Post by kryss on Oct 15, 2014 23:06:23 GMT -6
September 10th, 2026
The motorcycle roared as it cruised down the road, an event that would make any observer believe its rider was either suicidal or insane. The rider in question was hard to spot any details on. A dark helmet, tinted visor down, covered his head, and a dark leather jacket covered his torso. His pants were camouflage cargo pants, and he wore black combat boots. Even those details were hard to see, however, as his motorcycle's rear compartment was larger than average, riding up and forming a pseudo seat. An unusually keen eye may notice that the rear compartment was slightly cracked open, propped by a red plastic clamp.
The motorcycle slowed, pulling into a long abandoned gas station. The driver got off, propping the bike up by the kickstand. Lifting the visor on his helmet to reveal slanted, dark eyes and little else, he picked up a gun from its place on the side of the bike. And not just a gun, but clearly an assault rifle. An AK-47, as even uneducated eyes could tell. It was carried one handed with confidence, as an extension of the body, although its owner's steps were cautious. In the other hand he gripped a machete, its blade clean despite small blood stains on the wooden handle. He approached the gas station and eased open the shattered door, slowly walking inside.
After only a moment there was a moan and a loud shhhlck-ing noise. Only five minutes later the driver re-emerged and finally took off his helmet, revealing a square jaw and wide face, short cropped black hair, and vigilant eyes. He scanned the horizon for a few minutes, standing by his bike as though ready to go. When he was seemingly satisfied, he hoisted open the back compartment and helped out a small, four-year-old girl.
She seemed eager to dart off, but he kept a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"What are the rules?" he asked in a stern voice. She huffed, blowing an errant lock of frizzed hair out of her eyes.
"I hafta wait ten minutes for you to come back or give the signal, which I diiiiiiiiiiiid. Make no noise at all, which I diiiiiiiiiiiiid." She shifted from foot to foot.
"The rest too, Alicia."
She sighed with great exaggeration and began haltingly stumbling through the rules.
"Always stay in five feet unless you say so, don't grab anything unless you say so, don't make any noiiiiiise, keep watch always always, and don't eat anything unless you say so, even if it's candy."
"The rest of them, Alicia."
"Aaaaace,” she whined before huffing a sigh. “Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. If a zombie finds me, don't scream. Do 'xactly what you do, cept I don't get a gun. If you say run, no arguing. I run as fast as I can wherever there are no zombies and I don't stop until I am somewhere I can see all around or on a roof. Then I stop and get my walkie talkie out and try to talk to you. If you don't answer I wait for you to talk to me. And don't talk to anyone even if they seem nice unless you say so."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, even though she had skipped a couple of details.
"You ready to go in?" he asked, but she shook her head shyly and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. He nodded, understanding, and took her to the side of the gas station, standing guard while she did her business. When she was done they went inside. Alicia pointedly avoided looking at the now dead zombie in the aisle, instead dashing ahead a little, her short, high ponytail bouncing in time with her steps. Ace cleared his throat and she looked back guiltily, slowing to be next to him again.
They found a handful of supplies, mostly battered and bent. Ace picked up a bottle of antifreeze and found a gallon of gas, which he was clearly delighted with.
Once they had gathered their bounty they quickly left the store and its many hiding nooks and crannies. They picnicked in the parking lot, the sun shining brightly down on them as Alicia happily chewed and laughed at Ace's jokes, shooshing herself and looking guilty after she did. When they were done Ace sat on his knees and she took an aggressive stance in front of him. She struck out clumsily and he blocked. She struck again, and again, and again as he blocked. Then he gently struck out at her, and she slowly performed the same blocks he had.
When their exercise was done, Ace picked her up, holding her against his hip.
"Ready to go?"
She shook her head unhappily, but he ruffled her hair and took her back to the motorcycle. He opened the rear compartment and took out the helmet that was taking up the makeshift seat and settled her inside on the blanket lining. Little else was in there, just a bottle of water, a small packet of crackers, a flashlight, a watch, and a small stack of comic books nestled inside of a small plastic Captain America shield, which Alicia was no longer allowed to bring with her on missions.
He buckled the helmet on her, ignoring her protruding tongue, and helped her slide into a more comfortable position, fluffing the pillow behind her. She fit into the compartment with her supplies decently, although there was only an inch or two of free space. He wasn't sure what he would do when she outgrew it, afraid that it would happen before she was ready to be out and vulnerable all the time. He ignored the thought for the time being and closed the compartment onto the clamp, which left it open enough for breathing room. Fortunately Ace's weight kept it firmly closed despite any bumps in the road along the way.
Once she was settled, he put his own helmet back on, climbed on the bike, and took off.
The sun was beginning to set and Ace knew it was time to find a place for the night. He pulled into a residential district, cruising down the road. The town seemed exceptionally clear of MRZA+'s, which made it quite an ideal place to spend the night. It must have been more sparsely populated than it seemed, or abandoned only after survivors had defended it for some time.
He was just about to investigate a relatively random house when he heard something. A human something. A human voice, shouting, with no concern for caution.
"LORNA! CAN WE TURN ON THE GENERATOR YET?"
He vaguely saw a girl quite a ways up the street, traipsing into a house from the backyard. He didn't get a good look at her. There were too many things in the way. He heard a very angry, but quieter voice answer her back. He caught almost nothing of what the second person said, except for the word "noise."
He decided to throw the dice. Their supplies were running dangerously low. He could tell Alicia was going crazy from being cooped up all day every day. And he knew they would never truly be safe unless they found some stability. And, as much as he may want her to be discerning, he felt it was important that Alicia know there was good in humanity still. Assuming, of course, that there still was. So hopefully these people would be human, and would give them a place to stay for a night or two. He would be more than happy to trade protection or even training for their trouble.
He rode up to the driveway and parked, giving three knocks on the seat, letting Alicia know to allow a full half hour before locking herself in or making a break for it, as the situation demanded.
As he walked to the door he could hear a few very muffled but frantic sounds, the sounds of a quick cover up. He took off his helmet and knocked soundly on the door, hoping they would calm down with that call back to the civility of the past.
_________________________
Libertas: Noun. Feminine.
1. Frankness of speech, outspokenness
2. Freedom, liberty
_________________________
Libertas: Noun. Feminine.
1. Frankness of speech, outspokenness
2. Freedom, liberty
_________________________
The motorcycle roared as it cruised down the road, an event that would make any observer believe its rider was either suicidal or insane. The rider in question was hard to spot any details on. A dark helmet, tinted visor down, covered his head, and a dark leather jacket covered his torso. His pants were camouflage cargo pants, and he wore black combat boots. Even those details were hard to see, however, as his motorcycle's rear compartment was larger than average, riding up and forming a pseudo seat. An unusually keen eye may notice that the rear compartment was slightly cracked open, propped by a red plastic clamp.
The motorcycle slowed, pulling into a long abandoned gas station. The driver got off, propping the bike up by the kickstand. Lifting the visor on his helmet to reveal slanted, dark eyes and little else, he picked up a gun from its place on the side of the bike. And not just a gun, but clearly an assault rifle. An AK-47, as even uneducated eyes could tell. It was carried one handed with confidence, as an extension of the body, although its owner's steps were cautious. In the other hand he gripped a machete, its blade clean despite small blood stains on the wooden handle. He approached the gas station and eased open the shattered door, slowly walking inside.
After only a moment there was a moan and a loud shhhlck-ing noise. Only five minutes later the driver re-emerged and finally took off his helmet, revealing a square jaw and wide face, short cropped black hair, and vigilant eyes. He scanned the horizon for a few minutes, standing by his bike as though ready to go. When he was seemingly satisfied, he hoisted open the back compartment and helped out a small, four-year-old girl.
She seemed eager to dart off, but he kept a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"What are the rules?" he asked in a stern voice. She huffed, blowing an errant lock of frizzed hair out of her eyes.
"I hafta wait ten minutes for you to come back or give the signal, which I diiiiiiiiiiiid. Make no noise at all, which I diiiiiiiiiiiiid." She shifted from foot to foot.
"The rest too, Alicia."
She sighed with great exaggeration and began haltingly stumbling through the rules.
"Always stay in five feet unless you say so, don't grab anything unless you say so, don't make any noiiiiiise, keep watch always always, and don't eat anything unless you say so, even if it's candy."
"The rest of them, Alicia."
"Aaaaace,” she whined before huffing a sigh. “Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. If a zombie finds me, don't scream. Do 'xactly what you do, cept I don't get a gun. If you say run, no arguing. I run as fast as I can wherever there are no zombies and I don't stop until I am somewhere I can see all around or on a roof. Then I stop and get my walkie talkie out and try to talk to you. If you don't answer I wait for you to talk to me. And don't talk to anyone even if they seem nice unless you say so."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, even though she had skipped a couple of details.
"You ready to go in?" he asked, but she shook her head shyly and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. He nodded, understanding, and took her to the side of the gas station, standing guard while she did her business. When she was done they went inside. Alicia pointedly avoided looking at the now dead zombie in the aisle, instead dashing ahead a little, her short, high ponytail bouncing in time with her steps. Ace cleared his throat and she looked back guiltily, slowing to be next to him again.
They found a handful of supplies, mostly battered and bent. Ace picked up a bottle of antifreeze and found a gallon of gas, which he was clearly delighted with.
Once they had gathered their bounty they quickly left the store and its many hiding nooks and crannies. They picnicked in the parking lot, the sun shining brightly down on them as Alicia happily chewed and laughed at Ace's jokes, shooshing herself and looking guilty after she did. When they were done Ace sat on his knees and she took an aggressive stance in front of him. She struck out clumsily and he blocked. She struck again, and again, and again as he blocked. Then he gently struck out at her, and she slowly performed the same blocks he had.
When their exercise was done, Ace picked her up, holding her against his hip.
"Ready to go?"
She shook her head unhappily, but he ruffled her hair and took her back to the motorcycle. He opened the rear compartment and took out the helmet that was taking up the makeshift seat and settled her inside on the blanket lining. Little else was in there, just a bottle of water, a small packet of crackers, a flashlight, a watch, and a small stack of comic books nestled inside of a small plastic Captain America shield, which Alicia was no longer allowed to bring with her on missions.
He buckled the helmet on her, ignoring her protruding tongue, and helped her slide into a more comfortable position, fluffing the pillow behind her. She fit into the compartment with her supplies decently, although there was only an inch or two of free space. He wasn't sure what he would do when she outgrew it, afraid that it would happen before she was ready to be out and vulnerable all the time. He ignored the thought for the time being and closed the compartment onto the clamp, which left it open enough for breathing room. Fortunately Ace's weight kept it firmly closed despite any bumps in the road along the way.
Once she was settled, he put his own helmet back on, climbed on the bike, and took off.
The sun was beginning to set and Ace knew it was time to find a place for the night. He pulled into a residential district, cruising down the road. The town seemed exceptionally clear of MRZA+'s, which made it quite an ideal place to spend the night. It must have been more sparsely populated than it seemed, or abandoned only after survivors had defended it for some time.
He was just about to investigate a relatively random house when he heard something. A human something. A human voice, shouting, with no concern for caution.
"LORNA! CAN WE TURN ON THE GENERATOR YET?"
He vaguely saw a girl quite a ways up the street, traipsing into a house from the backyard. He didn't get a good look at her. There were too many things in the way. He heard a very angry, but quieter voice answer her back. He caught almost nothing of what the second person said, except for the word "noise."
He decided to throw the dice. Their supplies were running dangerously low. He could tell Alicia was going crazy from being cooped up all day every day. And he knew they would never truly be safe unless they found some stability. And, as much as he may want her to be discerning, he felt it was important that Alicia know there was good in humanity still. Assuming, of course, that there still was. So hopefully these people would be human, and would give them a place to stay for a night or two. He would be more than happy to trade protection or even training for their trouble.
He rode up to the driveway and parked, giving three knocks on the seat, letting Alicia know to allow a full half hour before locking herself in or making a break for it, as the situation demanded.
As he walked to the door he could hear a few very muffled but frantic sounds, the sounds of a quick cover up. He took off his helmet and knocked soundly on the door, hoping they would calm down with that call back to the civility of the past.