0
followers
follow

Rowan "Boston" Alder

The road out is never the road home when you've seen what I have.

0 · 232 views · located in America

a character in “Touch”, as played by Riareous

Description

Image
Image

Image
Image
Image
Image
Image

Full Name:
Rowan "Boston" Alder
Nickname(s):
Boston
Age:
28
Gender:
Male
From:
Outside
Role:
Ex-military, scavenger, duster
~
Personality:
The military never could quash Bostons sarcastic, apathetic nature though despite that Boston still conformed to orders. There is a lot of lost social etiquette in Bostons head should he ever find civilization again, though he's not sure he'd utilize all of it... in fact Beethoven would probably be introduced first.
Bostons not the shy or quite type, in fact if he wasn't wielding a massive buzz-axe you'd think him quite normal and plain albeit not quite mentally matured, though this was wars fault, Bostons own coping mechanism. First impressions would be deceiving, Bostons a lot more realistic and level than he appears or talks. He accepts fights, not provokes them. Not quite the "tag along" person Boston has a mission in his mind and he intends to see it done.

Likes:
His buzz-axe affectionately known as "Beethoven"
Pre 1940 music
Clean wipes
Dares
His pillow
Cereal
Cans
Dislikes:
Questions
Fire arms
Plans
Settling
Silence
Electronics
Rain
Strengths:
Physical contact really swings for Boston.
Survival in a haphazard fashion
Due to all Bostons injuries he has become quite adept at applying field wounds.

Weaknesses:
Boston was never a crack shot when forced to use a gun, not that he will touch now there's no one to make him.
Pretty much useless with technology

History:
Life for Rowan stopped way before the "Touch" but so as not to get ahead of oneself; the beginning. There wasn't anything wrong with Rowan's birth or his family for that matter. He was the second child out of four, all boys bar the youngest. Rowan didn't excel at high school though many of his friend did. Age the age of 17 he began applying to the local law enforcement but no job transpired and at the age of 20 he signed up to army.
Military training suited Rowan ill, the only area Rowan could claim any promise to was boxing in which he soon became known. The regiment was shipped out on routine when he was 23, to the dismantling British Isles. Within the first week he had lost his entire regiment to the Essex Defense league, one of many British terror squads seizing counties. There was no reason Rowan had survived where his comrades hadn't, it was luck. He hadn't been the best shooter, the greatest survivalist or the most level headed; he had just been lucky.
Fortunately Governmental freedom forces found Rowan (a long with remnants of other US regiments). It was during this time Rowan lost his name among the freedom forces to Boston, his home town. Old music was the FF's long standing moral booster and what started off grating became Bostons "flavour" in his words. A few things learnt aboard were: always keep your pillow in a plastic case, clean wipes aren't washes but "on the go" it's a must, settling equates to discovery and usually followed by death, Aluminium cans have so many many uses. Boston excelled at unconventional hand to hand combat, crafting his own buzz axe that was known as Beethoven by all the lads in the FF.
Boston fought with the freedom forces years past the US governments decision to stop sending reinforcements, until the world experienced the "Touch," then it no longer mattered... Boston has only just made it back to the American shores; he had heard at least one of his relations made it into "The Dome" the US built in reaction to the "Touch".

~

Family:
Brenda Alder - Mother
Farrol Alder - Father
Jerry Alder - Eldest brother
Cosmo Alder - Youngest brother
Eliza Alder - Little Sister

Theme Song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLnL63cXmD8

Other:
It's not really understood how Boston is still Boston, after all he prefers hand to hand combat and that would be a death sentence if he chose to spar with the wrong person.

Sample Post:
Bright orange and yellow flickers poured across Bostons awakening eyes. The sound of dusty friction echoed down a long passage and he felt his body ground into the dirt path. The reverberating sound of men speaking alerted him, especially the frequency of the word "meat". The blurred boots in front of Boston were bound with a plastic tie and as he anchored his head back he noticed that his arms were hooked to a motorized cart. His arms were chafing from combination of coarse rope and his entire weight; blood had been trickling down from his wrists and dropped infrequently to the soil his lower half was then scrapped over. In front of the cart were five men. Most had makeshift clubs but the head man had a rifle shouldered and had glanced back in time to catch Boston's eye line.
"He's awake," The rifled man turned barking to the others, "Tech, deal with it." The man closest to Boston nodded at the order.
"Do you want me to break his nose a second time, Nat?" Tech asked moving closer to Boston. Boston hadn't even noticed that his nose was jaunting out in the vision of his right eye more than his left, or that dried blood - his dried blood - was saturating his navy shirt.
"No first names! Are you a complete moron?" The rifled man sprayed, "Gun is the name I set, use it!" Gun aka Nat, turned his head away adjusting the strap his gun rested with. Tech moved towards Boston, his eyes completely concealed behind emerald goggles and mouth hidden by a dust coated scarf. He was carrying a what resembled a guitar neck but attached to the end were five sharp blades.
"Night time again buddy, don't expect to awake again," Tech muttered apathetically whilst raising the blunt end of his instrument. Boston smiled uneasily and hopped his legs beneath himself pushing up. The force pushed Boston onto the cart unceremoniously where he unhooked his hands still bound, and leaped from the cart double kicking Tech in chest. Tech flailed awkwardly to the floor and upon impact with the ground was left unconscious. The four ahead jolted-to when they heard the cart thud and witnessed in time Tech's fall. Boston rolled up sitting and grabbed the guitar neck rubbing a blade across the plastic tie. The tie snapped in time for the first of the four men to run around the cart, he was holding a jagged metal pipe and arched it up.
"Oh you're dead man," the man shouted and launched his pipe and self at Boston. Lifting Tech's weapon the pipes destination was altered to just right of Bostons head, though heat dribbled down his cheek. The fighter's smile faded when Boston kicked out his knees in return, bringing the assailant down and embedding the five pronged death instrument into the man's head.
"If I'm dead, you must be alive," Boston quipped sarcastically and then glanced around to find two men now surrounded him and Nat at the front held his rifle square at him.

So begins...

Rowan "Boston" Alder's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker

0.00 INK

Image

"Ratta tatata tatata!" came a hoarse voice over the speaker, causing everyone in the old department store to sit up from their sleeping positions. It was another one of those Loonies. Insane people broke into the store's "Employee's Only" department so often, their voices over the speaker systems were not much of a surprise anymore. "I killlll youuuuuu in your sssssleeeeeep!" the voice continued, sounding more drunk and idiotic than an insane man. Fear suddenly hit Charlie like a wave hit's a surfer on a wipe-out. Had the man over the speaker been infected and went around and touched them in their sleep? Charlie gnawed on his lip and searched his suit for any signs of having been moved in his sleep. He looked fine, so he just prayed that his looks were not deceiving.

Silence came from the speakers and everything appeared to go back to normal. Everyone who had been taking refuge in the store went back to sleep, but Charlie was fully awake now. He pulled back the sleeve of his suit to reveal a watch, with a large crack down the face of the clock. Besides a cracked screen, it still worked. The time was about 5:30 A.M. It was early, but after the lunatic on the speaker, he didn't really feel in the mood to drift back into sleep. Sleep was vulnerable and he tried to be awake as long as he could.

Standing up, he quietly found his way out the broken sliding doors into the cold of the morning. The sky was beginning to lighten a bit from the dark of night, and angry looking clouds were rolling in. It looked as if Mother Nature was about to reign down on them in full fury. Outside of the store, far off in the parking lot, was the gas station that looked as if it had been torn apart by a hurricane. It was surprising all the damage panic could do.

Charlie continued walking, his destination a shoe store across the street. His shoes were broken, the soles hanging on by threads, acting more like flip flops than sneakers. When in an apocalypse, you need good shoes. When he reached the road, which used to be extremely busy because it came right off a highway, he hopped onto the chipped pavement and began walking across, the shoe store in sight. But, suddenly, a honking noise came from his right and he turned to see some idiots driving a bus, charging right at him. He screamed and leaped out of the way, only a few seconds shy from getting smashed. He came down on the pavement hard, scratching up his arms, tearing a hole in his suit.

"Where the heck did you get a bus?!" he shouted angrily after them, unheard by the drivers. He stood up and hurried to the parking lot of the shoe store. He didn't see anyone in the store, so he approached with a little less caution. He opened the door, a horrible stench hitting him. Then he noticed dead bodies lying everywhere. Yep, this was not going to be fun.

Image


Torex walked through the streets, wearing a grey hoodie and jeans with a pair of sneakers. He looked like any other young human guy, although he wasn't. He was a humanoid robot, created as a soldier. But he was broken, now just a broken toy of the government's.

The Dome was the same temperature it had been the day before, and the day before, and so on. 70 degrees Fahrenheit, a comfortable temperature. It was sunny, the fake sky had beautiful white, puffy clouds adorning the bright blue. It was a perfectly constructed, artificial day. Humans seemed happy, riding their bikes down streets, flying cars whizzing around the city. Women walked out of hair and nail salons, immediately finding people to show. Men headed to sports games. It was amazing that they had already formed sports teams in such little time since the Dome had been created.

Torex was not like these people. He was hiding in the dome, for he was supposed to be destroyed. Luckily, for him, he had been created to look human. He was real looking, human looking, and if he covered up where his skin panels had been torn off, he would look like any twenty year old guy, despite the fact he was younger than that. He could blend in, so no one would report a rouge robot. It wasn't like the government would put out a notice that he was missing. People would panic- and this was something the government didn't want.

A man bumped into Torex, bringing him back to reality. "So sorry," he apologized to the man, who had a really strange looking haircut and a very long nose. It was the human's fault, but Torex was programmed to be polite. He wasn't about to say "Watch where you're going!", which happened to be the man's exact response. Silly Humans...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image

[...continuing from sample]

There wasn't time for perfection, though haphazard was Bostons flavour to heavy situations, he reacted to his surrounded position. Hands still bound he loosed Tech's instrument to floor; what appeared defeat actually diverted the bandits attention enough for Boston to smack his fists into one man's skull and yank him in front of his own body in time for Nat, (or Gun as he attempted to claim) to fire a round into Bostons new meat shield.

"You shot Biscuit!" Cried the assailant in angered shock towards Nat. Boston exploited the man's confusion chucking the injured bandit onto him and lifting up Techs instrument again.
There was twang suddenly as the weapon was wrenched from Bostons grasp, Nat had fired again and time disappeared as Boston ducked behind the cart narrowly missing a spray of bullets. "Grrr, I'm having you!" Nat fired furiously but there was a click. There was another click. "Darn it!" Nat smacked at his rifle, which appeared to be jammed.

"Only give promises you know you can keep!" Retorted Boston, who had since used the metal jagged pipe from the second bandit to release the blood stained ropes that had been coveting his wrists and in that moment lifted himself up to fully launch the bludgeon at Nat. There was yet another click, this time of the barrel kicking out a defective bullet. Nat's eyes met Bostons milliseconds before the pipe penetrated Nat's mouth, leaving him draining out, toothless and pretty much without a good portion of lips; the rifle fired off the last couple of rounds on the floor by Nat's twitching fingers.

The squashed bandit, still trapped beneath Biscuit came to in time for his own weapon, a long sickle, to be driven into his head. That just left Tech to deal with. "Argh!" Boston suddenly fell sharply to a knee, only then realizing the gash above his hip. He sat back against the cart, and stared at his wound deciding against applying a blood soaked, sweat drenched cloth. There was no "good" solider, Boston knew that. It was luck pure and simple, every time. This time he'd just not been as lucky and he'd have to pay for that. Bostons eyes anchored and the flickering lights above began to dim. Now the adrenaline was leaving Boston wounds encumbered him, passing out.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


Sore light soaked through into Bostons eyes as they licked open. "Argh!" Boston yelped, startled as a crude liquid was poured over his stomach; the liquid logically contained alcohol but it could easily have been paint stripper. "Wasn't the plan NOT to wake me again?" Boston complained as he clutched his wound, realizing Tech was tending to him.

"Now now, lets not jump the gun," Tech jittered, "I'm not really a fighter, you may have noticed. I need you now as much as you need me." The goggled man unveiled bright white cloth from his persons and attempted to wrap it around Boston.

"I'm not you're boyfriend, I can dress my wounds myself," Boston exclaimed flicking Tech's fidgety fingers away. "I won't be easy to eat on my feet, so if you're trying to save me for later I'd think of something else." muttered Boston after lashing the cloth quite rough around his waist. "And which unfortunate did you eat and "acquire" this off?" indicating to his new dress wound which was now quite firmly in place. Tech ignored the stab at him instead chose to sit next to dead Biscuit. "Are you...?" Boston began as Tech lowered his scarf and bit into Biscuits arm. He had to admire the "waste not" attitude instilled in the cannibal but that was where the admiration started and stopped.

Reaching out to the left, Boston grabbed the bottle Tech had used previously to disinfect his side tear with and poured a gentle stream over each wrist. The liquid stung and left a burning sensation behind; looking at the bottle Boston saw that it actually was paint stripper. Tech had meanwhile had his fill of Biscuit and was proceeding to cut up parts and package them in a pack he'd taken from the cart. Ignoring Tech, Boston gingerly lifted himself against the cart and saw that his jacket and Beethoven were there. It was time to move on Boston thought.

"You're not in a mountain," Tech absently spoke as he'd finished ravaging the four other bandits. "No, we're beneath some town... catacombs, that's what they call them," Tech was rambling more than trying to inform. Boston vaguely recollected reaching a wooden paneled house but his head still pulsed from the altercation earlier. He figured these tunnels must adjoin a good few houses.

"Well if you're done looting, parts and otherwise, we'll part ways." Boston said jolting as he snapped his nose back into place. A life for a life seemed fair.

"You can't...That is, please don't leave me," Tech pleaded, "I was in a bad place with those guys but I can be better." Tech lifted his glasses up revealing a blue and a green eye. "I'm useful too, they don't call me Tech for grins, it's not a funny name" Tech babbled nervously working up a case for himself. It was a disgusting thing, to see a man fall so low; cannibalism was something Boston hadn't advocated but he knew a lot risked it in the pandemic as food was short, he couldn't however stand a guy falling to pieces like that.

"Look, understand I'm not your babysitter," Boston began already regretting the compassion he was bestowing on Tech, "You try killing anyone who isn't killing us - you and I will have problems.. Yes your bandit friends are fine to eat." Boston shook his head, why was this a good idea? Clearly it wasn't but there'd been enough death today already.
Both men continued past the cart and along the catacomb, Beethoven strapped to Bostons back. Boston began humming Louis Armstong's "You Rascal You" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jM9Q4LNVdk) as they walked, descending past the flickering orange and yellow gas lights into darkness.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker

0.00 INK

Image

Charlie took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the horrid stench of death as he walked through the store. Obviously someone with the Touch had been hiding out in here and had infected the others in the store. Charlie had no idea if you could touch a body who had died of the virus and come out alive, but he made sure he tried to avoid them.

As he walked to the men's section, he looked for a size nine. For such a small boy, he had very large feet that didn't seem to fit in with the rest of his body. He usually couldn't find clothes small enough to fit him and couldn't find shoes big enough. But, to his luck, they had a pair of Evergreen colored sneakers with white soles. He slipped off his broken shoes and shove them on, trotting around in them. They fit and were comfortable enough, so he just dropped his old shoes and headed back to the front.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his leg, which was thankfully covered by his suit. He screamed and kicked, nailing what he had assumed was a dead body in the head. The body, which turned out to be very much alive, let out a horrible scream, his iron grip not loosening on Charlie's leg. "Get off me!" Charlie cried, fear lacing every word. He had just had a near death experience with a bus- he didn't need this!

The body was lying in the aisle, Charlie straight across from the door. So, Charlie shoved the display shelf holding all the shoes, knocking it over onto the man, who's grip loosened once he was crushed. Charlie felt horrible, but was quickly distracted when a voice called to him.

"Get away from me! And whatever you do, don't touch me!"

Charlie looked up. It was a girl, who was standing by the door. His eyes widened. Charlie didn't even get to speak before the girl freaked out. "Seriously, get away from me!" she continued, only to back out the door, almost bumping into another woman who was watching the scene. She quickly continued freaking out, ordering the woman to also keep her distance as she hurried away.

"I'm not a over reactor, but I'd appreciate it if you would stay away from me too, okay, mate?" the other woman continued. Charlie nodded.

"I was planning on keeping my distance," he reassured her. She continued whatever she had come to do, noticing a notebook that had been lying on the ground. He decided it was time to go. "Careful, some of these buggers are alive," he said, nodding back at the shelf he had tipped. And, with that, he headed for the door. Once out, he began walking to the department store, this time looking both ways before crossing the road. But, before he could step onto the cracked pavement for a second time, a familiar hoarse voice called out to him.

"Can you spare a dollar?" it asked. Charlie turned around, seeing the same man who had given him the rabbit's foot he wore around his neck. Charlie ran over to him.

"You!" he cried, and the man smiled. Charlie tried to sound angry, but he was much more curious than that.

"Go to the catacombs, Charlie," the man said, barely audible this time, seeming much older than the last time they had met, right before the outbreak.

"What catacombs? And how do you know my-"

"You don't understand, boy. I'm saving you. Go to the catacombs. It's just a few miles from here. Take the old interstate and get off when you reach the second exit," he whispered. Charlie turned to look at the interstate, which went up into the air, held up by nothing. He figured it had once been stable, but now he wondered it it could even hold the weight of him, who barely reached a hundred pounds.

"You're a Loonie, aren't you," he groaned, turning back to where the man had been sitting, but he was now gone. "So what, you're Batman now?" He had never actually seen a "Batman" movie, for they were almost ancient, but he knew plenty about the legend and how he had a habit of disappearing in the middle of conversations.

Charlie wanted to ignore the man, go back to the department grocery store. But, for some reason, he wanted to know what the man had meant. So, even though he was terrified, completely unsure, he headed the direction of the old highway.

[OOC: Sorry it's so long! Charlie had a lot to say today. :) Btw, the old man was from my sample post if you were confused.]

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image

Charlie stood at the bottom of the highway, staring at it, terrified it might collapse at any moment. Charlie had made a run to the grocery store before he had left. He wasn't that stupid to leave unprepared. He mainly had been in the camping section, getting a very nice back-pack, a rope, shoe-laces, a water bottle, medicine, a bag of cheesy popcorn, an Exact-O-Knife (made for cutting cardboard, not stabbing), and most importantly a flashlight.

Charlie made sure the helmet to his suit was screwed on tightly before he gingerly tapped his foot onto the highway. It didn't make a sound or a move, so he pressed his weight down. Still nothing, so he slowly stepped onto it fully, and when he was sure it seemed safe, he began to slowly walk up the road.

About 45 minutes passed by until he reached his problem. There was a section of the highway that had broken off, leaving about a five foot gap between this part of the highway and the next. Charlie bit his lip. "I think I can jump," he reassured himself, backing up. He took off with a running start and leaped across, slamming into the next part of the highway, causing the elevated road to shake just a bit. "Holy crap," he whispered, terrified. But, the bridge-like highway quickly stilled, sending him carefully on his way.

An hour or so later, Charlie saw a sign saying the exit was just up ahead, the second one he had seen that day. He quickly crossed over into the exiting lane and walked down the ramp that curved down onto a road. The road stretched out past his line of sight, along it a few fast food places, restaurants, and gas stations, but mainly houses. It seemed like a ghost town- no one was there. Charlie stopped and crossed his arms. It wasn't like he had expected a big sign reading "CATACOMBS HERE, CHARLIE!", but a the old Loonie could have been more specific. Grumpily, he began making his way down the street, for he had come too far to turn back, plus the fact he was terrified of the highway.

Charlie wasn't very far down the road when he noticed a house that looked like it had just recently been broken into, for the lights were on in one of the rooms. Charlie got a horrible feeling that this was his "CATACOMBS HERE, CHARLIE!" sign. He bit his lip, conflicted. He could go in, listen to the man who was possibly insane, or run back to the grocery store. He hated to even think it was possible, but what if the guy was sane and he really was trying to save Charlie?

"Darn it, Charlie," he cursed himself as he headed onto the porch of the house. Very quietly, he grabbed the handle of the door, which he found was unlocked, and turned it, giving the door a gentle nudge that made a squeaking sound. He bit his lip. If anyone was in the house, Charlie was pretty much dead. But, no one attacked him, so he curiously looked around. It looked like whoever had robbed the house wasn't after supplies, because when he searched the kitchen pantries were full of food. But, Charlie was, so he stuffed a bag of cookies, some almonds, and some honey into his bag. He pulled out a fork and a butterknife from the drawer for self defense, but he still rather had the Exact-O-Knife for a weapon than those, so he put them back. Then, a bright idea hit him as he quietly tiptoed upstairs into the master bedroom. He searched the room, desperately, but his searched turned up empty. There were no guns in the house and he was almost sure of it. Why would there be? The family living here would have taken it, if not the looters.

Before Charlie went downstairs, he nabbed some deodorant, shampoo, and body wash from the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to take a shower, so if he found some way to relieve himself of stench, he would willingly.

Hurrying back downstairs, his search for some sort of catacombs a failure, he was about to leave. He was walking down the hallway to the door, when he tripped on a loose floor board. On further observation, the board was downright out of place, overlapping another. He wedged his fingers under the loose board and pulled, a small hole in the floor revealed to him. It was pitch black, so Charlie pulled out his new flashlight and shone it down into the dark, revealing it was about a six foot drop. He gulped. The catacombs were real. He had been praying they weren't, but here they were. Charlie remembered the tales of catacombs in the ancient city Paris, skulls hung everywhere like they were decorations. They were practically homes for the dead. And if any child believes in monsters in their closets and under their beds, this would have been their worst nightmare.

"You're an idiot," he told himself, about two seconds before he leaped down into the hole, crashing into the darkness.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image



The catacombs had been twisting and branching in many directions; visible light had ended a fair while back. "Do you even know where we're going? I'm sure this isn't the way back," Boston questioned reaching out with his left arm to tunnels wall. (THAT doesn't feel like a wall...)

"I call that one tasty," Tech said jovially as Boston withdrew his hand from wall.

"It's a skeleton, isn't it?" Boston dryly replied. Tech nodded, unphased. Boston could see Tech was far more interested in the divergence ahead. Tech's mind was busy contemplating which road led where and Boston could see he had an idea of where he wanted to go, he was just struggling. "You know this safe spot can wait, I hardly doubt we'll run into anyone down here, understand?" Boston reasoned slowing his pace but Tech shook his head.

"No it's not far, I'm pretty sure," Tech assured, disappearing left.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


The catacombs were almost completely silent, the only noises being drips of water and the almost silent squishes of Charlie's wet shoes. The catacombs were a bit wet, Charlie guessing it had finally decided to rain above.

Charlie's flashlight did it's best to illuminate the path in front of him, but Charlie wasn't sure he even wanted to see it. Bones and skulls decorated the tunnels like it was Christmas. Some of the bones were full skeletons, expressions of horror on their decayed faces. Some of the skeletons even still had some skin on them, obviously having been dead for not too long. After his experience in the shoe stores, he almost expected one to reach out and grab him. This is why his Exact-O-Knife was so tightly gripped in his left hand, his flashlight in his right.

All of a sudden, a noise came from down the tunnel. Charlie stopped in his tracks, going completely silent. He quickly realized they were voices. He quickly shut off his flashlight and shuffled into a corner, his whole body beginning to shake in terror. The voices seemed to get louder. They were coming towards him.

"It's a skeleton, isn't it?" he heard, his heart almost skipping a beat. The voice continued. "You know this safe spot can wait, I hardly doubt we'll run into anyone down here, understand?" He wished that was true.

A voice replied, but Charlie wasn't paying attention anymore. He was racking his brain, trying to imagine what to do. He figured he would wait until they passed, hoping they didn't have a flashlight to spot him with, and he would continue the other way once they had gone by. Charlie figured it was the best plan, but he couldn't control his shaky hands, making the batteries in the flashlight shake, causing a very subtle chattering noise. He needed to put it in his pack, for if he was heard who knew how many times over he would be dead. He, slowly began to stuff his flashlight in a side pocket in the bag, but his grip loosened and the flashlight slipped from his hand.

Thump.

Charlie closed his eyes. Darn it, he thought.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image

[[OCC: Use the posts on Rowan as a compainion to this post]]
My ribs stung. Is this what it feels like to be run over? What happ- ah dinner was playing hard to get. I looked around and the sight probably should've surprised me or atleast stirred some kind of emotion. My stomach rumbled. He didn't come out too far worse, I noted seeing what was supposed to be my next meal bleeding in a pile.

It didn't take much time to realise what I was going to do and easily started to grab stuff off the bodies not completely aware of the process. It seemed to jostle dinner when I poured the contents of the tin on him. "Wasn't the plan NOT to wake me again?", he complained, clutching his wound.

That was, I briefly thought, but now it wasn't "Now now, lets not jump the gun," I stumbled, "I'm not really a fighter, you may have noticed. I need you now as much as you need me". Shaking again, still so strange. I unwrapped a cloth that I was wearing and attempted to wrap it around dinner.

"I'm not you're boyfriend, I can dress my wounds myself," he exclaimed flicking my fingers away. "I won't be easy to eat on my feet, so if you're trying to save me for later I'd think of something else", he muttered, after lashing the cloth roughly around his waist. "And which unfortunate did you eat and "acquire" this off?", indicating to his new dress wound which was now quite firmly in place.

I wasn't really listening to the suvivor. one job done, next and more importantly. Hello my chubby friend. "Are you...?", the suvivor began as I sat next to biscuit and lowering my scarf and biting into Biscuits arm. Be the shame of armies to let you waste. Blood trickled down my cheeks. Think I'll keep you, 'buddy'. My hands gingerly portioning my once comrade into edible sizes for later.

Finshing unburdening the rest of the deceased crew I absently started towards the survivor, "You're not in mountain. No, we're beneath some town... catacombs, that's what they call them". I think we can make it to her. I paused

"Well if you're done looting, parts and otherwise, we'll part ways", the suvivor stated.

He's planning to leave me! This may take some work. "You can't...That is, please don't leave me", I pleaded, "I was in a bad place with those guys but I can be better." I lifted my green glasses up revealing a blue and a green eye. "I'm useful too, they don't call me Tech for grins, it's not a funny name", I explained as I involentarily shook, Twitching, think that it's my body responding because I don't feel like panicking.

"Look, understand I'm not your babysitter," The suvivor began already agreeing, "You try killing anyone who isn't killing us - you and I will have problems.. Yes your bandit friends are fine to eat." he shook his head. We continued past the cart and along the catacomb, that strange saw strapped to Bostons? he talked alot back, and he began to hum a bizzare song as we walked, descending past the flickering orange and yellow gas lights into darkness.



The catacombs had been twisting and branching in many directions; visible light had ended a fair while back but I knew where we where, I won't forget again. "Do you even know where we're going? I'm sure this isn't the way back," Boston questioned reaching out with his left arm to tunnels wall.

"I call that one tasty," I said jovially as Boston withdrew his hand from wall. It's nice to see friends getting along.

"It's a skeleton, isn't it?" Boston dryly replied. I nodded, unphased. We had reach the fork, Left is a good option, Right almost equally so, it depends but I really think its time to do that. I ramble even in my head sometimes. "You know this safe spot can wait, I hardly doubt we'll run into anyone down here, understand?" Boston was mumbling to himself again and slowing his pace. Can't get good help these days.

"No it's not far, I'm pretty sure," Tech assured, disappearing left. The lair had more salt, I'll need more.



Turning the corner I stopped. This isn't the way I reassessed my thoughts but came up empty, what had gone wrong? Insted of being on track for the lair, ahead was that beauty of a buggy, abanonded and in disrepair. Strange. Still this would've been my second choice. I had been saving pieces up for a while now and jerked up to Johnny, the skeleton wearing a pack. Thanks for the a-ssist. Huh, Boston was gone. A frown almost crossed my face but I continued onto the dirlect buggy, dragging Johnny behind leaving a small cloud of dust trailing behind. It's play time. I unzipped the bag dropping much of the supplies on the floor and started working, Johnny was smiling.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


Thump.

Definitely not rats Boston summarized as options raced through his head. I could yell out to Tech but there's no guarantee Tech would hear or side with me, no telling how many of his "pals" remained. Besides... that'd expose my position. Boston pressed to the wall, annoyed with his loosely aligned companion. Slowly Boston raised his hand over his shoulder stirring Beethoven from its sleep.

The problem that plagued Boston was direction, ahead or behind? Tech was liable to be more a hindrance than help, though Boston half mused the idea of using him as bait. To bad he's ghosted on me. Boston lowered himself Beethoven still to hand, the buzz axe hadn't much action of late. With his left hand he felt the floor beneath, stopping when they met a smallish stone. Throwing the stone low towards Tech Boston stepped quietly closer to the source of the disturbance; adrenaline alerting his senses.

Boston stopped. Laboured breathing? The situation wasn't adding up in Bostons mind, and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Bandits don't stalk and when they chance upon strangers, they attack, not withdraw... Boston lowered his weapon, loosening his grip on the wound fabric handle. "Hey! Not foe," Boston cleared raising himself up, "Not a Bandit."

What are you doing!? Boston thought to himself. The soldier in him hated his decision but it resigned, Boston never was a good solider.

Stillness ensued followed by retreating movement. Boston lent back against the the wall. "It's over," he sighed repelling himself from the wall when he realized he'd been leaning against "Tasty" again. Boston shivered and rotated towards the tunnel Tech had disappeared down, "Creepy cannibals, speaking of..." Now where'd Tech g... Boston's mind cut off when felt something sharp against his back. It was too late. His hand clenched around Beethoven's pommel but it was still lowered to his side, it was no use.

It was no use.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


"Hey! Not foe," one called, probably to the others. He felt relief that they had probably figured he wasn't going to attack. "Not a Bandit." Charlie didn't speak, not even knowing what to do. He was to terrified. "Creepy cannibals, speaking of..."

Charlie felt worse. Cannibals? He was in tunnels with cannibals? He could feel his grip on the Exact-O-Knife tighten. He was in catacombs with Loonies who ate other people. That stupid old man, sending him here, promising it would save him. That man really had sent him to his death. He decided he had to act or else he'd be just like the skeletons, left to die, possibly eaten alive. He slowly and silently pulled off his shoes, their squishing noise in the wet of the catacombs too loud. He silently walked through the tunnel, a small figure with his back turned to him catching his eye. This was his time to act, if any. He crept up, and stuck the Exact-O-Knife to the figure's back. He didn't dare touch whoever it was, fearing they could have... it... But what was he planning to do? Hurt him? Charlie knew he didn't have the guts to do that. But, he had tipped over a shelf on a man, crushing him. Maybe he was underestimating himself.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice quivering, obviously sounding scared. "What are you doing down here- are you alone?"

Charlie pushed the knife closer to his back, the tip of it coming as close as it could get to pressing into the man's skin. If it had been lighter, the guy would have noticed the knife was small and puny, not capable of doing any real damage, but in the dark he hoped it was deceiving. Either way, he was probably dead unless he hit him upside the head with his flashlight, which he had left on the ground. Yep... he was in a very sticky situation.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


Gulp.

"Easy," Boston exclaimed, dropping Beethoven and raising his arms, "I'm Boston." There really wasn't a reason why he was down here, except of course to be a meal. "Now lets think about this..." Boston began but he was interrupted by a clash of light and bursting glass; exploiting the momentary confusion Boston leapt forward impulsively rolling sideways after he hit the floor. Boston started laughing.

"A pen knife!" A tear rolled down Bostons cheek, "I was almost diced by a safety knife?!" The stranger looked paralyzed at first but a smirk soon grew across his face and he chuckled. Boston sat smattered in dirt, hunched and smiling. He held himself with an arm wrapped around his stomach, his stunt had caused his wound to reopen in part but he did have more pressing matters.

It looked as though in this part of the tunnel old electrics were in place, though damp had set in and the complete circuit had blown. The pieces of wire left shot out low light infrequently and Boston saw his would-be assassin for the first time. Bold Boston thought, attacking with a bluff. But the true surprise was that the assailant wasn't a man, just a gaunt boy... whose longish brown waves stuck against his face. Boston was surprised to say the least, Was he in a haz-mat suit?

"You deserve to know I'm not alone" Boston confided, "Though he's a passage or so away." Boston didn't know what would happen if Tech was introduced. Tech wasn't the outward aggressor but he did seem the opportunist and that was what plagued Boston. "He's not the "normal" type, just to warn you."

Boston no longer felt in immanent danger, "So tell me about yourself kid, what's your name? And how on earth did you get in these godforsaken tunnels?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


"Easy, I'm Boston. Now lets think about this..."the man said, right before an explosion of light filled the tunnels. Charlie held his arm up, the sudden illumination momentary blinding him. The man rolled away, and Charlie knew he should probably panic, but he was discombobulated. It took until his eyes were adjusted for him to realize the man was facing him now, laughing. Why was he laughing?! Charlie was almost angry, more terrified, but he understood once the man spoke. "A pen knife! I was almost diced by a safety knife?!" He stood, frozen, but finally smirked. Maybe he really should have gone with the fork.

Charlie finally got to look at the man he attacked, and the man seemed to be observing him too. This guy was tall and muscular. Charlie liked it better in the dark when he hadn't seen how small that Charlie was compared to him. He liked it better when he could have been the bigger person.

"You deserve to know I'm not alone, though he's a passage or so away. He's not the 'normal' type, just to warn you." Charlie nodded, although he was still quite afraid. The guy, Boston's, companion was what he assumed was the cannibal. Lovely. "So tell me about yourself, kid, what's your name? And how on earth did you get in these godforsaken tunnels?" Charlie cleared his throat, although he didn't feel quite safe around the man.

"I'm Charlie," he said, not adding anything else, ignoring the man's other question. He didn't feel like talking about the old man who had instructed him to find the catacombs. He realized he still had his knife gripped in his hand. On another occasion, he would have put it back in his pack, but he kept it in his hand. "So how do I know you and your buddy aren't gonna eat me or something like that?" he said, deciding now to let the man know he had heard the part about cannibals.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


The boy responded "I'm Charlie," but left the questions hanging. Defiant eyes locked Bostons, "So how do I know you and your buddy aren't gonna eat me or something like that?" Though the words came out shaky.

"Astute, I have to say," Boston tilted his head, "Not much slips past you." Boston hadn't made any inclination he was about to move and he hadn't even glanced towards Beethoven, who had been abandoned a foot or so from Charlie's feet. "These catacombs are a bandits nest from what I can figure," Boston explained thinking it through, "I was captured... some time recently, but I fought." He looked down at his stomach, the bleeding had slowed. "I wasn't fast enough apparently," Boston breathed.

Don't, not there, that's "tasty". Boston saw the kid lean back against the wall. The kid must have noticed Bostons expression because he turned, saw and shot away stumbling. "The bandits were... are cannibals, I didn't actually mange to kill them all - one survived when I succumbed to my wounds." It was quite a lot to re-tell Boston sat thinking but he did need to make this kid feel at comfortable enough to at least break off his love affair with the toy weapon.

Charlie pulled himself up, sitting a fair distance from Boston and still clasping the flimsy Exact-O-Knife. "Do you always go into a fight with THAT equipped?" Boston questioned sarcastically, "It's better than nothing I'll grant you but you must have stumbled across a variety of different weapons enroute? Ones that could actually DO damage."

"Anyway..." Boston moved on, "This one bandit - who is the cannibal I mentioned when you were ease dropping by the way - chose to aid me instead of exacting his revenge; I can't say why but something tells me this guy cares more about his next meal than camaraderie." Boston let the words sink in. He clicked his neck. "He's called Tech. He'd probably want to eat you, but then he thought I was dinner to begin with too... in fact I'm sure that hasn't changed." There was a lot said there and so Boston gave Charlie a minute to process.

I'll have to credit him on his reluctance to trust, it goes along way when surviving

Boston leant forward and pushed against his knees, propping himself up, "I don't think Tech should be left to his own devises for too long in any case, it's been long enough as it is," Boston resigned but then his eyebrow lifted, "Wanna meet a cannibal?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


The guy had to be what Charlie called a "Loonie". His story was almost believable, but Charlie was still uncomfortable, especially with his last phrase. Plus the fact he had made fun of the Exact-O-Knife. What did he have to fight with, his bare han-

Clink.

Charlie looked town to see his sock covered foot nudge the handle of a giant ax. Oh gosh, how had he not noticed that? He looked up at Boston. "Is this yours?" he asked. He couldn't help but smile. "If you like my weapon so much, how about we trade 'cause your sure looks nice too." No, Charlie wasn't going to take his weapon. He wouldn't know how to use it. But, he picked it up anyway, his body being yanked down at the weight, sending him staggering forward, his socks landing in a puddle and getting soaked. He stuck his knife in the pocket to his suit and positioned it so that it was resting on the ground, but Charlie still had a firm grip on it.

"I'll make you a deal," he said. "Since I don't know you aren't making all of this crap up and aren't going to have my face for an evening snack, I'll keep this until you make sure you and your friend are going to leave me alone." Heck, why was he even agreeing to go with him in the first place. But, Charlie knew he couldn't carry the ax and Boston probably could, considering it was his. Boston could follow him if he tried to leave and kill him. Charlie wasn't sure he was prepared for escape yet. Especially not after he had just got word that the catacombs were infested with cannibals.

"Do we have a deal?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


"I'll make you a deal," he said. "Since I don't know you aren't making all of this crap up and aren't going to have my face for an evening snack, I'll keep this until you make sure you and your friend are going to leave me alone." Charlie stated unused to Beethoven's weight, "Do we have a deal?"

Boston patted his dress wound down fastening it with greater pressure, it stung but he felt more mobile. Boston raised his head at the question, "Ha, I have to say your proposal is more a relief than imposition, be careful though, Beethoven's a fickle creature," Boston indicated to the blade; he sighed circling, Now where was Tech?

Boston made his way haltingly left, and down the passage; it was longer than he anticipated. The wall on his right was caved slightly inwards, and drag marks left a trail. What's that bandit up to? Boston thought, conscious that Charlie was following close behind and liable to see the same signs.

"Just to make things clear, I am not this guys keeper," Boston mentioned, failing to face Charlie who was trailing behind. Boston lowered his head shaking, though still moving. It's truly not been my week Boston reflected, and I need to acquire an iron, this wound cripples me...

A roar could be heard close by, and carbon fumes tainted the air. "That is NOT good kid," Boston remarked, hobbling faster to lighter, nosier opening. Boston froze. The opening was a room full of all sorts mechanical parts and scavengable trinkets; though the word "safe" did not describe the place. The back opened out further into what looked like underground racer tracks.

The worst part, the part that stunned Boston, was the rattling raging buggy, shooting off into the distance. It was clearly Tech. "-------," Boston breathed, just as Charlie appeared; both gazing at the dot being devoured by darkness.

A cool breeze penetrated the chamber; the opening was obviously Tech's doing. A rag fluttered by, greasy and bloodied.

Image
Beethoven

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


Charlie watched as Boston got up. Where was he going? Boston vanished down the tunnel. He gulped. If Charlie had ever had an escape chance, it was now, but he was curious. Dragging the ax, what had been referred to as "Beethoven", he followed the direction and quickly caught up with him. He was staring at the wall, and Charlie quickly realized they were drag marks. He hoped they had been made a long time ago and were just permanent scars to the wall, not the cannibal that they had been lost, but what Boston said next quickly sent that hope running for their money.

"Just to make things clear, I am not this guys keeper," Boston said, turning to face Charlie.

"Then why do you keep him around if you don't agree with... eating people?" Charlie asked, but was drowned out by a roar from deeper in the tunnel. Boston said something, but Charlie wasn't paying attention. Where had that roar came from?

Boston quickly hobbled further out of Charlie's view and he began to drag Beethoven again, but eventually dropped the ax. He hurried to find Boston. Charlie noticed a small dot getting smaller and smaller. Was it some type of flying car? They had those a lot before the Touch.

"How do you get one of... those down here?" he thought aloud, watching until the small dot of light vanished. He looked over at Boston, who looked quite frustrated. Charlie crossed his arms, assuming this was quite a problem. "Just a wild guess, but I assume that was your cannibal, right?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder

0.00 INK

Image


"Just a wild guess," Charlie commented, "...but I assume that was your cannibal, right?"

"That was him alright; I was daft to trust that drifter in the first place." Boston replied dryly moving into the room. On inspection, the room had less than anything helpful though the exit was a plus. "I'm not sure about you, but I'm ready to leave this hell." Boston exclaimed but noticed something by what looked like a makeshift pit; a welder. Tech really was technical after all, huh...

"Hold it a sec, I'm going to need Beethoven." Boston looked to Charlie but his axe wasn't accompanying, it wasn't surprising; the weapon wasn't the easiest companion. Charlie looked back towards the tunnel they'd emerged from, and by that Boston judge it was far behind them. "Grab it I have something to do," Boston requested.

Charlie hesitantly nodded and shuffled off quite bewildered. Meanwhile Boston removed his jacket and laid it out next to the pit. Sitting down on his jacket Boston lifted his navy shirt up and ripped his dress wound away, "Arrgh!" The wound bit at his side, it was sore, red and it looked slightly infected. Trust a bandit to use dirty weapons.

Charlie returned, creating a new trail; Beethoven's. He apprehensively dropped the weapon at Bostons feet but for the first time saw Bostons growing wound. "Grimm..." Charlie squinted, it wasn't every day that person slowly died from slow wounds, especially not infected ones. Boston could tell he was intrigued by what he was about to attempt. He switched the welder on.

A strong white flame emanated from the torch and Boston lifted both welder and weapon in either hand, introducing them. Sparks started to ricochet from the circular saw part of Beethoven, the blade began turning red whilst tiny flares marked Bostons arm. He grunted at the discomfort. When the saw glowed Boston discarded the flame, letting it fall into the pit, I hate this par... Boston clenched his teeth as he pressed the makeshift iron against his stomach and pain incinerated all thought. "ARGH!" Boston screamed dropping the axe to his feet.

It took several minutes and many paced inhalations for Boston to return to his body; the wound now sealed was a swollen circular scar, still raw and not pretty. Bostons eyes scanned to where Charlie had been observing but not even his shadow remained.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder

0.00 INK

Image


Charlie's socks slapped into puddles as he ran, the lights in the tunnels slowly becoming darker. As he ran, he saw his shoes and flashlight sitting in a puddle. He slipped his shoes back on his feet and grabbed his flashlight, turning the power button on. Nothing happened, so he turned it off, hit it a couple times, and tried again. Still nothing. Charlie groaned, but hurried on his way, leaving Boston back in the tunnels. After what the guy had just done to seal his wound, Charlie could outrun him with ease.

Charlie decided he'd get back to the department store and stay there as long as he could. He'd eventually have to move on, he knew that, but when in an apocalypse you never want to think too far ahead. But before he could even start moving, a bunch of sparks shot from circuitry that was keeping the catacombs alight. The light faltered, then everything went dark. "Crap," he muttered.

He fumbled through the dark, banging his flashlight, trying to get it to somehow turn on, but to no luck. He nervously looked around in the dark, but saw nothing. Charlie wasn't about to travel in the complete dark. He'd end up hurting himself and he knew it. So he sat down and rummaged through his bag, hoping the lights would eventually flip back on... or his flashlight would magically get over it's water damage. Either would be great.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder

0.00 INK

Image


"Huh?" Boston snapped to. The boy. Boston turned his head left and right, no sign. The room was dim and Boston's vision blurry. It was difficult for him to stand, flames shot across his stomach as Boston pulled upwards. The swelling had subsided but skin was blotchy and raw.

Boston couldn't blame Charlies reaction, he was 15 and exposed to the harsh atrocities that had befallen the world. He'd recently just cauterized a wound with a saw; something Charlie could have done without experiencing. No... nothing is what is was, none of us are.

Boston's balance frayed and he staggered side ways, Get a grip. With Tech's abandonment he'd lost his seemingly only ride out but the more pressing issue was Charlie; no tracks pointed to the decimated wall, which left... Which leaves...

Echoed footsteps and raised voices grew seemingly closer, "Charlie!" Bandits... Boston never thought Tech's patrol was the only one but no evidence of that had surfaced until now. Boston felt hazy but adrenaline fed his system. He grabbed his jacket leaving behind his ruined shirt.

They must have heard Tech's escape. Boston concluded, heart pulsing as he turned out of the room. It was difficult to guess where the noises were sourced, it seemed every tunnel but none in particular; it confused Boston. The road forked and forked again. "What to do...?" Boston puzzled. There is much Charlie's going to be able to do with a scalpel...

He picked a path and hoped for the best. "Charlie!" Boston yelled, "We got company!" There was no smart way to play this; most of the tunnels lights had flickered on, they'd both be spotted soon. It wasn't until Boston was three or four tunnels and turns away that he realized...


...Beethoven. Which lay forgotten in the room.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder

0.00 INK

Image


Charlie sat crouched in his small corner, sitting in the absolute dark. He wondered if the whole catacombs had gone out or just this one tunnel. But, was he about to get from his protective stance and go looking? Not a chance. Suddenly a shout came from far away in the tunnel. Terror swept over Charlie as he quickly zipped up his bag and clutched his Exact-O-Knife. Relax, it's just Boston, he thought to himself. He wondered how angry the guy was at him. Charlie was probably his only hope at finding a way out, even if he didn't know that Charlie knew the way out. At full force, Charlie knew that Boston could probably pound him into the ground, but since he wasn't at full health he felt much safer.

Suddenly, from the opposite direction of Boston's voice, came a noise. "Just the catacombs," Charlie whispered to himself, barely audible. And he almost believed that, until he heard a shout from Boston, who seemed to be getting farther away, not closer. He probably had gone down a different tunnel. But, Charlie quickly realized what he was saying, although it was quite difficult to make out.

"We got company!"

Charlie felt all of his senses go numb. The cannibals! He thought he recalled Boston saying he had killed most of them! He jerked up when he realized the noises were seeming to get closer to him. Yep, the noises weren't the catacombs at all. In the pitch black, Charlie wouldn't be able to defend himself very well. He pulled out his flashlight and flipped it on, but no light emerged from the bulb. Turning it off and trying again, he almost begged for the light to allow some illumination, even if it was hardly any at all, but his hopes were crushed once again. Turning it off again, he began to beat it as hard as he could, relentlessly, even hitting against the skull covered walls. "You blasted piece of junk!" he shrieked, his thick British accent just making it sound like gibberish, his words completely lost. He flipped the switch on one last time, a dim yet glorious light streaming out of it, just to reveal an angry face right before it leaped on Charlie, knocking him to the ground.

Charlie let out an anguished cry as he was pinned to the ground, still gripping his flashlight, but his Exact-O-Knife skidding out of his reach. With one look at the man on top of him, Charlie realized these were in fact not cannibals. Well, they could be, but they were not the bandits Boston had warned him about.

The man on top of Charlie had tan skin, much too tan for it to be a bandit who dwelled in underground catacombs. The man's curly black hair had been pulled out, leaving a bunch of bloody bald patches on his head. He was missing four of his front teeth, giving him a hideous smile that he showed to Charlie. These were not bandits at all- they were Loonies, the same Loonies who lurked the streets for people to murder and tried to find ways to break into The Dome. And they were going to slaughter Charlie, here in the dark, wet, underground catacomb tunnel.

The Loonie slammed a rock onto Charlie's chest, knocking the wind out of him. He raised it up to strike again, but Charlie whacked him in the head with his flashlight, knocking him off so he could scramble and grab his Exact-O-Knife. As the man charged again, he stabbed him in the hand, the man letting out a horrible scream and stumbling back into the dark of the tunnel. Charlie guessed it was over, but an arm wrapped around his neck and squeezed. Charlie let out a gag before stabbing the Loonie, a woman, in the arm. She shrieked, but didn't let go, so Charlie kept stabbing until she finally released him, letting him breathe. But, she bent his arm back and suddenly Charlie felt her teeth sink into his arm, right where he had tore open his suit and his skin was showing. He howled, kicking behind him and nailing her in the stomach, enough to make her stumble back, taking a bit of Charlie's skin with her. The world went dizzy, but the Loonies didn't attack again. They were gone.

Charlie crawled back to his bag and rummaged through it, until he found the water and body wash. He dumped pretty much all of the body wash on his arm, then all of his water bottle, scrubbing it as well as he could. In agony, he allowed himself to drop his flashlight and toy knife, which was now covered in blood. He checked his watch. It was 4:26 in the afternoon. He was going to die at the same time tomorrow. Why? The woman had bit him... He had been touched.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: October Sinnet Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


Before the girl had a chance to answer, all the lights suddenly snapped off in The Dome, leaving everyone in the dark. The roar that had once been busy streets went silent. Everyone was confused. Luckily, back up generators kicked on, street lamps giving the dark a small bit of illumination.

"What's going on?" people cried. Sobs echoed through the streets. Everyone knew something horrible was happening. Torex looked around. He knew this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Do not panic," a woman's voice over a loudspeaker system that was wired into The Dome said. "Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic." She repeated it over and over on some kind of endless loop. What was this?

Suddenly a bang came from above everyone. The Dome had to be broken, because they could see a person on top of it, banging on the glass with their fist. They had many attacks before, but why was this one doing so much damage? A scream came as his answer, from far away in The Dome but his robotic hearing senses could make it out.

"They're getting in!"

The "Do not panic" loop stopped. People began to wonder if it was over. They began to exhale again, feeling safe.

"Panic. Panic. Panic." The loop restarted, but differently, sending people screaming and running. The people on the outside were getting IN.

Torex looked down at the girl once again. "So, do you know where the Robot Preservation and Defense Center is?" he asked once again, hardly sounding panicked. He was a robot. It felt like the apocalypse, but he wasn't in danger of dying. He wasn't afraid for himself in the least bit.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder

0.00 INK

Image


Time unwound fast and it was not long before Boston had lost complete bearings on the routes he'd trodden earlier. Several bodies had laid ripped into a passage or so back, they were bandits, just not anymore. It was clear they and the bandits weren't the only ones in the tunnels now. Why am I still thinking "us"... Boston berated; with Tech AWOL and Charlie... well he knew an exit. I'm sorry kid... If there was any hope in hell... Boston had to admit he was lost.

The lighting in the tunnels had dropped out again but not before Boston had looted the bandits. There wasn't a great deal in all honesty to loot, the biscuits were open and weren't worth the risk, the bottle had its seal broken and a knife that lay beside had blood covering it from tip to hilt. The gem find was an unopened can of sprite, which was a relic even before the outbreak. His only other finds were a rusted zippo and a trowel sharpened to a jagged point. Boston could in theory defend himself now, though if he was as clumsy with the infected as he was with the bandits he knew he wouldn't be walking away again.

The dancing glow of the zippo etched out each passage faintly, though Boston no longer stepped with pace. The catacombs were quiet once again... Soldiering on was what Boston did, but with the past however long and the damage his body had sustained he needed rest. I dare not, weary is one thing but this place is treacherous and I doubt it'd permit sleep.

Before long walking became shuffling, Boston was dragging one foot in front of the other at a weighted time, bracing himself against the passages wall as he went. The zippo had long since heated and scolded Bostons right thumb, he now flickered it only at the beginning of each passage.

"What?!" Boston couldn't believe it, "No..." He breathed aghast and slumped down. He held the lighter up again, flipping the top and rolling the trigger. He squinted at first as light erupted outwards but it soon became clear, at the end of the passage, a couple of bodies lay; the bandits he'd previously scavenged from.

Tilting his head back Boston rested against the wall, moments passed. If there was a vent or entrance nearby Boston would have sworn wind just howled past. No wind means... He lifted his hand from the dusty soil and felt along his belt. Clutching the trowels handle he jostled it out and turned his body outstretching and anchoring the deep into the wall. Move or die. Boston's muscles strained as he pulled his body up, breathing heavily. Waves of en-flamed electric coursed along his stomach, tensing his left side. Fighting the negative concoction possessing him he staggered up against the wall; he glimpsed florescent eyes glowing in the dark, "Darn," he breathed out, but not a second later his view was pulled away.

Face first in dirt, Boston refrained from spitting out instead choosing to roll onto his back. No eyes, no movement, no seething wails. Allowing breath after a long pause caused Boston to splutter, he spat and wiped dirt from his mouth. Move. It wasn't an alcove Boston was surprised to find but a hidden passage and he threw himself down it.

Stairs!

It was too unbelievable, Boston dropped against it. "ooooooooooorrnnnnnnnnn........" The wind penetrated every fiber Boston had. There's no wind down here. He craned his neck towards the entrance and sure enough the illuminated eyes had found him.

"I'd get those checked out, if I were you," Boston incited, "Though you'd make a fortune in the glow stick industry." He push off the step, trowel to hand. "Promise me those eyes if this falls ill, I'd scare the nuts of a squirrel," Boston jabbed his foot out kicking the creature back. It stumbled backwards, arms lashing about savagely. Drool could be seen foaming from its decayed mouth and it pushed off against the floor towards Boston in a fever.

Too exposed. Boston had too much experience facing the infected but he was unprepared, ill-equipped, fatigued and wounded... He threw the trowel, knowing if it got close it'd be too late. The assailant kept advancing failing to even notice the gardening tool, now embedded in her chest cavity.

"Shoot." Boston sighed, sitting back against the spiraling metal steps. And I didn't even get to taste that sprite...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


[[OCC: Catching up from where I left off]]

I wiped the blood from my jaw with a kitchen towel and stuffed it into the pocket of a balding man slumped over the table. "Nice talking with you Jack", I grinned, turning my eyes away from his lifeless posterior and to the female, her blood still pooling on the tables surface. I grabbed her arm and waved it in circles, "No! Please! I have children.. eat them first", I mocked with a smile, letting it coldly splash into the collecting pool. So kind to offer me their hospitality.

I left the table having finished my meal It's only good manners, and proceeded to follow the smears of blood decorating the hallway. I caught a glimpse of Johnny, still riding shotgun, glaring in jealousy And you said they would be no fun. The stairs remembered my visit, squelching involuntarily and creaked with distaste; the landing told a similar story, but I ignored its loathing. I found the children asleep where I had "tucked them in"; a "split" style room, blue and boyish one side, neon pink the other. Hate to split a family up Bringing a cleaver down onto the boy's leg, I began to refill my depleted supplies.

I was almost done when the front door erupted, a wild voice rang out for the family and quickly realised the deteriorating state. "Oh my goodness", the stranger gasped accompanied by what sounded like a gun cocking. Last time I trust Johnny with lookout.

I had devoured the family with little effort; starved of company, they let me in without even noticing the wreck of a person I was travelling with. I'm sure Johnny wouldn't have received the same level of hospitality anyway. Still, it seems the reason they survived that long has returned. An idea crossed my mind, but the odds seemed to be against me I suppose the family need someone to cheer them up, best leave him to them.

I relocated to the previous bedroom overlooking the stairs leaving the barely identifiable brother and sister in pieces Don't worry, part of you will always be with me, the flesh wept. The man clumsily climbed the stairs and seemed to lose his voice when he reached the children's bedroom hearing an audible thud. I slipped out and down the stairs smoothly Catch you next time.

Turning the engine on, I began to reverse out; a madness stared straight at me from one of the windows That's right I was grinning but that faded as the gun shots painted the buggy with holes. "Are you crazy?!", I screamed, I had just fixed this beautiful beast up! Another shot and I came to my senses, making my escape.




[[OCC: A bit later on]]

I felt bad for Johnny, he wasn't looking so good. The bullet holes made him look upset, "Next time don't be a hero", I lectured, he never listened but he seemed to almost pout. The sun was high, highlighting my blood stained my clothing, it was hard to tell it had come from different people, harder to see still was mine slowly darkening one of the sleeves. The bullet had gone straight through and the wound was already starting to heal, but I felt drowsy.

I noticed a mansion up ahead, it seemed good enough for a kip. I got out and disabled the security system on the gate. Steering up the winding driveway I parked past cars and round the side near what looked like the kitchen Let's see what's cooking. I was just about done with the electronic lock when I heard the front doors go and the sound of two women giddily talking to each other. I stopped to peer round the corner as they got into one of the cars and drove rapidly away. Johnny was laughing at me "We're done", I coldly state, pinning Johnny against the wall, "You are dead weight and terrible friend". I push Johnny away from me unable to bear his company, I hear a "crack", but enter the mansion without sparing him a thought.

I made my way through the elaborate rooms paying them little attention and was about to head upstairs when I heard a low moan. I paced the stairs to find no door but the moan turned to familiar mumbling. I pressed my face up against the panels and a cold draft caressed my face. Someone's hiding I wasn't in the mood for food but I couldn't rest while there was people around. My arm sent me dizzying signals; I'm gonna need a hand for this I shook my head and headed for the buggy.

The boards came free with little encouragement, Johnny's arm beginning in fray from the strain It's nice he could lend me a hand, even though we're not on speaking terms. The skeletal arm finally splintered as I levered the concealed trap door out of its decades of dust Think he’ll forgive me?. A cast iron spiral staircase posed for me as I scratched my back with Johnny’s arm, the sharp edge slicing me Ow, guess he doesn’t. The mutterings continued, and continued also to elude my memory so I proceeded down, eager to jog it.

I’m not the hero type so my presence is mixed luck, but I suppose on this occasion any luck is better than none. The spoilt was leaning over Boston and I was about to watch him suffer the slow death, however I didn’t stop. I’m not one to engage death, survival is a strong instinct but before I knew what I was doing the bone I was holding flew out of my hand and into the wounded creature. As it fell back a few steps gurgling at the bone sticking out of its neck, I grabbed Boston and began hauling him up the staircase.

I piled the boards over the trap door, barring it firmly in place. It wasn’t an easy climb but the spoilt seemed to have trouble climbing due to its various wounds. “Not you”, Boston smirked painfully.

“Yeah, well. See… I was in the neighbourhood… and I’m in the market for a new driving buddy”, I explained as Boston passed out.

I managed to get him into one of the bedrooms upstairs and I almost collapsed on the notebook covered floor next to him, myself feeling weak now the adrenaline was wearing off. I curled around noticing the sun wasn’t bringing warmth to the compensating mansion and that little hairs on my blood caked arms were starting to raise. I set about gathering the papers from the floor and was delighted to find a compartment just lying open, revealing a store of notebooks, it was as if the mansion wanted me to be warm; and I lit the papers.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: William Walker Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image


The passage blurred a tinge and the figure neared, arms outstretching."What ever happened to courting?" Boston sighed his mind employing some grand rescue scene where the occupants above save his life in the eleventh hour. I'm starting to hear my delusions now. The ceiling above exploded; beams lit up and Boston shielded himself, lifting his arms in front of his eyes.

The monster relented its pursuit, it had - Is that hand? - something sticking out of her neck. Boston's arm was tugged at, he was helped up the stairs. It can't be... "Not... you..." Boston smirked, looking at the human meat machine Tech, manning the rescue. Tech's words faded incoherently as Boston passed out, exhausted.

.

A tight gasp brought Boston to, spluttering. His eyes were watering in clouds of dark ash and breathing was near impossible. It was night out but the house was alight. The whole place is going up Boston realized, Curtains pirouetted to ash, desks crumbled, bookshelves and their contents incinerated. Rolling down and out Boston crawled; a wooden beam fell, breaking the bed he previously occupied.

At the stairs Boston sat momentarily, spying a book as its cover and pages curled to the whims of the heat and many more already mistress to the flames. The downstairs was as damned as the the floors above. This is beyond hell's control.

A smell of melting flesh rancified the air. Well I didn't save myself... Boston exclaimed to himself and honed into the sickly burning fumes. A leg stuck out of the room Boston had previously just crawled out of, crisping intensely. How could I have missed that?, he thought and flung his jacket over the leg. Pulling the unconscious cannibal down stairs, Boston made it to the door. He is going to have one killer headache when he awakes, Boston mused... "That's twice you've almost killed me for no reason!"

The handle was hot and the rooms were filling up with black smoke, Boston booted down door and it unhinged, already half-melted. Lifting Tech up Boston escaped, not a moment after the house spat out waves of fire and glass, breaking in on itself as the fire consumed it all.

Boston sat down after laying Tech out. It seems only his leg was burnt but it was quite bad there wasn't much Boston could do. I'm going to regret this, Boston closed his eyes removing his sprite. The can hissed and popped as he punctured the top and the contents fizzed up attempting a breakout. Boston poured it on Tech's wound, stopping momentarily to have sip before emptying the rest on Tech. Tech twitched. "I hope you aren't dreaming of leg right now... that'd be seriously messed up," Boston mocked and a smile grew on Tech's injured face. "You can be real creepy at times, Halloween creepy..." Boston exhaled coughing a little, and lying back on the grass to enjoy the bonfire.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder Character Portrait: Tech

0.00 INK

Image

The new order had come in. Glued to my worktop I started assembling it, modifying it, piece by piece. There was a strange satisfaction as the tools and components I required all found themselves to be within my reach, it’s like it was meant to be. My finished work lay under a tarp as celebrating suits entered, though it felt as if I’d only just started. “You’ve done it this time”, the finest dressed of them all announced “This model will render all others obsolete”. It’s unique.

We stepped through the workshop entrance where they had come from, still in high moods, directly into a restaurant. This was an extremely fancy place, tactful floating lights with spacious booths; we climbed onto our beds gingerly and the others seemed to dissolve away. My order arrived on an automated silver platter and I drew the seductive smell towards me, laying down I lifted the dish to reveal my own leg.

I snapped awake, my dreams fleeing from my head. For a moment I was lost, I didn’t remember how I got here. Boston, fire. I sat up and upon doing so realised the pain Ahhhhhhhhh. I was screaming in my head and I’m sure I was twitching to match. “Easy there easy bake”, a calm voice pandered “Who taught you how to play with fire anyway?”.

It took a few minutes for my breathing to slowly draw closer its regular rhythm, and Boston continued to use his words to no effect, the pain wasn’t lessening but I was getting used to it. I didn’t remember falling asleep, though I had similarly fallen asleep working on other projects before. I stared at my leg, it didn’t look like mine anymore I wonder what it tastes like. The clothing had been completely destroyed just past the knee and the revealed skin looked deep red and crispy, I wasn’t about to attempt getting up. My foot in comparison looked promising, the thick boots I was wearing seemed to have protected at least that much, though the area where it joined the clothing looked challenging.

Seeing as I was in no hurry to move I relaxed a bit, my eyes eventually reaching the mansion. Well I mean the rubble. What used to be an enormous and stately building was now left a piled of charred beams, ankle high brickwork and glowing embers; the warmth was actually quite cosy. I scanned around for my buggy, my mind already preparing for the worst, when I encountered the empty space. Well to say it was empty was a misdirection, it had plenty of burning ashes there, but nothing reminiscing the salvaged beauty.

“Did you move it”, I questioned Boston, still staring at the vacant space.

I felt his eyes on me, “Huh? You? Of course, your welcome”, he proclaimed boldly.

“My buggy”, I replied dryly, motioning towards where it used to be with an arm wincing at the stab of pain from both my leg and shoulder I’d forgotten about you too.

“No idea, nothing there when I carried you out”, I replied. He continued talking but I wasn’t listening again.

The absence of my ride gave me purpose and I lifted myself up, much to the protests of Boston... and to my own roaring regret, but I was standing. Bending my knee had delivered a new degree of pain and yet my resolve didn’t budge. I was a survivor, I needed supplies. I think Boston was helping me, I couldn’t really tell through the pain, but I hobbled towards the gate; away from the empty parking spaces.

It took a great deal of time, trying not to use my handicapped leg and keeping it straight. The pain wasn’t subsiding and I was beginning to struggle under the stress of moving. I’m sure Boston was still talking but I couldn’t hear him over my own thoughts, he probably wanted to give me a break but I couldn’t stop. We reached the overbearing gate and made our way out and to the nearest vehicle. Not the latest model but the Travillion Alpha X4 could move… I limped to the vehicle reaching for its front, the side glowed a slight blue and slid away leaving me to tinker shortly if its restrictor is removed; I tossed it on the ground .

The rear door dissolved away as I climbed in and I painfully manoeuvred in, resting on the seats as it folded back into a more mattress like shape. “Let’s get out of here”, I told Boston, though I wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“I think you won’t be going anywhere”, a tortured voice shrieked as I heard him cock his gun. I tilted my head back to see the crazy guy from that wonderfully hospitable home the other day. I kinda deserve this I grinned.

cron