The Walking Dead: Online

The Walking Dead: Online

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An unexplainable infection has swept the world, bringing society to its knees. You are one of the lucky ones. A survivor. But now you must do whatever it takes to survive the greatest threat of all... each other.

3,229 readers have visited The Walking Dead: Online since Captain Calamity created it.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

walking dead (tv show): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/the_walking_dead_(tv_series) walking dead (comics): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/the_walking_dead_(comic_book)

Introduction

*** Currently OPEN / Accepting New Characters For Season 3 ***
Check out the Comic-Con trailer for Season 1: https://vimeo.com/100390274
And Season 2: https://vimeo.com/113581777

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.: WELCOME :.


Hopefully you’re a fan of the show, the graphic novels, or the game. If not, I assume you are familiar with the zombie genre in some way, shape, or form. We won’t be straying too far from the standards set in place by the genre’s godfathers, like George A. Romero.

Below are several pieces of information pertaining to the rules and structure of this roleplay, as well as guidelines for the world of the story and how to create your character. Please read all of the following info so that we can all keep on the same page. Included in the “OOC” section is a number of threads containing lists of characters, locations, and other information.

This will be a play-by-post roleplaying game that unfolds over a number of seasons. The division of these seasons will help new players catch up on the overall story by being able to follow each story arc season by season. of the overall story as we progress. Posts will be written in a third-person narrative. So:

“David ducked just in time, as the bookcase came crashing down beside him.”

Instead of…

“David ducks just in time, as the bookcase crashes down beside him.”

And certainly NOT…

“I duck just in time, as the bookcase crashes down beside me.”

It is expected that our writers craft their posts like they would a chapter of a novel, with some sort of beginning, middle, and end. To allow the story to move forward at a generous pace, we need to be able to create longer posts, not just a few sentences or a paragraph here and there. I’m not going to enforce a word limit or minimum, but we can certainly cover some ground with each post. In obvious moments of heightened intensity and drama, we can allow for smaller posts so that everyone can participate in the moment-to-moment action of the scene without getting left behind. The flow will begin to feel natural once we all get into it.

More than anything, we are trying to create an emotional and gripping epic action/drama through the woven narratives of our characters. The Walking Dead is a beautiful and dangerous universe. Over the course of our story, we will come to terms with the psychological, physical, and emotional hurdles that one would face in a world gone to hell. Our particular story will act independently of the graphic novels, television series, or games. They were all centered in and around Atlanta, far away from where our story will be taking place… so it’s unlikely that we’ll come across any characters we’re familiar with. This allows us to create an entirely unique story.


.: The World :.


We don’t know what exactly caused the infection or even where it started. What we do know is that within days, society fell to its knees. The biggest cities fell fastest, as people fled toward more rural areas. Most didn’t even make it that far. The power went out within days. Stores were looted, cars and homes abandoned. One of the worst riots broke out in Los Angeles, as people scrambled to take whatever they could in the aftermath of the infection.

Without any available means of contact, it is impossible to know how the rest of the country is faring. All that matters now is your survival. It is likely that you have friends and family within the city. Whether they can be reached depends on a variety of factors.

Let’s start with the facts:

1. We are all infected. While our characters may not know this… we, the writers, do. Anybody who dies will come back as a walker unless their brain is damaged or destroyed. The process can take as little as a minute to take effect. People who were already dead when the infection spread will have come back to life, making places like cemeteries, morgues, and hospitals, very dangerous areas.

2. The infection is transferred through the bloodstream. It isn’t airborne. Any direct contact with an open wound, the mouth, or eyes, could be fatal. Once infected, you WILL become a zombie unless extreme measures are taken to amputate the area of infection immediately. The infection can take up to a whole day to finally take effect. Common symptoms will include that of the cold and flu: a fever, trouble breathing, coughing, swelling, fatigue, nausea, dizziness, slurred speech, exhaustion, dehydration, increased heart rate, decreased motor functions, and extreme muscle tension.

3. The walkers can only be killed by destroying the brain. Damaging the limbs or body will only slow them down. Even decapitating a walker allows the head to remain alive until the brain is dealt with.

4. Most of the walker’s senses remain intact. They are drawn toward sounds above all else, but their sight and smell work just as well. Sound, in particular, can be a great way to distract or lure the walkers away from the group.

5. The walkers can be easily deceived if they can’t smell you. This involves the often repulsive act of covering oneself with the blood and guts of the deceased in order to camouflage our own odors. The result? You are blind to the walkers. The risk? Infection. You are rubbing their blood all over you, after all.

6. The most important thing is survival. Above all else, we want to live… so it is always about the necessities: food, shelter, and clothing. Survive the walkers. Survive each other.

7. There is no power. No internet. No computers or phones. No video games. Anything electrical would have to be run through a generator and powered with gasoline, another rare commodity.

8. Most freeways and major roads are clogged with abandoned cars, making navigation quite difficult. Some of these cars are out of gas, some are missing their keys, but most are still operable to some extent. They may just need some repair, refueling, or a jump-start from another vehicle.

9. There is no cure... yet. The only way to handle the infection is to destroy the brain of the person in question or to amputate the exposed part of the body within minutes of it becoming infected.

10. Nobody knows the severity of the spread of infection. There has been no word as to whether other cities, countries, or continents have it as bad as we do. Until communications come back up, there may be no way of knowing.



.: The Cast :.


We are now looking for new writers for Season 3! PM me with any questions or ideas you have about jumping into the story.



.: Character Profile :.


Description:

 Name
 Portrayed By
 Profession
 Age
 Gender
 Height/Weight
 Nationality/Ethnicity
 Tattoos/Scars
 Clothing/Outfit

Traits:

 3 Strengths
 3 Flaws

Personality:

 Fears
 Aspirations
 Dominant Emotion
 Demeanor
 Quirks/Oddities
 Skills/Proficiencies

Equipment:

 Any item/weapon that your character typically has on them?
 Do they carry any keepsakes, trinkets, or valuables?
 What is their weapon of choice?

History:

 Bullet point the major events and people in your character's past.

Toggle Rules

.: Law & Order :.


1. Have fun! If we aren’t, what's the point of all this? As serious as all this might sound, we are here to write. Whether that might be to escape from our day-to-day lives, create an awesome story, or collaborate with a bunch of other artists, we all do it because we enjoy it. To keep with that theme, some rules have to be set in place to keep us all on the same page. Be good to each other, work together, and we’ll all make it out of this alive… (NOT)

2. Be fearless in your creation. The rules of our roleplay are all laid out before you, but it is up to us to populate this world with characters, action, and story. Don’t wait for others to do it. You are as much a part of this as them. If you have an ideas about your character or the story, be vocal about them. Share your ideas. Collaborate. That way we can help those ideas come to fruition.

3. Don’t be a Rambo. This isn’t the Expendables. This is a realistic story about humans trying to survive in a world gone to hell. If you’ve come here hoping to mow down hordes of zombies with automatic weapons, or blaze through streets with a katana and a flamethrower, this might not be the roleplay for you. Instead, we’ll be working to create a gripping story about survival… not only from zombies but from each other as well.

4. Live a little. I understand that we all have lives, school, spouses, girlfriends, pets, kids… video games. In that respect, I get that we all need to take some time to ourselves every now and then. The story, however, does need to go on. If you are anticipating a leave of absence, just give us a heads up and we’ll pilot your character til you get back. If you are fearing a more permanent vacation, just let us know what you’d like to have happen. Perhaps we can incorporate a proper exit in the story.

5. Everybody dies. Yeah. Spoiler alert. At some point, all of our characters will die. Whether it’s from a bullet, a walker, or old age, all depends on us. Don’t expect to write your way into an inescapable situation and hope to live. We are going to maintain a sense of realism in this story, so be prepared to watch your character and others lose limbs, lives, and loved ones.

6. Have a little respect. Aretha Franklin had it right. By signing on to this story we all agree to adhere to the rules of the site, forums, and roleplay. This story will obviously involve adult themes and content, so it might be easy to get carried away. That said, let’s stay away from god-modding, graphic sexual content, and extremely crude language.

7. Write on! The only posting guidelines I want to put in place is that we write substantial amounts. There is no posting order, so feel free to post as you see fit. All I ask is that you allow others the opportunity to post before moving too far along in the story. However, if your character is by themself, you could probably get away with posting on your own schedule. If you are in a scene with several other characters, don’t rush through the story without allowing them ample time to participate. For us to be able to write significant passages, we will inevitably be having to write in the actions and dialogue of characters that do not belong to us. If you feature any other writer's character, send them a PM or email with the portion of your post to see if they OK it.

8. Information is power. Some of the information I've put out their for our story aren't public knowledge to all of our characters.. Your character may not know about these certain pieces of information pertaining to the story or the world because of what they have or haven't experienced. Part of the fun of all of this is the discoveries that we all will make as the story develops. Be sure to keep that in mind while roleplaying your character. What you do and do not know informs the decisions that you will make.

9. People all over the world. We will be using a fair amount of NPC’s (non-player characters) over the course of this story. If there is a character you’d like to bring into the story, draft a profile for them using the same character profile as you would a normal character. Make sure to tag them with (NPC) after their name. You won’t have to submit as complex of a character profile for them as you did for your main character, but any information you can give us will help. Any NPC is usable by any writer, but extreme choices such as injuries, death, or big decisions are ultimately decided by whoever created the NPC.

10. Everything matters. This story will be very moment-to-moment. Everything you do and everything you say will have tremendous weight on the decisions others make about you further along. Supplies are precious, and trust is the biggest commodity of all. People do and say crazy and sometimes regrettable things during a crisis. The decisions we make when our lives are threatened are made out of fear, hate, and love. The things we say to people and the decisions we make cannot be taken back. Whatever and whoever we were before the infection no longer have any meaning, because we are now defined by what we do at every given moment. Keep this in mind as you write.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 14 authors

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lillian "Lily" Strong (NPC) Character Portrait: Wayne Williams (NPC) Character Portrait: Rafiq Chedidi Character Portrait: Tara Schantz (NPC) Character Portrait: Jessica Abbott (NPC) Character Portrait: Lisa Pazzino (NPC) Character Portrait: Althea Brown Character Portrait: Bethany Whitfield Character Portrait: Diego Azevedo (NPC)

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% Jessica Abbott %


”RAFIQ!” Jessica shouted through the shuffling group of survivors. Burning walkers licked in flames shambling across the blacktop towards them, black smoke trailing their charred figures as they closed in. Rafiq glanced over his shoulder towards where she was pointing and saw Lisa sprinting towards the apartments alone. She had waited long enough with their indecisions.

He spun on his heel to chase after her, almost losing his balance on the pavement in his haste. ”Lisa, WAIT-- c’mon!”

Althea gripped her weapon, taking off after the both of them down the sidewalk as she sighed to herself. ”Keep the street clear!” she shouted back over her shoulder between breaths. ”We might be comin’ back fast...”

Diego gripped his sledgehammer in his hands, angling back into the middle of the street as the walkers closed in around them on both sides. Wayne and Bethany brandished their weapons too as Lily stood back behind the two of them. ”We can’t use our guns… it might spook those people in the apartments. Last thing they need to see is a bunch of people running towards their door with gunfire ringing out,” Bethany advised, dejectedly. She lowered her weapon along with the others, who started swapping them out for whatever knives or melee weapons they had handy. Lily hadn’t brought anything else with her and quickly found herself defenseless.

Tara stowed her pistol and looked around on the ground around her for something to keep the walkers back. She turned and spotted a fallen street sign a few feet back between her and Jessica. ”Just keep them at range. They get a hand on you-- you’ll feel it...” Jessica nodded in agreement. She watched as Tara hoisted the metal pole up into her hands and readied it, facing the creatures.

’HEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!’

The voice rang out from the original burning building-- a hollow shout somewhere deep within. The girls’ heads whipped in its direction. ”Was that--?” Jessica stumbled towards the sound. It had been someone’s voice. Crying out in a panic.

’PLEEEEAAAASE!! DON’T-- NOOOOOO!!!!’

”Jessica!?!” Tara bellowed, prodding one of the zombies in the stomach with the sign and doubling it over as she strained to look over at her. She barely caught sight of Jessica barrelling through the wave of walkers, darting between curtains of black smoke towards the flames. ”JESSICA!!”


# # #


Lily turned back towards the adjacent sidewalk as Diego and Bethany took up positions opposite one another to receive the incoming walkers. Bethany clutched her crowbar between whitened knuckles, bracing herself-- clearly unsure of how to proceed. The first of the clawing creatures groped at her, mindlessly, and she rose the crowbar above her head, waiting for the thing to lunge before crashing it down on its skull and using the heel of her boot to peel it off of her weapon. It splattered onto the pavement-- pieces of its still flaming flesh stuck to her shoe. She quickly stamped out the flames and wiped her foot clean of whatever was still clinging to it. More stragglers hurried past her towards Lily, who was already backed up against a parked car close behind Diego. She pulled down her sleeves and wiped the ash and dirt off the car window with the butt of her hand, revealing its interior. Much to her fortune, a ratty backpack and small machete were visibly stuffed between the seat and center dash console. She cradled her fingers under the handle and pulled up-- to no avail. It was locked. Behind her, the deafening roar of the encroaching walkers grew louder. They were even closer than she realized-- now coming between her and the others. Lily took the first course of action that crossed her mind and dropped to her hands and knees, sliding herself under the bottom of the car towards the other side. The closest walkers tumbled to the ground behind her, grasping and pawing at her untied shoelaces as they traipsed along behind her. She rolled onto her back-- using her hands to pull her along by grabbing onto various dangling engine parts above her while the thick grime caked her blackened fingers and palms. Everything was sticky enough to the point that she regretted the maneuver the instant she had thought of it.

Her face cleared the other side as she struggled out from underneath the car’s frame between the metal and the curb. Several walkers continued reaching blindly towards where Lily had been crawling moments before, hell-bent on getting hold of her. Lily found herself on her hands and knees, facing the passenger door of the vehicle-- hopelessly lunging out for its handle like before. The satisfying click of the door’s mechanism unlocking and propping open was like a godsend. She pulled back with all her might, scuffling forwards into the car and grabbing the bag and blade in one swoop -- carefully checking the back in case any other supplies lied out in the open.

Another low gurgle emanated from the opening to the car behind her. Lily swung around in her seat to see more walkers creeping across the sidewalk towards all the commotion-- drawing dangerously near to the car. She reached over, slamming the door shut with a thud and quickly realized she had trapped herself. Diego, Bethany, and Wayne stood back-to-back in the middle of the intersection with various weapons and tools, herding the growing mob of incendiary walkers. Their hands were full enough with their own situations that there would be know way they’d even notice the catastrophe happening right behind them. The walker’s clawing hands and limbs drew semi-clean streak across the ashen and muddied windows on both sides, deafening her ears with their incessant snarling and thrashing as they threw themselves again and again into the car’s facade. In turn, Lily threw herself into the backseat. It was only then that she noticed what would soon end up being “Plan B”. An equally dirtied sunroof visor hung above her head, casting very little light through it.

She leapt up towards the ceiling, picking at the seam of the window with her small fingers-- but the edge was flush with its plastic lodging.

’The machete…’ she thought, silently.

It was in her hands in an instant and in the sunroof one instant after that. It’s piercing tip slipped finely between the plate of glass and its exterior as Lily delicately inserted it as far as it was willing to go. She pushed firmly against the handle of the blade, wedging the glass open in small movements-- successfully, much to her relief. Patches of ash sifted down from above, clouding her eyes and dusting her hair as she shimmied away at the cover. It loosened enough in its frame to slight another third of the way, enough for her to at least start pushing the supplies out the top-- which she did. More walkers collected behind the others, already pressed against the sides of the car as their arms stretched out towards Lily-- her head and upper body forcing their way up through the opening… but it was too tight of a fit. She curled her fingers between her chest and the glass and pressed her back into the frame of the sunroof, trying to slide it back further-- but their was too much dust blocking the tracking. Her feet fumbled beneath her inside the car, trying to find something with better leverage so she could try and force herself through the rest of the way.

And then it happened.

Her heel fumbled against the emergency brake, disengaging it and causing her foot to slip. She felt it too-- slowly… as the walkers surged against the automobile. The wheels slowly began to roll, crushing the unlucky ones who were still underneath it-- as more and more of the creatures mounted to the rear and grasped at the air around Lily. She suddenly realized the dire nature of the situation as she continued struggling against the glass, a sloping boulevard littered with vacant cars and debris looming into view ahead of her. She thrashed her feet around inside the car trying to find a better foothold and wedged her shoe into the nook of the center dash, pushing up with all her might and slowly freeing her elbow… and then whole right arm. Her palm pressed down into the top of the car as the rest of her squeezed out slowly, but her escape was cut short as she craned her body to stop the bag and blade from sliding off the top of the rapidly accelerating car.

Her eyes caught Wayne’s as she rolled further away down the slanted road, his arm raising to point at her as he mouthed something she couldn’t comprehend. The shock was evident enough in his expression though, and soon he had turned Diego and Bethany’s attention to the spectacle as well. All in one movement, they maneuvered their ways after her-- separately, but together. Their presence was drawing too much attention from surrounding walkers, and they knew it. Too much longer and they wouldn’t be able to traverse the rest of the boulevard towards the other entrance to the metro tunnels. Going by the main streets almost wasn’t an option anymore, what with the volume of walkers being as large as it was. Back alleys and rooftops would always be the safest bet, but not the fastest. And they didn’t have time to waste.

Lily clutched her newly inherited belongings to her chest as the quickening momentum of the car caused her to tumble backwards as well. She slid effortlessly down the filthy windows and over the trunk, colliding with the rough pavement on her backside as she rolled to a stop feet later. She shook her head, trying to unblur her vision as she scrambled around her for her things. Somehow her pistol was still tucked into the back of her pants, but she knew that wasn’t an option. Her whole body stung from the landing-- the familiar burn of road rash pulsing up and down her hands and legs. She used one of them to push her back to her feet as she took a moment to gather her bearings and look for the others.

Wherever they had gone.


# # #


”Jessica! STOP!”

Tara’s voice was faint now-- a bare whisper compared to the roaring of the flames and crackling hiss of the peeling wallpaper and crumbling wood supports. The charred black smoke enveloped the ceiling like thick storm clouds, licking at the corners and edges as the torrential current continued to build. Jessica held the neck of her shirt over her mouth and nose as she barrelled into the open doors of the apartment building and down the hallway. The voice from before was nowhere to be heard. She swung her head to the left and right-- frantically searching the doorways for signs of activity as she plunged ahead into the growing darkness.

’Please! Somebody!’ the voice shrieked out once more. It sounded like it was coming from straight ahead. Jessica waved the smoke out of her face as she passed down the seared facade of the hallway, mindless to the impending dangers all around her. Another door passed by. And another. Her vision was beginning to blur so much already that she thought she saw a white light emanating from the end of the corridor-- but it was no hallucination. The last of the doorframes flashed past her eyes as she swung into view of its inside quarters, seething in flame-- collapsing before her very eyes. Across the way, two blackened bodies laid hand-in-hand in front of a blaring television, its vibrant colors mixing with the reds of the surrounding fire in a randomly pulsating series of flashes. The motionless corpses sprawled idly on the ground in a clear patch past the dining room area of the apartment as a woman on the TV monitor struggled against her assailant screaming out in terror. ’Somebody! PLEASE!!!’ Jessica’s brow furrowed as she closed her eyes against the images of the voices blending with what laid before her eyes-- two souls, burned to death. They survived the end of the world, but they couldn’t survive this.

Her right foot took a step forward without thinking, as if there was anything she could do to save them. Perhaps she was just a bit stunned. Just not as stunned as she became a moment later as Tara hurled her entire frame into Jessica, dropping her to the ground. The two landed with a hollow thud, skidding across the dilapidated carpet that like everything else felt warm to the touch. They tumbled to a stop a few paces past the door and separated, scrambling to their feet breathlessly.

Jessica waved her hair out her face. ”What the hell are you doing?!” she shouted over the roar of the flames. Even opening her mouth to talk was unbearable. The ash in the air stung at the insides of her throat and lungs with each passing breath, no matter what she did.

Tara squared up, as if preparing to charge again. ”No-- what the hell are you doing?” she challenged back, looking her deep in the eyes.

Jessica shrugged her arms, looking around hopelessly. ”I thought I heard s-someone c--”

”You can’t just run off like that,” Tara continued, bellowing out her lungs. ”You keep talking about us all sticking together but then you go off and do something stupid like this? I know you might not feel like you have anything left to live for, but that doesn’t mean you need to stop trying.”

Jessica held her steely gaze from across the doorway, shielding herself from the embers of a cluster of falling beams in an adjacent room as they dusted up in a cloud of ash around them. They both collapsed in a fit of coughs as they fought to cover their mouths with whatever they could. The current of winds already building in the corridor made quick work of the pollutant whisping it s way into the torrent of fanning flames coating the walls and sidings. Jessica took it all in as they struggled back towards the doorway, hand-in-hand. She didn’t even know how they managed to find each other while they were blinded.

”We only get this through this together-- c’mon!!” she shouted out behind her with Jessica in tow.

She hoped they wouldn’t soon join the others as a couple of blackened corpses on the floor. One foot after another, the two of them charged forward-- heads down as they barrelled through the billowing smoke. The winds picked up as they neared the precipice out onto the street, the vacuous black cloud around them funneling out the front entrance an up into the sky. A series of loud crashes sounded behind them as other rooms and supports collapsed into oblivion-- but all that mattered was what was ahead of them.

That was everything.


# # #


”Wayne, can you get to her?” Diego rasped, spinning the sledgehammer around in his hands to deliver a blow to another walker. Its body crumpled into a heap on the ground beside him as the weight of the tool through him off balance and he used its metal head to prop himself up off the ground.

Behind him, Wayne dodged and darted between straggling walkers-- ducking and weaving through their reaching arms as he raced towards where the car had been. He stopped, hitting a thickening wall of the creatures and backpedaled to counter around towards a different root. ”Lily, can you hear me??”

Her voice was faint, but he could hear it-- somewhere amongst the mob. He had to find her before they attracted too much more attention...


#%! CRASH !%#


The deafening crunch of metal on metal made his neck twinge as he flinched. Several of the walkers stumbled to a stop, turning in unison toward the sound of wailing sirens as both of the collided car’s alarms began to blare down the hill aways. The ones further back turned and began to migrate that way, seemingly more interested in the commotion then with Wayne and the others. It was his opportunity to make his move.

Either now or never....

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Marshall (NPC) Character Portrait: Carl Dupree (NPC) Character Portrait: Silas Quinn

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Fort Fallback


”Why can’t you play with it?” Carl asked in a huff as if it was the thousandth time he’d answered the question. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, punctuated by his red cheeks. ”Because you are a child and children should play with toys. This is not a toy,” he finished, holding his satellite phone in front of the kid’s face. The boy rolled his eyes and wandered off, uninterested in Carl’s game anymore. ”Get lost, kid.” He didn’t realize how much he missed scolding stupid kids in his comic store back before everything happened. That used to be his life. And now all he had was this. Whatever this was. James rushed up from beside him just as he turned his attention back to his phone, fiddling with a few of the loose wires attached to the back of them. He walked straight up to Carl.

”Hey.”

”WHAT?” Carl barked back at yet another interruption. His eyes widened as he looked up and saw who he was talking to-- and James didn’t look in the mood for anything.

”Oh-- uhhh… s-sorry, James. Hey,” he said, recovering.

”Silas wants us in his office. He’s got something for us.” He adjusted his pants, looking around as he spoke without every really looking at Carl. Technology didn’t interest him the same way it did others. He’d survived without becoming part of that whole movement just fine on his own, living off of the land away from the city and the changes and the innovation. ”C’mon-- put that thing away,” he berated, throwing his hand out at Carl. He jumped to his feet, stuffing the contraption into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, bumbling behind James as he turned and led him back down the aisle towards the back.

”Did he say anything about what he wanted?” Carl chimed from behind him. James marched on, not breaking pace for even a second. And sometimes when there were more pressing matters at hand, silence was the best answer. Both men trailed up the stairs towards the upper landing and passed by several other Capitols-- each hustling about towards their own tasks in preparation for the group’s departures. They reached the top landing and found Silas’ office door ajar, inviting them inside. He stood across from his desk squarely, looking out the window at the bustling activity below-- his notepad in hand.

”Gentleman,” he spoke, without looking up. ”Don’t bother sitting, we won’t be long.” He stashed his pencil in the crease of his notepad and closed it, tossing it onto the desk behind him.

”What’ve you got for us?” James asked, anxious to move things along. Every precious second wasted was another second everyone was out there-- and in what condition?

Silas finally turned his full attention on them, folding his arms as he cleared his throat to speak. ”It concerns you, Carl-- and your phone.”

Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. ”Look, I’ve already told everyone else… I’ve been on it every day since. Already drained two batteries. The airwaves are empty-- and most of the sites I was frequenting a week ago haven’t updated since.”

Silas bit at his lip. ”I know-- I know… this is something more-- specific.” His gaze fell to the ground a second as he fidgeted inside his jacket pocket, fishing around for something. He drew out a slightly crumpled piece of paper and crossed around the desk, handing it directly to Carl. He opened it, reading the scrawled penmanship through his spotty lenses.

A frequency.

”What is this?”

”They’re calling it Operation High Noon-- because that doesn’t sound ominous.” It was the first true attempt at humor they had heard from Silas since they had arrived, despite the rest of his dry deliveries in the past. ”It’s as bad as it sounds. We caught this signal in fragments and have been piecing things together. Unfortunately, this valley affords us unfortunate circumstances in terms of which signals we can receive. We need elevation.”

The three stood in silence for a beat as the information processed. James took a couple steps forward, mulling it over himself. ”And what happens at noon?”

Silas looked up at him. ”That’s… the more unfortunate part. For the past few days, they’ve been broadcasting this same signal right at noon. We have to know what the rest of it says. It keeps cutting out at the same parts...”

He was stalling. That much was obvious. ”What do you know so far?” Carl asked him, his curiousity peaking.

”I fear they might be planning another bombing-- on Los Angeles.”

It was far more shocking than it should have been, Carl thought instantly. It was almost too logical, the only surprising part about it being that San Fransisco was bombed first and not after. It was a brilliant tactic to be honest. Use a pre-emptive light bombing run to draw the walkers inland to a central location-- and then drop the big one, obliterating them to all hell-- as well as anyone who unwisely stuck around.

”Jesus Christ,” James lamented, shaking his head in disgust.

Carl looked at his watch. 10:00 AM. Cutting it close already. ”We should get going then. That’s important news to know.” Silas nodded, and the three of them gathered their things as they shuffled towards the front of the room. ”Have you guys given any thought to what you’ll do if… y’know-- if there really is going to be another bomb?” Obviously the possibility had to have been weighed heavily on by not just Silas but a number of the Capitols all in conjunction with one another.

”We’ve made contingency plans. There will obviously have to be another discussion if that is the case though. This city never was safe to start with, but it’s home-- we have a duty to maintain what we can.”

James didn’t altogether agree with that philosophy. He understood wanting to protect your land. He’d do anything to save his farm, after all. But at a certain point the risk becomes too high. You had to know when to quit and when to fight.

Silas stopped just short of the doorway, shaking each of their hands in his typical genuine fashion. ”I’ll be sending a couple of my own with you in case you come upon any of our missing. We’ll want to be able to identify them and vice versa. They’ve mapped out--”

”I was thinking about the church,” James blurted out, interrupting Silas’ train of thought.

”The church?” Silas repeated, stoicly.

James nodded. ”The cathedral on Sunset has a much easier roof to access than any of the other surrounding buildings.”

Carl looked at him. ”There’s no power in that part of town anyways… the elevators would be out.”

Silas scratched at the stubble on his chin. ”The church…” He shook his head, carelessly. ”If that’s what you both think’s best, I trust your judgement. I’ll have my boys start mapping a route. Consider it the first priority point for your team. You guys can ride with us and take off from the same point… so I’d start getting ready. We take off in fifteen.” They started out the doorway, but Silas reached out and stopped both of them with a firm grip. "Keep this between us for now. We don't know what to make of the message yet. We only know what we know. So go out there and prove us wrong..."

The setting changes from Season 3 to Season 1

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harper Hopkins Character Portrait: Jack Cavanagh (NPC)

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The setting changes from Season 1 to Season 3

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harper Hopkins Character Portrait: Jack Cavanagh (NPC)

0.00 INK

Harper Hopkins



Harper gritted her teeth reflexively as she stepped out of the double-doors and out into the slew of bunks in the designated living area that had been all but rearranged for the sake of practicality over the last few days spent planning and preparing.

She finally stopped after arriving at the cubbied flat slat of repurposed shelf she'd claimed for her own, beneath Stevie's. She stood in place silently, somewhat ignoring the low hum of activity around her and amongst the stacks of wood and metal racks meant to section off various spaces. Most of the group must have still been at breakfast, judging from the quiet. She looked down to her boots and gave an exasperated sigh. Her headache was setting back in, and the overhead lights felt as though they were becoming brighter and brighter… and thanks to the group opting to meet early, before most of the residents of Amoeba had a chance to wake up, it was only 9 a.m. She reached her fingers up to slowly pull at the toggle buttons of the coat that Silas had tossed to her from the Lost & Found box ("Well, if they care, they'll come back and ask you for it, right?" was his defense when she'd protested) when he'd spotted her shivering two days prior. She'd said that the air conditioning was cranked up too high; Silas had rebutted and said he kept it on a low setting as to not allow for too much disappointment if the power grid decided to go down. And by now, it was indeed a miraculous wonder that it hadn't.

As she pulled a sleeve from her right arm, she spotted Jack as he peeked around the corner of the bunk, balancing a plate of food over a cupped palm that apparently held something in it. In his other hand, he clutched a small bottle of apple juice. A couple of pancakes balanced on top of each other, with a small half-piece of a tab of butter tracked down from the stash at a nearby restaurant's kitchen, rounded out with a small pool of applesauce and a sausage patty. While the arrangement might have looked somewhat impressive to a person seeking out breakfast off of the street, it was a far cry from the portions and variety available a few days prior. It was high time for a more substantial food run to sustain the group--even Lou had said as much when Harper and Silas had sat down with him for an extended conversation.

Harper hadn't expected to see Jack so soon. Caught just a little off guard, she pursed her lips irritably and folded her arms across her chest. "I need to talk to you."

Without bringing his eyes to hers, Jack continued walking past her, setting the plate and the bottle of juice down on the flat section of Harper's bunk before gently clamming one palm above the other, then covertly dropped three small tablets next to the butter. It almost seemed like he was ignoring her. "Volunteering to stock the pharmacy? Are you nuts?" she hissed underneath her breath.

He exhaustedly lifted his eyes to finally meet hers. "Look. I've got a handle on this. I know what I'm doing." His voice was tired but still held an assured air. "You're just going to have to trust me. I'm doing this to help you."

Harper frowned deeply, then squeezed her eyes shut as another headache swelled up behind them. She shook her head quickly before snapping them back open. "But… but do you want to get caught or something?" she asked steadily, her voice considerably weaker than the insistent whisper from just moments prior.

"No, I don't want to get caught." He tilted his head and didn't blink as he stared back at her, his expression neutral. Harper still found it infuriating.

"So why-" she stopped herself after she felt her voice rise a little in volume, inviting a couple of heads turning from over the other bunks toward them. Jack lifted a hand in acknowledgment and nodded to them, and Harper followed suit. No need to attract more attention than necessary…

"… so why are you taking this risk?" she demanded strainedly under her breath, her tired eyes set ahead as though boring a hole into his as she took a step toward him. She stared expectantly at him, waiting rather impatiently for an answer.

It felt like it was a long, long moment that he stared back almost glassily before finally answering as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, then turned around to depart back out the way he in which he came. "See you later."

Harper stood alone for several seconds, her mouth half-open as she watched his leather jacket bob away, then glanced down to her breakfast and gave a sigh. She wasn't hungry at all. The white tablets stared back up at her from next to the cooling pancakes, looking comfortable beside the bottle of juice set next to the plate. She breathed in a long, slow sigh as she took a seat on the bunk and used her plastic fork to section off a fluffy piece of a pancake, then pressed the three pills to stick along its underside before opening the tab of syrup and dipping it in. Taking the damn things outright would look too suspicious; it was easier to mix it in with a little bit of food, to avoid that detection. She shoved the forkful into her mouth and pretended to chew, hoping to not suck down the acrid taste of ground-up Xanax before untwisting the cap off of the bottle and taking a sip to chase the mixture down.

She grimaced as she felt some of the white residue of the pill touch her tongue, anyway. She took another drink as she tried to stilt her expression of disgust, then attempted to shove a few more forkfuls of plain food into her mouth to cover the taste. In seconds she set the plate above on Stevie's bunk--she knew she'd be able to dispense of it properly before she returned--and tucked back into her bunk and pulled the Lost & Found coat over her shoulders and curled up to fall asleep. Maybe staying behind would have its benefits… after a nap.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sarah Hawke (NPC) Character Portrait: Jack Cavanagh (NPC) Character Portrait: Niobe Kajja Character Portrait: Carl Dupree (NPC) Character Portrait: Everett T. Bronson (NPC) Character Portrait: Freddy Kaufmann (NPC) Character Portrait: Silas Quinn Character Portrait: Ezrael de Lorian Character Portrait: Brooke Callaway (NPC) Character Portrait: Harold St. James (NPC) Character Portrait: Ari Dinkowitz (NPC) Character Portrait: Patrick Dunn (NPC)

0.00 INK

The Warden



A pair of brown snakeskin boots rested lazily propped up atop a pile of old books-- thrown to the floor days prior no doubt to free the bookcase up to use as a barricade elsewhere. A thick wisp of smoke curled above Bronson’s head towards the ceiling-- his eyes fixated on a dormant ceiling fan. The room might has well have been spinning though. Nothing ever seemed to go as planned these days. A plan set in motion would derail, deroute, or detour. But that was his job. To keep things on track. In motion.

The door was thrown open shortly after as Kaufman barged in, slamming the door shut behind him. Bronson closed his eyes, averted to the sudden but inevitable disturbance. The gunshots had fired minutes ago, and then ceased as quickly as they began. He knew the situation had been handled, one way or another. Things like that didn’t become important until they became important. This was why he kept people like Freddy around.

The shifty man stopped a few steps short of Bronson and folded his arms, bowing his head in thought. ”It’s nothing we weren’t expecting,” he prefaced, rubbing at the stubble on his face.

Bronson grinned. He was expecting some kind of attempt like this. Not nearly so soon though. ”Which one was it?” he asked, mumbling out of the corner of his mouth as he held the cigar tightly with the other half. Bits of ashed dusted down across his jacket as it rolled around his lips.

”It was Dax. Took Wallace down with him too-- poor bastard,” Freddy began. ”Idiot went down to take a piss alone and caught the bastard sneaking a peek at the transfer. He was, uhh-- shot… so he came back after awhile-- before our guys got there. Santos.... Chance… they went down too.”

Bronson sighed, brushing his long grayed hair back with a stroke of his hand. More men lost. Between accidental deaths and turncoats, his numbers were dwindling-- and fast. He straightened himself in his chair as more books toppled onto the floor beneath his shifting feet. ”And we’re certain he saw the girl?” he asked, warily. The question itself was rhetorical. He knew there was no way to prove it, and besides-- what Dax saw didn’t matter. Parading the girl across the blacktop so blatantly like that wasn’t for him.

”It’s too much of a coincidence. He had to have seen her…” Freddy replied, assuredly. His fingers twitched at his sides, erratically. Bronson always sensed a controlled nervousness coursing through the man whenever they were in situations alone like this. He always found it funny. Another reason he kept him as close as he did.

”And you idiots killed him before he could report what he saw back to Mr. Hawke.” It wasn’t a question. It was the situation as it stood now. A wasted effort. And soon… a forgotten memory. ”There’s no time to fix this, we need to get him ready… now. Find out what he saw, and get him prepped.”

Freddy nodded and shuffled away towards the door without another word. Bronson stood and turned to face the window, stretching the morning aches and pains out of his joints as he reached towards the ceiling-- the trail of smoke following close behind him. ”And have someone clean Wally up for Christ’s sake…” he added as an afterthought.


# # #



# Sarah Hawke #



Sarah twiddled the fingers on her left hand idly, noticing a lack of sensation in them after having her limp wrist dangling above her at the angle it had for so long. She grabbed the railing with her other hand, pulling herself up to her feet to invert her circulation and get some blood flowing. The dizzyness set upon her almost immediately, causing her to waver a bit and clutch the railing even tighter. She felt her heartbeat in her white knuckles, one after the other-- somehow still stable… constant. That was all considering that she felt like the rest of her was falling apart.

The door swung open across the room, silhouetting Brooke’s frame as light poured in from outside and she entered. A bundle of drinks and snacks lined the nook of her arm as she closed the door behind her and crossed over to Sarah, setting the food before her. She stooped slowly, placing the items down gently. Sarah reacted, reaching out with both hands to help Brooke back up-- but her wrist was snapped back violently as the cuffs reached their limit and grew taut. Sarah rubbed at it sorely, wishing this part of the day could be over with already. She and Calvin were more alike than she had previously thought… both marred by their mutual incarcerations.

”I’m sorry I took so long…” Brooke began, brushing her fallen locks back behind her face. Her rosy cheeks heaved in and out with each calculated breath as Brooke kept everything calm and controlled. How she managed to keep it all together, considering, was a real mystery. But she was much more prone to exhaustion these days with her extra passenger. She stood back up, rubbing her stomach gently with her palm. ”We’ve had some… arrivals-- from outside,” she confessed with a bit of hesitation. There was the possibility that maybe Sarah knew these two kids… they were all about the same age, after all. Maybe they were the missing links as to what happened. But why come back if they had anything to do with what happened to the girl? Or the preacher, for that matter…

Brooke thought better than to ask any of these questions aloud while the poor girl was still recovering from her shock. She unscrewed the cap to one of the bottles of water and offered it to her. Sarah took it from her, thanking her with her eyes before guzzling down the first few sips, thirstily. She stooped her head as she gasped heavily, wiping the spare drips from her mouth with the back of her hand. Brooke stood a few paces back from her, playing with her hands-- unsure of how to proceed.

Sarah looked up with her baggy, bloodshot eyes and blinked at her-- aimlessly. ”Do you wanna talk…?” she asked, dryily.

Brooke’s gaze dropped to the ground, uncomfortably. ”Uhh, no-- I mean. Not unless-- do you?

Sarah brought the bottle back to her lips. ”I’m just fucking with you.”

Brooke stood, dumbfounded. This girl was hard to place. Without having known her before her accident, there was no way of telling whether her behavior was a result of the injury or if she was typically this odd. Whatever the case, she didn’t deserve to be held against her will any longer. How long could they possibly keep this up for?

”When’s your boss coming back?” Sarah posited, taking another swig from the bottle. She tipped her head back, gulping it down as she closed her eyes. It was the closest thing to bliss she was able to get, considering her circumstances. Every drop mattered.

”Val isn’t anyone’s boss,” Brooke shot back with perhaps a bit too much edge. Sarah rose her eyebrows. There seemed to be a story there somewhere. The dynamic was unfolding. Whoever this shotcaller was, she’d apparently lost a litte love amongst the others somehow. She then realized that the truth in that didn’t bode well for her situation. It was possible that Brooke could be the only hope in helping champion her escape. Maybe instead of antagonizing her, she should appeal to her senses instead.

Sarah set the bottle down beside her and licked at her lips. ”Sorry,” she began, ”I didn’t mean anything--”

”Right,” Brooke replied, brushing her hands off on her pants. She adjusted her ponytail, cinching her red locks back from her face into a tighter bunch. ”Look, I’m sorry we did this to you. A few of us-- out there-- we tried to stop it… but considering your situation--” she continued, gesturing at Sarah’s bite, ”we didn’t want to take any chances.”

Sarah nodded. ”I don’t hold it against you…” she admitted, settling back into herself.

Brooke regarded the girl with quiet pity. There was only one way she could help her, but not without knowing something first. She braced her hands on her hips, looking at her feet as she cleared her throat-- then she looked Sarah straight in the eyes, a bit disconcertingly. ”What’s happening to you?”

”I wish I knew…” Sarah droned, sourly. ”I haven’t had a chance to really look at it. I have medical training, you know? I’m a nurse… and if I had my stuff--” she emphasized, raising her voice. Brooke glanced back in the corner of the room at Sarah’s duffle bag, draped half-way in a colorful palette made by the light beaming through the stained glass window high above.

”We already took the weapons out, just in case…” Brooke admitted, walking towards it slowly. ”I suppose there isn’t anything in there you shouldn’t have. I can’t uncuff you though,” she finished, her voice remaining firm. ”The key isn’t here...” She must have felt Sarah’s eyes rolling in the dark. ”Not my choice,” she added. Brooke crouched down, carefully grabbing the straps of the bag and beginning to drag it over to where Sarah was shackled. Her movements were graceful, even in her current state. There was some kind of unexplainable easiness to her movements, almost like she knew what she was going to do before she did it. A very calculated grace. It was the first thing Sarah had noticed about her.

”All I need’s my supplies and I can do it myself. I can do it properly… please--” Sarah peeled her tattered shirt away from her clavicle-- still sticky with bloody residue. It was looking worse every hour now. She grimaced as she leaned back, shaking her head. ”Who can I thank for the hackjob on my shoulder?”

”That was me,” Brooke replied, firmly-- her voice lilting just barely. She let the bag slump to the ground and blew her red locks away from her eyes, wondering if there was any use in saying anything else. Decided, she turned to leave. ”And you’re welcome… I guess.”

Sarah slouched deeper against the brick wall, heaving a deep sigh.

So much for appealing to her senses...


# # #



Brooke closed the door from the other side and leaned her arm and forehead against the wood. Her energy was fading by the second. It didn’t help that she was one of the very few competent ones left behind with the balls to do something about their situation. Somehow it always ended up falling on her to square things up. The pregnancy sure did come with some perks… certainly greater leverage, if anything. She looked over her shoulder at the sound of overlapping hushed whispers and saw Ari and Ezrael engaged in a very intense conversation over by the stairs to the cellar. Charlie licked at his chops on one of the benches near Sarah’s door, his ears perked up from the moment Brooke set foot outside the door. They thought it best to keep the two separated until they knew what Sarah’s true condition was.

Brooke used the backsides of the pews to steady herself as she walked towards the lot of them. Harry had joined the group from the other side of the door, closing it behind him as he rose his hands in front of him trying to settle the two neurotic bickering men.

”Gentleman, please--” he begged, trying to quiet them.

”What the hell are you two on about now?” Brooke bellowed, exasperated by just about…. well, everything.

Ari ruffled his jacket, trying to straighten it out-- his chest puffed out like some aggro’d rooster. ”This Saint over here thought it wise to let in a couple of strays.” he spat out, verbally accosting Harry.

”They’re just kids…” Harry reasoned, looking to Brooke. Surely she could understand that. ”And besides, they were here before us… with the Preacher. Before us. Before the girl…” He gestured behind all of them at the door, and Sarah.

Ezrael ran his hands through his hair. ”When they find out it was her that did it--” He shook his head at the possibility. ”How are we going to explain this?”

”Easy,” Brooke replied. ”We don’t. We don’t know what happened. We weren’t there. She’s the only one left who knows the whole story. Her and the dog…”


# # #



.: Fort Fallback :.

"Amoeba Music & Records"



’Mobile in ten minutes, everyone. Ten minutes. Scout teams meet in the garage in five to be delegated into your teams and briefed on your tasks. Everybody else… you know what your jobs are. Quinn out.’

His booming voice squawked out of all of the surrounding intercoms simultaneously, resounding throughout the massive floor of the record store.. Various Capitols bustled about on their tasks, many of them hauling crates of equipment towards the garage to help setup the vehicles. Others simply loitered around, but the tension in the air was palpable. They had all spent so much time trying to push the outside world away and keep things as normal as possible… but that was surely a lie. The truth was-- everyone and everything was in danger. No matter where you were. The ones lost out in the city had it worse, but they all had it bad. Niobe rubbed at her temples as she leaned against the hood of the bus-- it had been a long three days, considering everything they had been through. There had been countless hours of planning and coordination-- spearheaded by various camps in conjunction with Silas, Harper, Stevie, and others who had stepped up to help. She was beginning to get a sense of who really had a voice in a place like this. There were way more Capitols than she had originally alotted upon her first visit to the tower. For a moment, she wondered how many they had lost.

And how many they would find…

Niobe had managed to go wherever she was needed. Most of it involved working with Patrick and Eli and some of the others to rig up the buses and retrofit them to suit the purposes of their trip. The main bus had basically been converted into a mobile command center-- someplace Silas could direct the rescue from as well as a mutual fallback point for all parties. They reinforced the metal siding with aluminum plates, barred the windows-- setup with escape hatches on the top and floor of the bus. Built a table centerpiece with a map of the surrounding areas for his team to coordinate from. It actually felt nice to hold some familiar tools in her hands, she had thought. She couldn’t even remember the last time she got to use a welder. A second bus had also been procured in the days prior, to accomodate the amount of people should the best case scenario play out and everyone be rescued. At least then they’d be able to shuttle people back as needed. It was a pretty airtight plan-- the best they could hope for given the circumstances. Who knew what they'd find out there?

She suddenly realized then and there that she hadn't spent much time thinking about the departed-- aside from George on occasion. Sure, it was possible they managed to escape the walker herd-- perhaps back in the tunnels somewhere? Jessica knew the layout pretty well, and she had Rafiq with her to help look after the others. There were just so many of those things... it was a miracle anyone got out alive at all. Everything had just escalated so quickly.

Niobe noticed a black scuff mark on the hood of the bus and rubbed at it with the butt of her hand in a wide circular motion. The smear dissipated after a few passes and she quick wiped the residue off on her pant leg.

”I wouldn’t bother,” a strained voice called out from around the side of the bus. Patrick came struggling into view, lugging a large plastic crate towards the back. ”It’s just going to get dirty again…”

Niobe blinked slowly. ”Need a hand with that?” she offered, dryly. She had more muscle on the kid by a mile. He did look surprisingly spry though, considering.

Patrick scoffed. ”I can carry a crate,” he chided, using his knee to help prop the box up as he adjusted his grip on it.

”What’s in there?”

”Uhh--” his eyes shot down to the crate, nervously. ”It’s-- it’s just gear. Equipment and stuff for the lead bus. We’re trying to prepare for every situation, you know?”

Niobe shrugged. ”Whatever you say…” A pair of Capitols wandered between them with a larger crate of their own towards the rear of the bus, nodding as they passed. Niobe saw them heave it into the a pair of waiting hands inside the back of the spare bus. Niobe turned back to Patrick, drumming her fingers on the yellow exterior of the vehicle. ”What’s this I hear about you not coming with us?”

Patrick’s eyes bulged a bit. Clearly that news wasn’t supposed to be in the public domain yet, but Niobe was persistent and Carl had a very, very weak constitution. He set the crate down at his feet, carefully-- and stood straight, shoving his hands into his pockets as he wandered closer. ”Yeah, about that--” he swallowed, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. ”Silas asked me and a few others to look into something for him. We’re going to uhh-- go with you guys and take off from the same point.”

Niobe furrowed her brow. What was with the sudden audible? The plan had changed enough over the last few days. What they needed was a firm plan. Unwavering. ”So there’s three teams now?”

Patrick nodded. ”Seems so…”

”Is it really smart for us to all split up again? That’s what started this in the first place...”

”Believe me, if you knew what I knew--”

She crossed her arms suddenly. ”And when will I know what you know?”

Patrick looked around, hurriedly moving in closer in an effort to try to keep her from talking any louder. ”Look-- things are tense around here, OK. I wish I could tell you everything, but there’s a lot at stake. That’s as much as I can tell you… I’m sorry…”

Niobe squared up, pointing a finger in his chest. ”Whatever it was you were trying to tell me earlier, it sounds like you guys are gearing up to go to war. And I’m not convinced that’s something we want to throw ourselves in front of.”

”We just want to go home…” Patrick sighed, wearily. ”None of this has anything to do with us… it’s all bigger than that. We’re just the pawns. All we can do is just keep moving forward until we can’t anymore.”

Niobe toyed with one of her molars with the tip of her tongue. ”Or until you get your ass captured.”

Patrick hung his head, scratching it lackadaisically. He turned back around, crouching to hoist the crate back up and moving to pass around Niobe. Maybe she had been a bit too hard on him. She already had a difficult enough time warming up to any of the other Capitols without purposefully alienating anyone. Patrick and Eli had been two of the only ones who had made an effort to reach out and include her in things. Maybe she owed them more than that.

”So in this analogy,” she called out over her shoulder, turning to face him. ”Shouldn’t we be going for the King?”

Patrick halted in his tracks and knowingly met her gaze. She understood more than he believed.


# # #



"What the hell are you doing?" James coughed out, a half-spent cigar dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

Carl looked up from his seat on the bus, his hands clasped around his satellite phone. Other Capitols hustled about around the bus, loading the side holds with cargo, weapons and gear. A handful of people worked under the hood in the front while the driver responded to commands, testing the shift stick and other components of the vehicle. These people were covering their bases, checking everything, taking all of the precautionary measures they could...

So why did he feel like he was going to throw up?

"I'm, uhh--" he swallowed a heavy gulp-- to maybe help the room stop spinning. Nope. Next idea?

"What's wrong with you? Why are ya just sittin' on yer ass in here?"

Carl closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples. "Can you just please? Can you not... He sighed, burying his face in his palms. "I just-- we were out there... we saw what it was like. How could any of them have survived that...?"

"We did," James grumbled. He dabbed the cigar on the leather of one of the seats, ashing onto the floor. "We've all survived worse things. What else is there to be scared of?"

"That's just who I am!" Carl rasped, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm that guy! The fucking guy in all those platoon war movies who's hiding behind all the real soldier son his radio while they're actually putting their lives in danger and fighting on the front! I'm not a rescue guy... I don't go do rescues. I mean look at what we're up against!"

James grimaced. "We've got buses. They don't. You wanna be on the side with the buses... trust me." He clapped Carl a little too hard on the shoulder, spilling a little bit of ash from his cigar onto his sweatshirt. He walked past him, climbing out the back door of the bus. Carl brushed his shirt clean and turned towards the old man. "Hey, man-- why the church?"

"Cause I heard bells a ringin'..." James crooned.

"Are you fucking stoned?" Carl berated. "Why are you so calm about all of this?"

James flashed a smile of pearly whites. "Cause this is the world now, kid. Buck up." He took one long soothing drag of his cigar and gritted his teeth as he exhaled a thick curling cloud of white smoke. "Now get out here and make yourself useful." He turned, wandering off in a wispy hazy trail.

Carl could only shake his head, exhausted by it all. He scooped up his phone as he stood up from his seat and shuffled out the front down the few steps towards the pavement. He plopped down hard onto his feet causing his glasses to slide down his nose which he quickly remedied with his index finger.

"Easy there, Cowboy..." Jack's catty voice drawled from next to the folded door. Carl felt his heavy hand pat him hard against the back. What was with all the hitting anyways? "You alright?"

Carl shrugged, rolling his eyes. "I'm great..." he droned, sourly.

Jack squinted his eyes. "Well, listen-- I just wanted to say, before we left-- I know you and James are going on your little secret mission thing or whatever, but I wanted to ask if you'd keep an eye out for our friend, Calvin. He's out there too... we don't really know where..."

"Calvin...?"

"Yeah, that movie star guy... Calvin Hawke. We were with him before all this and... well, things got dicey. But he took a bullet for me... and I owe it to him to find him."

Carl's eyes nearly burst out his head as he suddenly had an epiphany. C-Calvin! Hawke?! You mean Sarah's brother?"

Jack scrunched his forehead. "How do you know his sister?" Then his tone changed as his brow furrowed even further. "How do you know his sister...?"

Carl waved his hands in front of him. "No, no-- it's nothing like that. I mean, I suppose I would... she's pretty hot-- but, ew! No, I'd never-- Jeez... oh man, when she finds out he's alive, she's gonna freak!"

"We have to find them. Both of them. Pass it on to James when you see him," Jack insisted, clasping his hand on Carl's shoulder. He looked him straight in the eyes. "We're gonna find them..."

"FIVE MINUTES!! OUT IN FIVE!! Grab the last of your things, say your goodbyes-- this is it, ladies and gentleman! Meet on the floor in FIVE!!!" Silas' bombastic voice echoed out across the garage-- no longer with the same gravelly tin as from the loudspeakers, but rather in person-- as his large frame came bumbling past in haste. The last flurry of activity commenced as everyone made their last rites and prepared for sendoff. Carl, in all the chaos of the moment looked across the sea of faces for anyone he knew and saw no one-- suddenly feeling very alone...

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Season 1

Season 1 by Captain Calamity

"The End Begins"

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"One Day"

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Season 3 by Captain Calamity

"The Fall"

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Character Portrait: Calvin Hawke
Character Portrait: Harper Hopkins
Character Portrait: Sarah Hawke (NPC)
Character Portrait: Nathan McDonald (NPC)
Character Portrait: Thomas Blackthorne
Character Portrait: Stephanie "Stevie" Darden
Character Portrait: Lillian "Lily" Strong (NPC)
Character Portrait: James Marshall (NPC)
Character Portrait: Jack Cavanagh (NPC)
Character Portrait: Wayne Williams (NPC)
Character Portrait: Rafiq Chedidi
Character Portrait: Steve Hilpin (NPC)
Character Portrait: Tara Schantz (NPC)
Character Portrait: Jessica Abbott (NPC)
Character Portrait: Niobe Kajja
Character Portrait: Carl Dupree (NPC)
Character Portrait: George Remington (NPC)
Character Portrait: Everett T. Bronson (NPC)

Newest

Character Portrait: Eli Sharp (NPC)
Eli Sharp (NPC)

Ending the world in style.

Character Portrait: Patrick Dunn (NPC)
Patrick Dunn (NPC)

A man aiming to please.

Character Portrait: Boondock Brannigan (NPC)
Boondock Brannigan (NPC)

Trying to find purpose in a world without.

Character Portrait: Ari Dinkowitz (NPC)
Ari Dinkowitz (NPC)

His tongue is almost as sharp as the knife he'll stab you in the back with.

Character Portrait: Harold St. James (NPC)
Harold St. James (NPC)

A man with a message to deliver.

Character Portrait: Brooke Callaway (NPC)
Brooke Callaway (NPC)

Trying to paint the big picture.

Character Portrait: Kire Barrow
Kire Barrow

A diligent college student who is crippled by her own fears.

Character Portrait: Seth Tanner
Seth Tanner

A young paramedic, out to survive by any means necessary.

Character Portrait: Gustav Schmidt (NPC)
Gustav Schmidt (NPC)

A fugitive trying to secure a future.

Character Portrait: Ashley Valentino (NPC)
Ashley Valentino (NPC)

The bitch with the badge.

Trending

Character Portrait: George Remington (NPC)
George Remington (NPC)

An airline pilot flying by the seat of his pants.

Character Portrait: Niobe Kajja
Niobe Kajja

One tough girl in one rough world.

Character Portrait: Oliver O'Brien (NPC)
Oliver O'Brien (NPC)

A prison guard playing all the angles.

Character Portrait: Jack Cavanagh (NPC)
Jack Cavanagh (NPC)

A drug dealer unleashed.

Character Portrait: Stephanie "Stevie" Darden
Stephanie "Stevie" Darden

A quirky geek who isn't sure where she fits in.

Character Portrait: Boondock Brannigan (NPC)
Boondock Brannigan (NPC)

Trying to find purpose in a world without.

Character Portrait: Jessica Abbott (NPC)
Jessica Abbott (NPC)

A childless mother near the edge.

Character Portrait: Rafiq Chedidi
Rafiq Chedidi

A Lebanese deli employee who also plays chess.

Character Portrait: Seth Tanner
Seth Tanner

A young paramedic, out to survive by any means necessary.

Character Portrait: Kire Barrow
Kire Barrow

A diligent college student who is crippled by her own fears.

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Evan Valencourt
Evan Valencourt

A self-help motivational guru, trying to stay positive in the wake of the dead.

Character Portrait: Ashley Valentino (NPC)
Ashley Valentino (NPC)

The bitch with the badge.

Character Portrait: Oliver O'Brien (NPC)
Oliver O'Brien (NPC)

A prison guard playing all the angles.

Character Portrait: Harper Hopkins
Harper Hopkins

A TV reporter who won't tolerate lies, but hides her own weaknesses.

Character Portrait: Lillian "Lily" Strong (NPC)
Lillian "Lily" Strong (NPC)

A little lost girl in a lonely world.

Character Portrait: Eva Clarkson
Eva Clarkson

A junior Naval Officer thrust into command of the worlds's most advanced submarine.

Character Portrait: Althea Brown
Althea Brown

A tough-as-nails survivor with no time for pity. (NPC)

Character Portrait: Everett T. Bronson (NPC)
Everett T. Bronson (NPC)

The King of New Hollywood.

Character Portrait: Jack Cavanagh (NPC)
Jack Cavanagh (NPC)

A drug dealer unleashed.

Character Portrait: Bethany Whitfield
Bethany Whitfield

A spa owner with no shame.


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