Welcome to Hell

[arcticgal]

Nora wiped her hands on her dress, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

" I see." she said. " How did he get out? We have guards stationed everywhere."

[Chris Wesley]

Chris led Nora upstairs to the room, showing her the knife - now broken - stuck in the floor. The window was still open, the curtain still swaying slightly in the chilly breeze. Small ash particles floated in, and settled on the bed.

It was a two story drop onto a bed of concrete and ash, a fall that few men would survive with both legs intact. It didn't seem possible that he got out this way, and Chris wouldn't have believed it himself were it not for the footprints in the ash below.

The bright glow of the Searchlight could be seen as the search party moved off into the night.

[danielwoodfield]

Clarke scurried over to the wall of the compound. He stabbed a small knife into a gap in the brickwork, then hauled himself over, using the knife as a footrest. Lying flat on the fall of the compound, Clarke reached down, finding that the knife was just out of reach. Clarke cursed to himself, his hand only centimetres away from the hilt. Clarke streached out, his fingers just curling around the twined handle, and he gave it a tug.

"That was a big mistake" Clarke thought, a split second before his lost his balance. Clarke fell head first, and promptly smacked his head into the ash covered ground. The coppery taste of blood tingled through his mouth, and Clarke stood up, dazed and confused - and somehow unharmed. That was until the spotlight shone directly into his face.

Even with both hands over his eyes, Clarke could not escape the burning power of the spotlight. His sensitive eyes stung, and his head began to throb. Clarke slowly lay down, covering his head with his hands, trying to remove the agony of it all.

[sheizus]

Gerald sat motionless on the hard, wooden bed provided for him. Even in the darkness he was most comfortable in, he couldn't rest. Things were expected of him.
His long hair let down from its usual ponytail, Gerald noted the state of his garb. The baggy long sleeves of his shirt had been cut severely, and it was only by skill and a certain degree of luck that his arms caught a worse fate, he decided. Upon casual inspection it would be thought that Gerald's forearms contained a massive amount of muscle, but the holes throughout his sleeves dispelled that idea quickly enough, revealing knives strapped there, for easy access, matching the two in his black combat boots, and the sword on the hip opposite his only firearm.
Knives were always handy.

He knew the people here didn't trust him. Hell, the people here didn't trust any of them, and he knew they were justified in that. More often than not a visitor around any sort of inhabited establishment meant trouble these days, and he would deem the occupants of this New World insane if they seemed any more trusting than they already had been. Bad enough as it was, though they must have some precautions in place he didn't know about. Still, them being so trusting had sped Ninja's band's temporary acceptance into this place, and whatever happened, Gerald was thankful for the opportunity to use a bed again.

It must be time already. Gerald knew his comrade well enough to know that the Ninja would be off on his excursion tonight, and by now.

Gerald pulled his shirt off and lay down on the hard bed. Placing his right hand across the hilt of his sword, he closed his eyes and waited for whatever would come first - morning, or developments that would warrant his involvement.

A one-sided gamble, to be sure.

[Chris Wesley]

The Ninja stood before Chris, stripped of his weapons, wearing a Blindfold that he had requested as soon as he was captured. It seemed that the pale man standing before him was unable to handle bright lights.

Chris had heard of men like him. When the incident happened, several people retreated to underground bunkers to escape, and ended up living in Darkness when they were holed in and their power ran out. Over time they became used to it, and lived naturally in the darkness for many years.

While the Cavern Dwellers were living in darkness, the Survivors in each region banded together at critical areas of each town, usually Supermarkets and other supply depots. Over time, the outposts were built up, and networks formed in the larger towns. New World was the main outpost in it's region, with several other colonies dotted around it, each with it's own leader. Christopher was the head of the region, the other colony leaders turned to him when things turned bad.

Things didn't turn bad too often, usually they lived reasonably peacefully. The occasional Renegade gang, minor threats, but never anything too serious. The colonies usually existed quite well, and just continued with life as best they could.

Chris had never seen a Dweller in real life before, they never had to come above ground for any reason. They were the ones talked about in hushed voices, the ones that the parents told their children about to keep them in line. They were almost people of myth, and yet, here was one standing in front of him.

"So, tell me. What is your real name? And what brings you above ground? You are a Dweller, are you not?"

This was the thing that scared Chris the most. Why was he above ground? It would have to be something very important to send a trained asassin into broad daylight.

[sheizus]

Gerald dropped from the window in the same fashion as his leader had, though his feet crunched more loudly on the broken concrete and ever-present ash on the ground. Still, it was not so loud that it would make a difference. Glancing around the darkness (for he was gifted with the night vision of his leader, he cursed his lack of foresight. He had relaxed for too long, and was still accustomed to the dirt surfaces in the caves where they had resupplied. He would not be so quick to make so much noise again.

Gerald slowly drew a knife from each of his boots, their black steel reflecting none of sparse moonlight that had the audacity to challenge the cloud. The sword and pistol stayed on his hips - direct confrontation with his hosts at this stage would not be the wisest course of action, but he was prepared nonetheless.


The light partolling the area from the New World drew over a number of men. The Ninja had been outnumbered and outgunned on his late night stroll in the darkness (as he would explain it, of course), and one of the most subtle diversions Gerald had thought plausible was effortlessly achieved.
Gerald disappeared like a wind into the night.

[danielwoodfield]

"My name, is none of your concern. My buisness is none of your concern, however, it is you who has been a concern of my buisness." Clarke awaited the acompanied bewildered silence.
'Stupid commoners' Clarke thought. 'Should keep them stumped for a few minutes'

Clarke continued: "The man 'Frost' was a contact of mine. He had left something for me. But as it seams, one of your trained monkeys here has taken it on himself to take potshots at anything that he sees move in the dark. This was a mistake. The man 'Frost' had something for me, something that shall not fall into the wrong hands. I thought you would be the cure of my problem when I came here, but as I have heard from your man on the roof, you were in fact the cause."

"I would have killed you myself, however such a high profile killing may have arroused a bit of suspicion. Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement, perhaps I can consider your co-operation as part of your punishment?"

[sheizus]

His master had been intercepted, and judging by the fact that he was still standing the shot that had convinced Gerald to exit the building in the first place had been aimed elsewhere. And judging by the fact that there was only one shot fired, it had hit the mark. The men here were obviously not ones to waste bullets shooting at shadows. Well, not just any shadows.
Gerald checked his sprint. At this distance the noise of his pace would carry further than the sight of him, though the sun about to break over the horizon looked set to change that.

Where were they?

Gerald scanned around. They should have been here long ago. Waiting for him. Out of sight, but ready to emerge at the sight of one of the Ninja's crew. They wouldn't sleep, he knew. Something must have happened to the party, and the very idea that what they were carrying could have fallen into the wrong hands could not be good news in any way.
The sun lurched above the horizon, and dared blast through the clouded sky. The black and greys of the night transformed under the sun to the reds and oranges of the morning, and Gerald had to shield his eyes from the sudden glare. Since before The Incident the sun had seemed to be getting harsher by the day. However, the light served its purpose. Not twenty metres away lay a cloaked figure, his black dress seeming to reflect no light whatsoever, in stark contrast to the ground around him.

One figure. Only one.

What had happened? The situation must be desperate for only one to be sent. Gerald made his way towards the man, only to stop dead when he caught sight of the man in finer detail. The blue hair was first. It was Frost. The Ninja must have known, of course, but this was news to Gerald. Whatever was being transported must be important indeed to send a legend of the likes of Frost this far away from the major establishments to the south to this "main outpost in it's region" shithole.

Then he saw that bulletwound. This would require some attention, and he wasn't fully equipped to deal with it. He would need to get him back to the New World.

[captainankh]

Frost glared through blood-stained eyes at the figure before him. Delirious, he coughed, and murmored "The red-coats are coming...".
Hope left him. They wouldn't find what he was delivering, nobody would. He was the best (second-best, then) hide-and-seek player of all time. They wouldn't find it and he knew. But it wouldn't stop them looking.

Frost dropped into a deep coma.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 09, 2004 02:55 PM: Message edited by: Tiberius Frost. ]</font>

[arcticgal]

Nora walked back down to the front of the New World, where many of the senior members of Hell were gathered.

" What has happened? Has he strengthened the guard?"

One of the older men shook his head. " No. He says that there is no need for it. He hasn't even checked to make sure that the others are still in their rooms. If you ask me, that Christopher never should have been made our leader. He's still almost a child. "

Nora cursed under her breath. If one had managed to escape, and wanted to escape, it was fairly logical to assume that the others would do the same.

" Send someone to check on the others, please." she told the man. " And none of that talk, either. That's dissention, and detrimental to the health of our community. "

The man nodded and left. He returned a few minutes later, a little breathless. " Th' other one's gone, too, Nora. Same way- out the window."

Nora walked through the corridoors until she reached the control room where Chris would be.

"My name, is none of your concern. My buisness is none of your concern, however, it is you who has been a concern of my buisness."

Nora listened to the stranger speak, heard him drowning in his own cleverness.

"Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement, perhaps I can consider your co-operation as part of your punishment?"

She stepped forward.
" Our punishment? You mean to turn the blame to us? It would be laughable, stranger, if you weren't so serious. Do you honestly think that we can come to consider the defence of our community a crime? Any stranger around these parts deserves to be shot at if they do not declare themselves. How else are we supposed to keep our nights safe from the undisciplined hordes?" She continued in a softer tone.
" If you want our aid, ask us for it. If you would like an alliance among equals, come to the negotiation table and and ask for it, as an equal. There is no alliance between two on unequal footing, only domination by the stronger.
" I do not understand your words well, stranger. They twist and they turn, designed to confuse and decieve. Speak plainly and show us your hand, if you want our co-operation. If you choose not to, and press an unequal alliance, you shall be the foreign oppressor, as much as any threat that you come to warn us of. One foreign opressor is as bad as the next, and neither can be tolerated."

She stopped, her anger vented. She took her cousin by the arm and said quietly " The other one has gone, too. Same way. I think that you should put everyone on alert."

She waited for a reaction.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 16, 2004 01:11 AM: Message edited by: Nora Fraser ]</font>