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Server time: 2019-03-26, 23:24 WE ARE RECRUITING
Isaiah Cortez

Old Man Frequency (Open freq)

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*Old man sits on the edge of the cliff looking at the peaceful sunset into the horizon. He had met and seen quite a big bunch of different people in the few weeks he had actually dared to venture out and actually meet them, rather than avoiding and observing from the woods. He took the radio from his bag and fiddled it for a moment, smile on his face before turning it on and pressing the PTT*

 

"Good evening, fellow survivors. This is the old man on the radio, who ever might hear this. The world is now cold and cruel place, with little comforts of the life we used to have. And, there isn't much we can do to it on by ourselves. But, what we can do, is help each other. Give a hand during times of need. Rather than point a rifle to other mans face and demand his last lively hood off him."

 *Sigh cold be heard*

"But, I know that you can't work with everyone. Maybe it's because he is from different country than you are, or maybe because he thinks otherwise. Or maybe because he or she is just a total ass wipe. But, If you have your group, or a friend or two. Trust them to your best extent, and give them a hand. And hope that they'll help you. Because there is still hope for us all, to find a better, new tomorrow. Like, I know I might not be seeing it, as my old ass is, well... old. But I'll damn sure try, and try my best to help out each and everyone out there. Good or bad in someones book, to live another day. Because we are only human. 

*He depresses the ptt for a moment, swinging his legs back over the cliff, standing up and giving a final glance to the sunset before pressing the ptt again*

"And I hope, that maybe one day, we are able to set down our indifferences, and just try to live together. Maybe for just a day. But it would be worth it. So have a nice rest of the day, and please, don't get eaten by wolves out there."

"Old man, out."

*He would depress the ptt, pick his rifle from resting onto the tree and walk into the slowly darkening forest, with no fear of the night. After all, most frightening thing in the dark, would be just another man.*

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- The boy turns his old mask over in his hands, gazing at the chipped, painted-on grin. He sits upright as his radio buzzes to life -- the line buzzes to life with a shrill hiss before his voice filters through his own radio's static. -

I don't see any of us living to a better tomorrow, Old Man Jenkins. I'd bet both my eyes this is the last of us -- humanity has run its course.

Still, I dig your philosophy. May as well make our last days more comfortable. 

Hell, I know I'm only still kicking for the fun of it. Last of the Gremlins, and all that shit.

Try not to die too soon.

- The sharp whine returns, before abruptly ending with a click. Avery tucks his mask back into his bag, before slinking out of the house. -

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*Whit shivering hands he searched his bag. Man next to him pleaded him to stop, and not use the radio.*

"This is old man Pasi... For anyone listening on the frequency."

*Pained huff*

"There's this fucking group in Cherogorsk... Torturing people, and making our fucking lives miserable... they slave people..."

*Another shivering huff, like he would  be in great pain or high fever*

"I will most likely not live long anymore, But i'll make sure these people wont live long either..."

*Another violent cough, ptt still pressed down*

"Their names are... "Day"... "Ricky"... "Jordan"... And some fucking black man who is their slave..."

"So, enjoy... Hunting these men down, before they hunt you down."

*Lots of painful coughing and wheezing*

"Old man... Out."

*Another mans voice could be heard from the radio*

"Hey, shh, shhh!"

*Sound of doors being slammed open would be heard*

"What's going on over here!!"

*Was the yell, heard before the transmission dies into static*

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A voice appears right after, not at the scene of the incident

"Everyone talks."

It disappears into the void and static fills the frequency for a few minutes

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*The old man sits inside the house, on the gravel floor, covered in the jacket his friend covered him in. The arm aching, covered in moist bandages fiddled with the radio he had found in a house with great effort.*

"This is the old man. I'm alive. I did wish that I wouldn't when I fell asleep, the pain... felt too much. But here I am. I realized something, as I have been sitting here. That no, I don't want revenge on these men, that tortured me and my friend. No, it wouldn't change anything. Just more dead people. Not all of them were bad... Just... lost. Lost their own way, following someone's else view of the world, and how it should be. I... I judge the men by the size of their heart, not their strength or way of just... making other do their way with a gun in their hand."

*He would cough a little and take a sip from the canteen*

"I will still look into everyones eyes, look for the good still left in them. Even if there is a gun at my face. And even if there is no good left on the eyes of the men or women, wanting to harm me, I don't fear death. Not anymore. I've lived a long life. And all of it I have left, I will look in the eyes of men, and reach my hand out to you, to give it a squeeze, and show the way to brighter tomorrow. A tomorrow, where we don't have to think, to fear each and everyone. Even for just a week, month or a year. That there is still someone who will do his everything to lift up the downtrodden. One person can change the world for someone, by giving them hope. "

*He would chuckle warmly, before giving a pained grunt*

"Life... life isn't always easy. Or fair. But I will keep on moving. And I will keep on supporting my friends and the strangers alike. Because, even during the darkest time of the night, when all you see is darkness around you, Remember, sun will rise. And brush away the coldness of the night. To the new morning, and new day to make your own decisions. Your own future. The future for your friends and family. The stranger on the side of the street and the man behind the mask. You choose.

Old man Out. 

*He would put the radio away, and look as his friend would finally wake up. There was a smile on his face.* 

 

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Doctor James finds himself a quiet house to settle down in for the evening, and shrug off the backpack of his trade tools. A weary groan settles from the man as he eases down onto a disconcertingly damp bed, before glancing up and seeing the tell tale moisture of a ceiling leak. Sigh. He decides on the floor for now, before drawing out his radio and scrolling through the frequencies. The sound of a familiar old mans voice can be heard, and the Doctors lips turn up into a smile as the crows feet around his eyes crinkle a bit. He waits until Pasi has finished before keying his own radio. 

 

"Hey old man. This is Doctor James. Glad to hear you are keeping your chin and spirits up. Not many bounce back like you are."



He pauses, knowing he isn't as eloquent as the speech he just heard.

 

"I agree with what you are saying. It takes just one candle to beat back the dark. And you might light a few in others on your journey."

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