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Faust

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Faust last won the day on July 13 2015

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About Faust

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    Faust35A "Lightning II"
  1. Thanks for the support and interest everyone, it's really great to see that people are actually interested in this. With any luck I'll post a part two to this thread sometime in the next 48 hours.
  2. As of the current situation, the connection between Lovecraftian horror and Shadows of Evil cannot be denied. However, though many are familiar to the pop culture icon that legendary creatures like the great Cthulhu and the Deep Ones of Innsmouth, several other lesser known races have fallen by the wayside in the public eye. Chief among those being the ancient evil Nyarlathotep. It was my original intent to create a much more detailed and elegant follow up to help paint this very complex and living world that I absolutely love and have come to adopt as my own. Lovecraft has always been my favorite author, and I have been absolutely fixated with him ever since I read The Lurking Fear in the sixth grade. As per usual however, it seems obvious to me that large and important Youtube gaming sensations are far too eager to jump in with inside information and appear as the messiah of gaming theories. God, I hate them so very very much. So, as things go, I’m going to forsake the usual go around where I attempt to create an atmosphere with the inclusion of images and just lay the cards down on the table for all to see. I can’t possibly know EXACTLY what is going to happen in Shadows of the Evil, but as someone who knows their Lovecraft by heart I’m willing to bet I am one of the forward authorities on this web forum. First of all, given what I have seen in comparison to what we have experienced in Mob of the Dead it’s unlikely that we will be facing Cthulhu as our major enemy. If we are, then in my opinion Treyarch would have failed catastrophically in both researching and understand the world that they have granted themselves access to. Though Cthulhu does pose a massive threat to humanity, he’s but a drop in a sea of insanity that threatens our way of life. More than likely, we’ll be facing the incursion of the much more powerful outer god Nylarlathotep for reasons that will follow. I'm bound to omit quite a bit of knowledge due to time constraints, but here is what I believe is most critical to know. First of all, Nylarlathotep is the original avatar of chaos and evil in the universe. He has taken many shapes in the existence of humanity, from an Egyptian pharaoh to AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PAY ATTENTION TO THIS PART an a shadowy figure known as the Black Man in areas of Massachusetts. In other words, we have our Shadow Man.The Black Man is frequently used as a substituted for Satan, tempting mortals with the knowledge of the ancients through used of the Necronomicon. Yes, the very same Necronomicon in the Evil Dead that granted massive amounts of esoteric knowledge and began to raise the dead. In all likelihood, the Necronomicon is the very same book we see in the trailer for Shadows of Evil, with all of the supposedly satanic paraphernalia. Now comes the matter of Nylarlathotep’s major servants, the Mi Go. The Mi Go are a race of celestial fungus from the planet Yoggoth, and are a flying multi-dimensional creature that appear to us in the form of… Well, this. Look familiar at all? I should hope so. The Mi Go are a hyper advanced race, typically moving from one planet to the next like galactic locus spreading chaos and evil in the name of their god as they fiddle around with all manners of electronic weaponry. Normally, humans are so low on the evolutionary chain that they are just barely paid any notice by these creatures at all. However, the human mind has one critical advantage over the Mi Go that they can never hope to attain; the ability to make irrational decisions based on guessing and heuristics. The Mi Go brain operates entirely on a system of logic rather than perception, with nearly every outcome of an event being run through a series of algorithms that the Mi Go can replicate with impunity. However in a purely algorithmic though process one must assumed that all information critical to the situation is available before a decision can be made. A human’s ability to make judgement calls, to them, is tantamount to psychic ability. Therefore, the Mi Go began a rather long and lengthy process of invading cities in the middle of the night so they could scoop out there brains of a test subject, study the human brain, and reanimate their corpse. These abductions were more scientific than they were destructive, with the exception of a series of unchecked experiments in London that would be remembered by history as the acts of an assumed serial kill nicknamed Jack the Ripper. From here on out, things only get more insane. I can keep talking about the Mi Go and fascinating aspects of Nyarlathotep, but every moment I delay is another moment some English bastard may come forward and claim responsibility and knowledge of all that I hope to very rapidly discus. (Hint: He’s not Alpha Snake or Milo.) While the works of H. P. Lovecraft mostly end here as far as I am concerned (with the rather massive exception of several books and gods closely associated with Hollow Earth and the Elder Things) and more recent works begin. Instead, I find it far more important to address the works of another incredibly influential member of the Lovecraft Mythos, Delta Green. Where to even begin with Delta Green without robbing you of critical information… Well to keep it short, Delta Green is a modern adaptation that is set to take place in the years between the 1930s and the 1990s. Essentially, the OSS and eventually the CIA has created two task forces pivotal in the defense of America from the supernatural; Delta Green and Majestic 12. Delta Green began life as a rapid mobilization task force after a high profile raid on Deep Ones in Innsmouth before moving on in World War II to combat the Nazi Thule and Vril Societies. Majestic 12, meanwhile, was tasked with studying the paranormal and using it to advance the cause of the US Government. The two factions had a rather large falling out, culminating in all Delta Green operatives becoming disavowed when they attempted to start a war with a race of Grey Aliens rather than working with Majestic 12 to secure an alliance between the two species. What Majestic 12 could never have known of course is that they were being played by the Grey Aliens the whole time. The Greys (and if you aren’t familiar with Grey aliens then either change forums or initiate a Google search, they’re kind of important as far as CoDz and element 115 are concerned) where really just a puppet race engineered by the Mi Go to ensure that human testing could continue at a faster rate, unhindered by the American government in exchange for advanced alien technology and weapons. The simple fact is that the Mi Go could sense that the time of their god and the rising of Cthulhu was soon to be upon the Earth, and they needed to complete human experimentation as quickly as possible before the world fell into everlasting madness and the human race was made extinct. I’m sure barely any of this was retained by you, reader, but you have to understand that I am under a MASSIVE amount of stress to push this out as quickly as possible. I only beg that you forgive me, and do some research of your own to verify my claims. The knowledge is out there, and the lore is long since written. The eyes of the Outer Gods are upon us all now.... Good Luck, F
  3. I've reviewed a few things over and over in my head and I'll definitely have to post a follow up thread. The problem is now that I've had a lot of time to sit and think everything really starts to come together. This all runs pretty deep, and figuring out where to even begin is a trial in itself. Expect a post in the coming week.
  4. Brief Synopsis of At the Mountains of Madness
  5. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!
  6. Likewise old friend. Needless to say it looks like a lots changed since I've been gone.
  7. SHOGOTHS. SHODOWS OF EVIL HAS GOD DAMN SHOGOTHS. DO YOU GUYS NO WHAT THIS MEANS? I'VE BEEN ROLLING AROUND IN MANIC LAUGHTER FOR THE LAST FORTY MINUTES. Ever since Moon came out I've been looking for an HP Lovecraft connection in the zombies story, and I think we finally have it. I... I swore I would never play zombies again, but I'M BACK!
  8. Inception: Brave New World

    Six miles outside of Arkham, Massachusetts 1927 Not far beyond the crumbling relics of New England’s gables stood a single, isolated manor. While the decaying husk of what was once some colonist’s treasured fortress had slowly given way to the woods that surrounded it, the household seemed to retain a certain degree of dignity and grace. In that moment it was both a bygone of a past age and a monolith to the present. For that bastion was just as solitary and aging as Massachusetts itself, fleeting before the coming of a new generation eager to overtake the old. The forest that encircled it was not lush, green woodland but a grey, thorny bramble that seemed to snake its way over the surrounding hillsides. Wooden tendrils sporting endless columns of spines crept their way over the iron gates of the grounds and pushed on ever further into the property before at last reaching their way to the edifice were they were left to claw rabidly up the walls, endeavoring to completely overtake what arrogant settlers had sought to make their own. There before the monument of timeless strife he stood, taking care to adjust his coat as he eyed the door for anything resembling a latch. “Damn damn damn!” he huffed several times as he gently plucked at a chestnut shell that had snagged itself on his wool pea coat, “It isn’t enough that the man is a recluse! And here I was assuming that a hermit would be even marginally interested in tending to his lawn.” The minor breach in composure only distracted him for a instant or two before he was able to recollect his thoughts and directive. Exhaling hastily he struck a commanding stance, hurled his chest into the air, and pounded persistently at the enormous oak doors. There was a minor echo in the woods around him, and then silence. The Man at the Door glanced around nervously, dearly wishing that the home’s occupant might greet him soon. The light was quickly fading and he had no intention of remaining there through a long autumn’s night. He ran his fingers through his matted, dark hair and over his sunken eyes before checking his pocket watch impatiently. There were several more moments of stillness, then several heavy thumps on the opposite side of the door. They grew closer and closer as the host approached, each footstep resonating more and more with the Man at the Door. “Well now!” he spoke aloud to no one in particular, “It seems the man is still sociable after all!” Three tumbles and clangs followed as the door unlatched. The Man at the Door could barely contain his smile as the host stepped forwards to great him. “Well?” Benny roared in a cockney grumble that could only be described as ‘wet’, “The hell are you ‘ere for ‘en? Y’ just gonna fakin’ stand there grinning like the God damn Cheshire cat or you got somethin’t say?” The Man couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin, and the more he looked his smile grew wider and wider. He laughed (just twice) as he eyed Benny from head to toe before at last making eye contact. “You are Mister Benny Barefield, correct?” “Who wants to know?” Benny retorted, withdrawing slightly back into his home, “Blokes come ‘round here every now and again asking for Mister Barefield all the time. Makes no difference to me if they leave satisfied or not.” The Man at the Door felt his smile grow ever wider, threatening to split his face asunder if he didn’t find some way to contain his thrill as he stood before his objective. He was far grander than he had anticipated, easily towering above six feet high and filling the entirety of the threshold. Though adorned in a dapper suit and tucked beneath a well fit bowler hat, there was no mistaking the hideous abomination that stood before him. The photos in his dossier were one thing, but there was nothing on hell or earth that could prepare a man to stand face to face with Barefield himself. His face, rounded and hideously contorted, was all that was needed to tell that if he ever was a man those days had long since passed. While still damnably human in nature, it resembled more a coelacanth or some other debased sea creature of the Triassic era. Barefield slowly lowered himself until the two were at eye level, revealing an iris pattern that must have surely predated any Paleolithic creature. As he hunched over he lowered himself onto his forearms into a gargoyle-like stance that appeared oddly more comfortable to him than simply standing on two legs. His jaw—Oh God, his jaw. Try as he might to force his jaw as far back as he could, it still sat forward just enough to display seemingly endless teeth that protruded from his lips. It was the most beautiful thing the Man at the Door had ever seen. “So is this it then… Is this why you’ve come ‘ere?” Benny leaned in closer, his temper and patience wearing thin. The Man before him remained silent. “Is this all you fucking wanted? You’ve come to gawk at The Blowfish, ‘ave you? Those damn yanks over in their towns and villages thinking they are so beautiful and superior to anyone who doesn’t have their good fortune… To peg the man beset by a minor skin condition as ‘The Blowfish’ and condemn him to a life of shame and seclusion! I’d kill every last one of them if given good reason, and that’s how most find their way to me! To give me good reason!” The Man at the Door continued to smile. “Yeaaaaah, that’s right mate. That’s what I do, savvy? You think a guy what looks like me can just march into town and get a normal job to pay for a home like this. No. No no no no no no no… Lot’sa blokes out there lookin’ for an ex-Pinkerton to do their dirty work. But you ain’t come for that, ‘ave ya? ‘Ave yeah? Because with you just sitting there smiling at me, I’m thinking I might not even need much of a reason to go grab my Webley and pop a cap in your pathetic guts!” Benny eyed The Man as well, his throat resonating a deep oscillating tone that seemed eerily similar to… A growl? No. Maybe a hiss? Yes, a hiss… But if a hiss were underwater. Or would that just be the sound a whale makes? Certainly not a dolphin by any means! The Man fancied all these thoughts for a brief while before blinking the wonder from his eyes and nodding politely. “Mister Benny,” The Man at the Door finally spoke with a polite charm, “Blowfish Benny that is... I am with Research Group 935. My organization would like very much— So very, very much… To hire your services for a… very special assignment! We bring currency in good faith!” The Man at the Door lifted a deer skin suitcase and unbuckled its straps to unveil endless stacks of deutschmarks all bound together in tight paper seals. “Oh wonderful!” Benny spat fantastically, “Deutschmarks! I fancy I could use those should I need something to wipe my ass with or plaster my walls! I might not get out lad, but I know enough to know that those scraps ain’t worth a damn!” The Man at the Door adjusted his stance, slightly offended as he withdrew his satchel. “Mister Barefield, I can assure you that the reward my associates offer for completion of this contract is something far greater than any monetary value. I merely ask that I use this to buy your time, sort of speak. That you might invite me in so we can discuss the whos, wheres, whats, and whens. But… Preferably not the hows. I know your kind tend to shy away from those particulars anyway! Part of the business as I understand it, no? I truly do admire that work ethic by the way!” Several awkward seconds passed as Benny peeled back his horrible lips to convey the closest thing to a smile he could. He extended a scaled grey claw forward, revealing a set of slimy, wet fingers that dangled in the air between them. The Man at the Door lunged forward and shook it without any hesitation, his smile growing even wider in awe of the texture of Benny’s skin. Perfectly jubilant to make each other’s’ acquaintance, the two merrily disappeared into the shadows of the mansion. Even after the door slammed shut one might have even been able to hear the beginning of a delightful conversation about which kind of tea should be placed on the kettle for their meeting that evening.
  9. A Zombie Trilogy v.III [NOW IN VIDEO]

    Frankly I find the title 99% done 99% hogwash. I am suprised you can still stand with how hard you are patting yourself on the back. You are grossly overthinking a majority of your content, and yet somehow whenever anyone suggest a different viewpoint you discredit them with your "evidence." So... Yeah.
  10. What are you listening right now?

    Damn, has a year really already gone by on this thread? Oh well. My DJ skills are improving a HELL of a lot, and I am having fun exposing myself to new types of music!
  11. DARPA = Tacitus?

    In getting ready for college I have been paying attention to a lot of DARPA's projects in the last few months. The extent of what they can do is amazing. We are talking cameras that take 1 petabyte photos, AIs that can control an entire combat zones, and robotics right out of a SciFi film. They are pretty much the closest thing we have to mad scientists on Earth. Given some time, I would love to help in following up on this post. (As I last stated, my school work has been kicking my ass recently. Looking into what I really want to do, SATs and all that.)
  12. ~Inception~ Season 3: Genesis

    “Touch down in thirty, fixing for vertical landing, check clearance!” “Clearance is good!” the copilot of the VTOL spoke as he lowered the landing gear of the gunship. “Alright whiz kid, this is where you get off!” Jason reached for his duffle bag in the seat next to him and flung it over his shoulder as he stood up in the hold of the aircraft. He waited patiently for the glowing red light in the cabin to flash green just before the rear ramp dropped onto the street. He fixed his sunglasses into place as he shielded his eyes from the sun that shown back at him. Once they were on, his eyes could easily adjust to the setting as he sauntered off the ramp and onto the tarmac just as the rotation each of the VTOL’s three jets slowed to a stop. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Year: 2025 Wismar, Germany Jason Chaser CIA The surrounding site bustled with activity. Armed patrols swept the shipyard with K9 units as they ducked in and out from hastefully erected canvass tents and shipping containers. The brine in the air naturally didn’t sit right with Jason. While he had grown up near the ports like this, he quickly learned to hate the smell of the sea on the wind. It held too much salinity and wreaked havoc on electronic systems. Though the air ran thick, even he could not deny the beauty of the quant village that surrounded him. In the current age of steel, glass, and electronics the red brick structures and chimney stacks seemed a stark contrast to the world he was used to. A cargo ship in the distance loomed over the entire scene as a colossal specter of the spectacle amongst the enormous industrial cranes that JSOC marksmen had position themselves on. Jason activated his radio and instantly tuned to the frequency he had been instructed to access as soon as he landed. “Y’all seem to be taking whatever this is seriously.” A second voice called back over the frequency. The seemingly young radio operator would have been a bit unsettling for anyone but Jason, but he had long been familiar with it. “That’s how you say hello? Not ‘I’ve arrived, who am I to meet with?’ Not ‘what is the situation?’ Just ‘Oh, shit, sure looks busy!’” it shouted back. Jason chuckled before responding “The CIA told me you would be here. They figured that they owed me that much during debrief. Glad to hear you made it out of Bosnia.” “Yeah, you too. Meet me inside the command post, we can talk about the situation there. We can’t be sure who is listening to these comms.” Jason turned to the nearest soldier. He wore the telltale DEVGRU multicam uniform that set him apart in the sea of workers and security officers. He clenched tightly to his assault rifle, ready to use it at a moment’s notice. Jason’s heads up display told him everything he needed to know about the soldier. What branch he was in, what weapon he held, even what his blood type was. No doubt when the soldier looked at him however, all that reflected back was a tab that read “TOP CLEARANCE High Value Individual.” The CIA allowed him to pull off tricks like that, and it opened the door to nearly any government base under JSOC control. “Which way to the command post?” Jason quizzed. “Sir,” replied the captain, “Follow the main walkway until you reach a checkpoint, then continue into the large tent adjacent.” “Many thanks.” The checkpoint itself was even more protected than the rest of the compound. ASD combat drones patrolled the surrounding area as sentry turrets scanned any contacts approaching the check stand. Upon Jason setting down his duffle bag near the gate, a skittish security officer marched over to meet him. Rather humorously, the constable insisted that Jason recalled what was in his bag. “Working materials sir,” Jason replied in German as he fiddled with his GCM, “I’ve been told on my way here I am to give you the authorization code ‘altar.’” The guard nodded and stood aside, letting Jason pass. “Vielen dank, Herr Chaser. Command post is to the—“ “Left, I know. Vielen dank.” Just before he ducked into the tent, the scream of an A-10 Thunderbolt tore across the sky. Warthogs? Shit, what are we expecting, the whole fuckin’ SDC army? Jason stooped into the tent, his duffle bag still around his shoulder. In every which direction there seemed to be a team of personnel working diligently on various electronic systems and relays. In the very center laid a plastic table, covered in several scattered cups of coffee and empty chests of donuts. He quickly cleared a small area and place down his gear without so much as waiting to be acknowledged by the other members of the room. A younger man in a pressed suit rushed over to him, greeting him with a pat him on the back. Jason turned to take a better look at him. It had been a while since the two had seen each other, and Jason had forgotten exactly what the man’s face looked like. The operative’s Hispanic heritage and charming smile remained just as then had, always complimenting his jet black hair. Now though, a large burn marred his face, leaving patches of scorched flesh standing out against his skin. Somehow though, he made even that look good. “Titan,” Jason greeted with a smile, “It’s good to see you in one peace.” The two chuckled briefly for a moment. “Yeah, considering DeFlaco gave it his best shot to see me otherwise. Thank god the dipshit has a thing for theatrics or I would be a dead man right now.” “I’m guessing that’s where….” “The burn? Yeah. The fucker poured kerosene on my face and lit it off. Sadist could have just shot me, but he wanted me to suffer first.” “When I heard the PMC had located a mole, I was so sure I was burnt. I felt even worse when I figured out that is must have been you.” “No worries man, the Agency got me out of there” he spoke solemnly, “More for their benefit than mine but… At least I am here right now, right? So, what did you get on the mercs?” “I had to debrief on the way out there. Needless to say, I think we can both assume that DeFalco is our connection between mercenary groups and Cordis Die. He has his fingers in a lot of pies in the black market, which means all the money he is getting from these PMC contracts has to be going somewhere. I managed to secure a quad drone and analyze. Product identification matches exactly with Tacitus serial numbers, but the first IP access came from Malaysia. They must have… Some sort of 3D replication technology.” “Hold up a minute,” Titan interjected, “You secured a quad? To my understanding we had to pull you out in a rush. I read the mission report; a chopper had to fast rope you out. I know you had a quick layover to transfer to a VTOL, but you said that you had to debrief in flight.” Jason looked blankly back at his friend for a moment or two before he began to open his duffle bag, revealing the cache within. A MQ-27 Dragonfire drone had been placed right in the center with a control tablet lying atop its shell. Beside the machine laid a lazily stashed supply of assault weapons and submachine guns. “Holy shit Crito,” Titan cursed, calling Jason by his callsign, “These are sensitive materials. You… dios mio, esto no debería estar aquí!” “Titan, I know you are upset,” Jason spoke placing his hand on his comrade’s shoulder as he attempted to stop himself from laughing, “I can tell because you are speaking Spanish again. But trust me, I have kept these safe this far. They just need to get back to command safely. Stop worrying.” Jason removed a Vector submachine gun from the bag and loaded a magazine into it. The sleek black paintjob seemed to make the weapon shimmer as he eyed its custom attachments. He powered up the millimeter scanner and ensured the suppressor was tightened down correctly. He could feel different personnel in the room eyeballing him as he pulled out another piece of equipment, this time a Storm PSR rifle. It all seemed like heavy equipment for average Hungarian Mercenaries on a Slovak pay role. No doubt, whatever operation DeFalco was running with Raul Menendez, it was deeper than anyone in the CIA could have known. Months of field work, months of placing himself closer to Menendez and Cordis Die, all ruined by one emergency extract. Whatever was needed of Jason, it had to be important. “So do you know why yet?” Jason asked Titan, “They sent me an emergency message at zero dark thirty in the middle of an op while I was deep undercover to tell me pull out of a base and all the way to my extract point in a nearby town. No SOC-Ts, no advance warning, they just told me to grab what I could and haul ass thirteen miles into town so they could transfer me to God-knows-where. Tell me they had a good reason for all of this.” “Higher ups told me enough. You were the only tech expert in the immediate area that the Agency can trust. Apparently a local shipping company bought out an abandoned lot of land to build a new dock. They came across a bunch of old World War II era shipments stashed away in an abandoned boathouse. I didn’t have the need to know about what else we found, but they’ve already moved most of the containers to a different location. Don’t bother asking me where. They have a heavier piece of equipment, but we don’t know if it is safe to move it or not, so they want an egghead down here to make sure it is secure first.” “All this trouble for a history project?” “It ain’t like that man. I know I’m just a spook in a suit now, but I know defensive modus operandi when I see it. Something has Langley scarred enough to deploy counter-terrorism forces to protect this place. Whatever we found, SDC wants. They have already sent Washington a message that unless we let them send Chinese Scientist to investigate, they will send their own forces to disperse American involvement. All the politicians are blowing it off as typical SDC hot gas, but clearly the Agency doesn’t think so if they have Warthogs and Seals guarding the site. This is going to end up being something big.” Jason pulled his Black Hat PDA from his belt, only partially paying attention as he worked to find a way to reactivate the Dragonfire. Something big… Ha, what does this make me then? America’s IT guy? ////DragonfireOnline-ser.10346346. (Alice)/// >Escortmodeineffect… >Scanning/targets/onmatchingIFF…. ///WeaponOnline... Check./WeaponTest…Check….. >Mission Ready
  13. ~Inception~ (Discussion thread)

    Alright, so I rewrote my post, and now that it isn't 2am it actually came out good. I STRONGLY recommend reading through it again.
  14. A Zombie Trilogy v.III [NOW IN VIDEO]

    Sorry I sorta disappeared. Again, my time is limited. However, I believe Tac did an adequate job of defending my position. The campaign for zombies is directly linked to the first story as proved by posts in the terminals linking zombies events to story events. Things differ, however, when the missiles strike. As to generally stating "spy stuff has been mentioned" and "it could be another Russian general"... Well, that seems like a bit of a cop-out of a refutation. What general then? What spy stuff? Enough evidence has been presented to draw the connection, and arguing it would be wildly ineffective. I can see where an overenthusiastic mind would begin to think that I am alluding to Dragovich somehow being connected to green run, and that is not what I am getting at. I just believe that this gives us a valid time and date. We proved that campaign, zombies, and multiplayer all connected in Black Ops. Multiplayer maps coincided with strike locations on Dragovich's map. The crates in Green Run coincide aswell. Surely you can all agree with me on that. If not, then I am assured in the fact that several of my fellow theorists support and back me up in my thinking on the matter.
  15. ~Inception~ Season 3: Genesis

    ((OOC: Apologies with any spelling issues here. I kept having to restart my work in a fit of rage after being continually struck with the idea of my work not being good enough, so I am forcing myself to just post what I have now before I end up deleting it. XD) -------------------------------------------------- 1969 On Year after Missile Impact Middle America Oh… Dammit… Jack is going to kick my ass… Am I alright? Neck? Fine. Arms? Working? Breasts?... Check. Sissy came to still in a haze as she found herself awakening on the steering wheel of an armored vehicle. The lights flickering on the dashboard the were all that illuminated the cabin. As she lifted her head pain shot through her from the back of shoulder blades to her lower back. Just some minor whiplash, nothing too major… At least, nothing major compared to the immediate danger at hand. She brushed her pitch black hair out of her eyes as she looked back at herself in the nearest sidemirror. While she had seen herself countless times before since the missles struck, she still seemed unfamiliar. Her once long, swooped hair had been hacked down the length of her chin. Two jagged scars swept under each of her eyes before dropping down her cheek and past her neck, leaving a pair of pale streaks that stood out against her tanned complection. Her eyes were what set her apart however. As she looked back at herself, she could look into them once again. They were tinted an almost malachite-green, with several rings of different shades and hues standing apart within her irises. Once upon a time, each ring seemed to glow with a different emotion, all resonating in one lively spark that anyone could see. That time had long since passed. Okay, okay, just try to remember here. My name, what’s my name? Sissy, that’s right. And right now I am… I am… A low, throatily groan echoed from outside the locomotive, the sort of groan that you would recognize even in the state of vertigo and disorientation that Sissy was limited to. She huffed in a gasp of air to power through the pain as she rose from the wheel, looking out through the windshield. Her head bobbed up and down as she was forced to bite her tongue to prevent her from fading out again. A massive spider crack obstructed the view through the shatter-proof glass, yet she could just barely see out into the world beyond the cabin of the vehicle. Darkness was all that looked back. For a terrifying instant, he shook in fear that she had been killed on impact. Steadily though, her eye’s dilated to the darkness of this world. The inky clock gave way to a thick, ash filled fog. The obstacle they had struck materialized in the fog, settling in the form of a ruined streetcar. As she glared at the hulk of torn metal, a set of two blue wisps cut through the fog. Then another four. Then another five. She continued to eye the darkness until fifteen sets of two glowing wisps shown back at her. Sissy rubbed her eyes in disbelief, but there before her the same thirty lights hearkened back. She looked to her left on the passenger side. A man in uniform sat there, collapsed in an incapacitated slump. “Jack!” she barked as she pawed at his seemingly lifeless body, “Jack, come one, we gotta get moving now!” She felt a warm tear building in the corner of her eye as a sob began to knot in her throat. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep the feeling locked down inside. Much to her relief however, the soldier shook to life before turning over and looking over at her. “Shit,” he recollected, “Sissy, you alright?” “Fine, I’m fine. We need to get out of here, now. Do you have your rifle?” Jack ran his hand across Sissy’s forehead, retracting it to show her the blood he had whisked away that she had failed to notice. “You’re bleeding” he observed has he bent over and began searching near his feet, “Where you out too?” “I think so,” Sissy answered, working to undo her seatbelt, “Only for a moment or two though. We need to get out of here, now.” Jack located his M16 and stat back up in his seat. More moans and groaning built in the void of ash and fog as Sissy tried her door, shoving it open with all of her weight to no avail. She tugged at her hair in frustration as Jack swung open the passenger side door and shouldered his weapon before dropping out of the vehicle and onto the road. The wreak infrastructure of the surrounding city left the road cracked and broken. The two could catch the scent of burning flesh on the wind, though they could not tell where it was coming from. It was as if the air itself smelt of death and brimstone. Sissy followed Jack out of the vehicle landing on her feet before adjusting her top to keep it from coming off. She looked back at the vehicle, a military M35 transport truck. It sat there, unmoving, as if it had been struck dead by a mighty blow to the head. The rear of the vehicle was tarped over, protecting any supplies from falling off in case of bumpy road conditions. “Check the back, grab whatever you can," Jack ordered as he pulled back the bolt to his rifle, "We are going to drop any deadheads in the area, and make a break for whatever shelter we can find. From there, we can radio Hexium and get him to send us transport.” “There are others alive then, right?” the girl asked as she walked to the rear of the vehicle and climbed up into the back. Within there was a multitude of barrels of water, boxes of food, stacks of weaponry, and homeopathic provisions. A Russian-made RPD lay stacked against the side of the truck, with several bands of ammunition wrapped around it. With a grunt she lifted the weapon and swung it over her right shoulder, tucked the ammunition around her waist, and loaded her pockets with as many packages of medical supplies she could fit before hopping back down out of the lorry and into the street. “Are there more of us? Shit, how far did you get sent back this time?” “I remember… I …” without thinking, she placed her free hand across her chest. Her charm necklace felt warm against her skin. Calmly she took a breath, holding it tightly for a moment. "Kid," Jack spoke as he removed his helmet, revieling his dirt-caked hair, "What am I going to do with you?" Just then, the first creature lumbered into sight. The being was grotesque, even in the low visibility of the fog in the midnight hours. By the light of its glowing eyes, a warped, sunken skull sat in place of what would be a face as its hunched form burdened itself to shamble nearer and nearer. “You remember these guys, right?” Jacked quized as he threw his helmet and aimed for the beast. Sissy nodded and placed the stock of her weapon against her hip. With a deep breath, she took a stable stance and pulled the trigger, unleashing a flurry of bullets that tore through the monster as if an invisible dull blade had ripped its flesh asunder. Another loomed into view, this time leaving Jack to fire a three round burst into the creature’s neck, sawing it’s head off in a splatter of flesh and coagulated blood. Still more came into view as the two turned to one another, quickly realizing just how much trouble they were in.
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