

Then why was he there, head held down and blond hair in his eyes, those silken strands seeming to rest flat against his forehead. It was some sort of ploy, or something. They couldn't be series! A quick shake of the boy's head had his hair falling over his eyes once more and he shoved his large hands into his pockets, pressing them down on his thighs. He felt weird, slightly out of place in these raggedy clothing, a pair of white washed jeans that where too big for him, so they sagged and pooled around his ankles and over the dirt encrusted sneakers.

He felt more like a..wanna be then anything, and so he fixed a scowl upon his face and waited, with unhappiness and much self-grumbling, for the screech of the bus as it pulled close and, when it did, he quickly shuffled aboard and dropped his fare into the bus thing before making his way to an empty two seats put together and, promptly, swung his feet onto the second seat, so to make himself more comfortable. It wasn't against the rules, and even if it was he would just make some sort of scene, piss of his manager.

They should not have made him come onto here – made him hang out, be with the common folk ( ignoring the fact that this was him, not so long ago). It was..wrong. He was a celebrity, and idol. Cornflower blue eyes flickered about, landing on the other, oh so plain, inhabitants of this bus. Bus 379.

[Script]

As the last passengers boarded the 379, the old balding driver lazily turned the wheel, pressing his foot down and pulling out of the stop and onto the road. The engine of the bus made an annoyingly loud noise, and the sides vibrated against Rachel's elbow as she leaned on it, causing her to sit up after a few moments because of her hand shaking against her face, which was remarkably uncomfortable. She adjusted her hair slightly, leaning back on her seat with a sigh - she felt lazy today, and had almost just stayed in bed in the morning.

As the 379 made its noisy way down the suburban lanes, the sun rose further in the sky, bringing with it illumination on all the gardens that the bus passed, with multicoloured flowers visible from the windows, all carefully tended by their owners. Rachel spotted red and white roses, bright yellow daffodils, deep red tulips and bright pink carnations, and many others she didn't recognise by site, all sitting side by side in flower beds, and swaying in the warm morning breeze.

The bus passed onto the freeway, and joined the flows of traffic sweeping down it towards the main city, the sunlight glinting off of their bonnets and forcing Rachel to avert her eyes momentarily when they caught it at just the right angle to send it directly into her eyes. The sunlight gave a pleasant warmth through the windows, falling on the passengers skin and warming them pleasingly.

As the bus reached the section of the free way that led down into the city, and was leaving the main section, a high pitched whining reached the ears of the passengers. Rachel looked up in annoyance, thinking it was something to do with some gadget belonging to another passenger, but saw that everyone else looked as confused as she did. The whining became louder, and suddenly a woman at the front of the bus screamed, pointing a finger at the sky.

Following her finger, Rachel gasped in shock as she saw a fiery shape in the sky, burning through the air towards Alpha Terra. The meteor punched through the clouds, its burning shape growing ever larger as it approached, looking like it would impact with the main city in a matter of...

Seconds.

One. Two...

When the meteor impacted with the side of the Alpha Building, the tallest skyscraper in Alpha Terra, and home to the government, the entire city shook with the powerful shockwave that radiated outwards. The imposing building, pitch black when all around it was white, had been a constant in the whole lives of the citizens, and now in one strike it was obliterated, chunks of black stone flying from it and impacting with other buildings, or falling to the streets below. From the bus, Rachel was speechless, her eyes wide with fear as the bus shook when the shockwave reached it.

"THERE ARE MORE!"

The cry from a man in the middle of the bus brought everyone's attention back to the sky, where dozens of fiery shapes could now be seen breaking through the clouds, falling towards Alpha Terra and the panicking citizens. Everywhere, people ran for cover only for it to be demolished over them, falling to crush their bodies. The attention of the passengers however, was fixed on a single meteor that seared towards the freeway they were on at an alarming speed.

"It's coming straight for us!" a woman wailed, a child at the front beginning to cry and several adults looking like they were about to do so themselves. The bus driver floored the accelerator pedal, the engine bursting into life as it sped up, crashing down the freeway through cars, their drivers still frozen.

Perhaps this was what saved the lives of some of the passengers, perhaps had the driver not panicked, rushed forwards with no regard for the lives of the other road users, all of them would have perished as the meteor struck the freeway behind them. As it was, the resulting blast ripped the concrete to shreds, and sent the bus itself tumbling end over end, the windows smashing in a shower of glass, the heat of the explosion beating in through the windows as the vehicle was thrown off of the side of the freeway, falling over a dozen meters before landing with a crunching of metal on the floor below.


Everything went black. The bus had crumpled, most of the passengers were dead, there were under a dozen survivors. Within the bus, it was pitch black, there was only a narrow space between the floor of the bus (which was now the ceiling of the overturned vehicle) and the floor, covered in shards of glass. All exits seemed to be blocked, no light could get in. From outside wailing sirens and continual explosions could be heard. They were trapped in the middle of a disaster, and had no way of knowing if there were any other survivors...

[Prose]

|Mara Vallante|

Just when Mara thought that she was going to get some peace and quiet on the bus to think about the recent event this morning, it was all interrupted by the voice of Llian. “Sorry, do you mind if I it here and eat my toast?” She had looked up to see if it was her that the man was speaking to and found herself rather embarrassed as it was the girl, Lianna. Mara was just about to turn her gaze away from that man before Llian spoke once more, “Ah, and thanks for holding the bus.” She caught herself staring at his charming smile for a little while, but her blink shook her out of it and Mara reciprocated the gesture.

“I really, ah... I really didn't hold up the bus. But I suppose that you are welcome...?” The woman gave a little unsure laugh which lifted her mood just a little. Looking around, Mara noticed a few people reading books and she could not help but to lean over in her seat to try and get a look at the titles of these novels. If there was anything that she could be nosy about, it definitely pertained to who was reading what at any given time.

That high-pitched screeching noise started and at first Mara ignored it figuring that someone was having difficulty with a cell phone perhaps or a PDA. But as the seconds moved by, she found herself frowning deeply with her brow drawn downward. Mara passed a glance to Llian that was rather confused, “Do you hear th-” Her question was shut off though as a woman, Rachel, gasped near her and Mara turned her attention to the lady without knowing really why. Something seemed a bit foreboding about all of this and an ominous sensation rested in the pit of her belly. Mara clutched onto her purse just a little more tightly...

The meteor broke through the atmosphere to where it was visible to all citizens of Alpha Terra and Mara's gaze was brought to the flaming ball of rock, and her eyes widened while she froze completely still in shock and realization: It was going to fall onto the city which meant death and destruction. Her stillness though would be interrupted suddenly with the first collision of the raining sky by tremors along her body when the first shockwave hit the bus. A silent gasp that went straight to the core of her being and Mara hunched into herself still holding onto her purse as if it meant life or death at that moment.

As a man shouted that there were more to come, the woman just closed her eyes. A prayer was quickly uttered beneath her breath that she would survive. A prayer for the city to survive. A prayer so that Joseph would survive.

It was at the shout of, “It's coming straight for us!” Mara knew that it was her time to leave this life and she was scared beyond anything ever experienced. She didn't want to die, she was still so young and there were so many things to do in her life. It was at that very moment she regretted in living such an uneventful existence. So many things there were and she would miss them all now. "Joseph. Dear God spare Joseph, please..." Mara's voice was nothing more than a whisper in the chaos whirling around her but it echoed in her ears like thunder ripping through silence.

Everything after that simple utterance flashed by in a heartbeat for the woman and at the same time, extended for what seemed to be eons upon eons...

The motor of the bus roared to life while the grinding of metal against metal could be heard from the bus scraping against other vehicles as the driver tried to save his own life and perhaps the few that were in his care. And it was then that one of the meteors slammed into the freeway sending bus 379 careening over the side. A single, solitary tear fell from the mismatched eyes of Mara and her gasped breath was let out in a defeated sigh. She was going to die...

Mara didn't know what was going on in the next moment, lost in the chaos which her shielded mind refused to believe but accepted at the same time. All she did know was that she was now not in her seat any longer but being thrown about the small confinement of metal alloy that was once a bus, nothing more than a rag doll at the mercy of force and gravity. Screams of terror. Passengers gagging on their own blood. Last breaths taken. Crying. Tearing steel. A loud thud.

Blackness...

---

...It was the most beautiful of days to get married.

The sun was shining and not a single cloud darkened the sky nor shaded the beautiful lawn of The Green. The autumn breeze was more than refreshing upon the skin of those who were attending which were people that were in the rather large families of Mara and Joseph. Every face was smiling and laughter filled the air, children ran around while playing with each other and the more adult of the group were enjoying the fine wines and drink being served. It had taken a good deal of planning to make this joining of two people so grand, but in the end it was all worth it completely.

And then it came that time. The time for Mara to walk down at aisle to meet the man that she was going to spend the rest of her life with; Joseph. The wedding march was wondrous music to her ears and it caused tears to threaten at spilling down her lovely cheeks. It was the perfect day. Never did her eyes leave what was the prize at the end of this small journey, the man that she loved more than her own life.

"Joseph Andrews Vallante, do you take this woman, Mara Nivek Wright, to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Joseph had held her hand so tenderly. There was never a time that Mara was more beautiful to him than in this single piece in time. This moment would always be in his mind for the rest of his life, even through the tough times to come in this marriage. Mara was not the only one shedding tears at this point, but his voice was so confident and sure, "Of course I do."

"Mara Nivek Wright, do you take this man, Joseph Andrews Vallante, to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Mara locked her gaze with the man that was to become her life mate for the rest of her years, tearing pouring down her face, but an unwavering smile gracing her plush lips. In this moment there was nothing but peace and sureness in her heart; not a single shadow of doubt in the lowest parts of her soul. She knew that Joseph was the only man for her and knew that she was blessed to have met him in that odd circumstance so many years ago. Her voice was hitched with the tears of joy but she managed to say those sacred and holy words, "I do."

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." And the two star-crossed lovers shared the most moving kiss of their relationship which finally pushed the rest of the viewers to shed tears of their own whether they were child, man, woman, young or old. It seemed to be the perfect union, one of those rare moments where two people found each other, who would remain with each other until their dying days. As the kiss parted, Mara and Joseph were greeted with a standing ovation to their love causing applause and cheers of various degrees to be shouted out into the climate air of the park. Surely this moment.... this moment was euphoria and the couple's utopia. Perfection. And they would live it together...

...forever.

But that forever would not last long... as it was something that seemed to always slip through the grasp of humans even if they tried so desperately to claim such a thing...

---

Mara's body laid upon the roof of the bus which was now acting as the floor currently for the fact that perhaps the vehicle had been turned over belly up. She was alive but unconscious for the time being, in a temporary brain reset from the trauma just experienced. Her breathing was slightly ragged while a small amount of blood caked the hair at her temples as well as drip from her split lip. There were bodies around her, but if those people were alive or not, she of course at this time would
not know at all. It would be quite a shock for her when Mara woke to see the mangled bodies twisted in what was once the seats of the bus as well as the poles once used for grip while standing. But perhaps that animalistic need to survive would allow her to live this day...

Fate could be a cruel mistress at times.

[Rachelle]

Sascha relaxed when the bus pulled away and lumbered lazily past the scenic gardens of the city. She yawned, still sleepy, and alternated the volume of her mp3 player, listening intently one moment then zoning out the next. She would turn it down at times, and hear the quiet mumbling of passengers trying to restrict their conversations to certain ears, but sometimes the noise couldn't help but carry through the vehicle. Still, Sascha wasn't paying enough attention to discern words, but was instead focusing more on the music which she was constantly changing with her thumb.

The sun rose and warmed her skin through the window, bringing her more into consciousness. She yawned one last time before straightening up, then leaned her arms on the seat before her and gazed out the windows. The road was rolling by quick enough to appear a gray landscape stained by one smooth yellow line. Sascha found amusement peering into other car windows and at the passengers that probably couldn't see her through the sun's glare.

Then something disturbed her. Sascha felt her heart thump in alarm as a high pitched whine pierced her ears through the music. She turned off her mp3 player, dropping the device into her lap. The whine was continuing, and she shook her head as if to cast the noise aside. It stuck, reverberating in her skull like the deep tones of a gong, almost rattling her teeth with its intensity. Just then Sascha spotted something in the sky, she had a good view leaning on the seat before her. A shape, a huge mass of space rock tore through the ethereal body of the clouds above and thundered toward the city. Time seemed to slow, and Sascha's heart raced ahead, beating painfully against her ribs. Her breath caught in her throat, and like a deer before headlights she froze while gazing at the apocalyptic rock.

When it hit the skyscraper, Sascha gasped. The shock wave seconds later vibrated her bones and she jumped back into the seat in surprise, bracing herself with her boots planted on the floor. She watched in awe-struck horror as rubble fell from the sky like deadly rain, flattening cars and pedestrians. More meteors began to appear, soaring toward the city and causing destruction everywhere they impacted. But one particular one worried Sascha, a flaming orb that was aimed right at the freeway. The bus seemed to accelerate to a light speed and Sascha gripped the seat before her futility. When the rock hit the road behind them she was flung to the side with the rest of the passengers, her screams silent among the cries of all the other frightened people. The bus catapulted into the air and Sascha felt weightless for a moment, just before the vehicle landed.

The cries died out almost instantly, and the eerie silence was more threatening than tortured screams. Sascha peered into the blackness, but could see nothing. She could only feel the pinpricks of glass in her skin, the cold metal ceiling pressed against her back and the thudding pain of an incoming headache. Her body ached more than ever before, and she coughed in pain, her ribs fractured. She moaned, the sound almost echoing in the darkness. Sascha closed her eyes and crossed her fingers, hoping the bodies pressed against her weren't corpses.

[fangbanger]

Stella lifted her eyes from her book when the driver took off, this having been a successful stop, it seemed. The noises around her, be it people speaking, or the bus groaning as it accelerated. It was all everyday noise that replaced the silence plaguing Stella's home, since the woman lived alone. And it was how she enjoyed living, no one to bug her strange habits, no one to speak to her while she's on the toilet -which is certainly a big pet peeve of her's- though she would never admit it.

Dusty, nature-inspired eyes stayed off the black words her novel offered, now finding more interest in the gardens the bus was unknowingly passing. And upon gazing at those works of art, a lovely warmth lifted Stella's mood, even bringing a faint little smile along her lips. It was early morning, and yet some of the garden owners were already out, tending to the colorful beds, that's a show of loyalty to the plants they were growing. Something Stella could easily relate to. The way the sunlight graced those gardens, it painted a picture of a warm fairytale, with a happy ending. Not something my novel would offer, Stella thought. And it was true, she had read the novel she was holding plenty of times, and knew full well that it held a traumatizing, and yet insightful ending. With those thoughts running through her mind, she closed the book up and tucked it into her large, leather purse.

Colorful beds had finished their proud display outside the windows soon before the bus passed onto the freeway, and although it wasn't the same, she was enjoying simply gazing down at the compact cars that were lower than the tall bus, the sunlight not bothering her in the least. And she was watching the city and the whole image that the window offered for her...

What is that...?

Red-head squinted as if it would make it easier for her to see, and yet still for a brief second she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing until... She wasn't the first to scream, as soon as she knew what it was and the kind of speed it was traveling at, she couldn't help but let a scream ripple through her and out her mouth, her expression twisted in utter terror. The ground did shake when the meteor collided with the main building adoring the city, and Stella slid forward in her seat as the traffic slowed to stare, one hand pressed against the window and the other over her mouth, gasping in horror, tears already streaming down her cheeks. More?! Terrified gaze shifted from the building and towards the sky, a sob ripping through her frame and into her hand that held pressed against her gaping mouth. Death? No, she wasn't comprehending that just yet, but there was such a mess of emotions, that the only instinct breaking through the others was survival.

And the bus rolled into a frantic acceleration, slamming Stella back into her seat. "Oh god..." Stella sobbed, gaping at the meteor now aiming behind them.

Crash...

Stella's arms flew over her head as the bus was thrown off the road, and she flew off her seat, collided with walls, seats, and bodies, all the while screaming in sheer terror. And then black... Unconsciousness only held for a long, terrible minute before Stella found consciousness again, and the pain that it came along with. Her ears were buzzing, and the only other thing she could hear was her heart beating. She was on her stomach, with her cheek pressed against the glass shards, burning with a painful sensation. And when she opened her eyes, she could see movement, but nothing else, it was too dark. For a long moment, she laid simply motionless, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Oh god, the meteor shower...

A cry erupted from deep within her chest when she settled her hands onto the floor and into the glass. It wasn't so much the pain when the glass shards cut her palms, it was the pain her back was in. She must have flown perhaps three seats to the back of the bus, and there was a very big chance that her back took a beating from the poles or even the seats. Luckily, though, she was able to sit up, and it meant her spine wasn't damaged, perhaps only terribly bruised. Fiery head was lifted, and she could make out the outlines of the seats, the bus was upside down... The sensation of warm, trickling blood and piercing pain along her bare legs, arms, and her glass-covered cheek, was unbearable. And through tears, she cried out to whoever was alive as she was. She could hear sirens wailing, groaning of passengers, crying, but she wasn't sure how much damage everyone has taken.

The woman was trying her best to see in the pitch black, but all she could do now was feel around, and upon doing so she jumped back at the sudden sensation of flesh against her palm, then as quickly as she had jumped back, she groped around to a head-full of thick hair that belonged to a woman. Although she couldn't see that is was Mara in the blackness, she took hold of the woman's shoulders and shook her gently, hoping, for all that she was worth, that the woman was alive. It was the closest person laying next to Stella.

"Are you badly hurt?" Stella cried out to Mara through her sobs, clearly unaware that the woman was unconscious, and then she suddenly added to the darkness surrounding her, "Oh go-ood! Is everyone alright?!" Red-head felt as if she was the only one calling out.

[pantalimon]

Arruelette stared, upenmouthed, at Mark Conway. Her client. She shook her head, pulling a book from her briefcase to read until they arrived at a more stable setting to talk. In otherwords; she wanted to make sure she didn't throw up from motion sickness when she first spoke to Mr. Conway. He seemed indifferent, pumping insulin in an astonishingly public manner. There was no hiding it; he didn't try to duisgise the fact that he needed the substance.

She placed a hand to her mouth, turning to read the pages of her book. She adjusted herself, pressing her back more firmly against the seat. Something hard and square remained between her butt and the cushions, which made her frown. She reached behind her, retrieving her iPod from her back pocket. "Oh." She directed at the music player, just as her cell phone rang.

She grabbed it milliseconds after the first sound was emmitted; pressing it to her ear as though it was her lifeline. "Hello?" Her voice was strained, panicked, even, and the person on the other end of the line didn't seem to care.

"Where are you?" It asked, as a crunching was heard from their end of the phone. "The bus, on my way to...um, meet my client." She replied sheepishly. "You're such a terrible liar." The man informed her, chuckling. "So what does he look like?" She sighed as he asked this question. "He's a diabetic, Marko. Leave me be, for once. Just because he's my age and I work for him doesn't mean...ugh, never mind. Why are you even calling me? Haven't my parents assured everyone I'm the devil child?" "Not quite everybody, hun, not quite everybody. I'll always love you, you're my cousin. Nothing can change a family bond, except bad parents and a terrible job choice. However, I don't really like the 'rents all that much, and feel inclined to-" More crackling from his end of the phone. "Damnit, I've got to go. My parents just got home, and Satan knows what they'll do to me if they find out I'm talking to you." Buuuuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The line went dead, and Rue sighed. Marko; the only member of her family she could still talk to. Of course, he was only a year older than her and still lived at home due to the fact that he went to college only a few miles away; but still. He was all she had left.

She slipped her ear buds in, relaxing as Club Inferno by Scarf! blasted from the tiny speakers. Suddenly, she heard a scream. Soon, this voice was joined by others; a chorus of terrified voices. "What the-" She turned around, looking out of the window just in time to see the first meteor make contact with a skyscraper. She watched, frozen, as they narrowly avoided the second one. The bus turned, her head soared in to the glass, and then...and then...nothing.
The sky was a lovely amber; shining through it were…bottles of beer? Oh, but yes, bottles of beer they were, soaring back and forth and caressing the skyline in synchronized perfection. I’ve never had a beer before. Her mind mused to itself, as a giant hand reached out in to the clouds and grabbed a glass. The foam was lovely, and just as it reached her lips and she felt the tickle of alcohol…she regained consciousness.
Rue was pinned against the floor-or, rather, the roof, since it had rolled over and she was facing right-side up and looking at the emergency hatch in the ceiling, directly below her- of the bus by one of the seats; she couldn’t feel her legs and her left hand didn’t want to cooperate. “Uhhhhhhhhhh…” She groaned, grabbing one of the only intact metal bars and trying to pull herself out from under the seat, but it was futile effort. “Anybody?” She called out, meaning ‘Is anybody still alive?’
She tried to grab the bar with her left hand as well, but the fingers refused to close around it. She knew she was bleeding; her head felt like hell and there was a definite pool of something red on the bus’s roof-which now served as the floor-below her.
“Come on.” She whispered, pulling harder on the bar. The seat groaned in protest, and she gave up. “Somebody! Somebody tell me I’m not the only one alive!” She shouted, already feeling the tears pouring down her face as she was sent to la la…no, wait--as she was sent to beer land once more.

[Kita-go-nyaa]

"Haha, that's alright. You being there delayed the bus just enough at the very least." Llian smiled, turning his focus to his toast. The butter had all but soaked straight through the thin white bread, making it sag and pull apart easily. It was a quick task to finish it off, digging in his pockets for a small rag he kept as a napkin. It was better for the environment to reuse an old rag than it was to simply throw away a paper towel. He returned the small white rag to his back pocket and paused a moment, hearing a terrible noise. His eyes met with Mara's for a moment and then he glanced to the other passengers and it appeared that they all heard it too. He wasn't in the best position to see outside the window, but the sudden panic was evident even before the first meteor impacted the government building. Shock struck Llian like a brick to the face as the shock wave shook the earth below them. The air hung heavy in his chest, preventing him from breathing as the second and third barreled down to the planet. Screams echoed in his head, seeming far away and insignificant compared to the large mass falling to the ground to crush them.

Sudden acceleration brought breath back to Llian's lungs as he fell sideways into Lianna. His stupor broken, he found his heart racing beyond control and adrenaline pulsing through his veins as he realized the situation the entire bus was in. His fight or flight reflex kicked in as he forced himself up off the seat to hold onto a smaller boy who wailed for his mother, who wasn't present on the bus itself. Perhaps this was instinct or simply his first unconscious thoughts had sprinted to the aid of his little sister or perhaps even the twelve students that he was on the way to teach that morning. He held the child tightly, his mind racing too quickly to comprehend. The meteor above them struck the pavement, the hot shock wave slamming full-force into the back of the bus. It flipped. Gravity lost its effect for what seemed like eternity. Llian's ears rang. His breath caught in his chest once more. The world stopped for a moment. Llian's arms were empty. And then time returned to normal, snapping back to terror and destruction. Llian struck the ceiling of the bus hard, another male ramming into him. Adrenaline negated the pain and replaced it with something alien to him. Fear, too, was absent, substituted by a strange feeling. A mix of anticipation and anxiety as the second roll began, time returning to a sickening hyper-speed. The crunching of metal and the smell of burnt pavement overtook Llian's mind as he struck the back of a seat and lost consciousness.


His eyes slowly opened, a purple-blue sky above him, stars twinkling down to greet his gaze. "Llllliaaaaan! Jeeze! What's your problem? Wake up, stupid." A familiar voice taunted from somewhere above his head. "Come on, give me a push." The young man shook his head as he sat up, his limbs shaking uncomfortably.

"Molly?" He ventured, looking up at his blonde, freckled, seven-year-old sister. Her hair was tied back into pig-tails, as it usually was. She had taken a liking to the hairstyle and Llian was the only one who could do it 'right'. She laughed loudly at him.

"Who else?" She tutted, dancing up on her toes, lush green grass twisting in a gentle breeze to tickle her feet. "Come on, give me a push." She insisted, pulling on Llian's dirtied shirt. He looked down at himself as he stood up. His shirt and slacks were filthy, singed and torn in places, although Molly didn't seem to notice. It didn't seem so weird after a couple seconds, he had just expected something different, although he didn't understand why. The small girl tugged him to a large tire swing tied to an oak tree. It was unfamiliar to him, as the green didn't have a tire swing. In fact, there were no traces of the city around him. She clambered up onto the tire, not seeming to notice the other surroundings. "Push me!" She ordered. Llian complied, pulling the swing back to let it sway back and forth.

"Something... is wrong." He murmured to himself as he gave the tire gentle shoves to continue its movement.

"Nothing's wrong, bro. You worry too much. Why won't you take me to that movie anyway? You promised we'd go today." She whined, leaning in and out to aid force the tire swing higher than Llian was pushing.

"I have to cover for Ms. Amanda. I owe her a favor, it's the nice thing to do. We'll go tomorrow. Then we can get some popcorn as well. I'm getting paid today." Llian said slowly, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong silently. Molly was usually oblivious to anything not pertaining to herself, so asking her was useless.

"There won't be a tomorrow. Why can't we go today?" Molly whined loudly, pouting. Llian shook his head.

"There's always a tomorrow, Molly. Don't forget that." Llian smiled, moving to sit in front of his sister. He held the swing so it would stop and he could talk to her directly. "Now, repeat that for me. There's always tomorrow."

"Bro..." Molly began, blinking up at Llian. "Your head is bleeding. What did you do?" She questioned. "You're so clumsy." Llian placed his hand to his head to find hot blood sticking his fingertips.

"What..." He closed his eyes to think a moment and found he couldn't open them once more. He strained to call out to his little sister, but found that he was muted, or perhaps deafened. Blind and mute, he reached out, but found his arms too heavy-- no, pinned against the cold ground. And suddenly, he could open his eyes once more, only to be greeted by blackness.


Fear finally found Llian as he lay in the darkness. He strained to move, but everything hurt. His head ached. His arms ached. His chest ached. His legs ached. His brain felt fuzzy, disconnected as he squirmed against his metal and plastic and fabric prison. He managed to wiggle out, his entire body screaming in protest with every twitch of his muscles. He could hear groaning and cries for help or contact intermingled with sirens and the delayed collapsing of buildings. His voice had left him, abandoned him to remain with his little sister at the tire swing. The air was hot, but mobile and filled with constant noise. His head throbbed a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He pushed himself against the twisted wall of the bus, unable to see, unable to move. He felt trapped, but thanked whomever would take it that he was still alive. He coughed and spluttered, retrieving his voice from the depths of himself to respond to Arruelette and Stella.

"I'm in one piece." He called hoarsely, shifting his hand so that it was no longer resting on broken glass. "Can you get out of the bus? It's not safe to stay inside." He groped around in the darkness trying to locate someone breathing and the voices, finding the young boy he had held tightly before the bus flipped. He gave the child a shake in the darkness, but he did not wake. He could not see that the child had one of the severed poles that the frequent riders would hold onto through his stomach. Llian, in his blind attempts to wake the child placed a hand to his own head, feeling the oozing blood that had become apparent to him in the strange dream.

[Riverstyx777]

A very old song blasted through the headphones that wrapped around his neck, "Satellite", by an old band from the city of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia. The Hooters were a little known band that were actually famous worldwide during the mid to late eighties, how Mark found out about them was through his grandfather, but how his grandfather found out was a mystery. The young man had a particularly eccentric taste in music, ranging from classical to country, classic rock through heavy death metal, hair metal to punk rock, and nearly everything in between. The only thing he could not stand was rap, pop, and hip-hop. Alas, if his baseball career has not set off so well, he might have gone into the music industry.

As Mark finished placing the new set in his stomach, he noticed a woman sit next to him and do a sort of double-take upon figuring out who he was. She seemed young, but one who was trying to be who she wasn't, something artificially official. Something fake. Yet, there was something underneath that facade that was interesting, something to that of himself. Smiling slightly to himself, Mark pretended to ignore the girl, but observed her quietly. A sudden realization played across his face, as he recognized the girl as none other than his new agent: Arruelette Speer. In truth, Mark had never had an agent before, so he did some background research on this woman. He found very little on her, save for the fact that she usually scared away her clients by her manner. Mark hired her for this very reason.

Sliding his headphones off to speak, he was interrupted by the high-pitched whining that preceded the first strike. Indeed, what he saw frightened him just as much as the rest of the people on the bus, but he remained quiet. It was something about his dark childhood that taught him to remain quiet, and internalize his emotions. Even as the one meteor hurtled straight towards them, all Mark let out was a strange little gasp, as he braced himself and reached for the Arruelette next to him, inherently feeling the near instinctual force telling him to protect the ones around him.

The bus accelerated, and Mark never managed to grab Arruelette. All he could do now was brace himself for the coming impact of the meteor behind them.

A flash, a scream next to him, around him. White hot heat. White hot pain.

Blackness, darkness.

The Void was reaching for him.

---

"You need to be a man, you cannot be a man if you cry," fuzzy words came out of the darkness, and a vague figure manifested itself with them. "Mark, see this? This is a man's wound. You have nothing more than a scrape." The vague figure became opaque, and his father appeared before him, showing the ever-famous wound that got him a medal of dutiful service to the city.

"B-but Daddy," Mark found himself protesting in a five year-old's voice, yet unable to see himself. "I'm only a kid!"

The figure laughed and darkness came upon the scene again.

"Father, I am going to play professional baseball, whether you like it or not!"

"Like hell you are! No son of mine will amount to anything without first serving his country, even if we can't leave this damned city!"

It was a strange sensation, watching his younger self argue with his father. Mark almost regretted his decision of going against his father and his mother, for shortly thereafter, his father died of a stroke, and his mother of grief. Only his grandfather supported him, but even he was taken from Mark, about a year ago, by Lung and Lymph Node Cancer.

The scene faded into darkness yet again, and Mark heard something familiar playing in the distance...

---

"It's the... end of the world as we know it... And I feel fine..." The ironic words of R.E.M. played through his miraculously unbroken headphones from his equally unbroken MP3 player. Stirring, Mark knocked the headphones from his ears, where they settled around his neck. An explosion of pain centered somewhere behind his eyes bombarded him as he moved. Raising his left-hand to his eyes, he felt sticky, dried blood on his forehead, and could not decide whether or not it was his own.

Upon hearing the shouts of Arruelette, he attempted to crawl forward, finding that his right hand was broken, most likely having been crushed underneath something, and crumpled to the ceiling which was now the floor, of the bus. Mark gritted his teeth and shook his head slowly, ignoring another burst of pain to his head. He managed to reach the now unconscious girl.

"Miss Speer! Wake up! We need to get out of here," he yelled hoarsely, gripping the woman gingerly by the shoulders, and shaking her.

[Script]

The cold clammy sensation of blood gathering in her hair greeted Rachel as she flickered in and out of consciousness, along with a burning pain that seemed to flow through her veins as surely as her blood flowed from them onto the metal of the bus ceiling, making her wish for the strength to cry out. The paramedic shifted with a feeble breath of sound, trying to lift herself off of the glass covered surface below her. As she pushed down though, a thousand knives seemed to bury themselves in her arm, and she dropped down again with a gasp, her head clattering against the floor hard, returning her to the darkness of unconsciousness…



The woman cried out in obvious agony, her face twisting into hideous masks of tortuous pain as she did, her eyes begging Rachel for release from the trauma. The woman’s legs were gone, completely severed at her thighs, and every movement was sheer agony for her broken form, beginning to go pale from the blood loss.

Rachel cried out for aid, for morphine, for anything that might help this poor woman cling onto life, or at least ease her passing.

Their eyes met, the broken and bloody victim, and the distraught paramedic kneeling over her, as tears formed in both their eyes, flowing freely to the ground. Time seemed to stand still, the other medical officers dashing behind Rachel seeming to slow, the wailing of sirens distorted in pitch as they were drawn out over an eternity. The woman in Rachel’s arms gave one last cough, blood splattering onto her chest. She was wearing a blue dress, decorated with white and yellow flowers, as well as a straw hat that lay forlornly on the ground a few metres away – she had been driving to her sister’s reception when the truck came around the corner out of nowhere and…

Before Rachel’s eyes, the woman’s gaze glassed over, her eyes losing focus and becoming sightless orbs as her life passed away, time returning to normal speed as unwanted tears flowed from the experienced paramedic’s eyes…

You could never get used to watching people die, her colleagues said. Each new accident was a new tragedy, which deserved its own shed tears.



Again, Rachel’s eyes flickered open, blinking away tears of pain and fear shed in previous moments of consciousness, and shards of glass that had rested on her lids while she lay still. For a moment, in the pitch blackness of the bus interior, she thought she was dead. She couldn’t see anything, had no way to tell where she was…

Then awareness of her body returned to her, and she knew she was not dead.

Death could not be so painful.

Her right arm lay beneath her, twisted awkwardly and screaming out for release from her limp form’s weight upon it, digging the glass shards into her further. Her other arm was rested to her right, her hand clenched into a fist, knuckles resting on the ground. Her legs were stretched out, her trousers shredded and torn, one of her ankles twisted.

She experienced a brief moment of dizziness as she lifted her head, the blood loss from the gash in her forehead making itself known. Using her good arm to push herself upwards, Rachel wrestled her arm out from underneath her, crying out weakly as pain shot through it as she moved – the bone was fractured if not completely broken, she thought. By this point her eyes had become slightly more accustomed to the dark, and she could see that the bus was nigh on unrecognisable from inside.

The aisle was still vaguely present, some of the seats still in place above her, but there was hardly room to crouch up, let alone stand fully. Turning slightly, she saw that she was mere feet away from the driver’s box, which had been crushed entirely when the bus landed nose first on the concrete ground below the freeway, and she could see where a chunk of the road had landed and broken through a section of the bus in the middle.

But what she paid most attention to was the bodies.

Only metres in front of her, the body of a child lay crumpled and obviously dead, his mother probably the bundle of rags and glass lying a few feet away. Almost a dozen bodies joined the ten or eleven figures in which she could detect some movement still, but Rachel kept staring at the body of the child, tears forming once more in her eyes. Her tears stained crimson as they flowed down her cheeks and passed a gash in her face, and with that light stimulus the numbness of shock faded and gave her full knowledge of her injuries.

Her legs and arms had glass embedded in them along their length, she had a gash in her forehead from which a slow trickle of blood still ebbed, and the other in her cheek over which her tears rolled. Her right arm was almost entirely incapacitated, any movement in it causing a flare of pain that made her cringe and wince. Her left ankle - twisted but not broken, and a deep gash in her right thigh joined the list of injuries that she compiled in her head, her training as a paramedic prompting her. This was by far the worst tragedy that she had encountered by way of casualties, however, and her training could not have prepare her for it any more than it could have for the look in the despairing woman’s eyes as she realised she was going to die, that Rachel had failed her…

"Can you get out of the bus? It's not safe to stay inside."

Rachel groaned slightly, looking toward the other moving forms in the length of the bus as she spoke “H… hello?” she called faintly, in response to the other voices "Out... yes... we need to get out. Clear the wounded away from the scene of the accident as your first priority..." she muttered, reciting one of the instructions she'd been given in her training "Deal with wounds..." she winced as she was reminded of her arm "...once the injured are in a safe place."

Crawling forwards, Rachel called towards one of the moving figures "Can you see any windows large enough for anyone to fit through? Maybe we can get through where that concrete slab crushed part of the bus?" she suggested, trying to ignore the bodies around them.

[Rachelle]

Sascha seemed to have dipped out of consciousness, if only for a moment. An oddly comforting darkness had taken her and she strode down some tunnel of her mind where memories swirled and pain didn't exist. Thoughts battled to gain control and finally one surfaced above the others. Sascha's eyes, flickering behind her closed lids, snapped open. The world flooded back in and the pain was just as intense as before.

The end of the world. Sascha strained to see and started to notice shapes, some light filtering in from the dusty windows, some light illuminating the mounds of bodies. She blinked repeatedly and her cough came back, racking her body with pain at the force. She covered her mouth with one hand while the other found her ribs, pressing against her torso as the agony increased. When the hacking subsiding, she pulled her hand away, relieved to find she wasn't coughing up blood.

Sascha tried to sit and managed to pull herself up. An arm that had been slung over her stomach slid off and thumped against the floor. She jumped and her torment returned in coughs that shook her. Did I pierce a lung? She thought, one hand snaking up her shirt to touch the tender skin. She was sure once she had the time and the proper light to inspect it, she would find discolored areas that would be black bruises within a day.

Her arms were peppered with glass, but she had somehow escaped from being pierced by any of the larger slivers scattered around. She was shook up, broken and bruised, but alive. Many of those around her weren't so lucky. She was pressed among the corpses and almost felt like she was one of the dead herself. Hoping that she wasn't too bloodied to scare off any survivors, Sascha struggled to stand but found the roof had nearly been crushed and was forced to crawl. She saw that in some areas she would have to crawl over the bodies to make it through tight spots. She shivered at the thought.

Then she heard something. Moans, groans...voices. She shook her head as if she was imagining it, but no, she heard people. Survivors. She could hear them talking about getting out of the bus. Sascha didn't want to be in the bus any longer than she had to. She squinted and looked around when someone mentioned a concrete slab. Sascha had been tossed more toward the back, away from the middle, which was now occupied partially by a chunk of the road. It looked like a tight fit, but it looked like a definite way out. Sascha began to crawl, pushing debris and bodies aside, aching to be in the sunlight once again.