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About About400Crows

  • Birthday 04/02/2000

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  1. This Character is: ALIVE This Character is: KOSABLE Operator: "Crow" Background: Classified Speciality: Enforcer, Assault, Demoltion's Expert. Hired by the Corporation: 4 years ago. Nationality: Unknown Age: Roughly around 'X' Issues with law enforcement: Multiple Felony's in United States Time In Military: Classified Situation Operator "Crow" has been dropped into country by Corporate. Following direction from Corporate, Operator "Crow" has been dropped into country. Recent events have made it evident a clean up crew is needed. "Crow' has worked closely with many operators previously deployed to Chernarus. Sloth, Ash, Triceratops, Hollywood, Winter. Most of these operators are now dead or MIA. "Crow" read up on the reports from the last wave on his own, so he knew the deal. Chernarus is dangerous as Hell, and he isn't taking any chances. Having worked closely with Triceratops in particular, he was disheartened by his friends death during the first wave. Crow spent most of of the first wave working operations for the Corporation in Western Europe. Skirmishes finally ended approximately four months ago. After his extraction from the West, Crow had been helping to guard Corporate's FOB in the area. Recent incursions by Corporate's enemies into the area however have forced the Corporation to send someone to clean up leftover evidence. As an explosives expert, Crow's primary objective will be handling the demolition of items Corporate believes others can use to blow what's going on in Chernarus out of proportion...
  2. About400Crows

    Four Corners Hustlers [Very Strict Recruitment]

    Fun interacting with you guys, very unique RP all around. Best of luck to you.
  3. Jason Brookes enlisted in the Army at the age of 18 as a communications systems operator. After rotating out of Korea, his unit was sent to Staroye to set up communications for the emergency personnel at the start of the outbreak. The communications hub was quickly overrun as the outbreak spread, cutting off Brookes and his unit from most of the remaining soldiers. Brookes and the soldiers that remained quickly drew up with other forces in similar situations, continuing to do whatever they could to fight the outbreak and restore communications with the US or other forces nearby.
  4. About400Crows

    Official Mentor Program - [CLOSED]

    Your IG name and which subject are you interested in learning about? (Please chose from the above listed categories): Chris Roth(Active Ch); hostileRP mostly, a bit of how that mixes in with groupRP What Timezone are you from and what time's do you usually play?: EST, afternoon, evening, late night(Whenever I have the time) How were you directed to the Mentors thread (Word of mouth, friends, report verdict, forums)?: Forums If you had to judge yourself and your role play, what would you say are your strong points and what areas would you like to learn about or improve on?: Strong points I suppose would be passiveRP/survivorRP, what I'm mostly looking to learn about/improve is my hostileRP, the rules around it, how to make it effective and enjoyable. Also would like to learn more about groupRP in regard to hostileRP, so how hostile groups interact, stuff like that. I've just been trying out a bunch of different types of RP to see which one sticks really, and want to give hostileRP a fair shot. I understand it can be hard to get right so I figured someone with some more experience can help me make sure I get it right
  5. About400Crows

    Allow the robbery for items once again.

    I've been reading through this to prepare myself for RPing someone who wouldn't hesitate to point a gun at someone if he was scared, or needed them to do something. He may steal if he needed something, but otherwise it would be a waste of time. From what I've read though, I honestly just shouldn't try roleplaying that. He wouldn't rob people for no reason, but if he's alone in a town, and he hears gun shots, he's going to take out his gun and be careful. If after that a man runs into the building he's in with a gun in his hands, he might point his at the surprise arrival. Because he's worried about dying and he'll take measures to prevent it. From my short experience, apologies for any ignorance by the way but as I said it is short, it seems people aren't worried about a bandit pulling a gun and robbing them. They're more worried about doing that themselves. I've seen really awkward encounters where neither party wants to draw the first weapon, because they're afraid of breaking a rule they don't fully understand. From a personal standpoint, I don't like the restrictions because I feel like pointing a gun at someone you've just encountered in the apocalypse is a fair reaction to their sudden appearance. Objectively, or at least as objectively as I can be, considering my personal feelings, I think they do more harm than good considering the impact on RP. On top of just the awkwardness of it, you're so worried about breaking a rule OOCly, it affects how you act in game. Which is fair to an extent, because all rules are meant to do that. But it's hard to get good hostileRP I've noticed, because people are so worried about the rules they aren't creative. I've seen a few videos of people coordinating ICly on teamspeak before initiating on a group, which is good. But it feels so unnatural, it almost doesn't even feel like they're roleplaying. They're obviously playing to the recording, in case the fighting gets reported. It's a whole different kind of ruleplay where instead of people using the rules to gain unrealistic initiation rights or hostility rights, the rules are giving victims unrealistic protection that they then use to their IC advantage. I'm not saying the victims are rping poorly, since they rp passively and friendly very well, but potential victims naturally don't feel as threatened anymore when a group of men approaches them looking sketchy as shit in their small camp. They don't behave like someone who has likely seen some fucked up shit would. Example being solo people not being cautious around new groups of people until they get to know them(Not saying this applies to everyone, just alot I've encountered, including myself). It's a different more fulfilling kind of RP, in my opinion, when you know at any second that new best friend of yours could rob you for that shiny M4 you found that he wants. That just about sums it up for me. Anyway, as I said I am very new and limited in my interactions, so more experienced and longtime members of the community obviously have a much better grasp on the issues. I just thought I'd share my opinions as a new player, and what I've seen in my recent short time here. Any ignorance you may see is just that, ignorance, as I am new. So please, don't yell at me for not understanding. I admit to you, just as I did to my last girlfriend, that I likely do not understand, but this is my opinion based on what I feel are issues that I have personally noticed. TL;DR: I'm fairly new, so you probably didn't miss out on any useful information ?
  6. The First Life of Jack Finch When Jack was younger, he always respected his father. He was a Sergeant in the Army's Criminal Investigation Division. He'd see his dad working in the study, eyebrows furrowed, and he'd know he was going to catch the bad guy. Whoever broke the code of honor his father so gallantly pursued. His dad always made time for Jack and his mom, no matter how busy he was. He'd come home, take off his uniform, and all the stress of the day was gone with it. He never let problems at work get in the way of his family. Jack knew to respect that. He knew he'd often had hard days, but he never let it get the best of him. One day, there was an uncharacteristically stressed look on him at the dinner table. Jack's mother noticed it too. "Hon, want some coffee?" Jacks dad looked up, almost surprised to hear a voice, "No, it's alright. Listen, I might have to head out of town for a few days on this case. We've got an address to check out. They're sending the whole team this time," Jack looked up, alittle shocked at the news, "Really? Must be big, you must have found some big bad this time huh?" Jack said, his voice bright. He was eleven at the time, and thought his father was invincible. "Yeah, you could say that," He looked up at his wife's worried expression, "Don't worry about it hon, we've handled worse. Anyways, it's a joint op, odds are FBI and local police will get all the credit," With that, he turned his head back down and went back to eating. Turns out, local and FBI did get most of the credit. For the failure. CID was hardly mentioned, outside of one name. Jack's fathers. Apparently, the plan was for him to bait the man out. Some home grown terrorist, killed alot of soldiers in the area. So Jack's dad had been used as bait. The bastards usual MO was a pistol, but he'd decided to invest in a rifle. Ex-marine apparently, one hell of a shot. FBI and local never even saw him. Jack found out the usual way, two officers over Jack's dad came to the house. When Jack opened the door, and saw the looks on their faces, he knew. He didn't want to know, but he did. He waited until his mother came downstairs and the men said the words, then he broke down. "NO! No you're lying! He's not dead! He's..he's my dad.." his voice trailed off as he choked up, clinging to his mother, who was trying her best to comfort her son through her own grief. The funeral was two weeks later, the usual military funeral, just as Jack had gone to with his father a couple times before. By the time the funeral came though, the tears were all used up. His eyes were red, and he felt like he was being choked, but no tears could come. The model for Jack's future was gone, and he took a piece of Jack with him. It was hard for Jack, for his mother, for the people around them to move on in the years after that. Jack started fighting with his mother, acting out in school. He went to counseling, extensively, for whatever the fuck that was worth. Talking wouldn't bring his father back, and it wouldn't help Jack move on, so he just lashed out more. Fell in with a rough crowd, got mixed up in quite a few fights. It was the only thing that distracted him from the pain. Somehow though, a broken nose or a cut arm didn't hurt as bad as the emptiness without his father. Eventually, he fell in with a crew who ran drugs around the highschool. He was a user and a dealer with them, they were good to him. Eventually, Jack got busted at school with weed after a fight. Just a couple of blunts, but the counselor thought it was best for more "extensive help". So, after a meeting between the principle, his mother, and the counselor, Jack's mom had relented and allowed Jack be sent to a center for "at risk" youth. Not that it did any good, since Jack just fell in with even worse kids. Called themselves a gang, beating up the smaller kids, stealing from 'em, just being general ass holes to everyone. Of course, eventually Jack's mom heard of all this, she was crying when they spoke, "What would your father say? How would he feel to see you like this? I'm almost glad he's gone, so he can't see you like this," Jack snapped, all his anger, pain, and rage flowing out in one savage moment. He shoved his mother to the floor, knowing he should feel guilty. For pushing her, for letting his father down. But none of it MATTERED. Nothing mattered. His father was dead. For doing the "right" thing. For being a good man. He'd learn from his mistake. "It doesn't FUCKING matter what he would say! He's gone! He failed! He lost! He let someone take him from us! What he would think doesn't matter, because he's fucking DEAD!" He spit the last word out, disgusted. He was angry. Angry with his father for dying. Angry with his mother for trying to control him. Fuck it, he was angry with the world. It was sickening, but it was what it was, so he did what he wanted. If the world wanted to be disgusting, savage, and unrelenting, he would be too. He stormed out the house, dialing his buddy Joey's number. His dad ran a fairly sized motorcycle gang chapter for The Lost MC, based up in Atlanta. "Joey, tell your dad to have a piece and a bike ready for me. I'll be up there tonight, send me an address. I plan on staying," and he ended the call. He knew he should feel guilty, but he felt nothing. Oddly enough, the nothing didn't last long the first time. He felt guilty about half way to Atlanta. He called his mother, apologizing with a sour throat, and told her he'd be in touch. He didn't know if it was the truth. Jack was welcomed into the gang well, getting his patch quickly. He knew alot of the younger guys from the program, and he proved himself to the others. Him and Joey were sort of de-facto leaders of the younger guys. The pair was becoming relatively well known, their crew more and more respected. They started calling Jack "Little Jack" and Joey "Big Joey" due to their sizes. Jack didn't mind it, it put people off guard. Eventually though, it all came tumbling down. Jack was at the club playing cards with some of the guys back at The Lost's club. Game was going good, he'd already taken alot of their money when his phone rang in his back pocket. He silenced it and finished his hand, taking a little bit more money before cashing out. The boys were good sports as always when Jack took their money, they knew he'd more than pay them back at the bar eventually. After rising from the table, Jack stepped out the door, squeezing by Joey, "Gotta take a call, have a beer for me, " he told the big man. Joey slapped him on the shoulder as he headed out, taking out his phone and redialing the strange number, "Yeah, who's this, " He asked, as soon as he heard the ringing stop. "Ah, just a nobody to you. Your name "Little Jack" yes?" A voice with a heavy European accent responded. Jack had heard it before, but he wasn't sure where, "Depends, this call for business or social?" Jack responded, impassively. "For once, I make social call. I visit Savannah today, thought I meet your mother. Lovely lady, you should join us. Alone. By...let's say midnight. That is ample time. You come, she live. Maybe. Otherwiiiise..." The man spoke coldly now, "I kill you both, and bury your corpses with your father. See you soon, "Little Jack", " The man seemed to spit Jack's name as he said. Jack was sweating now, looking around him, "Shit," He thought. He knew who that was now. One of the organizers. They had alot of sway in the city, could start or end a gang war with two phone calls, or so the rumors said. Jack didn't feel like doubting anything right now. He grabbed his riding jacket from inside, walking past the other men impassively as possible, throwing some excuse about meeting a woman, and hopped on his bike. Jack arrived in Savannah a couple of hours later. It was dark now, but Jack was sure he was on time. He pulled up into his mothers drive way, and shut off the bike. He looked up at the door, and shuddered as he thought of the last time he was here. This place seemed cursed to him. He hopped off his bike, and hurried to the door, pausing only briefly to feel the pistol tucked in behind him. He hadn't had to kill a man before, but he wouldn't hesitate now, if the bastard inside gave him a chance. Jack had shot a few men, mostly to loosen their tongues or open their wallets. This was different. He knew he could kill this man in a heartbeat, because he made it personal. Jack hurried up the steps and opened the door, pausing briefly as he walked through the threshold, "Hello?" He hollered down the small entry hall. He figured he could say something tough, but didn't feel like thinking over it right now. "Come to kitchen, then we can chat da?" A voice hollered back, down the hall and to the left. Jack walked down the hall, and stepped through the kitchen door on the left. He saw his mother unconscious on the floor, a short man behind her holding a pistol aimed at her head. He smiled as Jack walked in, taking a step forward with his cane, "Nice of you to join us. Now we can talk," and suddenly the man was on him, Jack felt the cane catch behind his knee, jerking forward and sending him flailing on his back. Jack went to rise but felt the cane slam down into his nose. "Sorry, NOW we can talk," The man leaned heavily against his cane, "You see, I have a son. A good boy, just turned eighteen in this country. Back in Atlanta he stayed. He was visiting the aquarium for the first time, had just gotten off the phone with me. Then," The man raised his cane, and swung it down in a heavy arc, shattering the bone just below Jack's kneecap. Jack howled in pain before the man cut him off loudly, "THEN, you and your lowlife friends come, steal from my boy. That would have been excusable, maybe, but you had to take it another step," Jack was thinking now, remembering a small European lad he had mugged with his crew a while back. The only reason he could remember the kid so well was he didn't operate down there too often, lots of cops downtown, best to stay in the outskirts. They had taken the mans wallet, and then--Jack was pulled back to reality as the man brought his cane down on Jack's shattered bone again, "YOU BROKE HIS FUCKING LEG, HE WALKS LIKE ME NOW, " The man hissed coldly as Jack screamed in agony, "So, now you do too, " Jack couldn't see for a while, tears staining his vision. Finally, he managed to look up. He wished he hadn't. He looked up from his shattered leg, and the first thing he saw was the pistol. The next, was the mans cold eyes. Those eyes...those cold gray eyes. Jack would never forget them. "You think I'm done?" The cold man snorted, "I don't play this game to get even, " He looked at Jack's mother for a moment, before looking back to Jack, leaving the pistol trained on her, "I do not like doing this you see, " The man seemed softer for a moment, but it was quickly covered back up under those cold eyes, "But I must send message. To you, and the other organizers. And your lowlife friends, " Jack watched helplessly as the man knelt before him now, cold eyes emotionless as he looked at Jack, "Yes..yes you will learn your lesson. More importantly, others will, " and with that, the man rose and walked to Jack's mother, still unconscious on the floor. Jack cried meekly as the man brought his cane down hard on her neck, shattering something. He brought it down again, this time on her head. The cane kept rising and falling as Jack looked away, not even able to process what was happening. He vaguely felt himself draw his pistol from behind him, and raise it to the mans chest. Cold tears fell from his cheeks as he picked his head up to look at the man, who was now turning back to face him. For some reason, it seemed like a movie. Jack tried to think of a witty one liner, but ended up fumbling, "My...mother," and he pulled the trigger, ears cracking from the shot in the small room, head falling as he saw the man before him fall to the ground beside his mother. Jack couldn't think. He couldn't feel. It was familiar, but cold, and he hated it. But it wouldn't leave him. It gripped his chest like Jack gripped the pistol in his hand. Jack didn't know how much time had passed. He didn't remember calling Joey, but he showed up, so he figured he must have. Joey basically carried him to the small truck, throwing the dead mans cane in there with him. Thankfully, Joey had washed it. "You'll want it later, " is all he said. It took awhile for Jack to feel again, but when he did, he hated it more than the emptiness. His leg was shattered, it would never be the same. Worse yet was the pain he felt for the loss of his mother. The body on the ground being smashed by that cane. Jack looked down at it, sitting in the back room of the The Lost's club. It didn't have a crook, just a straight stick, but very solid. It was a straight black metal, with a shined dark metal wolf head sat upon it. Jack liked it. He felt connected with it, some sort of reminder. A reminder of his losses. A reminder that just when you think everything's ok, is when it will go to shit. So he kept it. Plus, it helped him walk around with his new limp. He didn't really need it, and he could hide his limp with a little pain, but he knew it would never go away. After a few months he'd tried running, and ended up falling on his ass, his leg seething in pain. Jogging was easier, but hurt like all Hell. Riding hurt, but he still enjoyed it.At first he couldn't shift gears, but he pushed through it. He didn't show it in front of the boys, but Joey and his pa knew how bad it was. They were the only two who knew what really happened, and they were worried. The organizers may not like eachother, but an attack on one meant they all had to send a message. So when Jack started feeling better, they made plans. There was a longterm deal going on with a pretty big gang down in a small country called Chernarus. They needed money, they had a surplus of guns. So the gang would ship them back to the states for Jack's gang to pick up, and send out all over. Things were apparently getting tense, so they needed to send someone out there. Jack was a perfect fit. He needed to get far away fast, and this was the best way to do it without losing his position. So Jack, Joey, and a few other from their crew got sent to the small country to help manage the shipments, and make sure it was going well. They'd stay there for a few years to stabilize the deal, or end it, and then come back to the states. That was the plan, anyway. WIP-graphics; story in Chernarus; proof reading/final touches-(A few days) Character Details WIP-strengths/weaknesses(see features for now), connections(allies, enemies, etc.), other details; graphics-(~1 week, after some time IG)
  7. About400Crows

    Rose! Troy!?

    Chris would change the frequency of his radio back as he leaves the tent, speaking quickly into the radio as he hits the PTT "Hope, it's Chris. I'm heading back to where we were staying. I had already gotten water when I saw you. I figured you were just thirsty. Chris sighs quickly, still trying to rub the blood off his shirt, before continuing "Right, I put a message out on our private comms for her, but I should be back where you guys are at within the hour. With any luck, Troy or her will have responded by then. Otherwise.. He would pause, trying to think of other options, seeing none, he sighs reluctantly "Someone has to find her." Chris would go to release the PTT but hesitates, guilt suddenly hitting him "I'm sorry I had to run off..but never mind that right now I guess. I'll be on the frequency you talked to Rose on the other day..and don't let Marcus get himself killed whatever you do." Chris would clip the radio to his vest and break off into a run, the adrenaline numbing his thoughts and pains
  8. *Angel would recognize the two's voices coming in over the radio as he listens for more news, sighing sadly, he hits the PTT* "It's Chris. I hope you're both alright. You seemed like you could take care of yourselves, but if you need anything, I'm still around the area I last saw you. Just shout on this frequency if you need anything, I'll come as soon as I'm available." *Angel would release the PTT, going back to sit against the tree, tired and stressed*
  9. - User has been cautioned for this post -
  10. *Angel would look up from his campfire. You may notice he looks frustrated when he presses the PTT* "Don't know if you guys heard through your cock fight, but there's some news going on on this freq. On top of that, a little girl and boy are trying to figure out whether or not they're safe. In case you don't catch my meaning, there's more important shit going on than you're cock fight. *Angel would release the PTT, setting the radio down nearby to listen for more news, and start to organize his medical supplies*
  11. *Angel would sit up in the tent and look over at the wounded, sleeping man, before pressing the PTT." "We're alright now, I was a EMT before the outbreak. The man was lucky I ran into his brother when I did. *Angel pauses as he thinks about what would have happened without medical treatment* "But I think he'll be alright, thanks to everyone who helped out back in Stary. If you are in the area, just be on the lookout for the group of men." *Angel would release the PTT before looking over at the sleeping man, and stepping out of the tent.*
  12. *Angel would sit down in the tent, looking out at the wounded man by the fire. Sighing, he presses the PTT, and speaks into his radio scratchily* "This is a notice for anyone in the Novy Sobor area, particularly Anarchy. A group of men wearing pink armbands recently attacked a man in the woods outside of Noby. He was knocked unconcious, and when he woke up they interoggated him about where the other members of his group were. They fuckin-" *Angel would choke up a little bit before breathing to calm himself down* "They burned half his face, and made the poor man lose an eye. Smashed his legs, damaging one to the point where it'll be a miracle if he ever fully recovers. We don't even know why they did this. I was with his brother when we found him like that. The kid was like 15, and he had to see his brother like that!" *Angel would clench his fists, getting to the point* "The point of this message is to warn everyone of these men in the area, and to hopefully get Anarchy's attention about it. According to the man, there were about 8 men with armbands. If anyone knows anything about the group, please let us know." *The broadcast ends abruptly, as Anthony would look back out at the wounded man. Picking up a fresh bandage for his face, he releases the PTT*
  13. Weak Beginnings Alexander Roth had fallen in love with the small nation of Chernarus the moment he had set foot there on a humanitarian mission. The scenery, culture, and people had his heart from the very beginning. It was only fitting that a short two years later he had moved to the country, and shortly after fallen in love with the daughter of a farmer named Ada. They married, and after just another year they gave birth to twins on. On April 15, 1994, a boy, who Alexander insisted be named Chris after his father, and a girl Ada decided to name Ida were born into the world. From the beginning, the young couple struggled to support the family. Weak harvests had caused prices for basic goods to go up, and the family quickly became impoverished. Despite this, Chris and Ada had been happy. They spent their young days playing in the fields together, oblivious to their parents arguments inside the house. It was the day after the twins tenth birthday that they would discover how hard times were. Chris and Ada were playing hide and seek upstairs in the attic of the small cottage when they heard their parents talking to their Uncle Joey and Aunt Melissa from America. Ada had decided to sneak downstairs and spy on them for fun. "You know it's for the best, and we can come over in a few years and actually give them have a good life," Alexander was telling Ida, "I like it even less than you do,". "I have no love for your country Alexander, not like you do. I can agree this is no life for them, but I can't say this is no life for me." The Better Life Two weeks later Chris and his sister were heading back to America with their aunt and uncle. It was a sad trip, despite Joey and Melissa's best efforts. They were good people. They tried their best with those two kids, treated them like their own. They lived in NYC, but had gotten a large apartment to accommodate the twins. It did little to bring them joy, they missed their fields and ponds. Due to their lack of interest in much else, both Chris and Ida excelled in their classes. Chris had learned English, and tried his best to lose his accent to fit in. Ida on the other hand, had hardly done more than the bare minimum when it came to learning English. She held onto her accent on purpose, trying hard to hold onto the last piece of her home. Despite their differences, the twins still had each other. They had their aunt and uncle as well of course, but they could never get the kids to open up with them all the way. There was a bond between them, that all siblings had, that had been strengthened by this change. They grew closer as they were in highschool, never leaving the other out of anything. Ida would tell Chris about the boys she liked, and Chris always introduced Ida to his girlfriends. Despite being twins, Ida had always looked to Chris with a certain respect, and Chris would look to Ida with care and worry. Chris helped her with everything, but in return, she helped him through many hard times by just being there. More than she could ever know. Back in Chernarus, Alexander and Ada kept hitting wall after wall with coming to America. Money issues, visa problems, and their own stubborn heads kept getting in the way. It was getting harder and harder to make it to America, despite their efforts. The parents began losing hope and getting desperate. As a result, they neglected basic necessities. Their harvests got weaker and weaker, just as their hearts did. The siblings had just graduated highschool. They of course stayed in contact with their parents; Skype, phone, however they could. They could see them growing weaker and weaker, and it crushed them. They wanted to go back to them, but their parents insisted they finish schooling at least. The twins relented, and for the first time went their separate ways. Chris off to EMT training, and Ida off to become an RN. A Broken Soul Several years passed, and eventually Chris was a certified Paramedic, and Ida was an established nurse. Chris had worried about Ida, but she could obviously take care of herself, as she told hem every time they spoke on the phone. It didn't take long for Chris and Ida to start talking about going back to their parents. They were planning the trip, but their was obvious tension. Chris wanted to come back with their parents to America. He grew to like it in the states, and had heard of everything happening in Chernarus. He was worried for his parents, and selfishly, he just wanted to come back regardless. Ida of course, wanted to stay in the country. She still felt like it was home, it was where she had her best memories, and she wanted to be apart of the culture and people. They didn't discuss this, as they both knew it was up to their parents. Ultimately, it didn't matter. Chris got the call in the middle of the night. He was on shift, drinking his coffee. "Ida, he-" "Chris, it's mother, we need to leave. As soon as we can" In Chernarus, their mother was in the doctors office. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer while they were in schooling, and kept it from the kids. She wanted them to finish schooling, and she knew they would have rushed back if they knew. Then it would have all been for nothing. By the time the kids arrived, she was a broken woman. She spoke, but her words meant nothing. Between her own aging mind and the medication, she could hardly stay focused on reality. The woman the kids saw was hardly even their mother anymore, no matter how much she looked like it. The two felt broken, defeated, and Chris blamed himself. This had come out of nowhere, but he felt he should have seen the signs, insisted on returning after high school. Their father, beaten and heartbroken as well, needed them. So they stayed. Even after the woman who had been there mother passed. Not even speaking of leaving. They took care of the old man, did everything they could for him. A Broken World The news was getting worse and worse. Tensions on the border, open rioting. They never saw the real threat coming. The family had stayed in the small farmhouse, despite Chris' worries. He had no real argument to get them to change their minds. It didn't take long for things to get even worse, rumors of some sickness in the North, fears of Russian invasion. That was the last news they got to see before they had to sell the tv. They began to see refugees on the small empty road outside. After they saw enough, they decided to head to the city as well. They were getting close to the checkpoint when they ran into the amassed crowd of refugees. "What's happening?" "Let us in!" "Fuckin' military!" The shouts were getting louder and louder. It became abundantly clear they weren't getting in that day. "Let's find somewhere safe for the night," The last words Chris got to say to his family. "On the right!" "Get men to the perimeter, and the civis back!" Gunshots rang off to Chris' left, and screams of panic ran through the crowd. The mob became one giant hive mind, reacting to each others emotions, screaming without knowing why, running in directions without thinking. Chris was caught up in it for awhile before snapping to pull Ida along. She wasn't there. Her and his father had been lost in the giant crowd, being pulled in a separate direction from the young man. Chris shouted for them, but he sounded like a hundred others shouting for family. Just another insignificant lost man in an unimportant mass of people. He pushed his way out of the crowd, before gathering his bearings. He could see the city still, though the shots kept ringing in his ears. He knew where Ida would go. He hoped. He made his way back towards the farmhouse. Shouting for Ida and his father. They weren't there. They never showed. Not even when he waited for days. He couldn't wait longer. The...things were showing up outside his door now. He knew he couldn't stay. So he left. Tears streaming down his cheeks, wondering what the hell was happening. Just like hundreds of others. Hardly a Life It had been several months of hard, lonely, nothing in the woods before he worked up the courage-well, the appetite-to go into a town. The..infected, he supposed, had begun to thin out in the small towns. He was getting braver, sneaking around the infected to gather supplies. Or maybe he was getting dumber. An infected had turned and spotted him, charging him in the street. Chris fumbled with his axe, clutching it tight in his white knuckles. Instincts are a strange thing. They kick in when you think there's nothing left. When you know you're doomed. As the infected charged towards Chris, he had stopped thinking. The next thing he knew, the axe was embedded in the infected's head. He had swung the axe in a hard overhead arc, hitting it just as it came into the axes reach. Chris yanked the axe out of the things head, vomiting sour bile onto the cement of the empty road. He managed to convince himself they weren't human anymore. He had to. He couldn't stand the thought of killing a person like that. So they were animals now. It became easier each time. He stopped blacking out as it happened, and after days of killing dozens of infected it became nothing more to him than a necessity. A week had passed when he finally saw his first person. And he wasn't happy about it. The man he saw was lying against the wall of a small shack, clutching a wound in his side. An infected lay next to him, a machete embedded in its face. Chris stalked over to the man, wary of him. He knew what desperation can do to people. "Please," The man croaked, eyeing Chris' water bottle. Chris handed it to the man, checking the mans wound. It was getting infected, by the looks of it. It wreaked and had puss oozing out of it. As the man drank gratefully, Chris took out his pack of medical supplies he'd gathered. He looked the man in the eyes, noting the hardness in them. "I'm sorry," Chris breathed The mans hardness shattered. His eyes fell, tears in them. "Me...me too," He struggled to get out. Chris left the man with as much as he could to ease his suffering. He couldn't stay, the man knew it too. So he sent Chris on his way, wiping his bloodied hands on his pants," But Chris finally knew something. He finally had a reason to stay alive, that he couldn't find before. The same reason he had before. He had to help people. And, by God, he hoped to find Ida and his father.
  14. Still can't believe that happened lmao, shit hit the fan after that
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