War of the Machines: A Terminator Role Playing Game

Bobby Gillespie rolled out of bed with a groan. He squinted to check the time, but the clock was dark.
Christ ! Not again ! The power had gone out two or three time they day before, and he'd had to re-set the clocks. But before, it had simply been power surges or momentary outages. Now, everything was out.

Dressing in the dark was no real challenge--before Amanda had left, he'd always dressed with the lights out, not wanting to wake her.

Amanda. He'd talked to her two weeks earlier, when she'd called to cancel his visit with R.J., and to bitch that she needed another check. He never argued over child support--in fact, he'd advanced Amanda two months' worth of checks already--but it galled him to give her four grand and have her cancel his weekend with Reese just to spite him. He didn't often resort to name calling, but the bitch had a lot of nerve.

He struck a match and looked at his railroad watch. 5 am. Too late to go back to sleep. Winding the pocket watch, he ambled into the kitchen and looked out the window.

Huh. The glow to the west, the cities almost 100 miles away, was gone. BIG power outage, then...but he was pretty sure Chirco wasn't in the same grid as Pomona and Barsto.

He tried the phone, but it was out, too. He'd read of the troubles in California, and he was glad he was far west of the coast. The california border was uncomfortabley close, as far as he was concerned.

Limping stiffly--his knee always gave him trouble until he'd been on the leg for at least an hour--he made his way to the workshop. He found his coleman lantern and remembered how Amanda hadn't been able to stand the smell the fuel made as it burned. He lit it and looked around the shop.

He felt an uneasy feeling, a prickling at the base of his neck. When he'd been a deputy he'd called it his 'cop-sense'. Looking around the shop, he saw nothing out of order at first. The tools hung from the pegs, the bench was cluttered but not untidy. The winchester rifle he was engraving for the Tuscon Museum was resting on the vise at his engraver's station, and the graving chisel he'd been using lay next to it on the bench.

Something caught his eye as he crossed the shop. Kneeling, he looked across the room. A wire, a piece of light gauge stainless safety wire, was strung across the room at knee height.

What the hell ?

Bobby crossed the room, following the wire. It was taunt, ending at the far work bench, next to the gun safe. A spool of wire, half empty, was looped around the support beam of the bench.

He followed the wire back the other way. It ended at the combination bridgeport mill and lathe, the only modern tool in the shop other then the computer system, which he used to run his internet engraving website, and to control the lathe. He could contour a rifle or shotgun barrell in half the time it took to do it manually, and the system had been worth every penny.

The wire had been on a shelf next to the lathe. He could even see the spot on the shelf where the spool had sat. The wire was wrapped around the lathe chuck head a couple of dozen times, drawing the wire taunt.

This was insane ! He'd used the lathe last night. He'd cut a hartford collar on the sharps rifle he was engraving for Stembridge, and then he'd put everything away. Had someone come into his shop and dicked around with the tools, trying to play a joke on him ?

If they had, it wasn't funny. He could've tripped and broken his neck. If the power hadn't been out, he'd have gone into the shop without the lantern, because the computer screen gave him enough light to see by...

He stared at the computer. The web cam, up on top of the CRT, was pointed directly at the mill/lathe. And the horizontal arm of the lathe, the cutting arm that was linked to the computer, was extended all the way out from the machine, pointed towards where the shelf and the spool lay.

If someone had gotten into the shop...

Bobby opened the gun safe, pulling the gun from the top shelf and buckling the holster around his waist. His grandad's colt, which had been old when his grandfather had been young. He kept it loaded, and there were cartridges in the belt...

Bobby checked out the rest of the shop, and then went out and checked the barn. The horses were neighing nervously, but he found no footprints or tracks outside. He saddled one of the horses, and went back inside. The phone was still dead.

Well, Ben Chapin had a cell phone, and his ranch was ten miles east. He could've taken the pickup, but he hated risking chipping the paint on Ben's gravel road, so he went back out to the horse. Something--his 'cop-sense' maybe--made him strap the '86 Winchester rifle to the saddle. He mounted the horse, a roan named 'queso, and began to ride east, as the sun started to creep over the mountains.

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

Nearly done. After proofreading, I'll have it up within the hour...

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Hey ho, lets go hey ho, lets go hey ho, lets go hey ho, lets go
Theyre forming in straight line theyre going through a tight wind
The kids are losing their minds the blitzkrieg bop

Theyre piling in the back seat theyre generating steam heat
Pulsating to the back beat the blitzkrieg bop

Hey ho, lets go shootem in the back now what they want, I dont know
Theyre all reved up and ready to go

Theyre forming in straight line theyre going through a tight wind
The kids are losing their minds the blitzkrieg bop

Theyre piling in the back seat theyre generating steam heat
Pulsating to the back beat the blitzkrieg bop

Hey ho, lets go shootem in the back now
What they want, I dont know theyre all reved up and ready to go

Theyre forming in straight line theyre going through a tight wind
The kids are losing their minds the blitzkrieg bop

Theyre piling in the back seat theyre generating steam heat
Pulsating to the back beat the blitzkrieg bop

Hey ho, lets go hey ho, lets go
Hey ho, lets go hey ho, lets go

Blitzkrieg Bop, as preformed by The Ramones

Dr. Christian Zimsky

Zimsky wiped beads of sweat off of his forehead, which had been trickling down onto his hot face. The green glow of fiber optics bounced around the room, stopping on his skin, giving the effect that he’d been comically exposed to a lot of radiation.
Kneeling onto the rubberized floor, he observed as two CRS and one Air force technician pulled panels out of the large black server that stood before them. This server, along with several others, helped comprise the 80 Billion dollar project that was Skynet. The mainframe for a system of this size was actually quite small, only as large a medium sized room. It was programming the damned thing that made the whole project so expensive. Everything needed to be wired to everything.

“Jesus! Careful, that’s worth 72 thousand dollars.” Scolded Christian as one of the CRS techs handled a single panel. Slowly, he handed it to Zimsky, who accepted it with open arms.

“Are you sure this is where you spotted it?” He asked, looking back at the civilian. The other man shrugged, exasperated.

The four men had spent the last eleven hours searching through hundreds of lines of code, looking for an error that was minuscule in size. It could have been just one number in the sequence that was wrong. A single decimal point, that’s all that it would have taken, and nearly twenty years of combined research would have been for nothing.

Zimsky frowned, after pouring over the panel, which was the size of a laptop computer, for five minutes or so. He’d run a black light over it, as regular, white light would have damaged the pathways.

“Are you sure this is the right one?” The man asked to the three others, not even bothering to glance up at them.

“Doctor Zimsky, we’ve just spent the last eleven hours looking at this thing. I’m pretty sure we isolated the error. Maybe you missed it, because-“

“Do you take me for an Imbecile Jenkins?”

The man’s face contorted into one of panic. Zimsky was a powerful man within the scientific and academic communities. If there was someone he didn’t want in the business, he could make sure that they mopped floors at a High School by the end of the week. Gulping, he shook his head.

“No, I’m just saying that-“

“Jenkins, we’ve spent the better part of an entire day trying to isolate this wee little problem. Now, if there’s just one line of code you neglected to run through, then I’m afraid we may have a problem.”

“Doctor, we looked through the entire programming code. THIS is where the error is located. If you think its not there, then you’re making a mistake.”

“Then clearly, we didn’t look thoroughly enough. Check it again…”

“But that’ll take-“

“Hours. Yes, maybe days. Once you check through the coding, check it again. And then when you’re done checking it for a second time, check it AGAIN and again and AGAIN. Hell put half your staff on it. I don’t want to hear a PEEP out of your team until you have triple checked every… single… digit. Every decimal point, every period. Am I making myself clear?”

Somberly, Jenkins nodded.

“When you’ve isolated the anomaly, buzz me. Not before. Is that also clear?”

“Crystal clear Doctor Zimsky.”

“Spoken like a true prodigy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go tell the U.S. Military and the President why their Defense system is still broken.” Said Christian Zimsky, standing to his feet. Walking out of the sever room; he closed the door behind him, stepping out into a hallway.

With the good Doctor out of the room, Jenkins sighed as he took hold of the panel that Zimsky had held earlier, and slowly put it back into place. Unknown to the man, he had just killed five billion people.


Kade

It was a sunny day. Few clouds lined the sky, and the ones that did were the fluffy kind. Not all that dissimilar from marshmallows, they floated about aimlessly in the atmosphere, without much concern for any of the world’s problems.

The woman known simply as Kade sat by herself towards the back of a city bus, watching the sky as the slow moving vehicle drove at a comfortable speed of twenty miles an hour down the street. As it passed by a small, municipal park, a small smile crept onto her face as she saw several young children playing on a swing set. Nearby, an Ice Cream truck sold frozen treats to youngsters. A professional dog walker passed by, almost being dragged along by nearly a dozen different breeds. On the other side of the street, a Korean and a Mexican had a ‘colorful’ debate in broken English outside of a Tourist giftshop.
Little did Kade know, this was the last time that such a scene would occur in the Los Angeles area for the next sixty seven years. Within the soon not-to-exist state of California? Forty-two years.
And it was all going to be over within the next sixty-six seconds.

Leaning back into the plastic seat, Kade closed her eyes and relaxed. She didn’t really have a home, which had its ups and downs. On the positive side, she didn’t like to be tied down. Family, commitment and a Husband weren’t things that she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about. They were things that tied a person down, made them a slave to their own existence. One simply couldn’t put down all of the trappings of a modern life such as taxes, employment and relationships and go to Thailand on a mere whim. That sort of freedom was what Kade lived for.

But it did have a downside as well. Yes, it did mean being tied down (hell, she was in for kinky sh#t every once and a while, but that was beside the point) to something that one may not have liked, but it also meant some semblance of security. A sense that things would remain the same. This sort of thing scared Kade and enticed Kade at the same time. To be part of a moderately normal family was a prospect that she-

BLUUWOOOSH!

An unseen shockwave hit the bus, the park, the dog walker and the Ice Cream man all at once. Inside the bus, the glass that lined the walls instantly shattered. As for the bus itself, it was knocked aside like some child’s toy car. It flew for a hundred and twenty feet, along with other assorted debris, before crashing into an old Soap factory that had been refurbished as a series of formerly posh Apartments. Kade blacked out upon impact, her head hitting the wall. Then, there was only darkness and silence…


Jean Rasczak

Breathing. So he was alive…
Jean told himself to remain calm. While he was trapped under the rubble of his home and didn’t appear to have any major injuries, he still faced the imminent threat of carbon dioxide; the poison he exhaled bit by bit every time he breathed. He had precious little oxygen, and he would need every last morsel of it.

Calmly, he retraced the events that led up to the destruction of his home. In a single second his sparsely decorated house was reduced to a ruin. As a soldier, Jean knew only of two things that could cause such destruction. Either an earthquake, which was very likely in a place like Los Angeles, or the ‘other one’. The big one, as it was commonly referred to in Military Jargon. A foreign power had decided to take action against the United States of America and her allies, dropping ordnance (Nuclear and regular) from coast to coast.
While that was also a likely option, it was also the one he dreaded the most.

Jean Rasczak looked about his surroundings. For the most part, everything was pitch black. Only a persistent crack of light above his head illuminated the space he occupied.

Rasczak soothed himself, despite the pains that his extremities felt. He thought of the most soothing thoughts his mind could possibly conjure. Things like the seaside in New England. Not in Urban areas of course, as those were terribly polluted, but out in the country, where Dandelions and other weeds grew in abundance in the mossy sand. The crashing of waves against the wet beaches, the sound of gulls cooing overhead. A smile crept onto Jean Rasczak’s face as he thought of these things. Once his breathing had mellowed out, his attention diverted to the matters at hand; getting the hell out of the rubble…

Squinting his eyes in the darkness, he felt around (very carefully) for some sort of loose rubble. Some rocks or chunks of concrete that would come apart with ease. He continued with such behavior for a minute or so, before finding an area that seemed weak enough. He grunted in approval, before taking off his shirt and wrapping it around his one good hand. The other, a fake hand he’d been sporting since its ‘real’ counterpart had been utterly destroyed in an explosion.
Relaxing himself once more, he took aim, and began hitting the same spot repeatedly.

Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…

His fist began to ooze red, but it was of little concern to Jean. It would hurt later. It would hurt like a son of a bitch. But as far as Jean Rasczak could concern himself, it didn’t matter. He’d take all the cuts, scraps and bruises in the world if it meant that he wouldn’t have to slowly poison the air around him every time he exhaled his mammoth lungs.

Crunch…

The rocks around his fist gave way, producing a hole with a two foot diameter. Jean may have been built like a Stryker Fighting Vehicle, but he certainly had a lot of determination. He squeezed through the hole and into the open air, breathing in heavily, while the cavern he’d been briefly entombed inside filled back up with rocks.
As the pain from his bruised and bloodied hand began to set in, he stood up wearing only his boxer shorts and a wifebeater.

The first observation he made was that of his house: it was completely demolished. The roof was almost totally gone, giving him a nice new skylight. As were two and a half of his walls, some parts of which still managed to stay upright to some degree. Jean’s concern however, was not upon his wrecked home. Sure, it was a loss, but eventually he’d rebuild.
No, what concerned him was OUTSIDE.
Stepping out onto his Lawn through what was left of his front doorway (still in moderately good condition, he was surprised to note), his eyes were fixed on the sky, which was colored hues of red and orange. A single, sickly brown cloud drifted in the sky above the center of the city. It extended from the ground, and then up to the higher levels of the atmosphere, slowly drifting east with the wind.

A Mushroom Cloud. The nuclear variety.

So it was nuclear. Terrific.
Jean looked to the rest of his neighborhood, not extremely surprised to find it in similar or in worse condition that his property. Looking back to his house, Jean’s spirits were crushed when he saw that his garage, containing his prized 1969 Ford Mustang, had been pounded into dust. Except for one item, which stuck up above the wreckage: His Remington gun safe.
Thank god for the gun lobby, he thought to himself as he rushed to the steel box. Praying it would open, he tinkered with the knob, putting in the combination he had memorized. It didn’t.

Not being one to accept failure, Rasczak searched the ruin for his tools. Happening upon his fire axe, he threw it into the safe’s lock, smashing it to bits. Opening the door was rather simply from then on out. Tinkering with the interior of the remaining mechanism, he pushed the door open, revealing its treasure. A Mossberg pump action, along with a Remington Double Barreled. Taking both guns in hand, he put most of his ammunition into a duffel he kept at the bottom of the safe for such a purpose, and slipped it over his shoulder.

There were a lot of people out there, and he wasn’t planning on taking *beep* from any of them.



"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Ryan Marsh

Ryan Marsh waved to two of his children, who were on the other side of the street with their Nanny. Here he was, standing in line for Ice Cream in the middle of July in downtown Los Angeles when he could have been interviewing the next best thing in the world of scientific advancement. He wouldn’t have made any other trade in the world, even if it did mean career advancement.
Not that that sort of thing really mattered to Ryan anymore.

He was at the top of his game. He was the Lead Anchor for the Evening World news, a prestigious organization as it was. If he put forth the effort, yes, he could be the next Katie Couric or Walter Cronkite, but he just didn’t really need to. His salary was in the seven figures, he had a nice house in the Suburbs, didn’t have a mortgage, and three cars in the garage. Yes, for Ryan Marsh, life was pretty sweet. Almost as sweet as an Ice Cream sundae in the summer heat. But life was about to get a whole lot sweeter.

Ryan loved kids, and that was probably why he had six of them in the first place. Sure, it was a pain in the ass to ferry them back and forth to school, home and after school activities, but there was hired help for that. He and his wife didn’t have to lift a finger if they chose, but due to their deep-seated sense of humility, they had neglected to hire a maid thus far. That did not, however, prevent them from hiring two full time Nannies from a service.

Waving to his kids once more, smiling as they played on the swing set, he turned back to the Ice Cream man, a swarthy, eastern European man with broken English.

“You vant pay?” Asked the man impatiently. Ryan complied without saying a word, handing the man a twenty out of his pocket. Taking hold of the Sundae and a cone, he began to walk down the sidewalk towards the intersection. Tapping his foot as he waited, a large city bus slowly passed on by the light, halting to a stop as it arrived at a Bus stop in front of the park. His view of his children obscured, Ryan tried to lean around the bus to get a better look, only to fail. Shrugging, he looked forward at the walk/don’t walk sign. The ‘Don’t walk’ sign was annoyingly still illuminated.

Come on…

FINALLY, it changed to ‘walk’ and Ryan continued onward. When his kids came into view, he raised his arm to wave at them floppily for a third time. That’s when it happened.

BLUUWOOOSH!!!

An intense blast of hot air hit Ryan with such a force; he was knocked forward twenty or so feet, before his chest collided with a tree. Ryan could swear he heard the crunching of bones as several of his ribs were fractured. He was not the only thing to go flying. The bus that had obscured his view, several dozen people, billboards that had sat atop buildings, cars and dogs were all knocked in the same direction. Some, like the bus and himself, were stopped by objects before continuing onward. Others merely disappeared from sight.

The crushing force lasted only an instant before it stopped. When it did, a cloud of yellow-red dust filtered quickly through the streets, engulfing everything in its path. He coughed as the deadly dust entered his lungs, but only for a moment. Holding his necktie in front of his mouth, breathing was made a little bit easier, but not by a whole lot. Others seemed to flail about as their breathing was impeded by the said dust, choking and/or coughing. He wanted to help them, but now his only concern was that of his children.

Now able to stand, Ryan looked about the scene, dazed, for his kids. The dust proved too thick to either see or say anything, but he yelled anyway.

“Jack!! Maggie!!” He called out into the dust. No one answered.


Claire Sullivan

The road ahead was hypnotic. It simply went off into the horizon, never seeming to end. Claire Sullivan’s eyes were tired, and she felt that going any further would probably be a bad idea. She surveyed the terrain, looking for cover for the night. Aside from the occasional cactus, it was slim pickings. If she could just go a little further-

There, up ahead. An old Gas Station, probably from the forties or fifties.
That would have to do.

Speeding up, Claire slowed down as she neared the derelict structure. With further inspection, the building seemed to be on the verge of collapse, but Claire had little choice. There was a likely possibility that her former employers would be out looking for her, and she knew what desert nights were like out in Southern California. Her light jacket would provide almost nil protection from the elements. Nope, as disgusting as this place was, it was her home for the night.

Pulling around back, she hid the motorbike in a small tin shed, grimacing when she saw the fuel gauge. Less than half a tank. Crap.
Her spirits weren’t lifted any higher when she looked inside the station, as per her discovery of half a dozen scorpions and large tarantula esqu- spiders. Sighing, she went into the back room, where she found an old, dusty cot and several dozen cardboard boxes. Curious, she picked one up from the floor and set it down onto her bed for the night. Opening it, she found a err… mediocre surprise.

Lots and lots of SPAM.

She opened the rest of the boxes, and that’s all she found. Just more and more mystery meat. She was a god damned vegetarian! Laughing to herself, she shrugged, opening a single can with the provided key. For mystery meat that was half a century old, it tasted alright, if it was supposed to taste like metal. Setting down the can, she unzipped and reached into her backpack, which sat by her feet. Fumbling around with it’s contents, she found a satchel that she had placed inside earlier. Opening it, she found a photo Daniel, her husband to be.

He was probably dead, seeing as almost the entire country, if not the world, was a smoldering ruin. Something told her, a hunch maybe, that she was wrong. He WAS alive. He was somewhere, anywhere, and he was in trouble.

Claire almost threw the photo down onto the ground. Never in her entire life had she been so *beep* helpless, like some *beep* kitten. It was futile anyway, even if he was still alive, the radiation would probably kill him within a day or two. And he was halfway across the country. Son of a bitch.

Taking another bite of mystery meat, she laid down onto her cot, and went to sleep…

And then, she was rudely awakened.

“Claire, you’ve made us very angry…” Purred a familiar voice.

Oh *beep*

“But if you come out, we promise not to be too hard on you.”

Her eyes shot open. Looking around the room, she saw nothing. Then she remembered. She had locked the door that led to the back room. Sure, temporary safety, but no way out.

“Claire, we know you’re in there. Come out NOW.”

Opening her backpack, Claire removed a snub nosed .357 Daniel had given her three months earlier, mentioning something about being careful.

“If you don’t open this door, we’re breaking it down…”

Opening the wheel, she checked her loads. Seven shots. More than enough, provided she had good aim.
Mustering up her courage, she spoke out.

“I’m not going back with you!”

“Claire… sorry honey, but you don’t have a choice. Now, just open-“

“I don’t think so. I’m armed you know.”

*beep* Claire, you don’t have a gun. You would have told us by now. OPEN THIS DOOR.”

“If you come in here I swear to god… I swear to GOD I’ll blow my *beep* head off! Just back the *beep* off!”

“You know we can’t do that. That’s it, we’re breaking down the door.”

This was it. They were coming in.
Looking around the room quickly, she took shelter behind a makeshift barricade. Cocking the revolver, she pointed it towards the door, lining up her shot.


*24 hours Earlier, back at ‘Edwards*

Zimsky ran as fast as his legs could carry him away from the main compound. This was it. Skynet had taken over the entire defense network and had proceeded to launch nukes everywhere. But that hadn’t been the least of Zimsky’s problems, because the real issue was with the other hardware Skynet had taken over. Like the Unmanned Ariel Vehicles.

One of them flew directly overhead, launching a volley of missiles at a large, metal hangar that was only a hundred yards away. The hangar exploded, chunks of it flying in every direction. The UAV peeled off, making a huge turn to the right. Zimsky had been knocked to the ground by the sheer force of the explosion, and stood shell shocked where he was.

*beep* this was it.

All networked Military stuff was under Skynet control. ALL of it. Communication systems, missile batteries, and most aircraft. Luckily the troops seemed to be working fine, and were currently trying to fight back against Skynet.
It appeared to be a losing battle from where Zimsky was standing. In addition to the UAV’s, there were also Unmanned Ground units under the control of Skynet. These vehicles were large, twelve foot monsters. Painted green, they had dual 7.62 millimeter cannons mounted under a pivoting frame.

These things were EVERYWHERE.

An M1A2 Abrams battle tank rolled onto the runway and came to a full stop. Aiming at two ground units, dubbed Frogs for their appearance, it fired its main cannon. Both units were pulverized in an explosion, sending chunks of metal, computer chips and pavement into the air. The victory was short lived however, as a UAV made a flyby of the tank, dropping an incendiary bomb right on top of it. And that was the end of that…

Swearing, Zimsky realized that he couldn’t stay where he was, and hit the ground running towards some military types that were attempting to down a UAV. Covering his ears from the deafening gunfire, Zimsky joined them, dropping to the ground once again. Glancing over, one of the Desert Camo clad soldiers (looking rather ragtag for Government troops) looked at him curiously.

“Dr. Zimsky?” The man asked, an AK-47 assault rifle in his hands.

“Yeah?”

“You need to get the hell out of here! This place is not-“

Gunfire made hearing things hard.

“-cause that ain’t a great idea!”

“WHAT?”
“Just come with me! Let’s go!”

Pulling up Zimsky by his arm, the guy ran over to a nearby Humvee with a cloth top. Throwing his rifle (and Zimsky) into the back seat, the soldier started the jeep, zooming off towards the main security gate and to freedom. As their luck would have it, they were spotted by another UAV, this time a helicopter version. Pursuing the escaping car, it got a lock onto the vehicle and fired its 20mm cannon, causing large bullet holes to appear in the side of the truck.

“Shoot the UAV!” Yelled the driver, avoiding a staff car that was burning in the middle of the road, which was in a crappy state due to several bombs that had exploded nearby.

“What?” Asked Zimsky, still unable to hear.

“Shoot the *beep* ROBOT! I cannot *beep* DRIVE.”

“Okay, okay.” Repeated the scientist, taking hold of the rifle and aiming it. Not an easy task, seeing as the car kept on bouncing up and down due to the potholes.

Pulling the trigger, Zimsky tried to control the automatic weapon, but it almost was too much for him. He threatened to drop it onto the desert floor, except for the fact that he got a lucky shot, and the chopper spiraled to the ground and exploded. The gun also ran dry of bullets.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the unknown man burst through the front gate of Edwards Air Force base, leaving behind them a ruined compound, dead bodies, and the most pissed off Cyber-intelligence ever created. It was about twenty minutes before Christian Zimsky worked up the courage to actually say something.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Asked a curious Zimsky, cocking his eyebrow.

The man smiled for a mere moment, before chuckling.

“You might. My name’s Mark Read.”

Read. That name sounded very familiar to Zimsky. His attention turned to the gun he held in his hands. An AK-47. Definitely not Army issue.

“I know you. You’re that Hippy that’s always trying to break into Cyberdyne and CRS. What the hell were you doing on the base? The Army sure as hell wouldn’t give you clearance.”

“Let’s just say I was saving the only guy that could possibly save the rest of our species. If I told you more, you’d think I’m crazy.”

“You know, I’ve had a pretty *beep* day. Trust me, I’ll believe it.”

“Might take a while for me to tell the whole thing.”

Zimsky looked to the vast Desert expanse that they were currently driving through, shrugging his narrow shoulders.

“We may have some time on our hands.”

Mark looked to Zimsky, nodded, and then began.


*24 hours later, near the Gas station*


Zimsky sat quietly in the backseat of the battle scarred Humvee, while Mark continued to drive on towards the horizon. Christian wasn’t quite sure what to believe after what Mark had told him. Maybe the guy was crazy, but for a crazy guy, he seemed to be in control of things. But that story… man, what a mind job that was. If what Mark had claimed to be truth was indeed truth, then they were in for the long haul. Years, maybe decades, but Mark wasn’t entirely clear.

Mark’s attention perked up when he saw a structure up ahead. It looked like an old service station, not well kept from the looks of it. There was, however, a red Jeep Wrangler four wheel drive parked in front. If there were other people there…

Read stopped the car dead on the road, turning over to look at Christian, who still gripped the empty rifle in his hands.

“What do you think Zim?”

“I dunno. Should we check it out? They might have food or some other *beep* there. We should probably look into it, you know?”
An uneasy look crept onto Mark Read’s face.

“Something doesn’t seem right.”

“What do you mean? I don’t see anything wrong.”

“That’s because you’re not looking in the right places. Do you see any people around? By windows, outside, anything?”

Zimsky looked around, shaking his head and shrugging.

“No. Should I be seeing people?”

“One would think so. Come on. Let’s take a closer look.”

Read put his foot onto the pedal, and pulled into the station. Putting the truck into park, he took the rifle back from Zimsky and put in a fresh magazine.

“This doesn’t smell right. I’m going to check it out, with or without your help. Are you interested in tagging along?”

Zimsky glanced inside the station, faintly hearing voices. Something weird was going on. He didn’t like this one bit.

“Okay. But I’m not going in without a gun.”

Nodding, Mark pulled a Glock out of his hip holster and handed it to Christian, who accepted it gladly. Nodding, both men got out of the car, walking into the station. Yelling, a kick on the door, and two gunshots could be heard as they entered through the doorway.

“GAAAHH!! You BITCH!” Cried out a voice from behind a corner, obviously in pain. Both men ran to see what the matter was, guns drawn.

One man was laying facedown on the floor, his head leaking gray matter and blood. The other was cradling his arm, which had a bloody wound and was propped up against the wall. A woman with a revolver emerged from a dark storage room, a grim look on her face. At the sight of the new arrivals, she almost plugged them too, if not for the fact that Read pushed Zimsky behind the pay counter and dove behind a wall for cover.

A shot rang out from her revolver, narrowly missing Read.

“What the hell lady!” Exclaimed Zimsky, clutching his weapon.

“Calm *beep* EVERYBODY! Can someone please tell me what the *beep* is going on?” Said Mark from the opposite wall.

“Who the hell are you two?” The woman asked, her finger quivering on the trigger finger.


END SCENE 1 (Okay everyone, consider the world ended. The government is no mas, all urban centers are radioactive wastelands. Please, no terminators and/or other robotics yet. As for Jeffery and Berns, I'll put something up with your people soon, don't fret. Good hunting!)

Zimsky huddled behind the counter, his mind racing, trying to use his 190 I.Q. to get him out of this mess. On the one hand, this girl could be a psychotic. She could have killed one man and shot the other in cold blood. But in the brief glimpse he'd gotten of her before he'd been hustled behind the counter, the look on her face had been that of fear and anger, not psychosis.

The girl may kill them, but in this position, she could kill them anyway, if she wanted to. If she WAS crazy, then they needed to gain her trust, at least long enough to get the gun away from her. Zimsky said, "Young lady?" He heard her say, "What?" Zimsky said, "I'm carrying a weapon. A weapon that I'm going to place on the counter. Then I'm going to stand up. I'm not going to hurt you, neither is my companion. I'm setting the gun down now." He raised his gun hand and set the gun on the counter, in her sight. He dropped the hand and counted his fingers, (still five of them) realizing that he'd been waiting to hear the sound of a shot, followed by pain and the realization his right hand was gone.

He took a deep breath and summoned up every ounce of his limited courage. Not even under the best of circumstances could he be referred to as a brave man. Why the hell hadn't he gotten a secondary doctorate in psychology? He exhaled, inhaled, and stood up. He looked over in Mark's direction, and said, "My name, is Dr. Christian..."

The girl shouted, "Zimsky!" The relief in her voice was apparent. Zimsky's head spun in her direction. How did she know who...Then he saw who it was and was convinced that this was god's cruel joke, or perhaps his punishment for what he'd done.

It was Claire Sullivan. He'd seen her picture on Daniel's desk, heard him talk incessantly about her. He'd ended up running into the fiancee' of the man he'd, for all intents and purposes, let die. Zimksy's mind boggled, trying to come up with the odds. A number, A..

The man on the floor screamed, "You can't have her! She's MINE!" Zimsky saw the man raising a concealed gun. He saw the muzzle. He saw the black hole in the center of it. It seemed like it was slow motion. Images of his life passed in his mind. He suddenly realized that he was about to die. He'd had so much planned, so many things to...

He heard the gunshot, and his eyes involuntarily closed. There was no pain. e wondered when it would hurt. he heard Mark say, "You alright?" Zimsky's eyes opened. They dropped. He saw the curl of smoke from Mark's gun barrel. He saw the hole in the center of the man's forehead. The spray of blood and brains on the wall behind his head. It was too much for Zimsky. He bent over the counter and dry heaved for a moment. The only reason he didn't vomit was because he hadn't eaten in 24 hours. He tasted bile. He stood up, grabbed his gun and put it in the waistband of his pants. He saw a candy rack and randomly grabbed a pack of gum, opening it and putting a stick in his mouth without looking. The taste of Big Red filled his mouth, killing the taste of bile.

The guilt and shame over Daniel rushed over him like a tidal wave. He truly felt disgusted with himself. He didn't know how he could feel any worse. Then Claire Sullivan showed him EXACTLY how he could feel worse. She set her gun down, ran over, and hugged him. She said, "Daniel's told me SO much about you. How honored he is to work with you...I've never met you, but I feel I've known you for years. How is Daniel? Is he with you?"

Zimsky's mouth opened...Closed...Opened...Closed...Then opened one more time. Zimsky was amazed at how effortlessly the lies poured out. His self-preservation mode kicked in big time. Claire didn't have the full knowledge of Skynet. She wouldn't know exacly what was going on. As the lies organized themsleves, his mouth wasn't even connected to his mind. He rambled, "We were in Washington, and then the West Coast was bombed by something. The lab caught on fire, and we got seperated. I was flown out here, I haven't heard from Daniel to know if he's alright, I was at a military base here in Nevada and things went haywire. We were bombed. Mark got me out, and we drove aimlessly and stumbled upon you here."

Claire said, "So you didn't see him die?" Zimsky's mind filled with the image of Daniel, falling to his death, bellowing Claire's name. He said, "No...I didn't see him die." Claire smiled. She said, "I know Daniel. He's a survivor. I have to go and find him..." She went to her gun. Mark said, "Um...Claire...I..Uh...I don't think that's a...Good idea." Zimsky said, "Right. I lost him in Washington. We're more than just a few miles away from there. We're a great many STATES from there. You can't go rushing off and..."

Claire said, "But I need to..." Zimsky lied, saying, "And we will. But first we need to figure out what happened, find some other people. It's going to be madness." Zimsky's mind raced. Get her distracted, get her off of this tangent.He reached into the pocket of his slate-gray suit jacket, removing a cigarette from the pack of expensive cigarettes tucked away in the inside pocket. He lit one with a still-shaky hand, and exhaled smoke. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and said, "Why don't you tell us what those two men were doing here after you."







"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Jean started planning. First on his agenda. Pants. No matter how many guns he was carrying, a man wandering around, even one as imposing as he was, was a walking target if he was walking in his underwear. Instead of walking through his now-unsafe front door, he walked around the side of the house, to where his bedroom was. As he got in sight, he had to change that thought to where his bedroom SHOULD have been. The wall was gone, the furniture in disarray. Jean set the guns down and, despite the pain in his right hand, lifted his dresser and set it upright. He snagged the first pair of jeans he came across, putting them on. His uniform shirt from the academy was in the top drawer. He took it out, and was about to put it on, when he stopped.

They could be in the middle of a war. If he made it clear he was (At least somewhat) a member of the military, People would ask questions. They may even become violent. And he might get drafted into doing something. No....Better to remain anonymous. Instead, he put the shirt, (And the uniform coat under it) into his duffel. He dug out a denim shirt and put it on, and socks and a pair of boots. His last order of business would be trickier. He walked to the direction of his laundry room. Clearing aside some rubble, he found the pants he'd worn yesterday, and dug his wallet out of the pocket. He tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, and slung the duffel over his shoulder. He tucked the double-barrel shotgun through a specially made strap in the bag, and kept the pump-action out for use.

With that order of business taken care of, his mind shifted to the next mission. Finding Kade.

During the most of the week, Jean stayed in a small apartment he maintained just a few miles away from the Nevada Military Academy. On Thursdays, he drove back to his home in L.A., staying until early Monday morning, when he drove back to Nevada. The rising gas prices had made things interesting, but Jean loved the drive in his fully-restored Mustang. He'd made it work.

It had been different this time. Kade had met him every day at the Academy after he'd been done teaching his military classes, and they'd, for lack of a better term, hung out together for 3 evenings. When he'd told her he was returning to his home in L.A. for the weeked, Kade had asked to come along. He hadn't said no. She'd rode with him to L.A., the wind in her hair. She'd had the broadest smile he'd ever seen a person have on her face.

Jean wasn't sure what exactly Kade saw in him. He'd never considered himself a very entertaining companion. Why should a 20-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her waste her time with him? The obvious answer was that she was a loner like him, and their personalities melded. But Jean felt that there was something more. He knew very little about her, but then...She knew very little about him. Neither had shared very much of their personal history with the other.

Jean started thinking. She'd said she was going out to get a few things to eat. Jean's cupboards weren't bare, but they were full of foods that an over-40 Military man would eat, not a 20-year-old girl would eat. He'd told her of a grocery store in the area, had given her 20 dollars (In spite of her insistence that he didn't, and sent her on her way.

Kade wouldn't have walked the entire distance. Cabs were expensive, she had no friends here that he knew of, He didn't have a bike, and his demolished car was in the garage. That left a bus. So, she was probably on a bus. She'd left...When? Around 11:30. He remembered because a particular program had come on T.V. Jean looked at his watch. It had stopped. He dropped the once-expensive Fossil to the ground without a thought. He looked at the sky. In spite of the current state of the air, Jean could see the sun. He figured it to be roughly between 12:00-12:15.

Jean started working out a plan. He'd need transportation. Looking at the cars up, and down...And in the middle, of the street, that likely wouldn't be a problem. In the years that he'd lived here, he'd passed the bus at one time or another at several different locations in the city, so he had a general idea of the few places that it went on it's route. Based on the estimated time, Kade would most likely have been on the bus still.

Jean started inspecting cars, starting with those that appeared to have been abandoned. He was looking for one 20-year-old girl in the ruins of the City of Los Angeles. A girl who may-or-may-not already be dead. He'd have a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack, but Jean didn't care. He wasn't leaving here until he'd found her or he knew she was dead. Potential fallout be d@mned.

Jean found the keys dangling from the ignition of a late model Ford Taurus, one of the many cars abandoned in the middle of the street. He got in, turned the key, and it started. He put it in gear and slowly made his way out of the ruins of his former neighborhood.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

There were lights in the sky, but it was no sunrise--unless the sun decided to rise in the west that morning. It looked a little like heat lightning, except heat lightning didn't have funny little mushroom-shaped clouds rising up above it....

Bobby frantically punched the buttons of the cell phone again, as Ben Chapin watched the skys in horror. Ben had seen the news on tv before the power went, and his phone still picked up a signal, although a weak one.

He'd dialed the number five times, always getting a busy signal. That could mean Amanda was on the phone, or it could mean something Bobby was terrified to imagine.

It rang suddenly, crackling with static. Thank God ! Bobby crammed the phone to his ear, ever the while watching the clouds rising from the west.

From Los Angeles.

From California.

From where Amanda and Reese lived.

San Bernadino was west of LA, but not far enough if those clouds were what he thought they were.

A voice came on the line, fuzzy and far away. "Hello ?! Hello ?!"

Bobby's voice betrayed the panic he felt as he recognised his ex-wife. "Mandy ? Mandy it's me !"

"Bobby !" Her voice was panicky and high, on the verge of hysteria. "The power, the power went out. I think there was an earthquake...we're in the basement. Oh, god, Bobby, I'm scared !"

His resentment of her vanished in a heartbeat. "Mandy, you've got to get out of there, as fast as you can !"

"I can't. The car won't start. WHy won't it start, Bobby ?" She started to cry. "There's wind blowing outside, Bobby. Wind and thunder."

He was crying, now, tears running down his cheeks. He knew what the thunder and wind meant, knew in his soul that he would never see them again. "Mandy, let me speak to Reese. Please, sweetheart."

"Okay,--honey, I'm sorry ! Sorry for everything !" She sounded terrified.

"Me too, baby. Me too. Put him on, but don't scare him." Bobby fought hysteria, not wanting it to taint the conversation he had with Reese.

His son. His big boy.

Three years old, a little blond tank, blue eyes that made him look like a cross between a cherub and the gerber baby.

His little cowboy.

Reese's voice sounded on the phone, so grown-up yet so like the little toddler who followed him around the ranch.

"Hi, daddy. Hi, dad. It's me. It's Reesey." Reese loved telling you who he was, always so friendly. Walking up to people all the time, in the grocery store, at church. "Hi. I'm reese. Hello."

"Hey, buddy," Bobby choked back tears. "You okay ?"

"Yeah, daddy. In the basement, inna dark basement. Mommy crying." Reese didn't sound scared, just puzzled. "See you, daddy. I see you 'kay ?"

"Yeah. Yeah. "Bobby nodded, crying so hard he couldn't see. "I'll see you. I'll see you, Reese. God, I love you so much--"

"luv yoo too, daddy, I--" The phone connection went dead.

Bobby dropped the phone and fell to his knees, unable to even cry out. He spread his arms wide, unable to move, unable to think.

It was over. Everything.









"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

OOC: Sorry everyone! I came down with the Flu on Friday and I'm up and around but not feeling great right now. Great scene, Sarc! You are excellent!

Claire looked around and grabbed a couple of blankets, placing them over the dead bodies that littered the floor. It was partially out of decency, but more so out of guilt and shame. She couldn't beleive that she had actually pulled the trigger and killed someone. She was hoping to shoot off to the side, as a warning shot, but damned if whoever it was didn't get right in the way of that bullet!

She kept reminding herself what might have happened if only she'd waited another minute. Zimsky would have shown up and hopefully diffused the situation, or maybe not. Maybe they would have killed him and his friend, then raped her.

She knew one thing for sure, if that had happened she would have figured out a way to escape. There was no way in hell that she would ever be someones's slave! She was her own woman. Independent, and strong. At least that's the way she always thought of herself as being.

"You alright?" asked the other man that was with Zimsky. He was older, probably about 40, but he had a kind face. Peaceful and wise. He made Claire feel more at ease.

"Yes, I'm just a little shaken, that's all" said Claire.

"Mark Read is the name, but my friends call me 'Chopper'" he said extending his hand. "Claire Sullivan, nice to meet you". Claire managed a small smile before looking over to the two covered bodies of her old co-workers.

"You did what you had to do" said Mark.

Claire nodded absently. "They were once my friends, Chopper. But after the explosions, they changed. The lost their morals. Decided that they didn't need to follow the rules, or listen to their conscience anymore"

"Things that are not at all, are never lost. I doubt they ever had morals in the first place" said Chopper.

Claire thought about it, and Chopper had made a good point.

"I have to find my husband, Chooper. He's alive still, I know it..."





"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

Ben Chapin stopped at Bobby's place around sunset. He found his friend laying on the back porch of his adobe, an empty bottle of mescal clutched in his fist. Bobby's eyelids were puffy and red, but not from the alcohol. Clutched to his chest was a small soft cloth doll, the 'Sheriff Woody' character from the Disney film Toy Story.

Little Reese's favorite film.

Ben looked back for a moment at the clouds rising from the west, then nodded to his wife, Becky, who sat in his truck. He knelt by his friend's form and gently tried to wake him.

"C'mon, Bob. Get up." He pulled Bobby into a sitting position, and the younger man's eyes snapped open.

"Huh ?!"

"Bobby ! C'mon, wake up !" Ben'd voice was firm, yet held a hint of anxiety.

Shaking his head wearily, Bobby moved first to his knees, then to his feet. He looked at the doll clenched in his fist, then almost reverently tucked it into the inner pocket of his canvas jacket. Straightening up, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and faced Ben. "What happened ?"

Ben shrugged his arms. "It's bad, Bobby. Bombs hit up and down the west coast. Pheonix and Tuscon are gone, too. No TV, damn little radio. And it's worse. Ray Littlejohn got shot."

Ray ? Bobby's eyes grew wide, his pain momentarily forgotten. "Ray ? Shot ? How ? And how bad ?"

"Bad enough," Ben sighed. "He got hisself killed, Bobby. There's all sorts of people driving east, from California, from Pomona, you name it. Some are refugees, I guess, but a lot are just flotsam. Looters. Like when Katrina hit Baton Rouge. Bunch o' trucks, Rv's, gypsy types, they rolled into Luke Hyatt's orchard about an hour or two after you left my place. Ray went out there, not to roust 'em, just to ask if they knew what happened...and they killed him. Luke tried to do something, and they shot him, too. He made it to Preston's place, they came and told me."

Bobby tried to digest this. He looked west, to the grey and rose-colored clouds that were still rising over the mountains. Ray...dead ?

Licking his lips, Bobby looked down to the end of the road, where Ben's truck sat, idling. He looked at the truck bed, piled high with belongings, and the rifle barrel poking up behind the seat. "Ben...where are you going ?"

"The reservation," Ben explained. "I spoke with Mark Chee on the radio."

Mark was Ben's brother-in-law. Bobby had known him his whole life. They'd grown up together, graduated from high school together. When Bobby had run for sheriff, Mark had gone and moved onto the Navajo reservation full time, and had joined the tribal police, and had risen through the ranks.

"Is Mark okay ?"

Ben nodded. "For now, yeah. Bobby, they're gonna close the reservation. Too many refugees are pouring in here, and too many of them are no good. It's like cockroaches. The worst things always survive. I'm taking Becky and getting out of here."

Before leaving, Ben told him that the reservation was closing its borders to all but other native americans. Becky Chapin was Mark's sister. He was family. Bobby or any other white man was unwelcome, nothing personal. The tribe had to look out for there own.

Bobby showered, drank a half a pot of coffee, and sat in Reese's room, holding the Woody doll in one hand and his grandfather's revolver in the other. He remembered looking at the damn doll and wanting to cry, but his eyes didn't seem to have any tears left...

At sunrise, Bobby strode out to the workshop, his hat and jacket on, his gunbelt cinched around his waist.

He took his personal guns from the safe--the two Rugers, the two Roosevelt-patterned engraved Colts he'd made for the museum in Prescott, the Greener shotgun, and his other '86 Winchester, the rifle he'd rebuilt with his own two hands--and packed them on Lazy, his ex-wife's Appaloosa mare. He brought out a third horse--Bullseye, the roan gelding he'd given to Reese--his son had picked the name, of course--and put a pack saddle tree on him.

He moved quickly and efficiently, filling canteens and bags of water, and loading dry goods--beans, flour and salt, some dried javalina jerky--and a bedroll. Once the horses were ready, he led them to the corral fence and tied them there, and went back to the workshop.

There was a cistern in the main barn floor, dry and unused. He raised the plank floor and rolled the gunsafe into it, tipping it over to lay face-up. He threw in all the ammunition, the powder, the reloading press and anything else he thought was valuable.

When he was finished re-laying the plank cover, he got the stud gun and nailed the planks to the support beams, and for good measure used the Bobcat end-loader to push a pile of fresh compost on top of it. Parking the bobcat behind the barn, Bobby removed the distributor cap from the Scout and hid it in the rafters of the barn. There. Let looters come, they wouldn't find anything they could use.

Bobby swung up onto Queso's saddle, and took a long, final look at his little adobe home. Even with Amanda and Reese living in San Bernadino, he'd been happy here. Reese had toddled around after him on his visits, his little cowboy hat and bandanna making him look just like sheriff woody...

He pulled the little doll out of his jacket and looked at it again, and inhis head he heard Reese's little happy laugh as he played with the little felt and cloth doll.

What had he paid for it, six, seven dollars ? Bobby couldn't remember. He gently tucked the doll back in his pocket, and carefully folded the little red bandanna that been his son's, and put that in the pocket over his heart.

With Lazy and Bullseye tethered behind him, Bobby gently clucked to Queso and slowly rode towards the mountains.







"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

There was something on top of her, something heavy that was pinning her down. As she shifted under the weight of whatever it was, she had yet to open her eyes, she felt the sharp edges of glass dig into her back. She remembered sitting on the bus, remembered being airborne, hitting her head on the side and then nothing. Nothing until only moments ago when she’d come to. Ignoring the glass biting into her arms she pulled them up and pushed hard against what was pinning her down.

“Jesus, fu*king…. Off…” she grunted and with one last shove managed to get the thing off of her. Opening her eyes she gasped in horror and flung herself backwards away from the mangled body that had just been holding her down. “Oh God… what… what….” Gasping for air she forced herself to calm down and her eyes slowly swept the bus.

The bus now lay on its side, every glass window broken out a large amount of what she could only assume was blood seemed to cover just about every surface inside of it. From what she could see, and hear, she was the only person alive and yet she surprised herself by crawling through the wreckage checking each passenger. It was the good thing to do, the right thing and by the time she got up to the driver who hard a large chunk of the windshield sticking out of his face she knew that the casualty count throughout the city would be huge.

Weaponless, Kade climbed out of the broken windshield and let out a hiss of pain as she felt a shard of glass slice into her calf. Flipping over she checked the wound. It was deep but not bad enough to hamper her process. Grabbing the rear view mirror off of the side of the bus she used it to check her face and neck. She was battered and bruised with several nice size cuts but nothing serious. Tossing the mirror down where it shattered she pulled herself up to her feet.

She had to find Jean. Jean would know what to do. Looking up at the sky she felt sick to her stomach knowing the signs of a nuclear attack. She remembered those videos from school and stories that Jean had told her about A bomb testing. Shivering against the psychological cold that ran through her body she pulled her leather jacket tighter around her shoulders. She was new to LA. At least in New York she’d known where she could have gone. She’d had at least a FEW friends but now, for the first time in her life, being alone was not all it was cracked up to be.

Running her fingers through her hair she pulled it back into a ponytail and looked around for a street sign. The entire street was a disaster and bodies littered the road like confetti after a tickertape parade. Though her stomach turned over, she didn’t vomit. She just thanked her lucky stars to be alive and in one piece. Instantly she knew that she wouldn’t find a street sign any time soon, not by the looks of the road. Letting out a deep sigh she shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and began to walk down the road. She would have checked the sky to see which way was east but she knew that was useless.

She walked several blocks without seeing a single living soul and was beginning to feel like she was alone before she spied a man sitting on the curb cradling what remained of two children in his lap. Even from twenty feet away the air of grief hung heavy. Kade had half a mind to walk away and leave him there but she didn’t. It wasn’t the good thing to do, the right thing. Right now, she didn’t know what was happening and she knew what Jean would say to her. He’d tell her to help him. Check on him and make sure that he wasn’t hurt. Get him somewhere safe until they figured out what was going on. That being alone, and being a girl, wasn’t a good thing considering the situation.

“Are you okay? Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?” She said gently, approaching him slowly.

The man looked up with empty eyes, eyes that shone of heartbreak. “They’re dead. They’re dead and there’s nothing I… my babies. Oh Jesus, why… why?”

“My name is Kade.” She said trying to smile but feeling it was more of a strained grimace. Taking another few steps she continued to close the distance between herself and the man and with each new step she could see the damage to the children’s bodies clearer and clearer. The bottom half of the body seemed to be missing, intestines spilled out onto the ground and half of the little girl’s head was missing. “Come with me.”

“I can’t,” he said stroking the girls blood soaked hair. “They need me.”

“They’re dead.” She said as gently as she could. “And if they weren’t, they’d be asking you to bring them somewhere safe. Come with me. I’ll bring you somewhere safe. You can’t, you can’t help them anymore. They’re gone.”

The man continued to stroke the little girl’s hair. “I should get home.” He said gently laying his two dead children on the sidewalk. “My wife and my other children,”

“We’ll find them.” Kade said taking the man’s hand. “I promise.”

He nodded solomly. “Ryan Marsh.”

“It’s just Kade.” She said trying to ignore the slick coating of blood on his fingers. “I’ve got a friend and if he’s alive, he’ll be looking for me. He was in the military so he’s a survivor.” Kade looking up and down the street still searching for a street sign. “Mulburry,” she said absently.

“It’s that way.” Ryan said gesturing back the way she’d come from. “I live that way anyway, so we can go together.” He checked up and down the street as well trying to find a car in working order. There was none. Every car was either laying on its side of its top. “Jesus,” he whispered “what happened?”

“Nuclear bomb.” Kade said tossing her thumb over her shoulder at the cloud. “Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. Fires, burned bodies, radiation sickness…” she trained off realizing that this wasn’t the best thing to be talking about with a man who’d just lost two children and was worried about the rest of his brood. “You okay?” She asked noticing him wince as he adjusted his jacket.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Few broken ribs maybe. One second I was waiting to bring ice cream to my kids and then next there was this blast of hot air and I slammed chest first into a tree. You?” He spoke the words softly, slightly casually as though trying to separate himself from his emotions which in truth, was what he was trying to do. Until he got home to his family he was not going to feel any better. He just wanted to bury his face in his wife’s hair and breath in her scent as he cried.

“I was on a bus. There was an impact, the bus flipped, glass broke and next thing I knew I was waking up with a corpse of some three hundred pound dead man on me.” She found herself grabbing Ryan’s hand a little harder wishing desperately that Jean would just come out of the shadows and comfort her. She knew that he was alive. He had to be. All she had to do was find him. The problem was, she had no idea how.



OOC: Well folks, I’m back from my weekend in the middle of no where and I spent 18 hours renovating ONE room in my roommate’s parents house. I’m exhausted and sore and I’m heading to bed. I need a weekend to recover from my weekend but unfortunately I’ve got 5 days of work ahead of me.




-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Claire looked around the interior of the service station. The lights were out, the freezer cases were sweating with condensation...it was obvious the power had been off for a while. "Maybe we ought to gather some of this stuff before it spoils," she suggested.

Mark nodded to Zimskey, who shrugged in supplication. They moved to the cases and began to look inside at the various shelves.

"Well," Zimskey allowed. "There certainly seems to be a fair amount of beer. If anything, we can have one HELL of a party." He didn't see any imported beer, and he sighed wistfully, thinking of the little microbrewery and restaurant he frequented in Washington...

"There's bottled water," Mark announced, peering down into the bottom shelf of the walk-in cooler. "Better get it, load up as much as we can." He turned to look at Claire. "Check the jeep, see how much gas is in it. Maybe there's a manual pump out in the garage."

Jingling the keys, Claire walked past the covered body on the floor, and exited the service station.

A man sat out by the two vehicles, astride a brown horse. Claire skidded to a stop, almost dropping the keys.

He sat there and looked down, a faded cowboy hat and a pair of sunglasses obscuring his features. He had a gun on his hip.

"Hey, there." The man's voice was surprisingly young, a dry tenor. He sounded like he was parched, his voice slightly cracked.

Claire's eyes darted back to the windows of the gas station. Had Zimskey and 'Chopper' seen the man ride up ? She wondered if they could see him now. Furious at herself for not warning them, she raced for a solution. Putting a casual smile on, she nodded and waved.

"Hi, yourself," she greeted, in a falsely cheerful voice, as loud as she could make it. God, let them hear it, she prayed desparately.

The man swung down off his horse, coming around to her side of the gas pumps. She saw two more horses teathered behind it, and noticed the wooden butt of a rifle strapped to one of the saddles.

"You by yourself ?" The man limped as he walked over to her, and then Claire saw the gold badge pinned to his sand-colored canvas jacket.

Oh, crap. Where were you when those idiots were trying to rape me. She could just imagine this cop's reaction when he saw the dead bodies inside. She imagined how lame her explaination would sound: "Honest, sheriff. We killed these men because they were going to rape me. Me and my two friends, the scientist and the eco-terrorist..."

"Miss ?" The man's voice was a laid-back almost-drawl, reminding her of the big bad wolf from the old Tex Avery 'Droopy' cartoons.

"Yes ?" She snapped back to reality, wish for the thousandth time that Daniel were here.

"I said, y'all by yourself ?" the man pushed his hat back, and she saw his hair, blondish-brown, and she realised he was younger then she'd first thought.

"Uhh, well, no. We're um, inside, but you need to know..." she trailed off as he ambled past her to the door of the service staion lobby.

Christian Zimskey looked up, startled, as the man stepped through the door, eyes taking in the bodies on the floor. Mark stood up, a case of beer in his arms, as the man's arm twitched, suddenly holding a revolver that looked like something out of a John Wayne movie.

"Allright..." The man's voice was still laid-back as he side-stepped intot he lobby, but his eyes and face were deadly serious. Somehow his sunglasses were off, dangling from the corner of his front pocket. His eyes darted from the two men, to the body on the floor, to Claire, standing in the doorway.

Zimskey looked over to the rifle laying on the counter, and the lawman picked up on it.

"Well, now..." He nodded to the two men. "We got us a problem," he announced, as though it was a news flash. "Why don't you two gentlemen just move away from that gun, and stand over here by the door."

Mark exchanged glances with Dr. Zimskey, who looked apprehensively at the badge on the lawman's chest.

"I think we all need to discuss things, Sheriff," Mark began, wondering if a case of Budweiser cans would stop a bullet.

"Oh, yeah, we're definately gonna discuss things," the man nodded pleasantly. "Why don't you hold onto that beer, nice 'n tight, and move over here next to your friends." He gestured with the worn Colt revolver, and Zimskey saw that it was cocked, the man's thumb resting lightly on the hammer, his index finger curled round the trigger.

Cowardice and Ego battled for a moment, and Ego won. Zimskey stepped forward, his palms upraised, doing what he did best--talking. Schmoozing, his brother called it, but his brother always had a penchant for adopting slang.

"Sheriff ? It is 'Sheriff', right ?" Zimsky smiled the smile he thought of as disarming and open, but others usually interpreted as smug and condescending.

The man shook his head. "Just deputy."

"Deputy...fine, Deputy. We, uh, happened in here a few minutes ago, and ran into these men...they were attacking Claire, out there,--I mean, that's her, Claire, out there, but they were attacking her in here..." Zimskey continued to smile, wondering if and when this yokel was going to shoot them.

"They saved me, officer," Claire interjected, wincing inwards as she realised how ridiculous it sounded.

"What's with the AK ?" The deputy gestured towards the rifle on the counter.

"It's empty," Chopper explained.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'd expect." The deputy looked around the room, poured over every detail, yet never took his eyes off of the trio. He crossed the room to the counter, and swept the AK up with his free hand.

"You go ahead, you take that, fine," Zimskey soothed, working the crowd--well, the crowd of one, anyway.

"We'd all better sit down and figure this out," Bobby Gillespie said, making sure the safety was set on the AK--out of ammo or not.



"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

"Uh, deputy ?" Zimskey sounded a little impatient. "I can call you Deputy, right ? I'd call you 'Festus' but we're REALLY not on a first name basis yet, so--"

Bobby nodded to the beat up and dusty vehicle parked next to the jeep. "Whose vehicles ?"

"Ours." Claire looked past the jeep, wondering if she should mention the motorcycle.

"All right. First things first. Names. All of you." Bobby still held the Colt, but he'd lowered the hammer, still resting his thumb lightly upon it.

"Deputy, my name is Dr. Christian Zimsky, this is my friend Claire Sullivan, and this is my...my associate, um, 'Doctor' Mark Read."

"Doctor." Bobby rolled it off his tingue like he was saying the word 'A**hole'.

"Deputy, we really shouldn't be standing around here, it probably isn't safe, if you didn't notice, there's been a catastrophe all up and down the coast." Zimskey was impatient as always, and he just wanted this hick to let them get somewhere safe.

A noise sounded from outside, a deep rumble of a muffler, as a vehicle pulled up.

Bobby Gillespie's head snapped around and he squinted out through the glass.

A car had pulled up outside, a purple mid-seventies Pontiac, it looked like a Catalina. It had been customised, chopped, covered with garish purple glitter paint, with lots of aftermarket chrome. the muffle was loud, a cherrybomb if he'd ever heard it.

The doors opened, and a quartet of hispanic men tumbled out, muscled, tattooed and dressed in tank tops and chinos. One man had a shotgun, and the other carried an AK similar to the one Bobby had picked up off of the counter.

"Well, " Zimske heard his mouth run away with him. "It's always refreshing to see a negative racial stereotype survive a nuclear war." He looked over to Bobby. "Well, Deputy Dawg, I'd hazard a guess, and this is just me, mind you, my girlish intuition, and say THOSE FELLAS AIN'T 'XACTLY LOCALS,IS THEY ?" This last bit was said in a garish approximation of a southern accent, more Arkansas then Arizona, but the thought was what counted.

Bobby held up a hand, eyes narrowed, staring at four men outside. "Quiet," he breathed. We're gonna handle this cool and easy."

"As opposed to what," Zimskey quipped, "Hot and difficult ?"

Mark caeme alongside Bobby and Claire to stare out the window, case of beeer still in his arms. "Those guys look a little far from home."

















"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

OOC: Jesus, where is everyone?

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

OOC: Sarcs is doing a great job, let's help him out and post !

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

[deleted]

OOC: I’m trying! With work and all the only time I can really post is late evenings! I’m doing the best I can. *sniffle* *sob*


IC:

“Claire!” Ryan cried running up the rubble to what had once been the two story colonial that he’d called home. The building lay in ruins most of it completely destroyed, very little of it remained standing. “Claire!”

Kade hung back near the street not comfortable with the situation and continuing to keep an eye out for Jean. Still desperate to find him she’d agreed to come here first. According to Ryan it wasn’t that far out of the way, but considering that she didn’t know the city he could have been lying to her. At the same time however she had to admit that he could have just pointed her in the right direction if he’d wanted to and continued alone. If she was to be honest with herself, she was glad for the company.

There was a sudden shift in the rubble and Ryan grabbed a fallen door, tossing it aside as though it weighed no more than a loaf of bread, adrenaline pounding through his veins and he let out a cry of relief as he saw his wife’s face. Though she was covered in dust and blood she’d never looked more beautiful to him and he grabbed her, ripping her out of the small hole that she’d been hiding in.

“Ryan!” She cried clinging to him, trembling violently in his arms. “Oh my God, what happened? The children, Maggie, Jack…”

Ryan shook his head and pressed his face into her neck for a moment before seeing two set of eyes glimmering up from the darkness. “Hey,” he said smiling gently holding out a hand from behind his wife’s back and his two youngest children burst out from the hole wrapping their arms around his legs. Both Ryan and Clair sank to their knees wrapping their arms around their children all of them to relieved to see each other to cry anymore.

Kade made it a point not to watch the happy reunion. Family wasn’t something that she was familiar nor comfortable with and she leaned against the stone post leading to the street at the end of the driveway.

“Hey there pretty lady,” said a tall, muscular man who pulled his Humvee to a stop in front of her. She could see three other equally large men, all heavily tattooed sitting inside the car. “You need a lift?”

“Nice car,” Kade said with a half smile walking up to the window appearing friendly. She rested her elbows against the window and peered inside, eyes scanning all four men. Looking into the back of the Humvee she could see a large assortment of weapons and what looked like some canned food. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” the driver said with a sneer. “And we got room for one more.”

“Yeah,” said the man in the passenger seat “right here on my dick!” The two in the back seats erupted with laughter and the driver glared at them all darkly clearly the leader.

“Shud up!” He snapped at the other three and he turned the engine off.

Kade stepped back as he opened the car door and climbed outside looking about three times larger outside of the car then he had inside. Jesus, she thought, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. This wasn’t the bar, she didn’t have Bob for backup if she got in over her head, she didn’t have Jean to come to her rescue like she’d always thought that he would if push came to shove. She had half a mind to run up the drive back to Ryan and his family but Kade and never ran from a fight in her life and she wasn’t about to start now. She knew what she wanted. She wanted that car.

“Is there a problem?” Said a voice behind her as Ryan, wife Claire and two children Shiloh and Deacon reached the end of the drive way.

“No problem,” the man said. “Just giving the lady a ride.”

Kade grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it hard behind his back, yanking up hard against the joint as he reached for her. Not expecting the move, the man was caught off guard and let out a cry of pain. “Tell your buddies to get out of the car, or I’ll snap your god d*mned arm.” She whispered softly in his ear. Blood filled her mouth suddenly as he snapped his head back connecting it with her face and her grip on his arm released. Staggering back she spit out a mouthful of blood and she heard three doors open and the heavy sounds of boots hit pavement before there was the loud crack of a gun.

“Don’t,” Ryan said sternly looking at the other three. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.” The antique Winchester rifle that his grandfather had given him, the only personal property that he’d noticed in the rubble of his home, was raised to his shoulder and he stared down the barrel. His grip was firm yet relaxed, a man who knew exactly how to use the weapon that he’d lovingly kept in perfect working order. He’d spent many a summer with his grandfather when he’d been younger hunting in the woods. Though Ryan didn’t like violence, he knew the way the world worked and now, now things had changed dramatically. He’d always been a firm believer that the pen is mightier than the sword but now, now he was afraid that he might have to change that belief. “This isn’t your fight.”

“Daddy?” Shiloh said looking up at him and Claire grabbed her hand and picked up Deacon in the other arm. The little boy wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck looking at the men with a clear expression of fear.

“I win,” Kade said spitting out another mouthful of blood “and you give me your car and all the supplies inside.”

“And if I win,” the man said rubbing his sore wrist “you, the woman and the little girl all come with us.”

“Deal,” Kade said without hesitation. Though she didn’t know Ryan that well she knew that he’d shoot anyone who tried to lay a hand on his family deal or not and they needed that car. When night fell the danger level on the streets would increase a thousand times over.

The man rushed her like a tank using his weight as his strength. Kade, not a big girl, had long since learned the lesson that brains would always triumph over brawn in a straight out fist fight. A second before he crashed into her Kade dropped down, twisting to the side and throwing her left shoulder forward smashing into his knees. Moving with to much momentum to stop on a dime he slammed forward and tumbled to the asphalt hard. Leaping up she hit down with her foot hard landing a solid blow in his gut. Even as he grunted with the blow he grabbed the knee of the leg that she was resting her weight on and pulled forward. Kade fell backwards barely able to reach down in time to cushion her fall.

He twisted around onto his stomach and pushed himself up. “You lose, b*tch.” He snarled crawling on top of her to grab her wrists, intending on pinning her down helpless under his weight.

“Fu*k you,” she snarled and she brought her knee up into his groin. Kade use his moment of pain and she grabbed at his face, her thumbs sinking into his eye sockets all the way up to the palms of her hands. He let out a roar of pain, blinded and he rolled off of her clutching at his face. Standing up, Kade gasped for air and looked at the other three men. “I win.”

“Screw you b*tch!” Said the large man who’d been sitting in the front passenger seat and he rushed towards her. He fell backwards as another gun shot rang through the empty street and he clutched his neck, blood squirting from a gunshot wound to the jugular. A few seconds later, he fell to the ground, choking on his own blood as he died. Shiloh screamed and clung to her mothers leg and Deacon began to cry into her shoulder.

“Now you just made me shoot your friend in front of my kids,” Ryan said. “I’ll shoot the rest of you too is you try anything.” His eyes darted from one man to the other. “Back away from the car.”

“Ryan,” Claire said unsure.

“Honey,” he said “get in the car and strap the kids in. Kade, get behind the wheel.” Though he’d never served a day in his life, he’d spent time with the military and he’d seen enough to know how to make this maneuver as safe as possible. It killed him that he’d had to shoot the other man in front of his family but he hadn’t had a choice. He followed Claire to the car herding the two remaining men to the side of the road with the barrel of the gun. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Kade climb behind the wheel and Claire strap his two remaining children into the back seat before climbing in herself. “Have a nice day.” Ryan said climbing into the passenger seat as Kade slammed her foot on the gas. The heavy Humvee shot down the road leaving the two men, their blind friend and their dead one in front of the remains of Ryan’s home.

“I have to find Jean,” Kade said and Ryan looked at her for the first time, really looked at her. Her eyes were set firmly ahead, focused on the road and she looked strong and determined but he could see that she was frightened and she was desperate to find her friend. “Take your next right. Mulburry’s about 10 miles from here.”

Kade nodded and pressed the gas pedal down harder.

Ryan looked over his shoulder to his wife. She was gently rubbing her belly with one hand clearly worried about the child that she carried while she tried to comfort their two remaining children. Two out of six had made it. Only two. He thanked God for that fact while at the same time grieving silently for the four that had died.




-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

OOC: OMG. So sick, please forgive me Sarc. You are doing such a great job, but I'm bedridden right now. I'm trying to get up though and hope that it will help. Don't worry though!

"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

Zimsky mustered up some courage and carefully looked out the window. The group of lowbrows were standing around the car talking. He said, "Let's go out the back way." Mark looked through the door. The said, "Um...The back way is padlocked. We're...Stuck in here.

Zimsky turned to the Deputy and said, "We are at a crossroads. Those men out there will almost definitely kill us and take the girl, and even though I only really know her through another person, I would be quite distressed to die wondering what they were doing to her."

The Deputy was silent. Zimsky said, "If we really WERE killers, we'd have rushed you and killed you by now. Instead, we have courteously let you confiscate our weapons, even though WE don't know about YOU. For all we know, you're a wandering bum who stumbled across a body with a star on it, and you're posing as a law enforcement official."

The Deputy said, "So, what are you suggesting?" Zimsky said, "That we trust you and that you trust us. You've got an inkling as to what has happened, but you don't realize....Millions...BILLIONS of people are dead. Our world is dead. and in order to survive, we're going to be in for the fight of our lives." Zimsky looked out the window again. The Mexes were smoking by their car. The ignorant fools were smoking at a gas station. Why couldn't brains have survived?

The Deputy said, "how do YOU know what's going on?" Exasperated, Zimsky began telling half-truths. He said, "I work...USED to work for the U.S. Government. The Government built a weapons system...One that could think for itself. It did. And it grew too big for it's britches. I was called in to try and disable it, but I wasn't able to make it in time. It got too powerful and I was nearly killed with Mark here at the base I arrived at."

Zimsky was amazed again at how effortlessly the lies came. He should have considered politics. Zimsky said, "At this very moment, The system is turning weapons and machines against us. It's goal is to wipe out the human race. and, if what Mark is saying is true, I may be the only man left alive who can stop it."

Try as he might, Zimsky couldn't keep the slight trace of arrogance out of his words. Potentially being the only man who could bring down Skynet was definitely sending him on an ego trip. If only Conrad could see him now. Zimsky looked out the window. He said, "As I see it, we're going to have to kill these men. But we have the element of suprise. THEY don't know we're here. You can't kill them yourself. You've got probably another thirty seconds before they come in and start shooting. Do you trust us?"

The Deputy was silent. Zimsky waited impatiently. Finally, he passed Zimsky back the gun and handed Mark his weapon. Mark felt all his pockets twice and finally came up with a final clip for the gun. He handed some type of gun to Claire. Zimsky smiled cockily. He said, "I knew you'd make the right decision." He readied the gun and waited, feeling an odd sense of joy that he was going to take part in the killing of these men who thought they were bad.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

[deleted]

OOC:I liked Mr.Blonde's post so I've edited mine a little to accomodate his...

Bobby continued to watch the four man stand outside the gas station. They were looking inside the jeep, rooting around and fecking with the sound system. Then, the first man, the one with the AK, casually walked over to Lazy and Bullseye.

Jaw twitching, Bobby's eyes went from the car, to his horses, which the homeboys seemed to be studying intently. He saw one man take notice of the Rifle and Shotgun strapped to Lazy's saddle.

"Don't do it," he muttered, hand on the butt of his revolver. "Come on, get back in the car, don't do it..."

"I'd suggest you shoot first and ask questions later, officer," Zimskey offered sagely. "Isn't that what 'y'all do in these here parts' ?"

Bobby gave him a droll half-smirk. "You got a good sense of humor. Bet they all laugh back wherever it is you come from whenever you enter a room. Or is it leave a room ?" He looked over to Mark. "That AK of yours. It really out of ammunition ?"

Chopper wished it weren't so. "Yeah, 'fraid it is, mate."

"Okay then. Any other guns ?"

Mark looked over to Claire. "Claire. Any ammo in your pistol ?"

She'd forgotton. The .357 was still in her purse. "Yeah, uh..."--she had to check it--"two rounds."

Mark pointed to the man on the floor. "We took a Sig .380 off of that suit on the floor--don't know if he's got anything else. And I've got a forty-five."

Raising his eyebrows, Bobby wondered what these folks would've done if he'd turned his back on htem or let his guard down. Zimskey looked a little shifty, the hippy in the cammies looked to idealistic for his own good, and the girl...he didn't know. She looked classy, too classy to be mixed up in anything too crazy. Maybe they were telling the truth. If they'd been making it up, they would've come up with a better story.

"Okay," he said, after a moment. "I'm going out there. If something happens, just don't shoot me, or the horses." He paused. "Or the gas pumps. That would pretty much wreck my day, and it's been pretty sh***y so far."

Bobby wasn't sure how he was going to proceed. He turned and stopped just inside the doorway. One of the guys was up next to Bullseye, and was yanking on the reins while a second guy--the one with the AK--was grabbing at the saddle packboard.

"Hey !" Bobby came through the door, eyes narrowed, laid-back demeanor gone in a heartbeat. "Let go of the horse, campadre !" He strode straight towrds the, briskly, his hand on he butt of his colt.

The angelino was taken aback. He stepped back a foot or so as Bobby continued to walk towards him, hesitating to raise the AK.

Bobby felt himself closing the distance almost too fast to comprehend. He held his left palm out, eyes boring into the man's face with blazing intensity.

"Drop the gun, amigo ! Now !" He didn't slow down, didn't pause. He took three more steps towards the man, then, when the muzzle of the AK started to rise, he snapped the colt out of the holster with a speed that would've made most old-timers blink.

The homey froze, rifle raised halfway to his hip, and stared at the muzzle of the colt bisley .44, just a foot or so away from his face.

"Come on," Claire hissed to Mark Read, and exited the doorway, a paper sack of chips and bottled water cradled in her arms.

"Honey," she called back to Mark, stepping out into the sunlight,"Don't forget the beer ad the soda--oh !" She stopped abruptly, as though she'd walked into some sort of pastorial scene.

The homeboys stared at her in surprise, and it was all the diversion Bobby needed. He swept the muzzle of the AK out of the way as it came up, and whipped the colt down and across the top of the man's head. With a sickening thwak ! the man keeled over, losinghis grip on the AK as Bobby flung it across the parking lot.

"Don't, 'esay," Bobby growled to the guy with the pistol, who raised his hands overhis head as Mark shotinto the parking lot, .45 trained square on his chest.

"Allright." Zimskey strode intot he parking lot as though he were the conductor arriving for a night at the opera. "Everyone just stop. Gentlemen ?" He adressed the hispanic men. "You speak english, don't you ?"

The man with the pistol was helping his injured friend stand up. "Yeah, what country you think this is ?"

"Right now, I'm not sure." Zimskey looked over to Claire and Mark. "I think we're all a little tense, what with THE END OF THE WORLD AND ALL, but if we all calm down, this can be resolved amiacably. I suggest that these gentlemen..." Zimskey paused to bow towards the four men--"I suggest these gentlemen apologise for touching this nice man's horse, and go on their way."

"They ain't going nowhere," Bobby insisted, gun still trained on them.

Zimskey shrugged and threw his arms up in anoyance. "Look, Sheriff--"

"Deputy."

"Fine, look, 'Deputy'. What are you going to do with them ? Lock them all up until Sheriff Andy git back from Mayberry ?" Zimskey dropped into his pseudo-hick accent again.

"Sheriff got killed this morning," Bobby announced, shifting his grip on the colt to two hands so they wouldn't see him shaking. "Got himself killed by some fellas from L.A.. Maybe these boys right here."

Shaking her head, Claire came foreward. "Look, Deputy...let them go. They haven't hurt anyone yet. We have bigger problems to face," she added, pointing to the sun, barely visible through the swirling angry clouds riing above the western mountains.

He breathed a long sigh, still holding the scarred and patinaed revolver. Slowly, he lowered the hammer with his thumb. After a moment, he swallowed hard, then nodded. "Okay." Bobby kept the gun trained on the four men. "Get in your car and go. Road east leads past Chirco to Suidad Callone. Keep on it, it can't be more'n thirty miles."

The man with the pistol gesture towards the AK. "What about our rifle ?"

"Leave it," Mark replied, still holding his .45 at arms' length.

The four angelinos exchanged looks. One, the injured man, clutched a kerchief to his head. He whispered something to his friend, who nodded. SLowly, they got into the Pontiac. With a blat of the tired exaust, it slowly pulled onto the road, fishtailing slightly as it accelerated and picked up speed.

Mark lowered the pistol as Bobby Gillespie turned awy, holstering his revolver. The deputy looked over to Claire and winked. "Nice improvisation," he nodded. Then his smile vanished. "It could've gotten us all killed."








"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

Jean looked up at the sky, wondering how bad the fallout was getting. Pretty bad, he had to imagine. The streets were covered with what looked like ash. Jean diverted his focus from the sky to the overturned bus in front of him. It had been blown into a building.

Jean crawled in through a broken window. The first thing he looked at was some sign that this bus was the one that went through his neighborhood. He found a listing of the route and looked. This was the bus.

Jean turned, looking at the corpses. Ignoring the pain in his hands, he started looking at bodies. He lifted the first one into the light, looking at the face. No. He repeated the process on ones that looked most likely to be her. Some of them were obviously male and or obviously too big, even in this dim light.

He'd made it all the way to the back of the bus without finding her. He double checked....She wasn't on here. Jean knelt, ignoring the smell of blood as he thought. That meant one of two things. She'd probably gotten off the bus before it got hit, or she left after. Jean crawled back to the window, climbing out and snagging his shirt on a bit of glass as he did. As he got out, he stopped.

A set of small footprints led from the bus and down the street. He got back into his borrowed car and drove slowly next to them, holding the driver's side door open so he could keep track of them.

And then Jean heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. It was from the direction that Kade's footprints were likely to have gone. Jean didn't think it was her. But it COULD be someone else who was in trouble. And he had to go that way anyway.

Jean kept following the footprints, hoping they wouldn't end abruptly.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

“Watch it!” Ryan yelled as Kade made a hard left barely avoiding a green car that had been speeding towards them. Both his children let out cries of fear as the black Humvee that Kade was driving spun around, tires losing traction on the ash covered streets and slamming into an overturned car on the side of the road with the driver’s corpse thrown half way through the windshield. The cars connected with a loud crunch of metal.

Kade turned the wheel and put her foot back on the gas trying desperately to regain control and the car jumped forward suddenly ripping free of the sports car and coming to a stop in the middle of the street. She narrowed her eyes at the green car ahead of them and tapped her finger on the drivers wheel thoughtfully. “Cover me,” she said opening the car door and climbing out.

Ryan grabbed his door handle to open it only to find that the impact had jammed the door shut. With a muttered curse he rolled the window down and climbed half way out, sitting on the bottom of the window and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He heard Deacon say something and heard Claire quickly quiet the boy. He trained the barrel on the windshield of the second car and waited, finger resting against the side of the trigger, waiting.

Kade stepped towards the green car, heart pounding in her chest. She cocked her head to the side trying to see through the ash covered windshield into the car itself to see who was driving it. “Get out,” she said firmly trying to sound considerably tougher than she was feeling. A girl against a car, it wasn’t the best odds in her favor and she knew it.

The car door creaked as it opened and she took a deep breath, waiting for the driver to emerge. Then suddenly, He stepped out.

“Jean!” She cried happily and she rushed forward, tackling him to the ground, arms wrapped around him so happy to see him that she couldn’t contain herself. She felt his arms wrap around her shoulders and heard him laugh against her.

“I’ve been looking for you.” He said finally pulling himself away. “I heard a gun shot, and I was afraid that,”

“It’s okay!” Kade said suddenly picking herself up from the ash covered ground and looking back at the Humvee. “I know him!” She couldn’t contain the grin on her face. “Are you okay?” Kade said back to Jean. “Your hand,”

“It’s okay,” Jean said brushing her off. “You’re in worse shape than I am.” His eyes scanned over her carefully noticing every tear in fabric, every spot of blood on her skin and clothing. “I saw the bus.”

“I don’t know what happened,” she said. “I mean it just, it,” she shivered against the memory. “I must have hit my head because the next thing I knew I was covered with some dead fat man.” She turned her head hearing the car doors open and close. “I’d like to meet Ryan,”

“Marsh,” Jean finished extending his hand to Ryan who shook it, the antique Winchester in his other hand. “I watch the news. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said with a polite smile. “This is my wife Claire and my… remaining children Deacon and Shiloh.” Claire managed a weak smile, eyes brimming with tears at the thought of their four fallen children and Shiloh clung to her leg while Deacon stared wide eyed at Jean.

“The gun shot,” Jean said.

“That was me.” Replied Ryan with a tinge of sadness. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“These three guys came up wanting to take me and Claire and Shiloh,” Kade said. I fought the leader,” she said ignoring the disapproving look that Jean was giving her as he knew that she’d most likely welcomed the fight “and won, the other three didn’t like it. Ryan shot one when he tried to rush me.”

“Kade, what have I told you about fighting?” Jean said. “You have to think things through. You act before you think and it’s going to get you killed.”

“Yes sir,” replied Kade sharply like a soldier taking an order. “We managed to acquire a Humvee full of supplies and weapons, sir.”

“Good,” Jean said. “We need to get out of the city as soon as possible.” He looked up towards the darkening sky, Ryan’s eyes following his. “This isn’t the end, and Los Angeles is the last place we should be.”

“We should get to the mountains,” Ryan said. “If I remember right there’s an old military base that was abandoned back in the fifties. It’s drilled into the side of the mountain. If we can get there we should be safe from further attack.”

Jean nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Kade, I want you in the back seat with Claire so that she can check you over and bandage your wounds. Mr. Marsh,”

“Ryan.”

“Ryan,” Jean said “if you’d ride up front with me you can give directions and run defense if needed.”

“Yes sir,” Kade said sounding miserable at the very thought of not riding in front with Jean. It felt like a punishment being sent to the back seat. It’s what he wanted however and she always did as he said, without hesitation or question.

“I need you strong, lieutenant.” Jean said patting her shoulder. “Let’s move out.”



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Claire Sullivan watched the deputy check the horses. The last one, the pack horse, he paid special attention to. She moved past Mark and Dr. Zimskey as they loaded the jeep with the water they'd taken from the gas station, so she could get a better look.

The deputy had his forehead pressed againts the gelding's forelock, his eyes closed. He was whispering something, she realised, and immediately thought smugly of the movie the horse whisperer.

"I know, buddy, I know," Bobby whispered to Bullseye, breathing in the smell of the horse, clinging desparately to the memories of Reese, chubby little legs astride the sadle, his face a blue-eyed, happy little grinning jack-o-lantern. He heard a footstep on the gravel, and raised his head, opening his eyes to see the girl.

"Ma'am." He doffed his hat.

Claire felt odd being called 'Ma'am.' It seemed so...old. She wondered how old this guy was. He looked about twenty-five, but could've been a decade older.

"I'm sorry, " she heard herself saying, coming over to the horse. "Sorry if I acted out of turn. We really didn't have a plan."

"Can't always plan something like that," he allowed. "Besides, if you take the time to plan everything, you might wind up gettin' killed by someone who decided to improvise."

Claire decided she liked him. His face was clean-shaven, and lean. His whole body was long and rangy. He didn't lumber, like Bullworth had, and he seemed light on his feet, unlike Daniel, who'd always been solid as a rock.

Daniel...she wondered where he was, how he was. She didn't dare entertain the possibilty that he might be dead.

She looked at the horse, saw the tender affection the deputy showed it, and decided a man that showed such affection for a horse must be a gentle and kind person.

"I told you my name," she began.

"Sullivan." He nodded easily. Everything was casual and laid-back, like he was enjoying a private joke at your expense. "Claire Sullivan."

"Well, what's your name, then ?"

He paused a moment, moving his hand to smoothly place the stetson atop his dirty blond hair. "Gillespie," he said, out of the corner of his mouth, looking past her to the road. "Bobby Gillespie."

"Well," She began, "It's nice to--" Claire cut off as Bobby roughly pushed her aside, at the same time reaching for the rifle butt strapped to the pack saddle.

Claire became aware of the blatting roar of a car muffler, and another sound, gunfire, louder then even the exaust of the purple pontiac. The car had roared over the rise in the road, a demon-faced angelino hanging out the passenger side, firing a shotgun.

Chopper rose from behind the jeep, captured AK at the ready, seeing but not believing as the car swerved towards them, the shotgun firing past them to shatter the bay window of the service station...



"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

[deleted]

Zimsky smiled with relief as he watched the car speed further and further away. While his adreneline had fuled him into considering taking part in the killing of the gang, After he'd gotten out there, his self-preservation had kicked in.

What was he doing? These men could kill him. it had been quite a foolish undertaking on his part.

He turned to the Deputy, a smug grin on his face. He said, "Thankfully, brains triumph over brawn yet again. We showed them out superiority, and nobody got hurt in the process." The Deputy said, "This time." Zimsky's grin faltered slightly. He said, "Yes...This time. And most likely the next. So Deputy..." The Deputy saqid, "It's Bobby."

Zimsky, never much into remembering names, said, "Yes, of course, Bobby. I suggest we raid that gas station for anything that may be of use to us, and then keep going. Skynet will have launched vehicles for search and destroy. If they locate us, what they do will make that mexicali gang look like a girl scout troupe."

Bobby was nodding silently. He looked into Zimsky's eyes. Zimsky felt that they were still sizing each other up. The man's opinion meant nothing to Zimsky, in the long run. He was Christian Zimsky. His name was known. He was an acedemic celebrity. This bumpin was nothing more than a country rent-a-cop. He'd continue to humor the man, at least for the moment. After all, he was an extra shooter. And, since he wasn't afraid of using a gun, he was a person Zimsky could hide behind if things started looking dangerous.

Zimsky hurried over to Claire and said, "Are you alright my dear?" Claire nodded. Zimsky could see she was attempting to slow down the adreneline rush. Zimsky said, just loud enough for Bobby to hear, "I don't care what HE said, your words were brilliant. After all, it got those men to leave, WITHOUT a firefight. I'm quite proud of you, my dear." Claire nodded, smiling.

Zimsky was arrogant, but he knew how to play a room when he needed to. He smiled broadly at her. Bobby said, "We should probably pack along extra fuel. You want to..." Zimsky said, "My dear sir, do you have ANY idea who I am? Gas pumping is not for me. I'll oversee collecting supplies. Mark, I believe you said you located a radio?" Mark nodded. Zimsky said, "I suggest you pack that along. Claire and I will collect food from the shelves. It looked like there was still a fair assortment of things left behind. More than I would have expected for a gas station out here in the desert."

Mark went inside. Claire followed him. Bobby started pulling containers over to the pumps. He said, "You know a lot about this Skyknot." Zimsky rolled his eyes. He said, "SkyNET. And as I told you, They called me in to try and disarm the d@mn thing." Bobby said, "I'm suprised they didn't ask you to help create it, if you are as smart as you say you are." Zimsky turned, giving him a look he saved only for the completely idiotic and for Democrats. He said, "Well...I wasn't. it was a ridiculous idea to begin with. A computer that thinks for itself." He pushed his glasses up his nose and put the gun through his belt, conceling it under his sport jacket. He said, "I'll be in collecting food." Bobby nodded slightly. Zimsky left him to his work."

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Zimsky heard what sounded like an explosion. He felt something cut the side of his face, and then felt pain in his right arm. He turned, seeing that the window was shattered in the gas station. He saw the purple car coming towards them, saw where it was headed..

Zimsky didn't think. He ran for the back door, remembering it was padlocked. His eyes scanned the room quickly, finally resting on a red fire extinguisher on a rack on the wall. He knocked the latch loose with the heel of his hand and yanked the extinguisher from the wall.

Zimsky turned, feeling something wet running down his arm. Blood. He'd been shot. Didn't that @sshole out there KNOW who he WAS? Zimsky turned to the padlocked door and started pounding on it with the extinguisher. The wood around the lock began to splinter, then crack.

Doing his best to ignore the pain, (And not having much luck at it) Zimsky let out a small whoop of triumph as the wood finally gave in around the latch and he threw open the door. In the blazing afternoon sun shining through the service bay doors, Zimsky scanned quickly, hearing the roar of the approaching car, the sound of more gunfire. He forced himself with all of his willpower not to panic as his eyes frantically searched for what he was looking for.

He finally locked on it. The switches to turn off the pumps. Zimsky hurled himself at them. He bounced into the wall and switched the gas pumps off. Then he ran to the service bay doors and looked out the dirty windows at what was happening outside. He saw the car swerve out of control. It hit the left-hand side pumps, knocking them all over in one clean blow. the car continued on, sailing beyond them into the desert. Zimsky breathed a sigh of relief. They would have been 10 seconds from all dying in a firey explosion if that car had hit the pumps while they were on.

Zimsky ran to the shattered window, seeing Claire and Bobby crouched behind the car. He shouted out at him, "What do we do?!"

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

OOC: Believe it or not it JUST dawned on me that Ryan’s wife’s name is the same as Fuzzy’s character. I’ll change it just to avoid confusion when the groups hook up. Oops!


IC:

“You’re lucky,” Eva said pulling chunks of glass out of the back of Kade’s heavy leather jacket. “Your back would be cut to ribbons if you hadn’t been wearing this jacket. Why are you anyway? It’s June in Los Angeles. It’s not exactly jacket wearing weather.”

“Never know when you’ll need a little added protection,” Kade said simply.

“How’d you get that?” Shiloh asked pointing to the streak of white in Kade’s hair. “Only old people have that.”

“Hey now,” Ryan said tossing a look in the back seat scowling at his daughter for a moment before smiling at her.

“Well Daddy,” Shiloh said with a giggle “you ARE old.”

“Yeah!” Said Deacon in agreement. “Just like him.” He pointed towards Jean with a wide grin.

“Manners,” Eva hissed softly to her children. She grabbed onto a hunk of glass that was buried deep in Kade’s jacket and pulled it out. Kade let out a small hiss and Eva saw the end of the glass was red with blood. “I’m sorry,” she said “lets just get this jacket off you.”

“It’s okay,” Kade replied as she shrugged the jacket off reluctantly. It was like a second skin to her. Having it off didn’t feel natural. With the adrenaline of the crash and the fight wearing off aches and pains were starting to settle into her joints and she knew by looking at the others that they were feeling the same way. Everyone was drained emotionally and physically after a day that only existed in movies had come to life. Nuclear holocaust, Jesus. How many were dead, millions? Billions? How many were left alive, thousands? Hundreds? Dozens? She jumped as Eva pulled out a chuck of glass that had imbedded itself in her shoulder blade. “It’s okay,” she said before Eva could apologize. “Lets me know I’m still alive.” Glancing at Jean she saw him smile. He’d said that to her once when talking about injuries sustained in battle. Pain was your friend, it let you know you were still alive. “So where are we going?” She asked. “The path I mean.”

“Well we’re taking the back roads out of the city which is going to take us a ways south,” Ryan said looking at the map. “I don’t want to take the main roads. If this is, well,” he didn’t say attack for the sake of his already frightened children “If what we think is going on is right, it’d be best to stay away from the heavily traveled roads.” Reaching into the glove box he pulled out a map and unfolded it in his lap. “We go south and then out into the desert to the unpaved military roads here.” He pointed to a spot on the map which didn’t show any roads.

Jean glanced over quickly and nodded. “Good plan. There’ll be enough gas stations to get us there and then we head up into the mountains. You must know some pretty powerful people to know about those roads.” He said more to himself than anything.

Ryan shrugged and folded the map. “I don’t know much, but I know people and if you get a few drinks in them, they’ll tell you a little more than they should over a casual dinner.”

“I guess everyone’s got their vices,” Jean said as he turned sharply to avoid an overturned semi, hopping the curb and driving down the sidewalk to avoid it. “You think we can make it?” He asked more to test Ryan’s frame of mind than anything else. He had no doubt that he and Kade could make it. It was Ryan and his family that concerned him, especially the two children and the very pregnant wife.

“Have to,” Ryan said. “I don’t care what it takes.” He shook his head and his hand absently rubbed the cool metal of the Winchester. “I’ve lost too much to fail them too.”



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

OOC: Mini scene up within the next hour.

Til' then, please no posts.

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

"SH#T!" Exclaimed Mark, as a window pane behind him shattered in an explosion of glass. The purple Buick rounded about on the road, turning to do another driveby. More glass exploded, prompting Mark to yell to Bobby.

"You think we can take these guys?!"

Bobby, who was loading shells into his Mossberg, nodded.

"Yeah. Lay down cover fire for me. I'll try to hit the driver. You still have the Kalashnikov?!"

Another shot and a ricochet. Buckshot went through a window, smashing into some candy bars on the display rack. Melted chocolate flew everywhere.

"Yeah! Both of 'em!"

"Alright, go now!" Yelled the Deputy, still putting red, plastic shells into the firearm. Mark took his cue and emerged from behind the Red Jeep Wrangler he'd been using as cover. Taking aim with the automatic rifle, he quickly calculated for windage as he lined up the shot.

'Aim small, miss small'

He depressed the trigger, and a volley of 7.62 millimeter rounds flew downrange towards the target. Two bullets found themselves lodged into one of the vehicle's tires, causing it to explode. The driver tried to control the vehicle, only for it to go driving straight into a ditch on the shoulder.
Emerging from HIS cover, Bobby moved towards the car quickly, while its occupants were still disoriented. Firing one shot into the cab, he pumped the action in quick succession, holding his finger onto the trigger.

The gunman was hit first, as he was the one that had tried to flee. Bobby hit him in the back as he ran, prompting a shower of crimson gore to splatter the dirt below the man. The internal organs inside his chest totally pulverized, by the time he hit the ground, he was long gone.
Turning their attention to the driver, both Bobby and Mark opened up on the Angelino, causing the inside of the older model car to become filled with ricocheting rounds. The gangster was shredded in mere moments, his pulpy head falling onto the steering wheel.

Taking a quick peek inside of the car, Bobby found the third occupant made into swiss cheese, smoke still lazily rising from the exit wounds. Without batting an eye, he opened the car door and stepped inside, gathering any weapons he could see. Outside, Mark ejected the spent magazine from the rifle, putting it into a pouch sewn into his Cammies.

"Find anything?" He asked, inserting a new mag into the gun.

"Yeah. I'm gonna pop the trunk, you mind looking inside?"

"Sure." He said, walking to the rear of the vehicle. Bobby hit the trunk release, and Read's brow raised. Before him was a considerably large stockpile of firepower. From what he knew, there was German stuff, Russian stuff, and Middle Eastern stuff, all in the trunk.

"You find anything?" Called Bobby, exiting the car.

"In a manner of speaking. Take a look..."

Walking around back, Bobby's eyes bugged. Picking up an MP5 schmeisser submachine gun, he looked to Read's face.

"Holy sh#t. Some luck, eh?"

While Bobby perused through the cache of weapons, Read walked back towards the gas station. His eyes drifted off towards the horizon, where after a moment or two he saw something he couldn't possibly have seen.
To make sure that his eyes simply weren't playing a mean trick on him, he removed the binoculars from one of the pouches on his belt and peered out into the distance.

Oh sh#t!

A single predator drone floated above the ground. Below its wings were a compliment of missiles, bombs, machines guns and whatever weapon Skynet could attach to the bottom of an Airplane. It was closing in fast too, maybe at a speed of a hundred, if they were lucky.

Not bothering to make a scene, Mark Read ran as fast as he could back to the station. Throwing his gear into the back of the jeep, he called out to the others.

"HEY! They're coming, we gotta go right now!"

Claire and Zimsky had just worked up the courage to emerge from hiding and looked to Zimsky with strange expresssions planted upon their faces.

"What are you?! Made of stone??? Come on, get in the sodding car!!"

"What's going on?" Asked Claire with confusion in her voice.

"There's a predator drone about a mile away from us in THAT direction. We've got to get the F#CK out of here, understand? BOBBY!"

On the other side of the road, Bobby's head poked up out of the trunk.

"Get the F#CK OUTTA THERE, RIGHT NOW!"

"What?" Came back his response.

"Get the F#CK outta there god dammit!"

"I can't hear you! WHAT?"

Zimsky panicked. He'd seen what kind of firepower those drones could unleash back at Edwards. He wasn't going to take any chances. Pushing Claire into the jeep, he jumped into the driver's seat. Luckily for him, the keys were still in the ignition. Turning them, the SUV roared to life, andZimsky FLOORED IT.
Mark was caught off balance, falling into the back of the truck, his head hitting floor hard, knocking him out cold.

Zimsky sped as fast as he could, not hearing the cries of Bobby. What he did hear however, was the sound of an airplane flying N.O.E., or nap of the earth abov his head.
The unmanned ground attack vehicle banked left, hard, to make a pass at the gas station. Claire came back to reality (Zimsky shoved her pretty hard) to yell at Christian.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

"Get DOWN! GET DOWN!" He exclaimed, looking into the rear view mirror as the Predator launched a volley of missiles at the station. Even though Zimsky had turned off the pumps, the gas tanks beneath the ground exploded, causing the entire joint to go sky high.

Turning his attention back to the road, Christian Zimsky tried to make the jeep go faster, only to realise that he was already doing ninety miles an hour.
Top speed for a jeep...

The predator drone banked around nearing the jeep from behind. Once it got a target lock, it opened up on the escaping vehicle with the minigun mounted under it's nose.
Picking up Mark's AK-74, Claire tried to shoot it down, but to no avail. Little did she know that Predator drones were equiped with Bullet resistant skin.

The Kalashnikov ran dry as the Predator overflew them, banking right for another pass.

"What the hell do we do?" Screamed Claire, tossing the spent rifle aside.

"How the f#ck should I know?!!" Yelled Zimsky.


END MINI SCENE


"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

OOC: I, unfortunately, will be away until late tonight.

I know, I know. I suck.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

OOC: KILLER scene, Sarcs ! I gotta post, but I'll delete it if ya say so !


Mark rolled across the rear of the jeep, groaning as Zimskey slammed the vehicle into reverse, cranking the steering wheel and spinning the jeep around in a 180 degree turn.

Thrown against the door by the inertia of the turn, Claire grabbed the second AK, the one they'd taken from the gang-bangers. She slid back into the rear of the jeep, hair spilling over her eyes. "Dammit !" she shouted to Zimskey. "How the hell can I shoot when you're driving like this is a bumper car ?!"

Christian popped the clutch and swerved forewards, wishing desperately he'd listened to his mother and gone to P & S for med school intead of MIT.

Claire looked down at Mark, who was still down for the count. No help there. She raised the AK, fumbled with the massive safety switch, slamming it all the way down. Raising the gun to her shoulder, she braced herself against the roll bar and started to shoot as the predator began its' final attack run.

The AK barked and spat fire, semi-automatic, the short metal buttstock slamming painfully into her cheek. She led the craft like she was shooting quail at her grandparents' farm in West Virginia, but the trigger on the AK was nothing like her grandfather's old shotgun.

It wasn't like in the movies; when the gun fired, the sights jumped, and she heard the impact of the bullet but didn't see it. Another shot connected, making a dull thud as the bullet hit the armor of the Predator and richocheted off into the sky with a whine.

The predator opened fire with the chain gun suspended from its' belly, the 25 mm shells churning up the macadam of the roadway as it walked its' fire towards them.

Zimskey began to weave, darting the jeep back and forth to establish a tracking pattern, then suddenly, he slammed on the brakes. The predator tracked left, chewing up the ground where they should've been. It banked and came around for a second pass, storing the data in its' memory. It wouldn't make the same mistake again.

An explosion sounded, deeper then the roar of the cannon or the AK-74. The Predator skidded a meter or so sideways, one wing rocking upwards and coming back down as it stabilised. There was a deep dent in one wing root, like it had been hit with a chisel.

Claire's head snapped around as Zimskey skidded the jeep backwards in a bootleg turn.

Blinking dust and sweat from his eyes, Bobby Gillespie swore under his breath and levered another round into his 1886 Winchester. The stubby little octagon barrel of the short rifle lay across the saddle of 'Queso, who, although terrified, stood his ground as the predator arced around, sensors seeking the source of this new attack.

Squinting, Bobby tracked the vehicle as it turned from the jeep to face him. Flicking his finger forewards, he pushed the set trigger (the one he'd spent six months rebuiding from scratch, after buying the old gun at a farm auction) foreward, setting it. With a gentle caress, he squeezed the trigger as the predator crossed through his sights.

The Winchester barked, the .45-90 slug launching with over 3500 ft-lbs of energy. The steel buttplate thumped his shoulder, a pain that he welcomed, a pain that cut through the grief and the anger and the sadness...

The predator actually STOPPED its' foreward motion as the 405-grain slug, hard cast from pure linotype and heat-tempered in Bobby's workshop kiln, slammed into its' nose at over 2300 feet per second. The first slug had dented the side of the drone, hitting at an oblique angle; this one hit head on, and the alloy and carbon fiber simply gave way.

The predator dropped a foot as it started to accelerate, the vertical thrusters compensating for the loss of foreward momentum and lift.

"Goddamnit !!!" Bobby levered the gun again and flipped up the tang sight, squinting as blood dripped from a gash over his eye. He sighted on the shiny, bubble-like cluster of sensors at the nose of the drone, and set the trigger. "C'mon, you..." he fired. The Winchester barked again, the smoke actually blowing outward in a ring, and the Predator tumbled, foreward stabilty lost as it sped up, trying to gain lift. It spun end over end, spiralling to the left of the jeep, and plowed into the ground. It rolled a dozen times, sensors whirring and guns firing, then exploded as it's own ordinance detonated.

Claire clung to the roll bar as Zimskey stopped the jeep, watching as Bobby slowly walked out of the blowing smoke, the rifle clamped to his shoulder, trained on the burning wreckage of the drone.

"Jesus Christ !" Zimskey managed after a moment, finding his voice as Bobby limped over to the jeep.

After a long moment, the deputy lowered the rifle and turned away from the burning wreckage of the predator. He looked at Claire and Christian for a heartbeat, then nodded, and turned to limp back to the remains of the gas station to see to his horses.




"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

“What the hell?” Jean said pulling the Humvee to the side of the road. They all stared out at the destroyed gas station that sat before them, flames engulfing the pumps and bullet holes showing in the earth, tire tracks, the ground chewed up by tires and, something else.

“Looks like a war zone,” Ryan muttered with a frown.

“Mommy?” Shiloh said nervously, reaching for her mother’s hand and Deacon started to cry again.

“It’s okay honey,” Eva said taking her daughters hand while rubbing Deacon’s back. “It’s okay.” She cast Ryan an uncertain look and he tried to give her a reassuring smile.

Kade looked around the area with a frown. They needed gas, that much was certain. With the gas pumps out of commission their options were exceptionally limited. “We could siphon.” She said pointing to a couple of large beat up pick ups behind the building. The cabs were riddled with bullet holes but their gas tanks, from what she could see from where she sat, seemed intact. “There might be enough to get us to the next station. The sign said, what… 100 miles.”

“120,” Ryan said absently.

Jean nodded. “Okay, but only since we don’t have a choice. We don’t have enough to get us to the next station. Ryan, you’ll continue to cover us. Eva, you and the kids stay in the Humvee while Kade and I get the gas. Kade, we’re going to have to make it fast.”

“Roger,” Kade said. “I’ll run inside and get a hose and a couple of gas cans.”

“I’ll meet you at the trucks then.” Jean said pulling up in front of the door to the gas station. “We’ll pull around.”

“Roger,” Kade replied and jumped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. Though she wanted to bash through the door and grab what she needed, common sense prevailed and she slipped through the door quietly, carefully. The world was in chaos and she knew that Jean would want her to do this as quickly, but as safely, as possible. Keeping her ears open she turned and headed down the nearest isle and grabbed three single gallon gas cans that were sitting on the shelf. She’d wanted something bigger but these were the only size and beggers couldn’t be choosers. Wandering up and down the isles she grumbled under her breath not seeing anything that they could use as a hose to siphon the gas from the trucks which meant that she’d have to go back into the back rooms, which she didn’t want to do.

“Fu*k,” she muttered setting the gas cans down on the counter and adjusting the front of her jacket gathering herself. It was one thing to wander around in the front of the store, but the back was different for some reason. Less places to exit if things got hairy. Placing her hand on the swinging door leading into the back room she pushed it open as quietly as she could and slipped through the doorway. Silence was the only sound that greeted her and her hand slid over the wall finding it oddly moist. After a moment her fingers reached the light switch and she flicked the tab up, the brilliant fluorescent lights flooding the small room.

“Jesus!” She hissed taking a sharp step backward and hitting the wall. Blood coated the walls in the back room and the bodies of two men lay sprawled out on the floor, dead. It was one thing to see a body in the heat of battle, or to kill someone in self defense but to just walk in and see two dead bodies covered in blood, brains spattered over the ground and walls took her completely off guard. Tears stung her eyes and she felt sick to her stomach. Turning to the side her stomach violently emptied itself much against her will and with a shaking hand, she grabbed a three foot length of hose that was laying on the desk that had, prior to the explosions, been used to fill mop buckets from the sink. Swearing that she would never tell a soul about vomiting she ran out of the station as quickly as she could pausing only long enough to pick up the gas cans. Running the back of her hand over her eyes and brushing away the un-fallen tears she sprinted around the side of the gas station to where Jean was standing by the Humvee beside the pickup.

“Good job, lieutenant.” He said with an approving nod. He could see that she had been rattled by something and he knew that the title brought her some small measure of comfort and strength. She looked to him like a commander so he played the part, but with a measure of tenderness towards the girl. “You made good time.” He removed the gas cap off of the first pickup and Kade shoved one end of the hose down into the tank and sucked on the other end, choking on the strong fumes stopping just in time as the gas shot out of the end she was holding and shoving it into the first gas can.

Kade spat on the ground, the taste of gas burning her mouth and throat. “Thank you, sir.” She said trying not to cough and failing rather miserably. “How long do you think this’ll take?”

Jean shook his head looking at the four people still in the Humvee. “I don’t know Kade. The world, I’m afraid something bad has happened, something that we don’t understand yet. I don’t think it’s another country that did this.”

“You think WE did this?” She asked changing the gas cans and passing the full one to Jean who began to empty it into the Humvee’s tank.

“No,” Jean said looking up at the darkening sky. “I think it’s something else. I don’t know what Kade, but something else. Something that…”

“Something that only happens in the movies.” She said finishing his sentence, staring up at the sky with Jean. “Do you think we’re going to make it?”

“If we don’t we’ll die trying.” Jean said. “In the end, as long as we never give up, that’s what matters. Ryan’s got a good plan and he knows the way. Don’t ask me how he knows, but he does. There’s an abandoned military base in the mountains and we’ll take the back roads to get there, the roads that haven’t been used in decades. It’s our best bet.”

“Okay,” she said not questioning him. She’d never dream of it.




-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Zimsky looked at Mark's homemade map and said, "Are you sure about this?" He'd let Bobby take over driving. After that last ordeal he needed a break. He wasn't the type for all this hero nonsense. While he wouldn't leave the others to have their carcasses picked apart by vultures, He still looked out for number one first. And besides, he'd saved everyone at the gas station by using his quick-thinking skills to shut off the pumps. These people OWED him. He'd have gotten a medal of honor or the Key to a city or SOMETHING by now, for his efforts so far.

Mark said, "Of COURSE I'm sure. In my profession, you know where ALL the hideouts are buried." Zimsky looked at the piece of notebook paper with a frown, and took a drag from the Vantage he was smoking. Not his usual brand, but the best he'd run across. He'd raided the cigarette rack before they'd left the gas station, taking only cartons of cigarettes that cost over 35 dollars. The Vantages were one of the brands. Still, he missed the smooth tase of his Dunhills.

Mark "Chopper" Read said, "It's our best bet, I'm telling you. Reinforced, and protected." Zimsky took another drag. Whilst deciding on a suitable hiding place, Mark had pulled a piece of notebook paper out of one of his many pockets and showed them a map he'd made to an unused military base somewhere in the moutainous boonies. Here he was suggesting the four of them go to.

Zimsky felt unease. Sure, the place probably existed, and sure it was probably unused, but what old rusty equipment sat there? Anything that Skynet could potentially use against them? Sure it was reinforced, but they'd be tracked down eventually. skynet wasn't a stupid system. As much as his egotistical mind didn't want to admit it, it MAY even be smarter than HIM. But then again, why wouldn't it be? Skynet was aided in creation by his genious mind. He was one of Skynet's many fathers.

And, like all spoiled children, it had turned against it's daddies. How many more would the damn thing kill before it was finished? If it DID kill everyone, what happened then? What happened when it didn't have any more "Toys" to use as target practice?

That damn fool at the base, Zimsky had TOLD him to recheck everything. The lazy fool had probably killed him and billions of other people when it was all said and done with. Zimsky had still been working on getting his fourth Pulizer prize for his new book on nuclear physics. Using nuclear bombs to create an electromagnetic pulse. Electromagnetic pulses were dangerous. they could render electronic devices dead for hundreds of miles.

Zimsky was in the process of taking another drag when an idea hit him. He gagged on the smoke, coughing. Claire said, "Are you okay?" Zimsky nodded, coughing.

An electromagnetic pulse. Could it..

Maybe...Just maybe...

Mark said, "Well, I can see that..." Zimsky said, "Let's do it." Mark looked at him, eyes wide, unable to hide his suprise. Zimsky said, "If you think it will work, then we'll try it."

Zimsky thought, Besides, we're more than likely dead anyway. Only a matter of time before Skynet finds us again. There's nowhere we can truly hide. More than likely, we're just finding the best spot to be killed in. and even if Skynet DOESN'T find us, the nuclear fallout certainly will.

Zimsky pitched the cigarette out the window, watching it tumble into the sand. Bobby put the car in gear and they continued moving.


"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

They'd gotten 9 cans filled and the contents transferred to the HumVee before Jean had needed to take a break. His false hand was having a hard time gripping the hose and his left hand was throbbing madly. He'd been slightly careless with the spurting hose after he'd filled the third gas can and had shot a jet of gas all over his battered hand. It had sunk into the gashes and cuts from his wounded hand like acid. He'd gamely made it through six more cans before the truck had run dry. He'd decided when this truck was out of gas he'd let Ryan take over the rest.

Skipping the next truck, as it was a diesel, he pulled up next to the third, and called Ryan out of the HumVee. He said, "Mind taking over for a few?" Ryan had immediately gotten out. Jean had done the dirty deed of sucking the gas through the hose, but he wasn't as lucky as Kade, and had ended up with a little bit in his mouth. He spat it out on the ground, saying, "I'll be right back." Ryan had nodded.

Jean walked slowly into the remains of the Gas station. He noticed a set of tire tracks fading into the sand. They led off in the direction that they were headed. Jean wondered if they were people who could be trusted, or if they were looters. He shifted his eyes to the garage. The service area looked as though an explosion had ripped through it. Some of it's contents were still smouldering. The station itself was suprisingly still standing. Jean walked towards it, noting the shell casings on the ground. It appeared as though there had been a firefight here. but between whom?

Jean walked inside, looking for the bathroom. He saw the sign on the opposite wall, above a door. The walked inside, went, and then carefully washed his left hand in the sink. The soap stung, but not as badly as the gasoline. He toweled it off carefully, then exited, looking for a first aid kit. Surely this place would have one. He walked into the back offices, then saw what had rattled Kade.

Two corpses, both with their heads blown away. He stared at them with impassiveness. Watching his friends die in the gulf war had steeled him to such sights. He felt satisfaction with Kade. She'd seen something horrifyingly gruesome, something that no girl should see, and she hadn't panicked. She hadn't run screaming and crying outside to him. She'd collected the cans and the hose and had come out. Jean felt the feeling of pride that he assumed fathers felt when their sons or daughters knocked the baseball pitch out of the park, or sunk the 3 pointer to win the game, or whatever.

Jean scanned the walls. His eyes fell on the rack that was missing it's fire extinguisher. Above it, also missing it's contents, was the rack that had, at one time, housed a first aid kit. Jean could tell by the coloring of it.

He looked at the corpses, trying to decide what side they'd been on. White hat or Black hat. Jean assumed Black hat. The Person or people who had killed them, (And who had subsequently left), were thinkers. The pumps outside had been destroyed by something. A Car, or perhaps the bomb blast that had devestated the garage. But before that had happened, the pumps had been shut off. The argument COULD be made that They'd been off beforehand, but it didn't wash. Whoever or Whomever had left had obviously filled up before they did. Going into the desert without a full tank and some backup gas was potentially suicide. and they'd done that filling BEFORE the pumps had been destroyed, most likely.

And, whoever had killed these men had the presence of mind to take the first aid kit. Your average Hell's Angel's bikers or thugs wouldn't have thought to take it. Jean walked outside and looked at what had been taken. The Beer coolers were still full, and the cigarette rack, while missing a fair number of cartons, was still pretty full. If a gang had been in here, the beer and cigarettes would most likely have been entirely gone. Jean looked at the small assortment of foods that the place cointained. The junk foods were still mostly there, but the canned items were gone.

Whoever had been here before them had taken what they'd needed to survive. They'd thought things through. And people who thought things through didn't kill without a reason. Whoever belonged to those tire tracks could most likely be trusted, should they run into them in the desert. at least Jean was reasonably sure they could be. Jean found a few bags and filled it with some of the leftover food and soda (The water was gone, adding to his thoughts that those that had come before them were safe). He picked them up and carried them outside. Ryan was putting the gas cap back on the HumVee.

Jean said, "What about the cans?" Ryan said, I filled them to the brim and put them in the back." Jean nodded. Ryan was thinking properly. Kade stood by the HumVee, looking into the sand. Jean said, "Ready to move out lieutenent?" Kade nodded. Ryan started to get into the passenger seat. Jean said, "Ryan...Would you mind if Kade rode up front for awhile?" Ryan shook his head. He said, "I should be back with my wife anyway." He got into the back. Kade looked Jean's way. She couldn't hide the smile. Jean smiled back. He said, "Let's move out." Kade said, "Yes sir." They got in, leaving the station behind them, following the tracks into the desert.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

OOC: Sorry this is sightly off-topic, but this is the best Terminator spoof EVER:
http://www.ebaumsworld.com/t3previewspoof.html

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Kade rolled down the window to the Humvee, hot desert air whipping through her hair and she leaned her head out of the window, closing her eyes. It was one of those moment, despite the chaos that was happening around them, that she felt free and relaxed, like everything was going to be okay.

“Get back inside, Kade.” Jean said reaching over and tapping her leg. It wasn’t a disapproving tone that he was using, but a careful one. “We don’t know what or who, is out there.”

She turned her head to look at Jean and with a sigh she slipped back inside the car and rolled the window back up. “I know, I’m sorry… I just,”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jean said quickly. “I understand.”

She sat quietly listen to Shiloh and Deacon giggling in the back seat as Ryan and Eva continued to give their children some sense of normalcy. “Do you think that we’re going to find anyone else?” Kade asked softly, looking out the windshield at the dusty ground that was whipping by them. Glancing at the speedometer they were going almost 110mph with some minor fluctuations due to road conditions. Clearly Jean was eager to get them all to the safety of the base as quickly as he could. With anyone else behind the wheel going that fast she would have felt uneasy or frightened but she trusted him.

“Pretty sure,” Jean said suddenly stepping on the break and slowing down. Ryan looked up noticing the smooth decrease in speed but the children didn’t notice and Eva continued her tickle attack on the squirming Deacon as Shiloh continued to nap against her Daddy’s arm.

“What’s up?” Ryan asked slipping his glasses back on and turning to look outside. Deep tire marks were dug in the sand leading off the road and in the distance they could see thin tendrils of black smoke rising into the air. Shiloh let out a soft moan as he shifted and he gently ran a hand over her dark hair making a soothing noise. “What is that?” He asked softly and Eva looked up while still continuing to tickle her son.

“I don’t know,” Jean said starting to turn the wheel to investigate.

“Don’t,” Kade said grabbing it. “I have a bad feeling about it. We should keep going.” Her eyes trailed to the patches of sand that appeared blown away, scorched and she felt her stomach grow cold. It was a feeling that she knew and a feeling that she trusted. “Jean, trust me on this.”

Jean looked over at Kade and saw that look of complete certainty in her eyes. He knew that if he said so, she’d sit back and not say another word if he continued off road towards the smoke in the distance but as he glanced in the rear view mirror he could see a small tennis shoe kicking around as Deacon continued to giggle and he knew that there was more at stake that just himself and Kade. There were children involved and so, he set his curiosity aside and turned the wheel back onto the road and pressed down on the accelerator again. “Okay.” He said with a nod. “We’ll leave it lay.”

“Thank you,” Kade replied with a weak smile, her stomach already feeling better with each passing second as the Humvee’s speed increased.

“There should be another town up here soon,” Ryan said softly. He leaned forward slightly to look over Jean’s shoulder careful not to wake up his daughter. “We should have enough gas. If I remember right, it has a gas station, radio station, small grocery store…. We should stalk up.”

“I agree,” Eva said. “We can’t keep feeding these two sugar or they’ll never sleep.”

“Roger,” Jean said pressing down harder on the accelerator returning the Humvee back up to the 110mph cruising speed. The sooner they finished this trip, the sooner he could actually sit back and figure out exactly what it was that had happened to ruin suck a nice June day.



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

[deleted]

Zimskey stubbed out another cigarette and wishes desperately for a pack of decent cigarettes, Dunhills or (god forbid) some Djarums, anything then the bourgeois 'tobacco'(and calling it that was a stretch) that he was currently smoking. He reached out to turn the A/C to 'max' and Bobby switched it back to 'low'.

"Wouldn't need to crank the A/C if you stopped smoking and shut the window." Bobby nodded easily.(Did he ever get pissed ?)

"Well, we'd be cooler with the windows open if you went faster then TWENTY miles an hour !" Zimsky snapped back, wishing he were in the limo that he enjoyed back in Washington.

"We're off-road, Doc. It ain't route 66." Bobby kept the jeep in 4WD-Low, which maxed out at under 20 mph. He looked back behind them, where the horses--Claire Sullivan on Lazy, with 'Queso and Bullseye behind her--followed them across the torn and broken remuda. There might've been a road here at one point, or maybe a riverbed. But the trail up the mountain was winding and rough, definitely not a high-speed thoroughfare.

"We could go faster if we--we ? I mean YOU--didn't insist on taking those damn animals."

Mark silently watched this exchange, eyes bemused. He didn't think he and Bobby Gillespie would ever exactly be buddies, but his easy demeanor sure seemed to rile the Doctor. And even he agreed the horses might be a good idea. Gas wasn't exactly going to be available after the nuclear exchange. He remembered when he was with Greenpeace, in the gulf, after hurricane Katrina...fuel had been non-existent. And even if they had gas, most modern vehicles would be fried, the EMP effect from the blasts having destroyed the car's computer-controlled ignitions.

Claire watched the jeep negotiate the road ahead, and clucked gently to Lazy, guiding the horse up the slope after the vehicle. She looked at the floral carving on the saddle, and the initials on the saddle horn--A.M.G. Who was that ? She'd seen what looked like another set of initials on Bullseye's saddle--R.J.G. G obviously stood for 'Gillespie'. She wondered who the other two were, and where they were now, but she thought of Daniel, and was afraid to ask.

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

“So how do you know about this base anyway?” Kade asked craning around in her seat to look at Ryan. Both Shiloh and Deacon were finally sleeping, safe in their parents arms. Looking at them, Kade was struck with the realization, like she usually did when she saw a happy family, of exactly what she had missed out growing up a product of the foster care system. “I mean, you’re not military and the whole ‘drunk general’ thing really doesn’t seem realistic.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment before answering as though on the verge of admitting something that he really didn’t want to admit. “About ten years ago I was working on a story about government waste, about their ability to spend millions of dollars on something and then just, never use it.”

“I remember that story,” Eva said. “You never mentioned any base in the mountains though.”

“I know,” he replied. “There was this girl that worked in a four star general’s office, young, pretty… she had access to confidential files and she, she liked me.” Ryan’s tone became reluctant as Eva stared at him trying not to jump to conclusions. After 20 years of marriage, he had earned a little more trust than that. “Look baby, I never…. I just took her to dinner a few times, that’s all.” He took his wife’s hand and she smiled at him after a moment. “She ended up telling me about this base in the mountains, even got me a copy of the file. I checked it out and found it, completely deserted a layer of dust on everything an inch deep.”

“So why didn’t you put it in your story?” Kade asked.

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know really. I was going to but then I woke up one morning and decided against it. I suppose I figured that in case something like this ever happened, it’d be a good place to go.” He laughed softly at how ridiculous it would have sounded if this hadn’t actually happened. “Then about six years ago I met Mark Reed,”

“Reed…” Eva said softly.

Jean laughed. “The FOX news guy? People first, computers last… THAT Mark Reed?”

“Yes,” Ryan said “THAT Mark Reed, he’s a nice guy. He had some good points. We went to dinner a few times and I listed to what he had to say, really listened which honestly, I think he appreciated. Too many people just laugh him off but if you listen, his concerns are valid. Just because I don’t agree with his, or his groups, methods doesn’t mean that I don’t agree with some of his concerns. We started corresponding via letters, he’s not really into email, obviously.” He said with a laugh and Jean shook his head, grinning. “And we met at a diner outside of Los Angeles and I drove him up to the base.”

“Oh Ryan,” Eva said shaking her head. “Don’t tell me you’re a supporter of his… theories.”

“I didn’t say I supported everything he says honey, just some of it.” Ryan said quickly. “He’s a good guy.”

“He WAS a good guy,” Kade said tucking her knees up under her chin.



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Zimsky removed his suit Jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his expensive black Long-sleeved shirt. He said, "Could we at least try 30? I mean, lets be honest here, we're not going to lose the d@mn horses at that speed." Bobby said, "Nope. Too risky. Especially in this desert." Zimsky scowled. He cracked the window and lit another cigarette. The cab of the jeep was hazy gray. Bobby looked at him and smirked. Zimsky stewed.

Here he was, a man with a higher I.Q than all of these people put together, and he was forced to play second fiddle to a Man who made Andy Griffith look like Sherlock Holmes. He had the key to defeating skynet, to saving the world.

Did this man not have ANY idea who he was?

Bobby said, "Hmm. We have company." Zimsky turned, slightly alarmed. Bobby started slowing down. Zimsky said, "What in god's name are you doing?" Bobby said, "That's a hum vee. Most likely military issue." Zimsky said, "So?" Bobby said, "So, the people inside are probably military personnel." Zimsky said, "Or they could have picked up the d@mn car from any one of a million locations that it was abandoned."

Bobby said, "We're not going to outrun them. Not at this speed. Might as well find out who they are." Zimsky said, You HAVE lost your mind." Bobby said, "If they were gonna shoot us, they'd have done it by now. And we can't leave Claire behind." Zimsky fell silent. Well, They COULD...but he had a feeling that his vote would be overruled in this case. Damn fools who were playing hero.

Bobby parked and got out of the Jeep. Zimsky slid over to the driver's seat, ready to take off if it became dangerous. Screw the damn hillbilly. It was his idea to stop, if they started shooting, he could fend for his idiotic self. He reached for the keys, only to find the ignition empty. "Damn it." Zimsky muttered. Bobby poked his head in the window, the keys dangling from his finger. He said, "Why don't you greet our new friends with me."

Zimsky scowled at him, dragging from the cigarette between his lips. Bobby said, "After you left me behind to stall that drone airplane, I figured I better hang onto the keys from now on. Don't want you to get all crazy and crash us." Zimsky rolled his eyes. Mark got out of the back of the jeep, and Claire dismounted from the horse. Zimsky said, "I want it to be made clear that I was NOT in agreement of this." Bobby said, "Dr. Zimsky, get your fu*king @ss out of the car." Zimsky looked at him, apalled. He said, "Do you have ANy idea..." Bobby said, "Snake Plisskin?"

Zimsky opened his mouth but found no words. Bobby said, "for once in your life, be nice." Zimsky scowled again, perched his cigarette between his lips, and got out of the Jeep.




Jean said, "What do you think? Should we...?" Ryan said, "It's Mark Read!" Jean looked out. It obviously wasn't the one dressed like a cop. So Mark Read was either the one in the gringy jacket or the tall balding guy with a scowl on his face. Jean leaned to the Gringy jacket guy. Ryan got out and yelled, "Mark!" Grangy jacket turned. Recognition passed on his face. He ran over to Ryan and shook hands. Jean said, "Well, we might as well say hi."

He got out, leading Kade, Eva and the kids out of the Hum Vee and to the other group. Ryan and Mark were lost in conversation. He heard the one in the Black shirt mutter, "...Miserable fool bypassed an interview to spend time with his..."

Jean said, "My Name's Jean." The balding man shook it after a moment. He said, "Zimsky. Christian Zimsky." Jean said, "The nuclear Physicist." Zimsky perked up. He said, "You've heard of me?" Jean said, "Of course, What military man hasn't read, "Nuclear Bombs, still a wartime threat." Zimsky said, "Military, are you?" Jean nodded. He said, "A Captain...sort of..."

Zimsky looked at him, a bit confused. A Captain...Sort of? What the h*ll did THAT mean?" He looked at the girl with the odd colored hair who was running up to the man named Jean. Zimsky, milking the crowd (After all, even if this man WAS lower than his usual circle, he DID know who he was) said, "And this must be your charming daughter..?" Jean again said, "Sort of.."

Kade said, "I'm thinking we should..." Zimsky said, "Now now, young lady, you'd best let us old male folk work on the plan." Kade said, after a moment, "Of course...Nice meeting you." She stuck out her hand. Zimsky took it warmly. A few seconds later, it felt like it was in a vise. Zimsky's face contorted in pain. Jean said, "She's my Lieutenent....and she's a little touchy. Better apologize."

Zimsky had never felt pain like this before. He said, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know!" Kade released his hand. He yanked it away, cradling the fingers. He scowled at her. Jean said, "Alright, we'd best get moving again." Kade nodded and ran off. Jeanj looked down at Zimsky. He said, "We're going to an abandoned..." Zimsky said, "Military base. I know. We are too." Jean said, "Then let's hit the road. It's hot out here." He walked off. Zimsky stood up, hand hurting. He scowled.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Jean came past the jeep, stopping to nod at the lawman. "Jean Rasczak."

Bobby nodded. "Bobby Gillespie." He tipped his hat, and nodded back to Claire. "That's Miss Sullivan."

Rasczak eyed the engraving on the badge pinned to Bobby's jacket. "Deputy Sheriff ?" He looked back to the horses. "You fellas ever hear of cars back in Cabot County ?"

"They're mine," Bobby allowed, still sizing the military man up.

"Nice," Rasczak admitted, taking in the size of the animals. "Mustangs ?"

"Remuda," Bobby informed him, walking back to caress Lazy's muzzle. "They're range-fed. They can survive on just about anything growing up on the mountain."

Claire smiled down at him, still impressed with the tenderness he showed the horses. "She's a good girl, isn't she ? Gentle as a lamb. Not 'lazy' at all."

"Let her get near an apple tree," Bobby chuckled, scratching her forelock. "She'll stay there for a week. My wife--" He cut off, didn't speak for a moment. He looked down, then turned away before looking up. He kept his eyes on Jean Rasczak intstead. "I figured they'd come in handy, if fuel is gonna be in short supply as Mark over there thinks it is."

This was too much for Zimskey, who was back at the jeep, lighting another Vantage. "Look, Barney Fife, you can go green all you want, I am NOT going to ride on one of those nags. And the A/C," he continued, "will stay on, thank you very much."

Kade came down to look at the horses, and nervously allowed Bullseye to nuzzle the back of her hand. "Is she friendly ?"

"HE is," Bobby smiled. He seemed to be amused by her hair and clothes, but not in a freak-show way. He seemed to be more curious then anything else.

Looking past the horses, he locked eyes with Dr. Zimskey again. "When are you gonna tell them about that thing back at the gas station ?"



"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

“So what’s your name?” Claire asked with a smile as Kade continued stroke Bullseye’s neck.

Kade looked Claire up and down with the same suspicion that she initially looked over everyone with. With her history, it was better to be safe than sorry. Immediately lowering her guard and liking people usually ended up with getting her hurt. “Kade.” She knew that Claire was waiting for a last name, a last name that she didn’t have. Well, she had one, but she didn’t use it. It didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything to her.

“I’m Claire,” she said holding out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I was starting to think that I was the only woman.”

“You want to be all chummy chummy with someone, try Eva. She looks more your speed.” Kade said not taking Claire’s hand. She glanced over at Jean who had just overheard what she’d said and he gave his head a subtle quick shake. Letting out a sigh, she took Claire’s hand, that she was still holding out, and gave it a firm yet fair shake. “I’m sorry. I’m not really…..a people person.”

“That’s okay.” Claire said. “Dr. Zimskey’s,”

“An *beep* Kade said finishing her sentence and Claire laughed. “Does he treat everyone like they’re idiots?” She cast a dark look in Zimskey’s direction already hating the man and was feeling pretty confident that her opinion wouldn’t change any time soon, if ever.

“Pretty much,” she replied. “He’s not that bad really… oh who am I kidding?” Claire laughed and Kade surprisingly smiled. “What’d you do to him anyway? That look on his face, it was like he was trying not to cry.”

Kade shrugged and let Bullseye nuzzle her neck. She’d never been around horses before but somehow petting the creature and touching it seemed natural. Though she’d never have admitted to it, she’d always loved horses and wanted one and the fact that here was one, right in front of her, one that she could pet, it put a huge bright spot on her dark and otherwise horrible day. It was almost as though she’d walked out of a nightmare and into a dream. “I crushed his hand. The as*hole spoke down to me, like I was a stupid kid who didn’t know sh*t. I don’t like that and I let him know it.” She looked up at Claire in all seriousness. “I might not be the brightest and I never graduated high school, but I’m not stupid and I’m not helpless.” Bullseye nickered as though in agreement.

“Why don’t you get on and walk with me,” Claire said “and I can tell you everything.”

Kade looked at the horse and the saddle for a moment unsure but unwilling to back down she nodded. Having seen enough movies she knew the basic principle of mounting and slipped her foot in the stirrup. Taking a good hop off the ground she stepped down and swung herself up into the saddle barely able to contain the grin of glee on her face at the fact that she was riding a horse (and that she hadn’t fallen off the saddle or made a fool of herself while getting on.) “Lets go.” She said turning Bullseye with some small measure of effort and following Claire.



************************************************************************


“So what the Hell happened?” Ryan asked leaning against the front of the Humvee. “Jesus Mark,” he shook his head falling silent.

“Skynet man,” Mark said. “You remember what I told you?”

“This that artificial intelligence thing?”

Mark nodded. “You got it, man. That Zimsky as*hole says that he was called in to try to fix it, but you ask me I don’t trust him as far as I could spit.” His eyes glanced over to Eva who was rubbing Shiloh’s back. “I thought you said you had six.”

“I did,” Ryan said with a twinge of sadness. “This is… all I have left.”

“Eww…. Sorry.” Mark said wincing. “You heading up to the base?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, that where you’re heading?”

Mark nodded. “We’ve been moving stuff in there for the last five years, housing just about everything and its mother. If we can get there, we should be safe. For a while at least. I don’t think Skynet will think of it as a threat but well, they’ll check it out eventually.”

“Well that should buy us some time, enough at least to find an alternate base.” Ryan said. He looked over at Jean and Bobby who appeared deep in thought. “We’ll let them worry about it for now. Face it Mark, neither you nor I are experienced to deal with this kind of thing. I’m just a new anchor and you’re a… well, protestor.”

Mark laughed and nodded. “Yeah I suppose you’re right but I’m gonna put my two cents in.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Ryan said with a half smile and picked up Deacon as the little boy sprinted into his arms. He glanced at the jeep that Zimskey sat in not really looking forward to speaking to the man. He’d overheard his muttered comment about passing on his interview to spend time with his family. Clearly they did not have the same priorities and if Zimsky said one more thing about his priorities, if he said one more negative thing about his wife and children, about his devotion to them…. Ryan was going to snap on him. Normally a peaceful man, Ryan hated violence but after the day he’d had, after what he’d lost, he wasn’t going to put up with any lip. Not for one instant did Ryan regret any choice that he’d made, any professional sacrifice that he’d made to spend time with his family. Not for one instant.



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

[deleted]

Zimsky stepped away from the jeep, taking a drag from his cigarette. Gillespie said, "Tell Jean what's going on. He said, "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Gillespie?" Bobby said, "That thing that attacked us at the gas station. These people have a right to know what we're up against." Zimsky looked at Gillespie and Jean. Mark Read walked up and stood next to them, looking at Zimsky with a trace of suspicion. All eyes were on him. Ryan walked and stood a short distance away. He stared daggers at him.

Zimsky took several drags from his cigarette, then stepped forward, his expensive dress shoes kicking through the sand. He got up close and took another drag. They all looked at him expectantly. He felt like he was on the lecture tour again. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm about to share with you some extremely classified information. In fact..."

Bobby said, "Dr. Zimsky...I doubt there's anyone alive to arrest you for treason." Zimsky frowned at him. He said, "Alright...One Year ago, The U.s. goverment decided to create a program, Skynet. An independent computer system that controlled Nuclear and H-bomb weaponry, as well as artifical intelligence machines and the like. They built it...but they didn't think about it."

Jean said, "What happened?" Zimsky took a drag. He said, "The system was programmed with a series of locations. It was to protect those locations at all cost. But...It TARGETED those locations instead. Destroyed some of the West Coast before it was stopped."

Jean said, "If it was stopped, then why did it finish the job?" Zimsky began lying. He said, "They called me in as a consultant, a lackey to figure out what the glitch was in the code. They had other people working on it, and whilst I was en route, they must have restarted it without fixing the proper code. I figure it must have locked itself down and When they reattempted to shut it down, they were locked out. It sent some drone aircraft in to destroy the base. Mark thankfully got me out in time. Then it sent another to the gas station. I assume you saw the damage there?" Jean nodded.

Zimsky said, "Those men...They were..They were going to lock Claire away and make her into some sort of a sex slave I think. She shot one of them that was attacking her before we arrived, and then Mark shot the other when he attempted to shoot me. I worked with...I worked with someone very close to her, so...Her well being is extremely important to me." Bobby said, "How so?"

Zimsky said, "Let's just say I owe someone." Jean looked at Zimsky with a momentary trace of suprise. He'd known him for less that five minutes and he could tell that Zimsky was VERY full of himself.

But in this moment. The walls were down. Right now, they had a brief glimpse of Zimsky without any of his pretenses...For one brief moment he wasn't only thinking of himself. Mark broke the moment, saying, "You're lying to us, Dr. Zimsky." Zimsky turned, The cold gaze returned to his eyes. He said, "What the h*ll are you talking about?"

Mark stepped forward. He said, "Your field is Nuclear Physics, but you're uh...Telling us that they brought you in to decipher a computer code? That makes no sense." Zimsky said, "I'm telling you, the system crashed, and They brought me in to help clear it up. You obviously don't know that much about me. I minored in computer programming while I got my masters, and paid my way through college working as a computer tech. My knowledge of nuclear physics was one of the reasons I was brought in, the major attack, as you may have noticed, was a nuclear one."

Mark Read fell silent. Zimsky had to give him credit. He was extremely close to figuring him out. Frankly, Zimsky didn't care if they did or not. So what if he was one of those who helped create it? He was also the only one left who could take the bi*ch down. Zimsky said, "I can tell most of you don't like me, and frankly, I don't care. In order to get to where I am today, I had to look out for number one. I still do. A leopard can't change it's spots. I'm supposed to become a hero because it's the end of the world? Sorry. I can't do it. Can I give orders? Yes. Can I go galluping off to save the world, risking my neck to do it? No. Yes, the world has turned to sh*t, yes we're all in this together, and yes, I'll help you as much as I can, but....I look after my own @ss first. You view me as egotistical? Go ahead. but know this. Even if I WAS behind Skynet, I'm also the only one left alive who can stop it. I know for a fact that all of it's programmers are dead. I'm the only one who can break the toy, so you'd better make sure to watch my @ss closest of all. Unless you want to spend the rest of your lives fighting this godd@mn computer program. It's smarter than you. Smarter than me...Smarter than all of us combined. But it's also as Egotistical as I am. Hopefully, that will be it's Achilles Heel. If not...I've got one other trick up my sleeve."

Zimsky pitched his cigarette to the sand and walked back to the Jeep. He said, "I sugest we keep moving, before Skynet dispatches another Drone to blow us to the Core of the Earth."



"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

[deleted]

Jean watched Zimsky open the door to the jeep. He sat there, legs hanging out, ready to move. Jean looked past the vehicles, trying to catch a glimpse of Kade. He walked around the Hum Vee, then finally saw her a short distance away. She and the other girl, Claire, were sitting in the sand. Jean watched, half-shocked. Kade was laughing. They looked like they were waiting to go to their History class.

Jean walked over. Kade looked up at him. She smiled. Claire said, "We haven't been formally introduced." Jean stuck out his functioning right hand. He said, "Jean Rasczak." Claire shook it. She said, "Claire Sullivan. Was Dr. Zimsky giving you trouble?"

Jean said, "Just filling us in on that Skynet thing. Sounds nasty." Claire said, "He's..." Kade said, "An @sshole." Claire said, "Yes, he is. And he's super intelligent. It's a bad combination." Jean said, "That was a nice trick you did with his hand." Kade smiled. She said, "B@stard had no idea it was coming. I don't like him. He better learn people skills or stay out of my way."

Jean said, "We're probably gonna head out soon. If those Drones are patroling the skies, we don't want them to catch us out here." He helped Kade and Claire to their feet and led them back to the vehicles.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Bobby stood and helped Claire onto her horse. He turned to offer a hand to Kade, but she clumsily pulled herself into the saddle, almost going over the opposite side. She looked down from her perch to the deputy and shook her head.

"I've got it," She protested. "I'm okay."

"Sure." Bobby nodded. "No problem." He winked at Claire, as though sharing a joke, and limped back to Queso. He laid a hand on his saddle bags and gestured to Jean Rasczak. "You're the miltary man, right ?"

Nodding, Jean came over to him from the humvee. "When the opportunitie arises, yeah. Why ?"

"You have a gun ?"

Rasczak shook his head, thanking Diane Feinstein and California's draconian firearms laws. "Not at the moment, no."

"You look like a .45 man to me." Bobby dug in the saddlebag and felt around for a pistol rug.

"You know," Zimskey sneered from the window of the jeep, "It might be nice if we had some guns that weren't old when President Taft was in office."

Bobby ignored the jibe and came up with a sheepskin gun rug, which he handed to Rasczak.

The soldier opened the case and looked down at the pistol, and whistled in appreciation. "Is this a Swenson ?"

"Yeah. Armand made that for my grandfather. You can tell it's a Swenson by the--"

"--by the chrome." Jean finsihed, holding the Colt Commander up, hefting it with a professional interest. "Swenson had a particular shade of hard chrome on all his guns. You said it was your grandfather's..." he trailed off. "Not THAT Gillespie ?"

Bobby nodded.

It was the soldier's turn to be impressed. "I can't take this," he protested.

"It's alright," Bobby waved him off. "Call it a loan. Here's some magazines for it." He handed Jean a small case containing six magazines for the .45, fully loaded.

"These are Wilson mags," Rasczak said with a knowing tone. "You've shot this gun since your grandfather...since you got the gun."

"Carried it for four years until I got my Bisley," Bobby allowed. "It shoots dead on, at 25 meters, with the golden sabres. Use it well." He turned and withdrew the rifle from the scabbard, twin to the one that had blown the drone out of the sky. "Here. This'll take down anything on two--or four--legs."

"Forty-five Seventy ?"

"Forty-five Ninty. Thumps pretty hard, that's why I put a flat buttplate on it. Holds six shells." Bobby handed him a box of cartridges, each the lentgh of a grown man's finger. "Here."

Rasczak stuck the .45 into his belt and shouldered the short rifle, wondering if it kicked harder then the shotgun he'd used on his last operation. Not the most modern gun he'd ever used, but it was in impeccable condition, and he reasoned that if Bobby Gillespie took as much care with his firearms as he did with his horses, then the gun should work just fine, age or not. "Okay, people, let's get going." he walked past Zimskey, who suddenly realised he was no longer in charge--if he'd even been in the first place.




"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

[deleted]

OOC: Sorry for the out of character post everyone! I'm just starting to catch up on all the posts from the last week now and I think it's going to be awhile. I will try to post something today once I get caught up!

"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

The Jeep hit yet another bump. Zimsky's notebook and pen fell to the floor of the Jeep, the cigarette dangling from his lips fell and dropped into his lap. Cursing, he recovered it before it set his pants on fire. He retrieved the notebook and pen, saying, "Deputy, could you make an effort to not hit EVERY rut in this damn road?" Bobby gave him the evil eye. Zimsky went back to his notebook.

Although he would never admit it, he was absolutely giddy that they were moving again. Everyone had been wandering around the vehicles like they were at a cocktail party. He had a feeling that only about 60 percent of what he told them they actually believed. But he knew. Skynet was a dangerous beast. Lion, Tiger and Cobra all rolled into one.

He didn't tell them he was terrified. He'd practically chain-smoked through the first pack of cigarettes. Two days ago he'd been a superstar scientist with an invitation to golf with the President. Now he was a refugee from the baby he'd created.

Zimsky stopped writing and looked out into the desert. What was he doing? It had taken his Mind and four others, plus 50 underlings, plus hundreds of other technicians to create Skynet. Now here he was, alone, trying to come up with a desperate Single-O play to take down the toughest and smartest computer system ever created. Over 500 to create it, only one trying to stop it. The odds against him were Gargantuan.

He'd never stop it. It would kill them, kill him, kill anyone who was lucky enough to survive the onslaught. It would kill and kill until there was noone left. Instead of trying to stop Skynet, they should be building a shrine, so if he was wrong, and there WAS intelligent life on other planets (Zimsky thought the idea to be ludicrous) They could see the Human race's dying legacy. A big sign that said, "OOPS!"

Zimsky shook his head. No. He had to try and come up with something. Hopefully, he'd have some kind of access to Skynet. The base was old, but not THAT old. If he could find a laptop, he could probably at least get entry-level clearance into the system.

But....That could create problems. Skynet wasn't stupid. He'd have to be extremely careful, create some ghost locations. Skynet could track the computer if he tried getting cute. If he was responsible for Skynet tracking them to their hiding spot, he had no doubt that these people would hang him. They already didn't like him. But he had his wedge. He was the only one with the capability to potentially stop the d@mn thing. If he could hide behind a couple of ghost satellites, he could pull the plug if Skynet started tracking him, leaving their location a mystery still. It was complicated, and he'd have to wrack his brain trying to remember what he'd learned about computer programming in college.

Zimsky looked at the notebook in front of him. Plan B. Two Years ago, a study was done boy a Doctor Roy Lindo. A study on electromagnetism. Essentially, the study proved that an electromagnetic pulse, realeased by a nuclear detonation in the atmosphere, had the power to disrupt computers for a nearly 200 mile radius.

Zimsky knew where the Heart of Skynet was. His secondary plan was to detonate a series of nuclear blasts in the sky above the heart of Skynet. Well, not him PERSONALLY, but if the plan worked, surely some of these other lackeys could fire the bombs. Hopefully, if his calculations were correct, the resulting blast would create an electromagnetic pulse that would fry Skynet's heart....

But it was just a theory. He had no way to test it, Surely Skynet had a backup system somewhere...And...He didn't have any nuclear bombs. Skynet did.

Zimsky sighed. His cigarette had burned down to the filter. He pitched it out the window. Skynet had the Ace High hand, no matter how he looked at it. Everything he did, everything he came up with, it was still a shot in the dark. They were already losing the battle, and they hadn't even begun the fight yet.

Zimsky kept these thoughts to himself. He had to maintain the image that he was essential. For now, he was. But he was in a tall tree looking down at a man with a saw. and these people would easily get rid of him if the scenario presented itself.

Zimsky smiled. Let them. IF they cast him out, then he'd simply come up with an alternative.

Sell them out to Skynet.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Ethan Pritchard sat atop a large boulder, holding a Kalashnikov in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Picking up the large satchel that sat beside him, he opened it up, pulling out an Energy bar. Tearing off the wrapper and stuffing it into his pocket, he took a large bite from the rectangular portion of food.

Big mistake. It tasted like some sort of horrible mixture of plasticine, cardboard and bananas. Yech...

Ethan was a member of a civilian watchdog group previously known to Government agencies as CATD, or Citizens Against Technological Domination. Corny name, but for all intents and purposes, it worked. The purpose of such a group was the prevention of human subversion and oppression at the hands of High-Tech government spending, such as the SKYNET project. In the event prevention failed to be feasible, the mandate changed to that of resistance. Guerilla warfare, sabotauge, and subterfuge were all listed underneath that mandate.

And that was exactly where Ethan came in. He'd served as an advisor for animal rights activists, Environmental activists, Political Activists, and more. He was good at what he did, but at a price. Although he was excellent at merely helping people along with their plans, he found that when it came to masterminding his own dirty deeds, things did not go as they were planned.

Blessing and a curse. Or at least that was the way he prefered to call it.

He snapped away from his daydream once he heard sound off in the distance. Intruiged, he picked up his binoculars and removed the caps that were fastened onto the lenses. Peering into the military surplus device, he scanned the horizon for incoming traffic.
The Bunker had been built in the early sixties and then abandoned in the late eighties as the cold war started to wind down. As it's importance was made moot, Government officials declassified it, and (quietly) auctioned it off to the public. It was purchased in the Fall of 1998 by a certain Peter Anderton, one of the many aliases of Mark Read for the sum of 552,000 dollars. So long inheritance, hello security...

After the sale, the US Government made no attempt to put the bunker on the map, seeing little benefit. After all, they'd built several dozen bunkers with identical layouts all across North America. There were no important VIP's in the immediate area, and there were simply few, few people around.
Thus, out of sight, out of mind. And that was the way it was supposed to stay.

Aside from matters pertaining to Skynet, their greatest concern was that of someone finding out about their little castle (unlikely, but still a possibility) and trying to take it for themselves, citing self preservation. To this end, Mark Read spent the remainder of his large inheritance on additional security measures. Things like barbed wire, bullet proof glass, refurbishing the old 'drop down' gates and walls and more. The fact that eight CATD members were always onsite helped too.

Picking up the handheld radio Ethan had been given, he called homebase for a heads up. Hitting the talk button, he spoke quickly.

"Hey, Yolanda? We've got company inbound."

"What? Say again."

"I SAID we're got company inbound. From what I can tell out here, there's two vehicles... and further behind them there are a couple of burros. Please advise, over."

"Can you confirm if its Read? He's supposed to be coming back soon from Edwards. Air Force Base."

"Negative Yolanda. I'm too far away to get a positive confirmation. There seem to be quite a lot of people coming in, maybe a dozen or so. Did Mark say he was bringing back refugees?"

"Unclear. He might have. Stay frosty up there, I'm sending Richard and Simms to back you up. Once they get there, find out if Mark is with them."

"And if he's not?"

"Then tell them to turn around."

"But-"

"Dammit Ethan, we can't let anyone figure out what's up here in Castilo Del Diablo, okay? We don't have the manpower to handle radiated refugees. Turn them back..."

Ethan chewed his tounge while thinking of something to say. Muttering a quick obscenity, he nodded to himself and pressed the talk button.

"Wilco, over and out."


Later...

Jean started the Humvee up through a narrow gulch, only about twenty feet from wall to wall. On opposite sites of the gulch were a series of boulders, Cacti and brush. Perfect place for an ambush. All they'd need to do was take out the rear vehicle and they're be sitting ducks.
Taking the .45 Longslide that Bobby had given to him, he pressed the safety into the 'fire' position, before setting it into his lap. Never could be too careful.

Easing on the gas pedal, he continued moving upwards slowly, before he put the jeep to a halt. A single man armed with a SIG Sauer and dressed in Desert Cammies popped out of the bushes and placed his Swiss gun against Jean's forehead.

"Alright... Listen to me very, very carefully. What did one snowman say to the other snowman?"

What the hell?

"I'm sorry?" Asked Jean, visably confused. The man outside cocked the gun and repeated himself for a second time.

"My time is very valuable. What did one snowman say to the other snowman?"

Mark Read sat in the other car, wondering why Jean had stopped. Exiting the Wrangler, he walked up to the front of the line, only to find Jean in a standoff with Ethan Pritchard, one of his men. Ethan was pointing a gun at Jean's head and probably was asking him the password. Dammit Ethan...

"Ethan! It's okay they're with me." Read called out to the survivalist, who spun around on an axis to point the gun at him. When Ethan saw who it was, he immediately holstered his weapon and looked out to the rocks behind Read and whistled. Two men, dressed in Desert cammies emerged. One held a Kalashnikov, while the other held a Russian made RPG-7 rocket launcher.

"It's Mark! Open up the blast doors!"

Turning around, he looked back to Jean with a look of embarrasment.

"Look, I was just-"

"Doing your job, I understand." Finished Jean, putting his gun back into his holster. Nodding, Ethan looked back at the hulking bear of a man. Chatter filled the airwaves on his radio, prompting him to put it to his ear. Nodding, he pocketed the device (purchased at Radio Shack) before saying something to Mark.

Turning back to Jean, he waved him through, walking alongside both vehicles as they passed him and Mard whilst they conversed.

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Jean stepped out of the Jeep, thankful to stretch his legs again. He looked around the compound.

They'd made it. He looked at the fence. He saw the think glass. They had a measure of safety here, at least for the time being. The man who'd pointed the gun at him said, "Name's Ethan. you may not be in uniform, but I can recognize a military man when I see one." Jean said, "Stamped on my forehead, huh?"

Ethan pointed at the missing hand. He said, "The false hand was a giveaway as well." Jean stuck out his fully-functioning hand and said, "The Name's Jean ." Ethan said, "What rank?" Jean said, "Captain." Etahn said, "Association with the Government?" Jean said, "I've spent the last years teaching at a military Academy here in Nevada."

Ethan was nodding. Jean said, "On the horse back there is Lieutenant Kade." Ethan nodded again. Then he saw who was getting out of the Jeep and his eyes went dark.

Zimsky closed the door of the Jeep and put his sportcoat back on. The place was suprisingly more up-to-date than he'd anticipated. Most likely they'd have a computer system that would be able to grant him access to..."

He heard a voice say, "You traitorous son of a B*TCH!" Zimsky turned. He recognized Ethan Pritchard. He'd broken into the Washington Branch of Cyberdyne 6 months ago. Zimsky had been working late and had gone to get a cup of coffee. When he'd come back to his office, Pritchard had been there, searching his desk. He'd been taken into custody, and released with a slap on the wrist.

Zimsky smiled. He said, "Well, well...Look what the cat dragged in. Looks like you were right, Computers DID finish the job." Ethan said, "You're responsible for this godd@mn you. YOU caused this to happen."

The others looked at him suspiciously. Ethan said, "He didn't tell you? He was one of the techs at Cyberdyne. He helped create the d@mn thing." All eyes turned to him again. Suspicion turned to anger. Ryan said, "You BUILT it? you made it work? You've been lying the WHOLE FU*KING TIME?"

Zimsky quietly removed a cigarette and lit it. He'd known this moment was coming, and he'd prepared himself for it. He said, "I haven't lied, I just didn't tell you the whole truth." Claire said, "I can't believe that..." Zimsky said, "I've got news for you, dearheart. Your fiancee' Daniel was one of the people that helped me create it." Claire fell silent, eyes darting.

Zimsky said, "You want to play the blame game? Go ahead. I was one of 500 preople who built it. Blame me for all of it, I don't care. I've known this moment was coming since I left that base in Nevada. It's easy for you isn't it? No one else is alive for you to point the finger at, so point it at me. Kick me out of here, feel free. But remember, I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS THE KNOWLEDGE TO STOP IT. You think I'm a traitor Ethan? Well, it was MARK who rescued me from that base. He brought me here." He ignored Ethan after speaking those words.

Jean stepped forward and turned to the others. He said, "Let's not get hasty here." He turned to Zimsky. He said, "Tell us everything about it. And this time, tell the WHOLE truth."

Zimsky sucked in a lungful of smoke. He exhaled and said, "Alright, I'll spare you the history, but suffice it to say it came to the government's attention that a certain group of people on the other side of the ocean were working on a program to wipe us out. They tried it first, but we made it there, and we made it better. I was brought in, along with four other top minds. We had ten people apiece working for US, and then there were several hundred technicions working underneath all of us."

Zimsky took another drag. He said, "We decided to test it, to see if it worked. It was a four to one decision to start it up, and before you ask, I was one of the four in favor of turning it on. I thought it was ready, and it WAS ready, it just wasn't ready the way I thought it would be. It destroyed some of the West Coast. You should be proud of Daniel, Claire."

Claire looked at him. Zimsky said, "Daniel was brought in to check the code and he was the one who discovered that there was a problem with it. We didn't discover the problem in time though. It had already started firing and it wouldn't let us in to stop it. Someone somewhere else turned it off. The Facility caught on fire."

Zimsky considered telling Claire right then and there that Daniel was dead, but, amazingly enough, he couldn't hurt her like that. She was already trying to cope with the fact that Daniel had been involved with the murderous program. If she also heard that he was dead, it would destroy her. For once in his life, Zimsky let discretion be the better part of valour. He said, "I lost track of Daniel, and got out of there before the fire killed me."

Zimsky took another drag from his cigarette. He said, "So, the Government was p*ssed, as you may have guessed. Their mult-billion dollar toy wouldn't work. Be it by fate, or god's will, of the five department heads, I was the only one who made it out of that building alive. The Government essentially kidnapped me, and put me to work trying to figure out what was wrong with SKYNET."

Zimsky took one more drag then crushed the Cigarette under the tip of his shoe. He said, "So, for over two days, I sat at a computer, looking through every individual line of code. I isolated where the problem was, removed the panel, and left orders to have the panel checked, checked, and rechecked. The Man's name was Jenkins, if I recall correctly."

Mark said, "If the panel was off, how did it fire?" Zimsky said, "Here's where I don't know for sure what happened. I told Jenkins the problem was there, but he argued with me. He said that he couldn't find anything wrong. I gave him explicit instructions to keep checking it and get rid of the problem. I assume that he simply got lazy, thought I was wrong, and replaced the panel. He must have turned it on somehow, or maybe SKYNET got wise and turned itself on. Whatever happened, it powered up and started blasting away."

Zimsky said, "I WAS called in to make it work, and I tried, partially because I was forced, and...Partially because I wanted the glory...I won't lie to you. With everyone else dead, I would have gotten all the credit for fixing it. I didn't think I'd come as close to figuring it out as I did. If that fool hadn't disobeyed my instructions, I could have fixed the d@mn thing and none of this would have happened. So you see? I wasn't lying."

Kade said, "How do we know you're telling the truth now?" Zimsky said, "you'll simply have to take my word for it." Kade said, "Why should we?" Zimsky smiled. He said, "I can't honestly think of a reason why you should." Kade said, "That's one of the first things you've said that I believe."

Mark said, "What are we fully dealing with here?" Zimsky said, "Under our power, the perfect defense weapon. Under it's own power...? It's Hitler, Mussolini, Bin Laden, Hussein and Attila the Hun all rolled into one. It will hunt until there are no humans left. Simple as that. And for each Drone or machine we destroy, it will make 10 more in it's place. We're in for a long one, that's for sure. I won't lie to you...I don't like our chances."

Jean said, "The heart of this thing then, it's at that base?" Zimsky nodded. He said, "Well then, let's storm the base and then you can shut it off." Zimsky laughed. He said, "It's not a stupid program, Captain. Of everywhere in the world, THAT will be the place most guarded. We'd have stood a better chance breaking into Fort Knox, or the Federal Reserve."

Ethan said, "I assume you have a plan?" Zimsky said, "I have two. Whether or not they'll work is still in Question. It all comes down to the calculations being correct." Ethan said, "What if they're not?" Zimsky said, "It's best guess Mr. Pritchard. That's all science it...It's best guess." Ethan said, "So my best guess is that you don't know?" Zimsky nodded. He lit another cigarette and leaned against the jeep. He said, "That's all of it. I'm tired of talking."



"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

“So what you’re saying is that you’re guessing.” Kade said with a tone of hostility. “Just like you were guessing when you created Skynet.”

“That wasn’t a guess kid,” Zimsky said. “That was all careful calculations,”

“That went wrong as*hole,” she snapped. “And you call me kid one more time and I’ll rip out your god d*mned liver and shove it down your throat so hard your liver drops out your as*hole. You just said that it all comes down to your calculations being correct when it comes to your ‘plans’ and you now stated that Skynet was ‘carefully calculated’. You’re full of sh*t Zimsky and now you’re just trying to cover you ass by coming clean before Ethan could have ratted you out.”

“Now,”

“Shut the fu*k up,” Kade said interrupting Zimsky not backing down. “You wouldn’t have told us HALF of the sh*t you just did if Ethan hadn’t been here. You had plenty of chances on the way here to spill it but you didn’t. You waited until you didn’t have a choice.”

“Kade,” Jean said gently seeing she was getting upset.

“You’re just another arrogant piece of sh*t.” She snarled. “You think you’re so d*mned smart, that you have all the answers and you don’t! You just make things worse! You let your arrogance be your guide.” She grabbed the front of Zimsky’s shirt pulling him away from the side of the jeep violently and she pressed her face to his so that they were only an inch apart at most. “You think you’re so smart, well you’re not. If it wasn’t for you… none of this would have happened.” She pushed back on Zimsky’s chest hard and he fell back against the side of the jeep hard and spun around on her heal walking away furious.

Jean watched her go wanting to go after her but he didn’t. He knew that he had to stay here. He had to finish figuring out what they were going to do and how they were going to do it. Kade, though he cared about her deeply, needed some time alone and he knew that. She was a solitary person, she didn’t want to be but she was due to a life of loneliness. Zimsky had just dropped quite a ball on them and Kade was right, he wouldn’t have done it if Ethan hadn’t been here.


***********************************************************************


“So what do we do?” Eva asked leaning back against her husband’s chest as they looked at their two sleeping children.

“I don’t know,” Ryan said softly kissing her cheek, his hand gently rubbing her belly. “I just don’t know. We’re safe for now.”

“But there’s no knowing for how long.” She replied. “What do you think about… the others?” Eva asked reluctantly. She’d always been a bit shy around large groups of strangers which didn’t mesh well with Ryan’s job considering the number of parties he’d had to go to, but if he stayed close to her it put her at ease.

“Most of them are good enough,” Ryan said. “I like most of them, but that Zimsky guy, I was set to interview him and…”

“Baby? Do you think you could use that?” Eva said.

“Use what?” Ryan asked sweeping her off her feet and laying her down on the cot in the small room that they’d been given to share with their children. Neither of them minded however. They didn’t want to be separated from their two surviving offspring. The closer that they were to them, the happier they would be.

“Well he’s got an ego, right?” Eva said.

Ryan nodded. “Yes, that goes without saying. In fact, that would be the understatement of the century.”

“Well… maybe if you interview him he’ll… share more information that he wouldn’t have otherwise.”

Ryan pulled the blanket over her body. “Sweetie, television no longer exists.”

She smiled at him lovingly. “I know, but if we have any semblance of broadcasting equipment maybe you can fool him. I mean, think about it. The nation is in chaos, who knows better what’s going on? Who can give the people the best survival advise?”

Ryan laughed and kissed her forehead. “You’re brilliant.”

“I know… one of us has to be.”



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Zimsky watched Kade walking slowly away and got p*ssed. He said, "I don't like your tone, KID." Kade spun around on him. Zimsky said, "Yes, I helped build the *beep* thing. I was one of MANY. Yes, I have to share some of the blame, and I accept that. You have no right to talk down to me like that, you...drifter."

Kade said, "Good one." Zimsky said, "I had a life, and a home. And I was just...Me. What do YOU want to be? What, you want to be a hero? Or a Martyr? Feel free. And while you're out there getting yourself killed, I'll be back here doing what SHOULD be done, taking down SKYNET."

Zimsky said, "You all have your own thoughts and feeling about me. You have NO idea what my life was like. You have NO idea what I've been through. I fought and clawed and did everything I had to to get to where I am today, you have no right to belittle it. If SKYNET hadn't bombed, I'd be sitting pretty. I'd be Idolized. They'd be fu*king naming STREETS after me. I left a legacy, you haven't done SH*T!"

Kade said, "Yes, you left a legacy. A legacy of death and destruction. Crongrats, Zimsky. You're responsible for killing more people than Hitler. Your dad must be proud!" Zimsky lapsed into silence. Kade said, "What's the matter? No answer." Zimsky lost his scholarly touch. He bellowed, "Fu*k you!" Kade went for him. Zimsky fended her off. Jean went over to Kade, pulling her away. He heard Ryan say, "Dr. Zimsky, please if you'll just..."

Zimsky spun, yelling, "SHUT UP! Go back to wifey!" He never saw Ryan's fist coming.

Jean heard the sound of a punch, and the sound of a body falling. He turned. Zimsky was spread out on the pavement, Ryan standing over him, panting. He saw Jean and said, "I...i had to.." Jean said, "It was bound to happen sooner or later." Ryan nodded. Kade looked at Zimsky's unconscious form and laughed.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

OOC: I'll have a scene up later this week, perhaps on wednesday or thursday. Until then, stay frosty and PLEASE keep posting!

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

OOC: I'd love to post... but I just can't come up with anything. I need some drama here. I hate to say it, but if I don't get some soon I'm going to lose all interest. Right now, I'm just holding onto some thin hope that things turn around because it's just SO depressing when games flop.


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

[deleted]

Jean smiled as he watched Kade amble back from the horses in the small paddock behind the old disused motor pool compound.

"Make a friend ?" He chuckled as his Lieutenant came up to him.

"Claire ?" KAde shrugged noncommitally. "She's okay. A little too white-bread, but she's better then than a-hole ZImskey."

"I meant the horse," Rasczak corrected himself. "You look like you need a few hours on a soft pillow."

Embarrassed, Kade realized she'd been favoring her backside. Riding had been...fun. Wow. Fun. Long time since she'd uses that adjective with anything even remotely connected to her life. "Hey, Cap'n Crunch...what did you mean when you were talkin' with Deputy G. back there ?"

"About what ?"

"You said 'that Gillespie ?'. What did you mean by that ?" Kade looked at the pistol stuck in Rasczak's belt. "Hey, when do I get one of those ? Sir."

"Weapons training will begin very soon, Lieutenant. You can count on that." Jean looked past Kade to the paddock, where Bobby had unsaddled the horses and was brushing down Lazy with a curry-comb. "I've trained with a lot of skilled instructors ovewr the years, Kade. Army, Feds. Private sector. Read a lot, too. There's a book about gunfights, about modern use of the handgun by law enforcement, called 'No Second-Place Winner'. Fellow by the name of Bill Jordan wrote it. Ex-lawman. He was one of the fastest men with a gun back in the sixties and seventies. Next fastest was a guy named Charlie Askins. He ran the Border Patrol, and dropped out to go to Veit Nam and do some black ops. He was in his fifties back then, a reserve Colonel. I met him at Bragg when I was a young pup."

"So ?" Kade shrugged off her leather jacket and wriggled her toes, wondering if they had working showers inside.

"Charlie Askins was a little psychotic. He liked killing too much. He told me he became a soldier and a lawman because he was good at killing, and to his own dismay he actually ENJOYED it. But he also told me he wasn't the best with a gun. He said he and Bill Jordan were equally fast, but there was someone who was faster then either of them. That man was Reese Gillespie. Sheriff of Cabot County, Arizona."

"That's Bobby's grandfather ?"

"Yeah. Reese Gillespie taught gunfighting to the border patrol. Charlie told me Reese was better with a gun then almost anyone alive, but that his one flaw was that he didn't enjoy killing like Charlie did, and he didn't reconcile himself with it like Jordan did. And that's probably what got him killed."

"How'd it happen ?"

"Well," Rasczak led her back towards the entrance to the bunkers, "There was a movement in the late seventies. Indian liberation. 'Navajo Front' something like that. American indian protestors had taken over Alcatraz island in the late sixties, did you know that ? Lived there almost a year, until some children got killed in some sort of accident.

"But in the seventies, it got violent. Leonard Pelletier got accused of killing some F.B.I. agents. There were standoffs at reservations...it got ugly. Like the black panthers or the S.L.A. but without the rhetoric and poetry."

Some of this was vaguely familiar to Kade. She'd heard of the S.L.A. and Patty Hearst. "So what happened with Sheriff Bobby's grandpa ?"

"I think it was an armored car robbery. Indians. Ex-vets, marines, If I remember correctly. They hit an armored car in L.A., killed a few civilians. They headed east, into Arizona. Into Cabot County. Gillespie, his deputys...one was Bobby's father, I'm pretty certain--there was a shootout. I think one deputy survived, but everyone else--all the indians, as well--were killed. Askins said it was a classic case of superior firepower vs. superior tactics. Gillespie did everything he should have, but the indians had raided an armory and had machineguns and armor-piercing ammunition."

Jean looked over towards Bobby, who was limping back towards the bunker with an armload of guns and a saddlebag over his shoulder. "He's got quite a reputation to live up to," he commented. "And he seems to be a little more then just a backwoods deputy."

Kade shrugged. "I dunno. I never like cops all that much."

"He's not a cop, not anymore," Rasczak reasoned. "He's just like us. A survivor. And a human being. ANd if what Mark and Dr. Zimskey said is true, we--all of us--are now on SKYNET's hit list."




"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

Alright, since I sense waivering attention, I'll bring in the new piece of gameplay.

One of you will be able to decide one of the next people to die after a brief quiz. After the winner is announced by me, I'll PM that person and have a discussion concerning their choice. After it is made, it is final and will be worked into the next scene. Now, for the quiz itself, its contents can range anywhere from movie trivia to questions about previous games we've played. I know a couple of you guys haven't played in the older ones, so I'll cut you guys (you'll know who you are) some slack.

Alright, here goes the question...

In the THIRD game modded by an absent Kev18 (kudos to whoever can tell me whatever happened to that guy), which took place on a cruise ship, what was the name of the principal villain.

Go...

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Sorry about the delay around here folks, but I had a bit of a run in with some mold growing in my closet. Suffice to say, it wasn't much fun to clean up.
Anyway, the scene DEFINITELY be up tomorrow afternoon at the very latest.

By the way, Ladygray won the thingy. Check your Pm's Cyd.

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Zimsky opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling. His mouth hurt, why did it hurt? He touched the swelling, then remembered the pretty boy newscaster had socked him when he wasn't ready. Not that he would have offered much of a fight if he HAD been ready.

Zimsky sat up. There was someone else in the room. He felt his glasses hanging from his shirt and put them on. It was Mark. Zimsky said, "what are you doing here?"

Mark said, "Just making sure Ryan didn't put you in a coma....He uh...He hit you pretty good." Zimsky flushed. It was embarassing, getting knocked out by the fatherly pansy.

Mark said, "Lets go, you're probably hungry." Zimsky realized that he WAS indeed hungry. He looked at Mark, eyes narrowed. He said, "You know Mark, I treat everyone like sh*t. Friends, enemies, everyone. And yet, you persist on being nice to me. Why is that?"

Mark said, "There's good in everybody, even you. You just haven't totally found it yet. But you keep offering up little glimpses Zim. Despite your best attempts."

Zimsky reached for his cigarettes, but they there gone. His jacket was missing. Mark said, "Oh, yeah, that's in the mess. Here, have one of mine." He offered up something that looked homerolled. Zimsky said, "I didn't know you smoked, Mark. " Mark said, "Uh...Yeah...I smoke." Zimsky took it and Mark lit it. Zimsky took a drag of (Unbeknownst to him) Mark Read's Mary Jane joints. Immediately, he felt strangely mellow.

Zimsky said, "They have uh...Mellow...Turkish style blend. Are they foreign?"Mark said, "Oh no, we have them all over here." Zimsky took another drag, and another. His cares drifted away. He felt totally giddy...And hungry. Mark smiled. Zimsky returned the smile, broader than Mark's by a mile.

Zimsky kept toking away, completely unaware. He said, "Well come on, you fool! Let's go eat!" Mark led the stoned out of his mind Zimsky to the Mess hall.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

While you guys wait, here's something for you to chew on:

We've been doing these things for a while, some of us longer than others (Corgi and Getfuzzy were in the very first RPG - woot, woot). I looked into it a couple hours ago, and some of us have been doing this for nearly two years (the first game, modded by the unsavory Tenacious D, took place sometime in March/April of 2004, shortly before the release of Dawn of the dead).

We did a survey a while back on whose RPG was their favorite, but the sands of time (*cough* IMDB STAFF *COUGH*) have long since erased it from their message boards. I'm a bit curious to what some of your guy's favorite games and favorite players were, so if you want to give it a swing, go ahead. If not, no problem.

Favorite RPG?

1. 1st mall RPG – modded by Tenacious D
2. Paradise Island – modded by rlw/12/21
3. Boat Trip – modded by rlw/12/21 and Green13
4. Thorn’s Revenge – modded by Green13
5. Last Haven pt 1 (New York) – modded by Kev18
6. Last Haven pt 2 (Peru) – modded by Kev18
7.70’s RPG – modded by Sarcastic
8. Lost RPG – modded by Kev18
9. Celebrity RPG – modded by Green13
10. Last haven pt 3 (cruise ship) – modded by Kev18
11. Twilight pt 1 – modded by Green13
12. Twilight pt 2 – modded by Green13
13. Salem’s Lot – modded by Ladygray
14. Vancouver Incident – modded by Kev18
15. Romania – modded by Green13

Favorite Male Character? (this is from Haven and Twilight only)

1. Craig
2. Mani
3. Sean (gosh, does anyone remember what happened to the guy that posted for him? I sure can't.)
4. Chris
5. Roger
6. Tex
7. Alex
8. Scotty
9. Nick (well... sorta...)
10. Shao
11. Nathan
12. Stafford
13. Billy
15. Danny
16. Stephen
17. Sam

Favorite Heroine?
1. Kara
2. Tricia
3. KGB chick (dude, no idea)
4. Mary (sorry, but she was bloody useless)
5. Nanny chick (think her name was Claire)
6. Angel
7. Madison
8. Katie
9. Kylie

Favorite Villian?

1. Bill the security guard (again, am I the only guy that remembers him?)
2. @$$hole #1 (can't remember this bloke's name. remember he pushed around Craig and Tricia some. Maybe Mani. Anyone?)
3. Commandant Reggie Thorne (our first english baddie)
4. Eddie Blaha
5. Kerrigan
6. Tobias
7. Percival
8. Nick (sorta...)
9. Captain Rhodes
10. Pvt. Stucky
11. VINCENT
12. Mr. Joshua
13. Logan
14. Freeze

Favorite Locale?

1. Chicago Mall
2. Paradise Island
3. Silverton Tanker/Great lakes
4. New York
5. ruined New York
6. Peru
7. Cruise Ship
8. Academy Awards
9. Lost Island
10. North Dakota (Twilight)
11. Colorado/Montana/Wyoming (Twilight dos)
12. Vancouver
13. Romania/Los Angeles
14. Trinity, Oregon

Favorite mod?

1. Tenacious D
2. rlw/12/21 aka Becky
3. Green13 aka EvilTomCruise aka Tommy
4. Kev18 aka Nick (its funny how some of us are known by the names of who we've played, rather our actual names)
5. Ladygray aka Lady aka Cyd

(next bit is optional)

In a few sentences, reflect on your role playing experience as a whole. If necessary, use a paragraph. Or five.



"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

OOC:


Tarquinn Elizabeth Berns born 1:04a.m. June 23rd ! 8lbs 2 ozs!

Congratulate me, wahoo!!!

I'll be back late friday night. Gotta go be a dad for a while !!!

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

OOC: CONGRATS HON! I bet she's cuter than all hell! =D


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

OOC: She sounds cute...

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

OOC: She sounds HUGE! No wonder she didn't want to come out! LOL


My survey answers:



Favorite RPG.................

I’ve got a tie between Twilight part 1 and 2. In part 1 Black pitched Zac over the fence. *happy sigh* *evil grin* Part 2 was the Katie/Vincent game which was a blast for me.


Favorite Male Character..................

(Sure, way to leave out Blake and Riley, though I’m not sure if they’d be in the good guys or bad…Blake was pretty… conflicted and Riley had… some issues with Scotty.)

I guess I’d have to go with Scotty. I’d do the faithful ‘wife’ thing and pick Nick but Blonde put a LOT into Scotty.


Favorite Heroine....................

Madison… sorry, but I gotta go with me on this one. =) I love Mads.


Favorite Villian.....................

VINCENT… yeah, me again, but come on, no one’s ever going to top him. I’m still in mourning. You hear that Tom! I’m still in mourning! Stupid cow b*tch Tricia…. *grumble* God d*mn it….


Favorite Locale.................

Definitely NOT the cruise ship. God I hated that boat.

North Dakota. That base was awesome! Rhodes kicked ass.


Favorite Mod..........

EvilTom! I’d say kev but he abandoned me. Bad virtual husband! ;)
Seriously though, Tom. SO GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!

(Sarc, you forgot aka Supreme Goddess of the Universe after my name.)


And reflections on my gaming experience…

Drama

Drama

Drama

I LOVE DRAMA!


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

OMG Congrats! Is this your very first???

Tell us ALL about her! =)

"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

Your memory for the history of these games is something incredible! My comments below.

-----------------
While you guys wait, here's something for you to chew on:

We've been doing these things for a while, some of us longer than others (Corgi and Getfuzzy were in the very first RPG - woot, woot).

--WOW. That's right! I wish someone still had that one saved somwhere =(



I looked into it a couple hours ago, and some of us have been doing this for nearly two years (the first game, modded by the unsavory Tenacious D, took place sometime in March/April of 2004, shortly before the release of Dawn of the dead).

-- Yes, I remember, he was kind of mean. Though very enjoyable RPG!


We did a survey a while back on whose RPG was their favorite, but the sands of time (*cough* IMDB STAFF *COUGH*) have long since erased it from their message boards. I'm a bit curious to what some of your guy's favorite games and favorite players were, so if you want to give it a swing, go ahead. If not, no problem.

Favorite RPG?

1. 1st mall RPG – modded by Tenacious D - NOTHING LIKE YOUR FIRST ONE! =)
2. Paradise Island – modded by rlw/12/21 - LOVED IT, But not my fave!
3. Boat Trip – modded by rlw/12/21 and Green13
4. Thorn’s Revenge – modded by Green13
5. Last Haven pt 1 (New York) – modded by Kev18
6. Last Haven pt 2 (Peru) – modded by Kev18 - I GOT LOST IN THIS ONE.
7.70’s RPG – modded by Sarcastic
8. Lost RPG – modded by Kev18
9. Celebrity RPG – modded by Green13 --- MY ALL TIME FAVORITE!
10. Last haven pt 3 (cruise ship) – modded by Kev18
11. Twilight pt 1 – modded by Green13
12. Twilight pt 2 – modded by Green13
13. Salem’s Lot – modded by Ladygray -- MY SECOND ALL TIME FAVORITE
14. Vancouver Incident – modded by Kev18
15. Romania – modded by Green13 -- GREAT BUT NOT UNTIL THE VERY END

Favorite Male Character? (this is from Haven and Twilight only)

1. Craig - FIRST PLACE! I feel like I know the real Craig through him! =)
2. Mani
3. Sean (gosh, does anyone remember what happened to the guy that posted for him? I sure can't.) - Nope!
4. Chris - Wow, I would have totally forgotten him!
5. Roger
6. Tex - 2nd FAVORITE! Just because he was so funny and wise!
7. Alex
8. Scotty - Well of course, you HAVE to love Scotty!
9. Nick (well... sorta...) - Too mysterious for me!
10. Shao
11. Nathan
12. Stafford - THIS GUY WAS A TOTAL TRIP! I liked when You made him get attacked by sharks! =)
13. Billy
15. Danny
16. Stephen
17. Sam

Favorite Heroine?
1. Kara - Second Place!
2. Tricia - Can't vote for myself! =(
3. KGB chick (dude, no idea)
4. Mary (sorry, but she was bloody useless)
5. Nanny chick (think her name was Claire)
6. Angel -
7. Madison - First place! She was way cool.
8. Katie - Poor Katie.
9. Kylie

What no Nessa??? =(

Favorite Villian?

1. Bill the security guard (again, am I the only guy that remembers him?)
LOL - BILL GAUER! I do!!

2. @$$hole #1 (can't remember this bloke's name. remember he pushed around Craig and Tricia some. Maybe Mani. Anyone?)
- one of Jeff's character's probably!

3. Commandant Reggie Thorne (our first english baddie) - FIRST IS ALWAYS THE BEST!

4. Eddie Blaha
5. Kerrigan
6. Tobias
7. Percival
8. Nick (sorta...)
9. Captain Rhodes - LOL. He was great!
10. Pvt. Stucky
11. VINCENT - The Best, but I had nightmares about him! But Tricia got to kill him in the end. I still wished Angel would have done it though! I wonder if there will be another Vincent/Tricia showdown in the next Generation with new characters? Actually I hope the kids will be friends and fight against an evil foe!
12. Mr. Joshua
13. Logan - LOL, I just remember when he get his "boat" from Thorn!! That was so great!
14. Freeze - He was great, although a big pain in the ass!

Favorite Locale?

1. Chicago Mall - First is the best! FIRST PLACE
2. Paradise Island
3. Silverton Tanker/Great lakes
4. New York
5. ruined New York
6. Peru
7. Cruise Ship - Bleh!
8. Academy Awards -Yes! Loved it! Let's do it again! SECOND PLACE
9. Lost Island
10. North Dakota (Twilight)
11. Colorado/Montana/Wyoming (Twilight dos)
12. Vancouver
13. Romania/Los Angeles
14. Trinity, Oregon - Loved it! THIRD PLACE

Favorite mod?

1. Tenacious D
2. rlw/12/21 aka Becky
3. Green13 aka EvilTomCruise aka Tommy - TIE BETWEEN HIM AND CYDNEY!
4. Kev18 aka Nick (its funny how some of us are known by the names of who we've played, rather our actual names) - GREAT WRITER, but I wasn't as much a fan of those games (locale, plot, etc)

5. Ladygray aka Lady aka Cyd - TIE WITH EVIL TOM CRUISE!

(next bit is optional)

In a few sentences, reflect on your role playing experience as a whole. If necessary, use a paragraph. Or five.

WOW, where to begin? This has been such a very special part of my life over the past two years. When things get really bad, sometimes I feel like this is the one place I can go in life to get away from it all! Even though we've never met - you are all very special to me and I'm honored to have known each of you! =)

These games are like nothing else I've ever experienced in life, and I hope we keep doing this for years to come, and just maybe one day have a big party! =)


"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

Woo hoo!

I gave Fuzzy nightmares!

My life is complete!


As for Bern’s new little bundle of joy it’s the first one. See Bernsy… I CAN keep a secret! =D


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

I ought to be a Kennedy, I'm so frigging fertile. My sperm can penetrate kevlar and steel. This is my third kid. (Egad !!!) Been married for just over 5 years. (Six in another month)

One three-year old girl and one two-year old boy. Didn't mean to give the impression that this is my first...although this time we wanted the sex of the baby to be a surprise.

Ryan Taylor Berns, b. Oct. 5 2002 (girl)

Cullen Crawford Berns, b. June 12 2004 (boy)

So now ya know where Ryan Crawford, bartender and zombie slayer, came from....


"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

Well... the important thing is that I didn't tell anybody. I actually kept a secret which is pretty freaking amazing for me because I love to talk/write... well... just share in general!

Kennedy by ass, it's the mutant scottish sperm that you've got!

(Though I'll say that Ryan's already cool. Libra's kick ass!)


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Scene 2: Underground

The sky fell over cheap Korean monster-movie scenery
And spilled into the mezzanine of the crushed capsule hotel
Between the Disney abattoir and the chemical refinery
And I knew I was in trouble but I thought I was in hell

So you look around the tiny room and you wonder where the hell you are
While the K.K.K. convention are all stranded in the bar
They wear hoods and carry shotguns in the main streets of Montgomery
But they're helpless here as babies 'cause they're only here on holiday

Chorus: What do we care if the world is a joke
(Tokyo Storm Warning)
We'll give it a big kiss
We'll give it a poke
(Tokyo Storm Warning)
Death wears a big hat 'cause he's a big bloke
(Tokyo Storm Warning)
We're only living this instant

-Tokyo Storm Warning, By Elvis Costello


Mark Reed, Ethan, Zimsky and Kade sat in the bunker’s control room. It was sparsely lit, in accordance with conserving energy. Reed had several large solar cells set up directly a hundred feet above their heads, but they provided limited power to the entire facility. In addition, there was a gasoline run generator on the lowest level, but as fuel was now worth far more than gold or any precious metal, they had been reluctant to turn it on.

“What did you call us up here for Ethan?” Asked Dr. Zimsky, who had replaced his worn and dirtied shirt and pants for some sort of cloth jumpsuit that Mark had provided. It smelled like bacon grease, but as his other set of clothing was covered in blood and grim, he took it gladly.

“Hold on for just a second. You’ll see.” He said quickly while holding up his hand, as to warn them to impede some sort of advance. Kade gave a look to Mark over Ethan’s shoulder. Reed only shrugged, looking back to the closed circuit television.

Recordings made by the security camera system were then placed on a small bank of VCR’s and made into tapes, which were reused depending if the content was useful. Ethan had apparently seen something that attracted his attention, and he had collected the most recent recording before it could be taped over.
His thumb still stuck on the rewind button, he continued to search through minutes of tape with baited breath.

“Wait for it… wait for it….”

Roughly massaging his forehead, Zimsky lost his patience, but not as much as he would’ve liked, as Kade was in the room.

“Well is it there or NOT?”

Ignoring Christian, Ethan continued to rewind (while Zimsky received a mean look from Kade). Then he saw what he had called them up here for. Pressing the play button, his breath became heavy.

“Okay. Watch for it. Keep watching… Keep watching…”

A moment later, a large group of something appeared in the distance. The camera had been mounted atop a rock formation and had been camoflauged as such, and its subjects, whom were several hundred feet away, didn’t seem to notice its presence.
They were definitely human. The crowd was at least forty strong, and its numbers didn’t look too well, even from a distance. Many of them appeared to be bloody, and some staggered. They kept on moving until they reached the rock formation, and still taking no note of the camera, they took cover between the boulders.
Mark spun over to Ethan, whose gaze was still on the television.

“How long ago was this footage taken by the camera?” He shot, his voice tipped with fear. He’d always worried about something like this happening.

“About thirty minutes ago.”

“On which camera?”

“Southeast. You don’t think they’ll-“

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. We’re going to have to seal this place up, they can’t find out about this place. If they do, all we’ve worked for this far may be for nothing.”

Mark turned to walk to another console, but was stopped by Kade, who stood in front of him, blocking his path.

“What do you mean ‘seal this place up’? We’ve got to go help them.”

“What about sealing this place up is difficult to understand? We cut off our link to the outside world, break out our ten day deodorant pads, then get forgotten by SKYNET and any refugees that might decide that they deserve this place more than we do. Excuse me.”

Kade didn’t budge. She may have been shorter than Reed, but she was stronger. Reed could tell by one glance at her.

“But that’ll kill them, right? Eventually SKYNET will pick them up on one of their Recon patrols, and they’ll wipe them out, right?”

Mark groaned in frustration, before walking around Kade and to a computer console on the other side of the room. Following him, Kade continued to listen to Mark.

“They won’t HAVE to kill them Kade. The radiation will do that job for them. SKYNET wouldn’t bother wasting the ammunition. I’ve got to put the base in lockdown mode, excuse me.” Mark removed a key on a metal chain from around his neck and inserted it into the key activated emergency Dead Man’s Switch.

He almost turned it too, if it weren’t for Kade, who grabbed the Frog and Leaf camouflage fabric atop his shoulders and threw him to the nearest wall. His attention perked, Zimsky stood from his seat in moderate surprise. He wanted to say something profound, but self preservation kicked in.

A quote from Gandhi would have been dandy…

“What gives you the right to say they die? You’ve been hiding supplies in this place for years, are you worried about running out of medical supplies?”

“Yeah. We accounted for around twelve people, assuming the other half of our cell showed up from Los Angeles in time. Thanks to Zimsky’s friend Jenkins-“

Across the room, Zimsky piped up.

“He wasn’t my friend!”

“Shut it *beep* Yelled Kade, turning her attention back to Mark.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we accounted for only twelve people. With that many, we’d have about five years of food, supposing we rationed correctly. Now, they didn’t make it, and you guys and my people make up a little more than that. If we allow fifty people in here, those supplies will last us a fraction of that time.”

“But we’ll sleep better at night, knowing we didn’t condemn fifty people to their deaths, right? You really want something like that on your conscience Mark?”

Kade started to press onto a pressure point within Mark’s shoulder, causing searing pain. Ignoring it the best he could, he grunted softly and looked back to his captor.

“If it means taking down SKYNET, I’ll do anything necessary, including losing sleep. Besides, three twenty megaton nuclear weapons were used against the Los Angeles area. If these guys are from L.A., then they’ve absorbed THRICE the limit the human body can withstand. They’ll be dead in a few days, a week at most. If we let all of them in here, they’re only going to waste our food and medical supplies. OUR stuff.”

“We’re letting them inside. Whether you want them in here or not. I don’t care how much radiation they’ve been exposed to; we’re not monsters. Now, shut off the lockdown and open the doors, understand?”

A voice behind her sounded

“I don’t think so Kade. Let him go and back off.”

Ethan. That little *beep*

Looking over her shoulder somewhat, she glanced over to Pritchard, who was aiming a SIG Sauer nine millimeter pistol directly at the back of her head.

“It’s too bad Ethan. I like you.”

In the blink of an eye, Kade squeezed harder into Reed’s shoulder causing him to fall to the floor, stunned. Before he even hit the ground, Kade dealt with Pritchard. Before he could react, she took hold of his radio-shack purchased radio that was clipped to his belt with her free hand. Ripping it free, she spun around and jerked her arm (which held the radio) forward to the man’s face. There was a sickening crack as she broke the cartilage in his nose, prompting a single spray of crimson red to spatter the wall. As he was whimpering in agony, he twisted his arm around at an angle so that his wrist snapped. His grip on the SIG loosened, which then slid down into her hands. Clutching his face, the jumpsuited man fell to the floor, blood dripping onto his hands.

Now armed, Kade pointed the gun directly at Christian Zimsky’s head.

“I don’t care what these guys say. I’m letting those people inside. Try and stop me, you’ll end up on the floor like these jokers. Comprende?”

Seeing how unstable Kade was, Zimsky didn’t even think of trying to reason with her. Still pointing the weapon at him, she quickly walked backwards through the doorway, covering her escape. Turning around, she ran as fast as she could for the main tunnel, which ended with the blast door. If any of them tried to stop her, she would feel sorry for them the following morning.


"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Meanwhile, several halls away…

Jean sat in the main dormitory, a relatively small room filled with bunks. Taking one that hadn’t been occupied, he had made himself somewhat at home. The place was a little like a barracks, except a little bit more comfortable. As these guys were civilians, and they planned to stay for months or perhaps years, they had put up some décor. A few Bruce Springsting posters, one Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix and one of the ‘Stones’. He’d never listened to those groups; far too hipster for his liking. He was more into classical stuff, hell, even the Three Tenors. It was soothing, and Jean had things that he wanted to forget.

With the advent of so much free time, he’d taken advantage of it to clean the weapons he’d received since he had been on the run.

Laying out both shotguns, a machine pistol that had belonged to the previous occupants of the car, and the .45 that Bobby had given him, he started wiping them down with a towel he found laying around. Wiping the dirt and grime off the mostly metal firearms, he sighed, glancing around the room.

He wasn’t alone. Bobby also sat inside the bunkroom, but wasn’t really doing much of anything. He had a few drinks earlier when Zimsky had been high, and was a little tipsy. Not nearly enough to be drunk, but enough to be red in the face and loopy. Smiling, Jean held back a chuckle as he heard Bobby’s singing. It was pretty awful, even for someone that was half-drunk. It was from an older movie that Jean vaguely remembered. Pretty famous, it was directed by that one guy that made Jurassic Park. Something with a Shark?

“Show me the way to go home… I’m tired and I want to go to beeed.”

Bobby clanked one of the metal bars on his bunk three times, as though to indicate a drum or something.

“I had a drink ‘bout an hour ago, an’ it went right to my head…”

Jaws, that was it. The Shark movie, with Dreyfuss and that one guy with the German sounding name. ‘You’re gonna need a bigger boat.’

Footsteps echoed down the hall through the open door. They were loud, like a person was sprinting. Curious, Jean set the .45 he was cleaning down onto the towel to investigate. Standing to his feet, Jean jogged to the doorway and looked both ways. Not seeing anyone, he decided to find someone else to see if something was wrong. After all, what harm could it do?


“Where IS she? Do we even know where she is?” Asked Ethan, holding a frozen banana to his face. Mark, who held his radio, looked anxious.

“We have to put the base into lockdown. Those refugees cannot get in here, no matter what. We can’t take the risk of having them inside.” He said to the others.

“Radiation can’t be transferred to one person to another, can it?” Asked Ryan, who had his arms crossed together, sighing.

“Yeah, it can. Mark’s right, we can’t let anyone else inside the bunker. It’s not just a question of supplies or infection, it’s a matter of secrecy. As far as we know, SKYNET has no idea about this base, as do any refugees. Now, if we even make it APPARENT that there’s a secure bunker here, stocked to the brim with food and supplies, then we’re going to have to contend with others finding out about this place. One guy blabs to another, and another fifty comes. And then on the next day, another fifty. Maybe a thousand. Point is, it’s a bad idea. Seal this sucker up, at least til the radiation leaves.” Said Zimsky, offering his professional opinion.

“Those aren’t pieces of meat Zimsky, they’re human beings. Show some damn compassion for a change, will you?”

“It’s not about compassion Ryan, it’s math. Besides, what’s so great about a human being anyway? We’ve got absolutely no idea who these people are. They could be serial murderers for all we know. You wanna let them inside, in here with your kids?”

Ryan and Christian continued to bicker, until Mark interrupted.

“Shut up! Look, I’m putting this base into lockdown, no matter what you people think. I am NOT compromising this operation to ‘save’ people that are already walking corpses. Out of my way.” Said Reed, standing to his feet and walking briskly to the activator.

Removing a second set of keys from his neck, he put it into the override and turned it. A shrill alarm sounded inside the corridors, storage rooms and dormitories of the bunker as a warning. Outside, the secondary blast door slowly inched its way down.

“It’s only a matter of time now.” He said, his mood soothing out considerably.

“What about Kade? What if she’s already outside?”

“Then there’s nothing we can do for her. She may have time to get back inside if she turns around and comes back. If not, well… we’ll see.”

Jean approached Mark Reed, a snarl creeping onto his face.

“You’re going to lock her OUT? You unimaginable bastard. You BASTARD. Turn off the lockdown NOW.”

Standing to his feet, Mark pulled his handgun from its holster, pointing it squarely at Jean’s chest. The pistol shook in his fist at the prospect of having to take down such a large man.

“Hey man, I’M in charge of this place. ME. Not you, not anyone else. I set it up! I gathered everyone together! This is my castle, and I’m don’t have to take lip from any of you *beep* I could have left you people to ROT. But instead, I let you into my home. Don’t tell me how to run things. *beep* nursery school…”

Jean wanted to keep cool, but this was too much. Kade was practically family to him. He wasn’t about to hang her dry, even if it meant taking down something as insidious as SKYNET.
Reaching out in front of him with the speed of a cobra, he took hold of Mark’s arm until he heard bones snap like plywood. It wasn’t without consequence though, as a gunshot rang out, and a bloody hole appeared in his shoulder. Ethan…

Grunting, he let go of the man’s arm and approached the other man with the gun. Panicked that he’d have to face Jean, Ethan kept firing at him with his Beretta. As it was panic fire, most of the shots missed, but not the important ones.
Even though he’d been hit four times in the chest, Jean kept on going forward, shrugging the hits off like they were nothing. He’d been hit worse before…

Ethan’s gun ran dry, and he paused to reload. Nervously, he reached into one of the pouches on his belt, feeling around for a spare magazine with his broken wrist, which had been wrapped up with tape as a temporary fix. He didn’t manage to reload in time. Jean simply slapped the gun out of his hand, and grabbed hold of his neck with both hands, slowly strangling the much smaller man. Looking over to Ryan, he yelled over the sound of Ethan’s gagging.

“Shut off the lockdown, hurry!”

Nodding, Ryan rushed past a stunned Zimsky, who stood frightened as though he was a shell shocked deer on the freeway. Reaching the Lockdown console, he looked over it, trying to figure out how to shut off the shrill alarms. There were a lot of buttons, but not like computer keys. Some had strange looking symbols stamped onto their surfaces.

“Shut it OFF.” Wheezed Jean. His berserker rage was starting to wear off.

“I can’t… I don’t know what these things mean. I can try to-“

“Just get to the surface and bring her back inside. I’ll deal with these guys.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Doesn’t matter, just GO!”

“Alright!” Said the newsman, running as fast as he could out of the room. Jean’s breathing became more difficult. One of the bullets must have pierced his lungs.


On the surface…


Kade was horrified when she had finally reached the refugees. Even though the security camera footage had only taken place less than an hour previous, when she had found them, she discovered a number of them had expired. A number of other people simply couldn’t get up. All in all, out of her count of nearly 43 people, there were only three mobile survivors. Cursing the fact she couldn’t help the others, she helped one limp his way along the road that led up to the main door, while the two others followed as quickly as they could.

As soon as the door was in sight, she was dismayed to see that it was nearly closed. Less than three feet of exposed space were available as the door continued its path to earth, and the gap was closing quickly. Grunting, she tried to go faster, only to falter. The person she was helping along was barely conscious, so he was pretty much dead weight.

The door was closer now, maybe forty or so feet. She was almost there, but she wasn’t going to make it. Not when she was carrying someone who was at least twice her weight. Taking notice of her predicament, one of the others, a sharply dressed man in his early forties, backtracked and helped the man up, easing her load considerably. The second man, older with gray hair and also wearing a suit, didn’t take notice of either of them, instead wanting simply to get inside the bunker. Hitting the dirt, he crawled under the continuously closing door. The power of self preservation was a significant one…

Finally reaching the door, both Kade and the well dressed refugee helped the other man through first. The suited man then went in next, and then turned around to help her through, but the door was very low now. Maybe, just maybe, a foot from the ground. She attempted to crawl through while he pulled her through, but it was evident she wasn’t going to make it. She closed her eyes, expecting the gruesome end that was sure to befall her. It didn’t.

Instead, the massive gears that were moving the blast door closer to earth stopped, a wrench literally thrown into the works. Looking up, Kade saw Ryan lean down to help her under the door, which was easily three feet thick and made of cast Iron. Helping her through, he almost breathed a sigh of relief, if it weren’t for another refugee trying to crawl under the metal block, whose advance had slowly been impeded by the tool Ryan had put between two of the cogs. The wrench, however, was quickly being torn to shreds by the massive metal gears.

Ryan struggled with the other man somewhat. His palms were sweaty from the adrenaline, and he couldn’t get a grip to pull the guy through. Sh#t! Sh#t!

Finally, the wrench gave way, and the cogs began turning again. Ryan tried to at least push the other man through, but it was too late. The seconds ticked by, and he was afforded one last glance back at Kade, who had started down the massive tunnel past a secondary, yet smaller blast door which was slower to close.

“Son of a bitch...” Said Ryan, as the door finally came down on top of him and the other man, killing both of them instantly.

Kade and the bearded man made it past the secondary blast door, and fell to the ground, dripping with sweat.

“Godammit!” Swore Kade loudly. An echo filtered down the tunnel.

The other man looked at her sympathetically.

“I’m sorry about him, I really am. My name’s Jack Mason.”

Not even bothering to address him, Kade stormed off.



END SCENE 2

(Okay, so the bunker is sealed off from the outside world. Jeebus is joining the game with two characters: the aformention Jack Mason, and Governor George Palmer. Enjoy…)





"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Kade ducked into a dark supply closet and leaned against the cold wall, her legs trembling and she slid down to the floor unable to control her shaking. Silent tears rolled down her face and for the first time since the bombs had gone off, she cried. Pulling up her knees she buried her face between them and turned her head slightly, biting her knee to stop the sound of her sobs.

Ryan was dead, and he died trying to help her save those people, to help her. It was the first time in her life that anyone had every done something like that for her. The first time that she’d ever lost anyone that meant anything to her. Granted, they hadn’t been close, in fact she’s pretty much avoided Ryan and his brood but she’d still liked him and now, now he was dead.

Kade slammed her head back against the stone wall and then did it again and again and again trying to force her emotions back into check. The reality of their situation hadn’t fully sunk in until that moment. They’d been all faceless, nameless people but now, now things were different.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She groaned from between grit teeth and she focused all her strength, all her energy on controlling herself. Gasping for air she concentrated on her heartbeat, her breathing, the small things that she could control. Slowly, she could feel her control returning, her grief turning into dark rage. It wasn’t rage at anything in particular, just the same resentment and anger she’d always had.

Finally under control she picked herself up and wiped her eyes off. Taking a deep shuddering breath she opened the door and stepped out into the hall she ran right into Eva who had a worried look on her face.

“Kade,” Eva gasped. “Where is he? Jean said that he went after you to help with some survivors that had made it.” She looked down the hall and then back at Kade finally noticing the slight red tinge around her eyes. “Oh….no, please no.”

“I’m sorry.” Kade said uncertain exactly what to say. Sympathy wasn’t her strong point. “He, died trying to save them. At least you have your kids. Take comfort in that.” She walked down the hall before Eva could start to cry. It was only a few steps down the hall and she heard Eva collapse on the floor, heartbroken sobs ringing down the corridor.

Kade walked faster desperate to find Jean. He’d make it all better.



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Zimsky said, "Alright Jean, you've made your point, let the man go." Jean didn't hear him. He was focused on only one thing. Zimsky said, "Listen, I'm not going to stand here and let you..." Jean felt hands on his shoulder. He bellowed and cuffed Zimsky, sending the thin man into the wall.

It was enough for Ethan to get away. He scrambled from Jean, sitting against the wall, rubbing his throat. Jean felt the fight going out of him. He fell into a sitting position on the floor. He heard a voice scream "JEAN!" He managed to turn his head, seeing Kade. He forced himself to smile. Then he fell back, racking his head on the floor before he passed out.

Zimsky picked himself up off the floor, slightly amazed at Jean's strength. Shot four times, he hadn't even put much effort into pushing him away and yet he'd practically slammed him into the wall. Ethan had recovered himself and was pushing himself to Jean. Zimsky said, voice dripping with acid, "How many of those outsiders did you bring in here?? Kade said, "Two". Kimsky saw Ryan's wife walking in, tears running from her eyes. He said, "Where's the Voice of the city?"

Kade's face fell. Something must have happened to Ryan. He said, "You got him killed, didn't you?" Kade spun on him, her face filled with fury. Zimsky said, "Don't you look at me like that. YOU got him killed. This never would have happened if you'd.." Kade lashed out at him. She screamed, "Shut UP you b@stard!"

Zimsky could have given a sh*t less about Ryan. His family was a liability, and they were going to be even more of a liability now that their support was dead. Plus, he'd suckerpunched him when he wasn't looking. If his corpse had been there, Zimsky would have been glad to p*ss on it. But Ryan's death was a psychological wedge to be used to his advantage, and to keep this reckless fool in line. If she truly WAS a soldier, she behaved irrationally. Now they had little to show for it. Two people were rescued, but Ryan was dead and her C.O. was probably on the way out the door.

Her blaming herself for Ryan's death could be used. She'd been strutting around ruffling her feathers, making HIM feel like a jerk for Skynet. Now HE could make her feel the same way. Zimsky said, "No. I won't shut up. WE ALL told you not to do it, but you wouldn't listen. Now your friend here is probably going to die also." Kade threw herself at him. Mark came over, holding his arm. He said, "We don't have time for this! We've lost Ryan, if we don't hurry, we'll lose Jean too." Kimsky said, "You're awfully compassionate to a man who tried to kill both of you."

Kade spun again. Zimsky sidled up against the wall, hands out. No harm meant. He said, "Truth." Mark said, "He's still military, and we still need him." Zimsky said, "I suppose you're right." Ethan left, most likely looking for a stretcher. Zimsky walked up to Kade and whispered in her ear. He said, "You've pointed a long finger at me all this time. You claim I'm responsible for all those deaths, and you know what? Maybe I am. But now we're alike, you and I. How does it feel to be responsible for taking another person's life?"

Kade didn't answer. She kept her back to him. Ethan showed up with a stretcher. He and Kade got Jean onto it. Kade stared daggers at him once, then they went off, Mark following behind. Zimsky went over to Ryan's widow and said, "I'm sorry for your loss." She looked at him. She said, "Like you give a fu*k you b@stard." She walked off. Zimsky stood there, alone. He removed a cigarette and lit it. He smiled. He'd been right and she'd been wrong.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Mark set his end of the stretcher down in the infirmary and began to root in the surgical kit as Kade hovered nearby, still trying to wrap her mind around the events that had just transpired. She looked down at the pale face of Jean Rasczak, and wondered if she would get a chance to tell the Captain how much he meant to her. A little voice inside her head was telling her that this was what always happened when she let someone into her life, but for the first time in a long while she wanted to tell the little voice to shut the hell up.

Ethan Pritchard shot her a look of daggers and stalked off, holding his injured arm. Mark was ignoring his own injuries, chagrined that he'd let his emotions lead him into an armed confrontation. Whatever his feelings about Rasczak were, he hadn't intended for him to die. Goddamn Pritchard. All his talk about 'the cause' and 'fighting the power'. Little sheit liked power once he had a taste of it, but like most non-soldiers, he had a romanticised view of firearms.

He thought of them as magic wands: point them and wave them, and people had to do what you say. He didn't really think about the consequences fo having to back words up with actually pulling the trigger. Pritchard had pumped four bullets into the man who probably had the best tactical mind in the bunker, aside from Zimskey, who, although an academic, had what was proving to be an unparrelled sense of self-preservation.

Grimly, Mark began digging through the surgical kit, pulling out compression dressings and bandages. Thank god Ethan had loaded his Beretta with winchester hardball--ironically, bought at Wal-Mart since it was the cheapest ammunition they could find--and not hollowpoints. Two of the bullets had exited. Mark bandaged those first, wadding kirlex rolls underneath the bandages to stop the bleeding, while he readied a pair of forceps to try and dig out the bullets that were still inside the soldier.

He looked up, hearing a door slam. Kade was gone. Hopefully she hadn't gone after Pritchard; he didn't want to have to patch anyone else up today.

"Hey. Greenpeace." Rasczak shouldn't have been alive, much less speaking, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes were mere slits, a trickle of blood worming from the corner of his mouth.

Mark looked down, truly feeling sorry about what happened. "Hang on, Jean. I'm not gonna let you die." He continued to work, hands shaking. Christ ! He hadn't wanted this. Rasczak, despite being a part of the quasi-military fascist state, was at least a pragmatist and a man of deeds and actions. Mark hated to think he'd saved a bastard like Zimskey, who never helped anyone a day in his life unless it benefitted him in some way, while a guy like Rasczak, politics aside, was laying here wheezing like a broken accordian.

Ethan Pritchard dug through his private stash box until he'd found some vicodan, part of a haul of pharmaceuticals they'd taken from a raid on a CVS pharmacey last April. He washed down two pills with a bottle of Zephyr Hills spring water, and cursed Mark for leading that goddamn Rasczak into their midst. Frigging G.I. Joe didn't know when to shut up and listen to them. The bunker was THEIRS...

The door behind him slammed open, the hollow-core plywood tearing off the hinges. Bobby Gillespie crossed the room in a flash, eyes narrowed into little slits. As Pritchard turned, he saw the scarred muzzle of Bobby's .44 swinging up, and he dropped his hand to his holstered Beretta...

He was so intent on grabbing his gun, eyes on the .44 Colt, that he didn't see the scarred toe of Bobby's Briar Arroyos snap up like a place-kicker going for a field goal. The cowboy boot drove into his scrotum, lifting his feet off the ground and flinging him backwards to crash into his bunk.

The Beretta clatted off to the side as Bobby slammed Ethan against the wall, his left forearm planted against the thinner man's windpipe. Bobby screwed the barrel of the colt into Pritchard's ear and thumbed back the hammer with a loud triple click.

"Hey, Marcus Garvey. That was for Captain Rasczak." Bobby twisted the gun, the front sight tearing the inside of Pritchard's ear, causing him to cry out. "Does that hurt, amigo ?"

"Lemme go !" Pritchard was scared, scared and pissed. "Let me go ! I'll fuqquin'kill you, you hillbilly yokel son-of-a-bich !"

"Who're you callin' 'yokel', local ?" Bobby kept his voice low. "You just shot the man that was probably going to save your tofu-munching solar-powered arse when those drones find this place. And you just orphaned two kids and made a widow out of that reporter's wife. So I'm gonna tell you right now." He brought his mouth next to Pritchard's bloody ear. "I ain't a cop anymore. I'm just an arse hole with a big gun. If you try to play despot with any more of my friends, you and I are gonna have a serious disagreement. And before you go calling me names, corksucker, let's get things straight. I ain't 'Sheriff Andy', I ain't 'Barney Fife'. My name is Robert Gillespie, and I've killed three men a lot tougher then you can ever hope to be. You keep a civil tongue in your mouth, or you'll see how hillbilly I can get."

Bobby let Pritchard fall back on the bunk. Slowly he brought the gun back, then raised the muzzle, lowering the hammer with his thumb. He slid the colt into his holster and picked up the Beretta. Working the takedown lever with his left hand, he stripped the slide from the gun and tossed the frame onto the bunk. Pocketing the slide and the barrel, Gillespie turned to leave.

Claire Sullivan stood in the doorway, face agahst. She turned as he passed her. "Bobby. Is what you said true ? About Ryan ? About Mr. Rasczak ?"

He nodded, moving back down the hall. His head hurt. He wanted a drink in the worst way, but right now all he could think about was Ryan's two little kids, and what they must be feeling right about now. All because some idealist wanted to prove he had a bigger dick then the next guy. Goddamnit !





"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

Zimsky sat at a console, digging around the computer. It was a good one. Nobody had gotten this at Radio Shack, thankfully. He was in the process of setting up a group of unused ghost satellites so he could have his tracks covered when he went after Skynet.

As much as he hated and feared the program, he was also in awe of it. His baby had grown up, and, despite it's technical flaws, it WAS doing mainly what it had been intended for. It truly was the greatest defense system in history, it was simply defending itself instead of the world. It was a part of him, some of his ego was in that system. He had to stop it, but he'd always be in awe of it. He took a drag from the cigarette dangling from his mouth, then set it in the ashtray in front of him.

He heard the sound of boots. Gillespie walked by. He saw him, poked his head in, and said, "Figured I'd best greet the new arrivals. Care to tag along?" Zimsky said, "They can come to ME." Gillespie shook his head. Zimsky said, "They ARE part of the reason that Ryan is dead, you know."

Bobby said, "Let me guess, you wanted them locked out too." Zimsky said, "Of course. We had a nice number. The right amount of supplies. The more people we have, the sooner we'll run out of food. But, on the other hand, with Ryan dead and Rasczak probably close, they won't take up any more supplies than Ryan and Rasczak would have, so I guess it evens out, doesn't it?"

Gillespie said, "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but Jean's gonna pull through." Zimsky said, "Well then, I'm glad to hear it. Now Kade won't have to feel QUITE so guilty." Gillespie took a step in. He said, "You truly are a cold-hearted son of a b*tch." Zimsky said, "Of course I am. That's why I will survive, and you won't."

Gillespie got closer. He said, "Come again?" Zimsky rolled his eyes. He said, "I'm only looking out for myself. Jean is injured because he tried to help another. Ryan is dead because he tried to help another. You'll probably die trying to help another. When you are only looking out for yourself, you take considerably less risks. Ethan was thinking about himself and this base. I applaud him for not wanting it to be contaminated by people we may or may not be able to trust. Now, Sheriff Taylor, if you mind, I'd like to.."

Bobby backhanded him. He said, "My name is Gillespie you mother fu*ker! Don't call me that again. You ain't good enough to lick the sh*t from my boots." Zimsky wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. He said, "And yet, I'M the one who's going to defeat Skynet. Not you and your guns. Without me, you'll certainly die. So you'd better start showing me the respect I deserve, SHERIFF GILLESPIE. Now, go say hello to whatever Kade let in, and let me get back to my work."

Gillespie stood there, hands clenching and unclenching. He finally turned with effort, and left the room. Zimsky took another drag from his cigarette. He was disappointed that Rasczak was going to pull through. Rasczak was useful enough, but it would have absolutely destroyed Kade if he'd died. It was a real pity. Now she'd only have one death to carry guilt over.

Zimsky focused back on the screen. It was a shame she was so mouthy. She'd be attractive otherwise. Like the ladies at the lab that had catered to his every whim because of his brilliance. How times changed. From Cassanova to a hero. And he WOULD be a hero to. After he beat Skynet, (And he knew he would) ALL these people would have to kiss his @ss.

And that, more than anything, drove him in his quest. Gillespie and Kade, eating crow. He smiled.


"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

“How’re you doing?” Claire asked coming into Kade’s room and sitting down on the bed beside her. “I, I heard about Ryan.”

“I’m fine,” Kade replied. “I was just, I’ve never had friends before. I’ve never, really, known anyone before. My parents, they didn’t want me and my foster parents, and there were a lot of them, really only cared about the monthly support check that they got. Now here I am and, I still don’t have friends but I know people.”

“That’s not true.” Claire said. “You have friends.” She grabbed Kade’s hand and smiled. “Look, just because you’re tough all the time doesn’t mean that we can’t see that you have a heart. You do Kade, you’re just used to protecting it.”

Kade’s first instinct was to snatch her hand away and punch Claire in the face but she didn’t. “So you’re, my, you know,”

“Yeah,” Claire replied with a laugh. “Of COURSE I’m your friend, and Ryan was your friend. He wasn’t trying to prove anything Kade, he was just trying to help you and do the right thing. I would have done the same thing if I’d known. I just feel sorry for Eva and the kids. He was all they had.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kade said fighting back tears.

“Look, you know as well as I do that Zimsky’s going to use it against you.” Claire handed Kade a Kleenex. “You have to put it in the past. A lot of people are dead, and a lot more are going to die. We have to accept that if we’re going to take down Skynet.”

Kade blew her nose and tossed the Kleenex in the trash. “Thanks Claire. I’m, I’m glad that I met you.” She stood up and slipped her leather jacket back on feeling that same out toughness flood through her. “I should go and see Jean. I’ll see you at dinner.”

She walked out of her room and headed down the hall stopping at Bobby’s room. Hesitating for a minute she knocked on the door. This was something that she’d never done before. Not once in her life and when she heard Bobby’s muffled voice say enter her heartbeat quickened. Taking a deep breath she opened the door and walked inside. Bobby looked up at her from where he’d been sitting on his bed cleaning his gun and he set everything down.

“Something wrong?” He asked more than surprised to see Kade here. Claire yes. Kade no.

“No,” she said. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to…thank you. For helping Jean. He’s, he’s the closest thing to a father that I’ve ever had, so, thanks.” Before Bobby could say anything she ducked back out into the hall. Feeling incredibly vulnerable she headed down the hall as quickly as she could to find Jean.



-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Zimsky pushed back from the console and lit a fresh cigarette. 5 dummies. He'd arranged five dummy satellites. One over Paris, Monacco, Great Britain, Austraila, and Baja California. He was proud of himself. Why shouldn't he be? It wasn't a simple task, creating a defense system that would cover his tracks when he attempted to try and take out Skynet through a secondary computer system manually.

He closed his eyes and sighed. His mind drifted away. It settled on thoughts of Conrad. Was he alive? Was he dead? They'd drifted apart through the years. Both with similar symptoms of egocentricity. When they both broke into the scientific field, they were brothery rivals, but eventually, they just became rivals, each wanting to outdo the other.

There had been an ecological disturbance with the Earth several years ago. Conrad had been asked to aid in rectifying the problem. Christian had wanted to be a part of it. Instead, Conrad had insisted on another Nuclear phycisist. It had been the last straw. Conrad had never attempted to contact him again. The Earth had gone on spinning.

Zimsky's mind drifted further back. Back to his childhood. The second son of a retired alchoholic Air Force Colonel, Zimsky knew about discipline. But, in actuality as a child, he'd been quite active. While he preferred astronauts and Aliens to Cowboys and Indians, he was still had an active imagination. more active than his brother.

Eventually, the drinking got heavier. The discipline became more severe....Crazy... His mother had him spend time with one of his father's friends. Eventually, his father's friend got TOO friendly. He cried when he told his father what had happened. His father had backhanded him. Don't you ever spread lies about my friends like that again! I know Lyle, Lyle's no f@ggot! YOU are!

Christian had known then what he had to do. He realized that his brother had realized the same thing. He'd originally thought his brother to be boring. After that incident, he realized it was because His brother knew already what he'd realized....In order to get out, they'd have to fight.

He and Conrad had been straight A honor students from that point on. Ignoring all the finer points of life, they'd become cold, vindictive, and...Sadly, exactly what their father wanted. After high school graduation, they'd had a ticket to any college they wanted. And they'd punched their tickets, rising to fame, growing colder and colder. He and Conrad hadn't gone to his father's funeral, and Conrad hadn't gone to their mother's. He hadn't cried at the knowledge of either of their death's. He never thought about the past, only the future.

Christian Zimsky as a child didn't exist. It was practically a bad dream now. Thoughts of fun, and freedom were gone. So were thoughts of compassion. Zimsky's compassion was minimal now. At the present moment, he didn't care if any of them lived. The only reason he cared now was so he could force them to eat crow. He wondered what they'd think of him, if they knew what demons he carried. He wondered if any of them went through the horrors he had. But in the end, he didn't care.

Zimsky stood up. He was hungry. He hoped the mess hall was empty. He liked eating alone.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Claire found the two men in suits holding a hushed conversation in one of the disused operations room. Wires hung from the walls where outlets had been stripped away years before. A makeshift light--a florescent double fixture--hung from rusy chains at the center of the ceiling.

"Excuse me." Claire nodded in greeting. The younger man, the blond guy, came over, his eyes wary.

"I suppose we ought to thank you," He said, eyes tired and creased. He had an aura of quiet authority that reminded her of Daniel.

"I'm Claire. Claire Sullivan."

"I'm agent Mason. This is Senator..."

"I know who you are, Senator Palmer. I wasn't sure when I first saw you, but--" Claire broke off as the Senator came foreward, reflexively straightening his tie.

"Miss, I don't mean to be rude," The senator spoke quietly. "But is there any way we can access a phone or a radio ?"

"Sir, I don't think there is one," Mason spoke quietly, as before. "We need to assess the situation before we attempt to contact anyone, and besides, I'm not sure this place is safe." He turned back to Claire. "Miss Sullivan...who, exactly, is in charge ?"

"Well," She paused. "Read's people built and maintained this place, but...well, they don't really seem to be running things anymore. Captain Rasczak was sort of calling the shots..."

"He's the one who got shot, right ? Will he live ?" Mason got right to the point.

"We don't know." Claire looked dejected. "I'm not sure of Dr. Zimskey's intentions, without Rasczak around to mediate between him and the radicals."

"Zimskey ?" Palmer's eyes lit up. "He spoke before me when I chaired the sub-committee on robotics. Aggrivating man, but a genius."

"Sir," Jack pulled him to one side, although his voice was loud enough that Claire could still hear. "We have to ascertain how SAFE this place is. They shot one of their own, it can't be very stabile. And there's the question on the chain-of-command. We have to contact KNEECAP and find out who's in charge." He turned back to CLaire. "Miss Sullivan, who's in charge now that the...Captain, did you say ?--Now that the captain's been incapacitated ?"


Claire brought Jack and Senator Palmer to the tiny room Bobby had adopted as his own. She opened the door after knocking politely, ushering the men inside before any of Read's people saw them.

Bobby looked up from the basin where he was shaving, with a straight razor he'd taken from his saddlebags. He nodded in greeting, eyes flashing to Claire's for a second.

He was shirtless; Claire almost blushed, realising she should've waited until he'd answered to enter. He leaned over to splash water on his face, and she saw how lean he was, his back muscles rippling as he bent over. His tan was even, although it was obvious from the darker areas aroundhis neck and forearms that he spent nearly as much time in the sun wearing a shirt as he did without one.

There were white, puckered dimples aross his left shoulder and back, and after a moment, Claire realized she'd been staring.

Bobby stood up, pulling on his shirt. Crossing to them, he held out his hand. "Bobby Gillespie."

Jack shook it. "Glad to meet you. Claire says you're a deputy ? Cabot County ?"

"A little out of my jurisdiction. You FBI ?" Bobby noticed the SIG automatic on Mason's hip.

"Treasury. Secret Service." Mason nodded to Palmer. "This is Senator Palmer."

"Sir." Bobby nodded easily to the Senator, and continued to dress. He reached for his gunbelt, then shrugged and set it back down.

"Deputy, I understand a Captain Rasczak was shot ? By one of the people who 'own' this place ?" Mason said, looking uneasily at the thin door to the cubicle.

"Yeah. Pritchard. There's at least four others. Never got a chance to put names to faces." Bobby gestured to his saddlebags. "I'm gonna take some guns out of that bag. Just wanted you to know."

"Thanks, Deputy." Mason appreciated the deputy's courtesy. "Look," he said as Bobby rooted through the bag. "I'm a little ...uneasy...with these 'people'--I guess they're some sort of radicals--possessing firearms. I still have to look after the Senator, and I'm concerned for his safety."

"I'm not too eager to go trying to disarm them," Gillespie allowed, pulling a pistol case out of the bag and unzipping it. He slid a short-barrelled, hard-chromed revolver out of the case and checked it before setting it on his cot. One of his two Ruger competition single actions, both in .454 Casull. He'd done all the work on them himself, using them to showcase his competition modifications as well as his engraving skills.

"Mark Read is okay," he continued. "He saved Zimskey, and he and Miss Sullivan helped me when the drone attacked us..." he filled Mason in on the appearance of the SKYNET drone.

Palmer listened incredulously, then turned to Mason when the deputy was finished. "It is IMPERITIVE that we contact Washington."

Washington. Claire's heart leapt into her throat. Daniel !





"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

OOC: Sorry I haven't been around in a little bit, but some things at home have been happening. Unfortunately, I neglected to add a second part of the last scene, which I expect should be up at the very latest, on wednesday.

I realise that the plot has been moving slowly, but this will surely correct it.

In the meantime, post inside the bunker, whatever. It won't be long.

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

Zimsky ate the steak he'd grilled in the Small George Foreman broiler. No wine, he couldn't find any. D@mn his luck, being stuck with a bunch of non-connosier Earth first morons. Diet Coke. It was the only thing they had besides water. The stuff turned his stomach. He heard footsteps. Then a voice said, "You godd@mned murderer."

Zimsky recognized the voice. He turned and said, "Senator Palmer, what a delight it is to see you again." Palmer stared daggers at him. He said, "That d@mned superweapon you created....It's caused all this, hasn't it?" Zimsky said, "We all created it." Palmer said, "I opposed it from the start. Felt it was giving too much power to one thing. Zimsky said, "You could have kept fighting. You didn't."

Palmer said, "You're not pinning any of the blame of this on me." Claire and the man next to her stood, watching this little scene uncomfortably. Palmer said, "It figures that YOU would survive. Just like a drunk driver. He kills the whole family, then walks away..."

Zimsky said, "I tried to stop it. I had it on the ropes. You can blame a man named Jenkins for causing all this. Now I'm going to have to stop it the hard way." Palmer looked at Claire. He said, "Don't trust him. Get rid of him. He'll kill us all." Zimsky said, "I'm the only one that can truly stop it. Mark is savvy, but he doesn't know it like I do. I'm not going anywhere."

Palmer opened his mouth to speak. Zimsky said, "My steak is getting cold. Leave me be." Palmer and the others walked out, Palmer muttering, "Hitler." Zimsky went back to his steak.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

“Morning,” Kade said with a small smile as Jean opened his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like I got shot.” Jean said. “Okay though. What’s the status?”

“Compound is locked down, there’s no way in or out. Ryan’s dead. He tried to help me save them and,” she shook her head feeling the sting of grief again and she felt Jean’s hand grab hers.

“Listen to me, Kade,” he said seriously. “This is war and there are always casualties in war. We all make choices. Ryan knew the risk he was taking and he took it. A lot more people are going to die, and they’re going to be friends of ours. You won’t be an effective leader if you let the weight of grief drown you, but you also don’t want to forget it either. It’s a, delicate balance.” He took a deep breath feeling the sting of pain in his chest. Of all the places he could have been shot. “Who’s in charge?”

“Zimsky’s probably saying that he is. I’m the only one who can take down Skynet. You need me, blah, blah, blah.” She said in a very good mimic of the pompous as* and Jean smiled. “There’s this senator guy now too.”

Jean nodded. “Okay, well I’m going to be here for a while.” He said. “You’re in charge Kade.”

“What?” She said with a laugh. “Jean,”

“No,” he said. “I’m serious. You’re smarter than you think you are and strong willed. You’re a thinker and a fighter. Mark’s a planner but he’s not a fighter, Zimsky’s a thinking and not a fighter and besides he would never endanger himself. You might be young Kade, but you can do it. Once I’m out of here, I’ll take over.”

“Jean, this isn’t the army.” She said not completely comfortable with this.

“No, it’s not. It’s survival and it’s a question of who’s the best to take care of us, to lead us right now until things calm down? A slightly unstable, pot smoking revolutionary? A stuck up arrogant computer geek? Or a young, tough, street smart girl who’s been through more sh*t in her young like than both of them combined? If I had to pick, I’d pick you.”

“What about Bobby? He’s law enforcement.” She said quickly.

“True,” Jean said. “Why don’t you two talk it over. You could use some work on those interpersonal communication skills of yours. Go and find him, propose the idea and see what he thinks. The two of you together, I think you’d be a pretty formidable force.”

Kade shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I’ll go and talk to him about it.”




OOC: Can I just say that we need more than me, Blonde and Berns posting? I hate to say it but this game is in the process of dying a pretty painful death.


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

In all honesty Cyd, yes, you're right. However, in a weird way, I think this could be for the better, having a smaller group to work with.

My observations on previous RP's seem to suggest a similar trend in nearly all of those that we've played together. A lot of people at the start, and a slow trickle until only the core posters are left. Strangely, we've seemed to bipass that problem altogether this go around, starting out with only core posters.

Things may seem a little slow these days due to plot developments, but only because I've been relatively busy the past week. Barring a little side-trip to Europe later in July, I've got nothing else planned to do this summer, which means much more time RPing. I WILL have part two of the previous scene up on Wednesday, and I'm going to talk a little about it now because it's moderately unconventional.

I'm going to advance the story forward a few years ahead, after much of the radiation in the area has subsided. If you're looking for some Human on SKYNET violence, expect for some to occur.

In the meantime, please use this time between now and wednesday afternoon to tie up anything short-term, whatever it may be. Corgi, Jeebus and Fuzz, please start posting if possible, but if something has come up, please notify me whenever possible.

I haven't abandoned you guys, and based on my previous modding experience (which to be frank, I learned a LOT from) I know what I've been doing wrong. On the other hand, please realise that this is only the second time I've done this, the first time being over a year ago. This is by no means an excuse, but simply an explaination.

Keep in touch and keep posting...

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

[deleted]

Agreed! Sarc, you are doing an admirable job! Really you are, but like Craig said this game just isn't grabbing me. Maybe it's just me and I'm not as into stuff as I used to be. I hope this isn't the case because I really have enjoyed playing over the past two years.

"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

"So who's in charge here?" Zimsky walked into the room, saying, "I suppose I am." Palmer said, "YOU?" Zimsky said, "Why not? Mark and Ethan built this place, but neither one of them is a leader type. Plus, Ethan's decision of lockdown nearly cut you two off outside, and it resulted in Ryan getting killed." Claire said, "But Mark told me that you also thought that there should be a lockdown of..."

Zimsky said, "My dear Claire, let's not bore these gentlemen with details. maybe I DID agree with him, but it was because he had a gun. And lest we forget, He put Jean in the hopital. I just think that I'm the most capable of.."

A voice behind him said, "No." Zimsky turned. Kade was staring at him. She said, "I'm leader." Zimsky said, "I beg your pardon?" Kade said, "Jean's orders. He wants me to keep an eye on things." Zimsky said, "No offense dear, but I think you and Claire should be looking at Vogue and leaving the major decisions to us men folk." He turned away.

Then his legs went out from under him.

Zimsky landed on his back, and Kade had him in a stranglehold. She said, "I TOLD you, don't play that macho bullsh*t card with me." Zimsky choked out, "It's...Insanity....You're....Barely 21..." He looked at them. He said, "You...agree right?" Palmer looked at him, smiling. He said, "She gets my vote." His associate Jack and Claire nodded also. Kade let go of him.

Zimsky scrambled to his feet. He said, "Alright, you won this round. But there's a great many more to go, dear Kade." He turned on his heel and walked away with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Are you interested?...Then let me smoke a cigarette and I'll tell you." -Dr. Conrad Zimsky

Here's what we'll do...

We'll keep on going with this game for at least another week. If by then, it hasn't grabbed you or anything, we'll move onto something else.
I do like this concept, and I don't really think that's the problem with this particular RPG. Later, if we feel like it, we can always dust it off and start over from either where we left off or the beginning. Both work for me.

The only question would be, what to do after this? I really DO enjoy modding, but I suppose it's a question of you guys wanting me to continue, or perhaps something else. In either case, I'd really like to mod another game. It's all up to you peeps, because if you're not interested, then what's the point?

To be absolutely honest, I never really wanted to do Terminator. I threw it out there a few weeks back, and while it did seem intruiging, it wasn't what I really wanted to do. I'd been toying with an idea for a long time about the whole parallel universe thing, but I don't know if you folks would be interested in it. It's kinda unconventional, so who knows.

Regardless, what do YOU guys want to do? That is, ultimately the most important thing here. If there's not an idea you're not interested in, what's the point?

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

[deleted]

Hey, Sarcs, you've done a great job, and I for one think the game could be good, but it does kind of leave us stuck in a bunker with nowhere to go. It's got good characters, good posters, and a good mod. But maybe you're right, maybe the 'Terminator' thing is not as great a setting.

Alternate universes. Do ya want us to use the same characters in a different setting ? Kind of like Stephen King did with 'Desperation' and 'The Regulators' ? Or an alternate reality based game, kinda like Stargate, Sliders, or (I'm dating myself here) Fringeworthy ?

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

What I'm thinking of is something of a cross between Halflife, Sphere, Timeline (the book) and Stargate (the movie for the love of GOD). It involves a small group of scientists, physicists, and other assorted individuals as they've been stranded in a series of parallel realities, or multiverses. Read up on String theory if you're interested.

It starts out very reality based, in Boston if I recall. From what I can figure, the characters are mainly intelluctual types, meaning no Navy Seal Ninjas/helicopter pilots. After the first few visits to parallel realities, I imagine that it gets very, very surreal. How surreal you want me to go, is up to you, it doesn't really matter to me. Alice in Wonderland surreal, David Fincher Surreal, Cronberg or whatever.

All I need to know is a general concensus, and then we'll move on from there.

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

I'm good with whatever. I'm sorry but this game just isn't working for me. I love the characters and I love all of Blonde's posts. God, every one makes me laugh. I can stick with this for a while but I'm having a hard time coming up with stuff to post. Normally it's easy for me too!

EvilTom had said that he was interested in modding another game but I don't know when. All I know is that he said he was interested in doing another zombie RP which I'm fine with, don't know about the rest of you.


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Judging on the general concensus I'm getting, as of this very moment, this game is PAUSED.

If at a later date we choose to revisit it, we'll either pick up from where we started, or simply just go back to the beginning. Either works for me. This board sees little traffic, so I doubt that it'll keep deleted any time soon (hell, the LOST rpg is still up).

Now I guess we determine what we do next. Anyone have any ideas they'd like to bring to the table? I'm all ears.

"What the f#ck am I doing?" (Starts to giggle & smoke, then explodes)

I'm fine with doing another zombie game, so long as everyone's into it! I know that I would be. I think that's the hardest part for me, I don't know why but for some reason the zombie ones seem so universally doable.

One thing that I've noticed is that there are quite a few players that want to play these games, spread out on a few threads. We could maybe pull them all into one big game maybe?

I personally would love to see this happen!

I know there are some really great characters that were created for this game, but who's to say we couldn't use them in whatever game we start?

"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

We've finally gotten the zombie game back on track...see the "Lac des morts vivants, Les" IMDB page...anyone who wants to jump in is welcome too, and if anyone wants to start modding it, PM me, I have no problem if anyone wants to take over...

Also, I've got a new game in the works, not sure what movie it really ties into, but here's the initial details...

Okay, I've got one idea for a game. It takes place in a small, elite town on the Massachussetts coast. Most of the characters are teenagers, classmates at the prep school that the little town is basically built around.

A small island off the coast was once a resort for the wealthy. A mansion was there, home to a reclusive family(think Hearst) that built the school back in the forties.

About 40 years ago, the manison burned to the ground, the island--once a thriving vaction resort--fell into disarray, and the little town on the island became a run-down new england fishing village.

Today, the island is a decaying mess, with a population of lower-class fisherman and 'townies', while on the mainland, rich snobby new-england types send their kids to the Waterford Academy.

All is not right, however...some kids act strange. Their parents are acting weird. Close-lipped.

Some of your friends have disappeared. Others act...different. New faces in town. And a lot of you have memory lapses you can't explain. And then there's the odd sounds and the strange wind blowing in the woods at night...



"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

Love the idea the first time Bernsy doll and I still love it. lol

If we do another zombie game (with all fresh characters not your game Berns - I mean I DID recycle Blake) I'd love for Tom to do that one. I always love Tom's games. Then again, I'm also enjoying Berns' game and well.... I enjoy just about anything I can get in to.

I suppose the question is this... who wants to mod? As much as I want Tom to, I'd love for his game to start AFTER I get back from vacation in August, that way I won't miss anything. LOL I know, I know, I'm such a selfish whore. =)

Personally, I think Berns's idea rocks pretty hard and I'd love to do that. Maybe we should consider rolling our two groups together. I mean we're always looking for fresh blood, right?


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Agreed! It's very hard to play more than one of these games at a time for me! I like quality over quantity and I would love to play a couple of characters in ONE really solid game that everyone is totally into.

"Oooooh, Chocoblock! GIMMEE!" Bucky

I second that!

I agreed to help Berns out with his game once he gets things organized, keeping in mind I'll be out of the country for 9 days in August. We still need to hammer some things out like how the game is going to be run and stuff and rules and all that good stuff but I think it sounds promising. Nothing against your ideas Sarc, they all sound good. A little "Golden Compass" for me but still sounds good.

I just really like his idea a lot right now and that's what I'm leaning towards. =)


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

[deleted]

Okay, guys, if we're gonna do a game we'll need an obscure site to run it on. I'll find one. In the meantime, anyone interested an PM me some short character bios. List two or three in order of preference. We don't want ten captains of the cheerleader squad or ten class delinquents and/or class clowns, so make them diverse, you'll get a 'main' character, like I said, list'em in order of preference. I'll wok on it over the weekend with LadyGray and fuzzy, and Monday we'll post a cast list and then we'll move to whatever site I find that looks out of the way. PM me if ya have any questions.

P.S. Don't give up on this Terminator game, maybe some time away will refresh us all and we can get backinto it at some point.

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

holy sh@t dudes and dudetes, dont tell me the game is over!/ i just got my computer back and and ready to do some rockin and rollin and ultimately some 'losin controllin' haahaah.

so *beep* lets turn this party on or do the new game. lets just game. i got a new character that/s goiong to freak you suckers out. make old vincent look like a sheepdog. ahaahaha.
ya. so lets rock.

'party like FOUR rock stars'.

[deleted]

Uh huh.... good luck with that Jeffrey. I don't think you'll be able to top him though. All you do is pick on fuzzy's characters and plot sick rape scenes. You're going to have to diversify if you want to top Vincent. That and learn to use your shift key for caps. LOL

This game is going to be awesome. Do be dears and submit characters. The more people that play the more fun it will be. It's going to be run under The Bubble (1966). I don't know all the details as far as exactly how it's going to go because the other group of players work differently than we do, but come on.... we're always saying we need more characters and we've got Berns who's proven that he can write who wants to mod it and I'm co-modding it.

We'd really like characters ASAP. Even if you don't have a character made up right now, let us know so that you want to play and when you're going to have the characters done. Do be dears and sign up. He's excited about it, I'm excited about it and we all know that when the mods are excited about the game it's going to be all that much better!


The two groups are the regular group that Berns is posting with (and who I've kinda joined up with) that's doing the Dawn game, and then this group with is me, Blonde, fuzzy, sarc, jeffrey, corgi so on and so on.


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

[deleted]

[deleted]

Looks like it. I know that Fuzzy, Blonde and myself have already sent Berns characters. Jeffrey stated that he's interested as are a few others from another RPG group.

He'd really like to get it up and running on Monday believe it or not. LOL I keep telling him it might take more time. I think his style might be a BIT different than our normal set up as far as big scenes. I'm sure exactly how he's planning on doing it really, but I still think it'll be a lot of fun. The sooner you PM him your characters the sooner he can get the ball rolling. =)


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

Yeah, it's gonna be the one on the island. Anyone from this game who wants in can PM me their characters. You can be studdents, teachers, island kids or fisherman, but the story is gonna primarily center around the kids. If ya have any questions, please PM me. jeebus, sarcs, craig--I'd really like it if you guys would play, I enjoyed being in this game with ya and I hope it can resume at a later date. Jeffrey, for god's sake get a character made up, you'd be perfect as island scum(that's a compliment).

"She thinks she's a mystery to all/ but I know what's behind those eyes."

No it's not... come on... be honest. ;)


-"Uh, when do we get to pick our names and costumes? Because I call dibs on Zach-attack."

[deleted]