Welcome to Hell

"Welcome to Hell" the shabby wooden sign read, leaning drunkenly from a chared tree next to the road. "If this is Hell," thought Clarke, "Then the bible holds the biggest understatements ever written"

It was the ash that was the problem. It got literaly everywhere, into you boots, your helmet, your car, even somehow into sealed bags of food. It got into the magazines of your weapons, making a good gun useless, it got into your tank, making a good car useless.

Clarke pulled up next to the remainder of the New World supermarket, opened in 2003. Clarke sniggered at the irony of the name, then shut the engine of his Skyline off. The 'New World' man had created for himself was nothing but rubble, dust and ash. This horrific world, with only a small percentage of the human population left, was nothing to be proud of. And numbers were dwindling more, as each year passed, thousands more fell victim to the horrible cancerous deaths caused by the bombs.

Clarke took a quick glance around the car park. Only a few cars, none looked very threatening. Clarke picked the Armorlite up off the passenger seat and stepped out into the dust filled air. "Just another day in hell" Clarke mused.

Chris stood in the large doorway of the building, and watched as the man stepped out of the weathered car, carrying an Armalite rifle.

"Great, another vigilante."

There were too many in this town, when the real problems lay further north. Nevertheless, this man was here, and lore dictated that he be given shelter and food if needed. He called out to the vigilante, still standing by his car, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

"Greetings, stranger! Do you require aid?"

The man silently turned to stare at him. Slowly, he walked to the entrance. Chris spoke again.

"Welcome to Hell. We are the Damned."

Chris repeated the question. No doubt the Vigilante knew by now that he was at an outpost.

"Do you require aid?"

<font color="#f7f7f7" size="1">[ January 20, 2004 04:07 AM: Message edited by: Chris Wesley ]</font>

"Ninja owns the night" Clarke responded. In an honorable fashion, Clarke removed each of his weapons, clearly indication the safety catches and lack of chambered rounds. Clarke first withdrew his Sig 228 from his belt, clearly showing the safety in place. He secondaly produced the IMI SP-21 , also showing the safety. From over his sholder finally he produced a H&K MP5SD3, clearly showing the lack of a loaded magazine in the weapon.

Clarke neglected to show the shopman that he was also carrying a Glock 18 auto with a 31 round mag down the back of his coat. Being the only man in the country with one, Clarke thought it best to keep this one to himself.

Now the formalities were over, Clarke said. "I have some bad news. A group from the south calling themselves 'New Age Dawn' are coming up here on a recruting drive. Their motto seams to be 'Join us or die'. We have few choices over this. We can gather up as many as we can find to defend this town and its non combatants, or we can run. Either way will be hard, as they have some real hardware they imported from the US, including a few pieces of hard armour, I think one is a Sherman varient."

"This is a hard fight, and until the troops get in from Australia, we are all on our own. I know of a man in these parts who may have some ordinances to deal with this threat. It is up to you, as you are the man of this town."

This was news to Chris. He had heard of the New Age Dawn, but didn't think they were much of a problem. A group of renegades, nothing more. The fact that the vigilantes were importing more troops for the battle certainly proved otherwise.

He was glad to see that Ninja was a man he could trust. Not many honest vigilantes came around these parts, most were gun crazy rednecks who wanted nothing more than to plug themselves a few renegades, no better than the outlaws themselves.

"This certainly is worrying. Thnak you for this news. You're welcome to stay for as long as you want. Get in touch with your contact, I'll see what he has to offer before making my decision. We have very little in our outpost that would hold off an attack from any Heavy Armour or artillery."

"One of the women will show you to your quarters. My name is Christopher, by the way. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Fuel is scarce, however. We do ask that you use it sparingly."

Chris turned as the vigilante was led off by one of the women. He walked inside, out of the ashes, and called for guards to man the front gate. Two men, each wielding a Silenced M4A1 rifle, moved to cover the entrance. Unknown to Ninja, a man with an H&K G3 had been sitting on the roof the whole time, his crosshairs centered directly on his skull. Despite their friendly appearance, the Survivors were not foolish.

Chris walked up to his second in command, who had been following the conversation. "Tell me, what do you think of this news?"

Nora curtseyed low. " Greetings, friend Ninja." she said in a respectful tone. She had watched the exchange from the background. She stood up tall again. " Please, follow me."
She walked into the New World, through the visitors passageway. Several other women followed a respectful distance.
In the early days, before the explosions came to their country, men had prepared the supermarket. They sold their houses and bought it. They altered it, built a second floor, removed the windows and thickened the walls. At the time, they had been the madmen, who had moved their families into a commune.
Now, they were the only ones left. It had been decades since the larger cities had been hit. She had been born in this New World.
She led the one who called himself a Ninja to the visitors quarters. The passageway had thick walls, and led only to the outside. The New World was set like a maze, created to confuse and disorientate the visitor.
" This is your room." she told the Ninja. " Please make yourself comfortable. Suanne and Lisa will be waiting outside if you need anything. "
There were also six others stationed at intervals along the passageway. If anything went wrong, they all had weapons and training. The visitor would not get far.
Nora went back out to where Christopher was conferring with his second in command.
" I have quartered him and stationed guards. I don't trust him, cousin, I really don't."

"Be that as it may, Nora, he has offered his assistance to us in preparing for conflict, and I am grateful for that. We are obliged to assist any drifters or vigilantes that require aid, it is our duty as an outpost. He will be well guarded nonetheless, do not worry. I will send him with an escort to meet with his contact tomorrow."

His cousin Nora was generally a pacifist, yet it was strange to hear her voice her distrust of a drifter. Usually she was not bothered by them, despite the weapons that men such as them carried. Hearing her opinion, Chris was taken aback.

"Why do you not trust him? He seemed like an honest man to me."

Nora shrugged. " Call it intuition." She paused. " He didn't seem honest- but then, travellers never do. All travelling away from something."

She shrugged again. " I have the regular safeguards in place. After sun-down I will double the guard.

" Do you think that he is telling the truth? The Traders have been telling us for the past year or so that the New Age Dawn is nothing but an unorganised nuisance. For all we know, this is just an excuse for an Australian invasion.I'm more inclined to trust the Traders than the stranger from the south."

Nora wondered why she had reacted to the Ninja so emphatically. His story, if true, posed a fairly large threat to the outpost. If false, there was nothing to be worried about. Considering she didn't believe him, why was she so worried? Nora didn't know.

<font color="#f7f7f7" size="1">[ January 29, 2004 07:35 PM: Message edited by: Nora Fraser ]</font>

The man was dressed in black. It helped him blend in with the night. In turn, this helped him escape those that would hunt him. How ironic that it would also camouflage him against any help. Help that he needed desperately. The same cladding that saved his life so many times now threatened to take it away. Ironic, yes.

The man dragged himself towards the building. He hoped desperately that a searchlight would pass over him, that somebody would notice his battered body. Perhaps someone would notice the trail of blood he had tracked across the landscape.

Weary, near death, he dragged himself over a small rise, and tumbled into a ditch. Beaten, broken, bleeding, he lay, unmoving. He drifted into unconsciousness, and began to dream of times past and possibly to be.

Dawn came.

Clarke, now known as "Ninja," sat down on the bed in his tiny quarters. Clarke locked the door behind him, then went to work straight away. Clarke took out a small knife from his bag and jammed it into the space under the door, ensuring his privacy. He then removed all his weapons, save the silenced Glock 18 pistol. Clarke removed all his baggy extra clothing, he now stood in black close fitting clothing, and his light kevlar. Clarke removed a small tool kit from his bag and began to unscrew the security pannel from around the window. Gently sliding the pannel away, he slid it under the bed then killed the lights. Once the lights were gone, Clarke felt at home in the smothering darkness. He removed the shaded contact lenses from his eyes, and the night turned to day. Clarke's untinted albino eyes made him a man of the night, also helped by the fact he spent the first 13 years of his life in a cave town. Clarke took the Glock 18, his short Katana from his bag, and slid out the window, into his world. Clarke dropped silently, landing a few metres below the window. "Ninja owns the night!" Clarke thought. Tonite would be busy.

Nightfall came quickly, and Chris gave the word to change the guard, and double the numbers stationed outside Ninja's room. Chris still didn't have the man's real name... it was strange. Most travellers gave their names.

He decided to have a word with the Ninja before the changing of the guard, and made his way to the room. He tried the door. Stuck.
Chris instantly became suspicious. He called to on of the guards, who was more than happy to release some energy on the door, kicking it down in one swift motion.

Empty.
The thin curtain fluttered in the breeze, the window expertly removed. A pile of black clothing lay on the ground. Ninja's coat. Chris stormed out of the room, and motioned to the guard.

"Organise a Search Party, our traveller has gone AWOL. Get five of your men, and take the ute with the searchlight. He can't get far, most of this town is a wasteland."

The guard nodded, and moved off. Chris found Nora in the kitchen, preparing food. "You were right, I'm afraid. He's disappeared. I've organised a small search party to track him down. I want to find him, but I'm not making this a large scale operation - there's no point yet."

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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?"

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.

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>

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>

The bike screamed to a halt.
The <u>figger</u> removed the black, skull shaped helmet from her head as she climbed down from her still roaring vehicle.
The <u>figger</u> looked over the broken and <u>shatted</u> building that looked to be at one time a super market, though it was almost impossible to tell now. The <u>figger</u> reached into the red leather jacket moving slowly in the breeze and withdrew her glock 20c only to cock it and place it back again. There was no use in provoking these people too much. <u>stavation</u> drove people to crazy acts.

Unawares of the sniper drawing a bead on her as she walked, she strode up to the reinforced entrance of the building looking as menacing as she could in her bare feet now scorched from her bike. She drew her weapon in the vain hope that it would have some effect on the door.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 22, 2004 10:23 PM: Message edited by: Gerald Blake ]</font>

"Defence?" Clarke began to raise his voice. "What kind of defence is shooting into the shadows? Had your man perhaps considered that it could have been a homeless child, groping around in the dark, searching for his dead parents."

"Young lady," Clarke continues, "your concept of defence, is centered on paranoia. There are many more ways to defend yourselves, rather than acting on a childish paranoia. My people have survived for many years without firing a single shot in defence of our lands."

"I do not request your aid. I order it. You are in debt to my people, and if you do not see it that way, I'm sure to have some ways to convince you."

Clarke hoped he had bought enough time for Gerald, but he could already hear another search party being deployed. Now, he considered another threat to his mission : Time.

The deafening bang of a pistol awoke the disorentated Seathia, and he managed to still the images dancing, taunting him enough to stumble out of the the dead bush he had fallen unconscious into. He smelled of sweat and vomit, and whatever they had used to drug him with.
He checked his surroundings. It seemed he had come across some sort of emplacement. The rusting sign hanging looseley over the entryway gave the name of the place, "New World", and he became the latest of many to appreciate the irony. He chuckled to himself, happy in his perceived wit.
He looked down at his hip, and over his shoulder. Somehow in whatever had happened he had managed to keep his sword and rifle, though ammunition for the latter was running on the thin side, and on closer inspection it would prove useless in the ash.
He brought his rifle to the bear and ran across the ripped up carpark, still not quite free of his drug induced delirium and forgetting his training and common sense alike. He came close to the door, and threw a hand against the out-of-place Skyline, and then motorcycle to steady him, before bringing his rifle to the back of the young girl's head, completely unawares of the sniper above watching in hysterics, wondering how the situation would play out.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 22, 2004 10:55 PM: Message edited by: Gerald Blake ]</font>

Nora turned and stared at the stranger incredulously.

" Paranoia is all that has kept our home safe all of these years. We have found that it has been completely justified." she nodded, as if to reassure herself.
" We have shot few people, killed even fewer. If we have killed innocents, we can lie safe in knowing that all of our innocents are safer because of it.
" Perhaps your people have survived and not fired a shot. I find that rather hard to believe, in light of your heavy armaments and threatening demeanor, but I will accept that. Perhaps one could argue that your very presence intimidates threats to the point where they leave. We haven't that luxury. We are a people, a small nation. We haven't enough men to scare away our threats, or enough weapons. We have no reputation of great military might. We have women and children. Our focus is not conquest or alliance building. Our focus is continuation of life and freedom for our people. We will fight to defend what we have. We owe you nothing- if the man could in any way be considered a threat to the safety of the people, I feel that we have done our duty in eliminating him."

She looked at the stranger, who seemed to have a funny look in his eye. Something wasn't right.

A man knocked and opened the door.

"Sir, something else has come up. There's someone at the front door."

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 22, 2004 11:10 PM: Message edited by: Gerald Blake ]</font>

From what the evidence seemed to suggest, the people here had enough ammunition to back a small war, what with them shooting at whatever shadows they saw in the darkness.
Only another reason to destroy the place. From what he had heard from the Ninja the New Age Dawn would sweep over these fools and gain a foothold in the area in their newly aquired base. Lord knew they wouldn't gain so much from aquiring a crater, though some of the abundant munitions from the New World would have to be acquired before the place went up.

Still, He needed to keep their trust for the moment, at least until Tiberius was in a more stable state. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them just yet.

Tiberius seemed to have stopped bleeding, and Gerald heaved him off the ground and started walking towards New World, oblivious to the events that had transpired there since his departure.

"Drop the gun, love" came the shaky voice of the man behind her. There was something wrong with the man. He couldn't be of too much harm.

Her gun droped to the ground, and she breathed in deeply. She knew she wasn't going to die here in front of whatever this place was.
"What do you want from me?" she mumbled, as she spun around, fumbling for the rifle of her attacker, and clumsily knocking the weapon from his hand.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 22, 2004 10:59 PM: Message edited by: Gerald Blake ]</font>

Seathia's gun droped to the ground, clanking as it struck the concrete and clicking as the faulty rifle tried in vain to discharge a round.

Clumsy fighting ensued between the still hazy man and the incompetent young girl, and finally the Sethia gave up and tried a different tack.

"My names seathia what is yours?" he mumbled.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 22, 2004 11:03 PM: Message edited by: Gerald Blake ]</font>

She suddenly felt safer, and a little brave. She bent down and picked up the pistol and the rifle, which she handed to Seathia.

"My name's Karlin"
She paused for a second to rub her throat, catch her breath and place her pistol back in her jacket.
"I think I am gonna call you Sepie"
She smiled as she walked past him.
"Lets go get some food"
She pushed him toward the door as she hid behind his back.


"Show's over folks. Let's bring these people in." came the call from on the roof. Men rappeled down the walls and took no unnecessary time to tie the two youngsters, remove their weaponry and drag them to a room inside for questioning.

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ February 22, 2004 11:07 PM: Message edited by: Gerald Blake ]</font>

The room was dark. He was drenched in sweat. There was only one other person in the room.

Frost could determine all of this without opening his eyes. But in his panicked state, he opened them anyway.

He sat up, and felt the pain. It shoot through his body like a furnace, searing his muscles. Gasping, he lay back on the narrow bed. Memories began to flood back. The vision . The plan. The flaw. The things that went wrong. And then, of course, the pain. He remembered stumbling. And then it went blank.

A ray of dawn sunlight showed under the blackout curtains, betraying the time of day. He already knew who his rescuer was.

"Thank you, Mr Blake." he said quietly. Frost hated being indebted to anybody, but it was better than being dead. And now he was the only one who knew ho knew where the key to the future was hidden.

He addressed Gerald again.
"Pease brief me on the situation. Who are you currently operating under, and at what outpost are we now?"

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ March 02, 2004 10:01 PM: Message edited by: Tiberius Frost. ]</font>

She opened her eyes she had been waiting in the room for what felt like forever. Her arms hurt she wished she could move them but they were still tried behind her back. She screamed in anger again and again but still time seemed to crawl.

He laid in the dark room alone. Waiting for his captive to speak to him. He sat still waiting planing on what he would say thinking to him slef he is not goning to die today.

The movement couldn't have been good for Frost's condition, but it was necessary. Gerald wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten the man past the guards without being noticed. Perhaps he had been noticed, but Chris' men's preoccupation with Clarke and whatever had happened out the front increased chances of a successful infiltration dramatically.
Still, he was uncomfortable seeking refuge in the base of enemies. Enemies who had done this to Frost.

"I'm here under the Ninja", he began. "We're at the target location, though from the briefing it sounded as though it would have looked more of the original supermarket than is actually apparent."

He looked towards the door. It wouldn't hold if someone was determined to enter. He relied solely upon the uncertain idea that he had not been spotted on entry.

The Ninja. Clarke.
'Damn', thought Frost. This had gotten messier than he had anticipated.

"And the situation involving this location then, Gerald? What have you learned? Your own interpretations, calculations, opinions, deductions and theories? What do you think?"
He paused a moment, and added:
"Where is your superior now, then? Have you maintained contact?"

The fact that Clarke was not here to greet him was hardly surprising, but it was doubtful that the man was doing anything useful. No matter, it was probably better that he didn't have to deal with Clarke just yet anyway.

Nora had always been a better leader than Chris. Although he never admitted it, he usually always took her advice in times of crisis, as she was a much better strategist than he was, and had a natural ability to think under pressure, which had saved the colonies in many difficult times. Sadly, many of the people didn't realise this, and continued to support Chris as the leader. It wasn't that he was a bad leader, far from it. He thought clearly, and acted decisively. The order for his sniper to act with extreme prejudice at night time was followed without question, and the logic of it was sound. Nobody with good intent travels alone at night, no matter what their condition or their requirements. Nobody. Certainly not this Dweller, who stood in front of him, still blindfolded, completely sure of himself despite his situation.

"You seem far too cocky for someone in your position, Dweller. What Nora has said rings true, your companion should not have been travelling at night, least of all near an outpost. You should know this, your sheltered upbringing should not have left you completely blind to the common rules of this world. We did only what was necessary and cautious. Your failed act of revenge has put you far out of favour with us, and you seem to be moving further and further from redemption."

His thoughts moved to the current situation. Their prisoner was missing. Search parties were deployed, so the task at hand was now to secure the outpost.

"The prisoner goes into the cold chamber. Two guards, safeties off. Shoot if he tries anything at all." "Not that he'll even be able to get out", he thought.
"Put the entire outpost on high alert. All rules apply, nobody comes in or out, guards covering all stations."

He looked back at the Dweller. The Cold Chamber would be his final resting place, unless he could talk his way out of it. He expected some kind of reply, a plea bargain perhaps. Time was running out for this soul, and his friends would soon follow. Chris didn't particularly mind, once this episode was over, bodies would be disposed of, and business would return to normal. It was harsh, but certain things had to be done, in his opinion.

"Is this what you do with all your problems, Wesley?" Clarke mused. "Still not man enought to face up to them?"

"I know you are making a big mistake, and I will give you one last chance to help me, before I have to deal with you. I'm sure you would not wish to be humiliated in front of your friends here, would you?"

Clarke waited for the response, slowly tensing his muscles, ready for anything.

"The Ninja was caught," began Gerald, and even saying that brought a small shock to him, as though he was coming to terms with the fact that his leader was not, in fact, infallible. "Last I saw he was being questioned, in daylight, though I'm sure he would have been placed in confinement of some sort by now."
Though obviously not infallible, Gerlad knew Clarke was far more likely to be in some condition to do what was needed when he was released than the other two fools who had been incarcerated already.

"From what I can see our operation seems dependant on whatever it was you were carrying. Is it in a recoverable position?" This bordered on a lie, of course. Gerald's operation was to recieve what was being transported. He knew naught on the actual mission itself.
However, he did know that if what was needed was in a specific place identifiable by Tiberius, it would be a place Gerald couldn't hope to find it and bring it to Clarke. They needed the crippled hero, for now.

He searched around for something to transport the man in better.. A shopping trolley from before the incident, anything. If the Skyline was still in working order, it would be perfect if he could get to it.

First, though, he would need rest.

Frost spoke quietly, and despiten his position managed his sual determined voice.

"You need not worry about that, Mr Blake. Everything is under control. There is always a plan in case of these circumstances."

It was a lie, of course. But Blake was a soldier where Frost was an officer, so to speak, and he couldn't let sign of weakness show. Gerald had to believe that his mission was not futile.

"Mr Blake," he asked, "If The Ninja has been captured, then the staff of this outpost will be preoccupied in restraining him. Given that you have gathered information of some sort on these people, would it be, in your opinion, a wise move to attempt our escape now? After all, I doubt that they would have much respect for someone of my status, if and when they find me here."

He paused. He had to be honest here. He looked Gerald in the eye, and said:
"You know more about this than I, Gerald. Make the call. There may be rewards in it for you. This mission is more important than you know."

<font color="#333366" size="1">[ April 29, 2004 07:14 PM: Message edited by: Tiberius Frost. ]</font>

By now it wouldn't matter too much when they left the building, Gerald knew. Of course, Frost would be oblivious to the amount of time he had been lying where he was before coming to and discussing these matters.
The mention of a backup plan, of a hope shining through all of what had seemed chaos and HQ's designs in shambles to Gerald anchored him, though. He would act to the best of his abilities as usual, of course, but this only renewed his confidence in the ability, and perhaps motives of his superiors, no matter how incalculable and concealed they might be.

The generosity of Tiberius' wounds appeared to have come to a close, it seemed, but moving the man might turn out to be another thing entirely. He would live, but would face torture trying to move any more than he was already.
"I'll not move you now," began Gerald. "Not with what we have here." He paused, setting his mind to a course of action even as he spoke. Rushing in a little too quickly. "I'll see if I can find something to move you to a better location with, but you're going to need some more rest before we try anything."

Gerald moved to the door, and as he turned the handle he wondered how the Ninja fared.

The "Ninja" walked calmly away from the cold store, down the corridor. It was just like a scene commonly used in movies, walking away with a smug look on his face, iceblock in mouth, trying to conceal the slowly congealing blood on a heavily dented 2.8kg frozen chicken, while stooping low to hyjack the wallet of another fallen guard. What movie, the Ninja was unsure of.

Clarke would quickly have to retrace his steps of the night before, find his room and recover his things. Without his scanner, finding the object, hopefully with Frost still attached to it, would be much more difficult. But first of all, Clarke needed a weapon, something a bit more effective than a frozen chicken.

Looking one last time down the harshly lit corridor Gerald stepped back into the store room, twisted the door handle and drew the door to a close swiftly. One could not be too quiet.
His eyes took time to again adapt to the light in the dank room but he knew Tiberius would be awake. He could almost feel the man's gaze boring into him.
"The Ninja's gone and tried to play hero again. He's slipped from them but it can only be a matter of time before they find him." Gerald's faith in his leader's abilities had been rather shaken by the night's events. "And they're looking hard. I've no doubt they'll find us too."
The dark of the room receded slowly and Gerald saw the outline of Tiberius slide from his seat on the bench to stand, leaning on it. He was breathing, but he was breathing heavily. The shot must have been a glancing blow and the man must have an incredible metabolism to be able to move like he was, but he was nonetheless in pain.
"If they're going to find us we need to move now. Let your ninja get himself out of his own problems."

<font color="white">Sorry for breaking some rules and (both for now and before) not making any sense. I read an old post or two of mine and didn't understand any of it.</font>