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The human population dwindles against the ever amassing horde of demons. |
| [Introduction] February 29, 2016 They rose from the depths of the earth as the ground shuddered open in large, cracking crevices. Many lives were lost as the world shifted for they fell into the gaping wounds. Those who had survived the earthquakes were relieved at first, until they were faced with the monsters that crawled up the cliff walls and begin walking among them. It was a massacre. The humans were unprepared for such an onslaught of violence. The monsters were demons, born again from the dead; craving flesh and fear. Bullets could wound, knives could cut, but it took a lot to kill something that was already dead. Small surviving communities have banded together in the states, armed to the teeth, hoping to outlive the monsters that hunt them. Others patrol the roads, looking for the creatures, to exterminate them. Demons: Most are loners, traveling along the roads and killing those they find. They are nomads with no destination or illusions of power. Tricksters that play, for the most part, harmless pranks. They can take your wallet and your watch without you knowing. They can cut your brake line if they are feeling angry or they can even drop items into the gas tank if it isn't locked. A possessor will sink into the mind of its victim and can take over the body as it wills. It can only be destroyed in its true form, it has to be exorcised first. Those who travel in packs for protection are known to be led by an overlord. They have dreams of power and look to band their race together to conquer. A demon-dead is a demon, in human form. They struggle with their inner call to evil, but fight against their own kind. Knowing somewhere and somehow they will be judged for their actions. Characters: Slate (filled)- A blonde haired, blue eyed female who is tall and lean. The times call for strength and she can handle her own. She is quiet and reserved, presiding over the group as leader. She maintains her own weapons: two Smith and Wesson model 29 .44 caliber magnum revolvers, One pistol crossbow which hangs on her left thigh, and a large silver cross, ornate in design with a blade for the tip. Benjamin (filled) - Dark haired with green eyes. Ben is demon-dead and struggles with the decisions he makes. He feeds on the demons that they hunt and kill to keep himself from feeding on humans. He carries with him only a small cross on a chain around his neck. It burns his skin when it comes in contact with it, so he regularly wears it above his shirt. He is known to be somewhat twitchy when he hasn't fed in a while and has been known to temporarily lose control of himself and attack humans. Angel- A shorter woman, in her early twenties, with dark, short pixie hair. Her eyes are a deep brown. She carries with her a sawed off shotgun and a backpacked flame thrower. She isn't tall but makes up for it in power. She wears a charm bracelet on her left wrist, with crosses dangling. Foul mouthed and angry, Angel doesn't think twice about killing and will most often look to kill those who stand in her way, even if they are human. Luke- Tall, blonde, and handsome. Luke carries, for protection and hunting, one FN F2000 assault rifle with an attached grenade launcher. He has several knives hidden on his body for easy access. He carries extra clips in his small backpack that he keeps with him at all times. He is funny and outspoken, but when provoked can be quite intimidating. Moracai- An overlord for a local community of demons. He is fierce and cruel. He wishes to spread his power further, calling other demons to his side. He doesn't handle treachery and will kill without provocation. His eyes are bottomless pools of black ink, framed by a beautiful face. He looks human, but in true form is a huge beast. Damien- Moracai's right hand demon. He rarely shapes into human form, instead choosing to go about his day in true form. He has wings that span twelve feet combined, with claw like fingers. He hunts and does his overlords bidding, but remains somewhat independent. Sometimes he harbors ill will towards his overlord, hoping and wishing for the day he can take control. Other characters can be created once these are filled at my discretion. Until they are all filled, these first positions must be taken. Please message me if you are interested in playing a character. Do not forget to include who you would like to write. Please BOLD and center your characters name at the beginning of the post. 
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Slate The sky was a sick purple like darkness itself was starting to bruise. Claws of lightening arced across the sky, followed by deafening booms of shuddering noise. There was a heaviness in the air that clung to the skin, hot and wet. It was as if, at any minute, the sky would open up and release a violent shower of rain, but it wouldn’t. It hadn’t in two years. A crimson haze had settled in the air leaving sight limited. The headlights cut through the mist for only several yards, lighting a short path down the dilapidated interstate. Here and there were darkened spots of pavement where blood had pooled and dried, leaving behind the ghost of violence. They passed a tattered road sign, graffiti painted on the parts still standing. If you cared to stop and look you could still see the faint white letters beneath the dirt and rust. Welcome to Florida. They had the windows rolled down on the truck, letting the sweltering air pass over their skin. Running the air conditioner meant the use of more gasoline and it was a scarce and expensive commodity nowadays. Benjamin sat in the passenger seat, his head hanging out of the window like a dog. His dark green eyes met Slate's from across the expanse of the cab. She managed a smile, tight and grim faced. He shook his head in response; there wasn’t much to smile about anymore. In twenty thirteen everyone had been worried about the zombie apocalypse. There had been jokes about supernatural viruses and vaccinations, even blood bath movies and horror flicks had been made to cash in on the latest fear of the human race. Even the dreaded day in twenty twelve had passed without a hitch, a mere bump of panic in the road. They had been too busy spending money and fearing what would never happen that they ignored the real problem. It was no wonder that the human population had nearly been eradicated when the sky darkened from the solar eclipse that February afternoon. Slate's grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles splotched with white as they entered further into Florida. Normally they refused to travel so far into their territory, but the call had come in from a good friend of hers. In all actuality, they weren’t friends, but she owed him one. Benjamin pointed to an exit sign, hanging by a tether of broken metal, upside down. It read sixty six, but in reality it was ninety nine and she pulled off the interstate. The land around them was barren, the crops and plant life had shriveled up and died from lack of rain and healthy air. Even for humans, the air was thick with methane gas and could be lethal if one wasn’t careful. The buildings, as they drove down the road, were sorry husks of their former selves. Broken windows were dusted with the blood of those killed inside, bricks were chipped and dislodged from place, and signs were torn and faded from the lack of care. It was a sad sight and it made her chest hurt. She swallowed hard, dislodging the sadness that seemed to float in the air. Benjamin was watching her closely; she could feel his eyes boring into the side of her skull. “Where the fuck are we going?” Angel asked from the back seat. She snapped her gum in question and Slate was tempted to reach back and take it from her somewhat open mouth. She gripped the steering wheel harder. Angel was an interesting character, indeed, but she was quick and tough. Slate could deal with her attitude on most occasions. “Manny called in his favor,” was all Slate said. It was enough. Angel huffed and turned towards the window. Then in a small voice Angel whispered softly, “I’ve never been this far into hell.” Slate had been further. But it had been a long journey and she had nearly died. She spotted the sniper on the roof, his gun trained on the vehicle. She waved her arm out the open window of the Ram 3500, hoping they would take that as a friendly sign. They pulled the gun back from sighting and Slate felt a little relieved. She stopped the car in front of the house and pulled out the keys. It normally didn’t matter if keys were left in a car, but here people were antsy and they wouldn’t think twice about stealing their transportation. Slate's people had spent long hours stripping away the luxuries of the vehicle and outfitting it for death. She didn’t want to lose it. They walked quietly up to the white building, up the small creaking steps of the front and knocked twice. A gruff old man answered the door and looked her over. Slate felt the cool steel of a gun pressed between her breasts. She didn’t look down. One couldn’t afford to show fear in this place. His voice was just as scratched as he looked, “What do you want?” A screeched filled the hot air and carried. He looked pained. His dark eyes flinching. His Mexican complexion was dark and aged; his skin looked like he was cracking. His dark hair was peppered with white. Slate replied casually, her tone a little tight, “Manny called me.” His eyes softened and he opened the door. He eyed us all, his gaze lingering over Benjamin. Slate swallowed then. If the man felt threatened by Benjamin or asked about him, it was possible that Ben wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. The cross that Ben wore on top of his shirt was a rouse. It burned him if he touched it, but it provided a small smokescreen against others. A demon wouldn’t dare wear a cross. The man led us toward a backroom where the shrieks and cries were growing louder and then would quiet. He pushed open the door without a sound and Slate took in the surroundings. A small girl of six, maybe, seven years old, lay tied to the bed. Her wrists and ankles were bruised and blistered from wrenching against the binds. Her dark hair was slick with perspiration and her skin glistened from it. Her eyes were blood shot and dilated. “Fuck.” Angel could be so eloquent at times. Slate turned to the old man, her grandfather perhaps, “How long has she been possessed?” He chewed on the side of his mouth for a moment, “Three, maybe four days.” “You aren’t sure?” she asked. A twenty four hour period was important when it came to possessions. If the demon took root in the body and mind, the body could only fight for a little while. One couldn’t exorcise a demon if there was no human soul left to save. He turned and spoke Spanish to the lady in the corner. Slate had noticed her upon entry but had dismissed her as unimportant. She was chewing on her finger; blood ran down the side of her thumb where she had peeled skin away. Slate steeled my heart. One couldn’t start to feel sorry for anyone; a demon could smell that indecision. That fear, that caring. It could turn it against one and make them mad with it. She answered and he nodded, “Four days.” Slate turned her attention back to the girl. The girl glared at her with knowing eyes, but whose eyes were they? The girl grinned and cackled, “She’s dead. You should just free me and let me go. There’s no use saving this one.” “Shut up you motherfucker,” Angel said, reaching down to touch the girl’s foot. Her bracelet slid along the girl’s skin. The demon howled. The girl’s mouth formed the O, but the noise was otherworldly and angry. Slate looked at the man, “What is her name?” “Elisabeth.” “You’ll need to leave us alone in here,” Slate informed him. He took a moment, taking her in again. “What will you do?” Slate knew he wanted no false hopes, it wasn’t as if she provided any anyways, “We need to figure out if Elisabeth is still alive. If she is we will try our best to exorcise the demon…” “She’s dead. Lisa’s dead. Nah nah nah nah nah!” “If she’s dead, then we will kill the demon,” Slate continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. Demons hating being ignored, especially possessors. They thrived on attention. It shrieked at her in anger. The man’s eyes misted a moment and looked back at the girl on the bed. The demon shifted its face, “Grand Papa. Don’t leave me here with them. They’ll kill me Papa.” “Elisabeth…” his breath came in a quick rasp and he reached out to touch her cheek. Benjamin reached out to stop him, but was too slow. The demon sank Elisabeth’s teeth into her grandfather’s arm and the man screamed. Benjamin wrapped his hand around the girl’s small chin, squeezing between the teeth, getting the demon to release its hold. The man came back, with teeth marks and blood. Slate touched his shoulder as he whimpered over the deep wound, “We need to be alone with it, sir. Take yourself and your daughter out. Do not come in here, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?” His eyes were glazed with pain but he nodded, taking his daughter out with him, shutting the door behind them. Angel locked it and they faced the demon together. It laughed manically. “Save her if you can, humans.” |
Benjamin Benjamin clamped his fingers tightly and kept hold slightly longer than needed. He forced the tiny head to look into his own face as the others left the room, leaving their party alone with the creature. He watched as the girl's face reflected a familiarity, something ancient swirling behind those once-innocent eyes. This one had a deep hold within the body and he considered momentarily giving the neck of the child a quick jerk to end her suffering and end the entity within her. A common trick to possess a child; pathetic and cheap. He tore his eyes away and eased his grip, stepping back from the child and glancing towards Slate, who had watched his examination. He brushed his fingers lightly against the small symbol which hung around his neck, his fingertips sizzling quietly. "Extraction may kill the child," he stated blankly. Mercy had always been a confusing topic for him. Is it better to end suffering humanely or attempt to save the life which could ultimately tear the human soul in two? Either way, he was famished. He needed to feed, no matter who the victim. He tilted his head respectively to Slate as to say it's your call and headed towards the back wall, removing himself from the immediate area to allow a circle to be drawn. |
Slate “If there’s anything left, we have to try,” Slate responded, her eyes watching Benjamin. Ben was good at figuring out if a soul could be saved. If he was worried, it was possible that the child was already dead. But they would try. The demon laughed, a shrill noise, as if it was exceeding the decibels provided by the girls voice box, “You’ll end up killing her. It’s no use.” Angel pulled a small army knife out of her pocket and sliced up the girls night clothes. The pink nightgown seemed to strain as it was cut, peeling apart. Beneath her clothes she was wearing a diaper that looked too tight. Slate noted that they had probably found a diaper for her so that her excrement and urine wouldn’t make such a mess. Her body was so little and strained at the bonds. Slate reached down and touched the girls arm as Angel finished removing the clothes. Slate’s eyes flicked up towards Benjamin. He stood against the wall. Once the circle was made, Ben wouldn’t be able to enter. She noticed how pale he looked. She had asked him not to feed, he was oddly stronger when he needed to feed. Perhaps it was survival instinct that provided the extra oomph of power. “Purify the area, Angel.” Slate’s eyes locked with the demon as it snarled and bucked on the bed. The girl’s body was beginning to look emaciated. How long had it been since she had eaten? Four days of being possessed? Those who became possessed didn’t feel well before hand as if their body knew what was going to happen. It was a phenomenon that Slate wasn’t exactly educated on. Angel began purifying the area with salt and holy water. Slate went to stand at the end of the bed. She felt like she was burning up in her clothes. She wore a black leotard, torn at the front with long tight jeans. Over her tucked in jeans she wore black boots that zipped up on the side. It might seem impractical in the heat, but all clothing pieces were close to her body and wouldn’t easily snag on demon fingers or teeth. She wore a black double magnum holster that held her two revolvers. Her pistol crossbow hung on her left hip and in her right boot was a long, silver cross with the tip as a blade. When the circle was purified, Angel moved towards the bed, the vial in her hand, prepared to sprinkle it on the body as needed. Slate climbed onto the bed, her black boots contrasting with the pink bed spread. This was the hardest part. Slate pulled the heavy cross from her boot and held it out as she knelt, straddling the body. She pressed it into the chest of the girl and her flesh sizzled. It would leave a scar, but if the girl survived she would have more emotional scars to deal with than worrying about a physical flaw. The demon screamed and spit at Slate, a gob of mucus stuck to her cheek. Slate grimaced and wiped it away with her shoulder. She than began chanting in the ancient language, her tongue and mouth working without real thought as the words flowed out of her. An exorcism wasn’t the same as the old days, a demon couldn’t be beaten back with threats of God and Jesus, they only shrunk away from ancient power. An exorcist was now someone who spoke the ancient language and could channel the power properly. Many had died from an exorcism gone wrong, Slate had only lost two through fault of her own. Angel joined in, echoing her words. A resounding backboard of noise. Slate couldn’t see him, but knew that Benjamin was backed against the wall. It impressed her that he remained in the room for the exorcisms as the power seeped through the circle. But he would stay and then he could feed on the demon if they got it out. The demon rolled and jerked, the girl’s eyes were wild with pain and delirium. Slate never let her gaze go. Was she still alive? There. A flicker! Slate grinned and pressed harder with the cross, her voice picking up a booming power as she demanded in the ancient language that the demon leave the body of the female and seek shelter elsewhere. It took some time but the girl’s body began to still and her eyes began to brighten with tears. Demon’s don’t cry. It launched itself in a mist out of Elisabeth’s body and slammed into Slate. She fell backwards, feeling the pain in her left shoulder. The cross fell to the bed. “God dammit! That bitch is quick,” Angel was pulling out her sawed off shotgun, aiming at the dark mist as it hardened and took form. The demon, in true form, was little with small pterodactyl like wings. His face was smashed like a pug, his eyes darker than black. He had fangs and he was licking his lips, tasting her blood. Slate pressed a hand against her wound and looked at Benjamin who watched the demon with a hunger. Angel aimed the shotgun, “Move and I’ll blow your fucking head off.” The demon cackled and dashed towards the shut door. Angel’s gunshot resonated in the small room, puncturing a hole in the wall. Slate pointed at the hole, “Dammit Angel!” Benjamin looked at Slate, his eyes questioning. Her reply, “Go get the bastard, Ben.” |
Benjamin The interesting thing about hunger is how it strengthens the body through desperation. Benjamin's face twisted into a cruel grin as he lunged forward and followed the demon out the door, the power of the blow taking it off it's hinges. His skin began to tear and peel at the seams as he moved. He was far too hungry to keep up his complete human form much longer, especially when faced with a meal, but he struggled momentarily to keep hold of the glamor. Shifting was no difficult task for him like it was for some others. Those too physically weak to survive in their true form often slunk into the bodies of weaker-minded mortals, taking advantage of confusion or sadness and pushing hard on the doorway into their subconscious. Once comfortable inside a host, however, digging deep and gaining complete control of a human was easy. Benjamin had strengths possessors did not, which made them easy targets for him if Slate managed to force it from it's host. Benjamin's eyes widened, his pupils expanding many times past their original human size in order to catch every detail of movement around him. A red haze surrounded him as he chased, inhibiting onlookers vision so they are unable to entirely make out his appearance which was quickly looking less human with each passing second. He let out a frustrated, otherworldly shriek as his prey broke off the main hallway and crashed through a door which opened up into a small group of people in another room. He watched it pause and scan the humans, a pause far too quick for the human eye to perceive, but Benjamin did not hesitate to plow through the humans and reach out to clasp his long fingers around the wing of his prey, the brittle bones snapping in his grasp. A triumphant growl escaped his throat as he wrapped his other hand around the demons throat and squeezed. Before giving the humans around him the chance to react, ultimately attacking him, Benjamin chose to step through a rift before his blood lust got the better of him. Dragging the screaming meal with him, he vanished from the visible world the humans depended on so much and rematerialized outside of the human field of vision. His form was now completely shed and his pearly, almost transparent skin stretched tightly over his sinewy muscle. He was built for speed, his long musculature formed for the chase. He was taller here also. Extending his limbs to their full length, he let out a relieved groan. Despite his internal battles and mixed opinions of the destruction his kind was bringing upon the human world, he felt at home on this side. He could not stay long though, for the others would sense his presence quickly here. Tearing away at the flesh within his hands, he fed. His long awaited meal satisfying his hunger and immediately causing him to feel tired and relaxed, as though he could sleep for days. He tossed the carcass aside, no longer craving flesh but now breathing deep more easily controlled predatory drives. His pupils narrowed as he gazed through the thin lining that parted their worlds, spotting Slate and the others gathered around the young child. His eyes rested on the tall woman and he watched her unabashedly for a long moment. She turned and looked his way, not seeing but feeling his gaze. His lips curled into a smile before he stepped back into her world, allowing his true form to be disguised once again, and setting his features to the calm and serene expression that was less intimidating for her kind. |
Slate Slate felt Benjamin shimmer back into the room. To those not looking, it would seem as if he had just come back through the door, but she knew better. She had been taken to the other side before and had come back scarred. It amazed her how the demons had decided to launch their attack against the human race. Thoughts were that they had gained entrance to the Earth when the quakes had sundered it open, but Slate knew the truth. Some slept in the darkness provided by the cliff rocks, caves being formed daily; but most dissipated into the other world that paralleled theirs. It was like a one way mirror and sometimes that made Slate twitch. Elisabeth was crying, wrapped in her grandfather’s arms. No one seemed to care about the second degree burn on her chest. She seemed oblivious at the moment but Angel was explaining to the grandfather what medication needed to be taken to help with healing. They had just pulled the girl from the brink of death. Slate nodded at Angel and Benjamin to head out of the room. It startled her when Elisabeth took her hand and squeezed hard. Slate’s head jerked and met the girl’s eyes once again. Her voice was raspy and broken from being used poorly, “They’re coming for you.” Slate shuddered at the warning, but knew better than to dispute her truth. She managed to get her hand free and started from the room, “They always have been.” They were silent until they got into the car. It wasn’t until they were barreling down the interstate out of Florida did Angel lean the front seat back and prop her feet on the dash. She placed both arms under her head in a relaxed position. Benjamin had curled up in the backseat. Slate could see him in the rear view. When he slept, his glamour shimmered. Most demons could only sleep in true form. Benjamin was very talented. Sometimes she almost forgot that he was demon dead. Almost. Even now she could smell the copper of blood in the air. Demon’s blood smelt so different than human’s. She returned her attention back to the drive. They were hurtling at a high speed, ninety five or so, back towards the safety of the state line. Looking into the rear view mirror Slate sighed, “We’ve got a tracker.” Angel grinned and removed her seatbelt. She crawled through the backseat, stepping on Benjamin’s side as she climbed through the sliding back window into the bed of the truck. She wrapped a belt around her waist, locked in the chest buckles and hooked herself to the bed of the truck. She was steady now as she approached the mounted Gatling mini gun. She fed a chain of bullets into the high powered machine gun and aimed. The tracker was a flyer. Its wings spanned eight feet, maybe. She smiled and waited as it flew closer. Slate wasn’t sure how they had picked him up. She wondered if the demon had smelled Benjamin in his sleeping state. She wondered if their senses were really that strong. She would have to ask Ben when he woke up. She kept the truck steady, worried about wasting ammunition if she jerked the truck and Angel missed. She checked her rear view again and felt a tickle of a smile. Angel opened fire on the demon when it was near enough. She didn’t aim for its body; instead she fired the bullets into its right wing. They would be lucky if the bullets killed the demon, but if they could disable it, the demon wouldn’t be able to track them anymore. It screamed in rage and dove towards the truck, tucking its wings into its body. Slate swerved the truck as the demon rolled on the pavement after missing, barely. Angel lifted her shotgun up at the claw reached up over the bed of the truck. Slate could see from her side view mirror that the demon was pulling itself up from the grating pavement. Angel aimed and when the demon poked its head over the edge, hissing. She fired. His skull shattered at such a range and the body fell. Watching for a moment if the bastard was going to regenerate, Angel stood, the wind whipping at her hair. She finally climbed back into the truck, stepping once again on Benjamin. When she settled back in the front seat she shoved a piece of gum into her mouth, “That bastard will sleep through anything.” “Be nice Angel,” Slate responded, “It’s not like you haven’t slept through important things.” Angel huffed and looked back out the window. Slate let her gaze slide across the cab to look at the girl. Angel was two years younger than her, but she was attractive. Angel’s hair was pixie short and spiked, if she could get it to stay that way. Her eyes were dark brown and full, surrounded by long lashes. Slate was near opposite. Light where Angel was dark. Slate was tall even without her boots, but her blonde hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a piercing blue and could be quite intimidating when necessary. They continued their trip in near silence, the wind the only noise coming through the cab. It was starting to cool. Angel reached forward and flicked on the radio, it was mostly static, but sometimes one could pick up a survivor’s call. They never found anyone alive, but I wasn’t going to argue with Angel. For a while it was nothing but then Angel jerked forward in her seat, “Listen!” Slate rolled up the windows and turned up the radio. Static rolled through the cab followed by faint noise. As we drove further we heard the emergency message, “They’ve taken…need help…survivors…” Angel’s eyes locked with Slates, “They need help.” “You don’t know how old that message is Angel. They could all be dead by now,” Slate argued. Angel’s gaze was fierce and Slate had to look away first to keep her eye on the road. She remembered that Angel had been found after a signal like that, the only survivor. She looked at the short woman again, wondering if she’d give up. Was it worth their lives to save a single one? Slate sighed. They did that everyday anyways. She turned off the interstate near the edge of the state line and swung the truck back around. They’d make it to the town in less than fifteen. Angel grinned with anger and settled into the seat. Slate’s stomach was rolling when they pulled into the town. The radio signal loud and clear, no static there. It was quiet. Slate reached back and rocked Benjamin, “Ben. Wake up.” Anyone else asking him to wake up would be met with a still sleeping demon, but for some reason he responded to Slate’s words. He looked groggy when he sat up, but he was awake at least. Once he had gained his surroundings he frowned. “We picked up a broadcast.” Slate swung the truck around and parked it. She left the keys in the ignition, but not running. Demons couldn’t operate a vehicle. Those in true form couldn’t handle the turning of the keys. This way was easy to get out and Angel could always climb up into the back to take a hold of the machine gun. They exited the truck and Slate drew both magnum revolvers. Angel leveled her shotgun while Benjamin took point. He moved with grace, like a cat stalking prey. They followed after him. |
Benjamin No longer driven by hunger, self control came easier. He turned his gaze towards the two women who followed close behind him. He smiled with long practice of how to soften his features, attempting to instill trust and calm in those around him. Angel was far too distracted to take notice, her chewing gum shoved into her cheek and her sawed off held at ready. "Far too eager," he said to her quietly, but continued forward, allowing her the security she seemed to feel when weapons were drawn. Lifting his nose to the air, he breathed deep his surroundings as he walked, attempting to pick up single scents in the heavy air. The large underground parking garage before them was dark and foreboding. The shops along the streets empty, the windows broken, glass shards littered the pavement. He felt as though he was being watched, but did not feel the presence of his brethren. He stopped moving and looked to Slate. "For the moment, we are safe but we are in the sights of a weapon." In a smooth motion, he lifted his arm through the air and pointed towards a hidden lookout above them in the distance. Benjamin turned his eyes away from the survivor and dropped his arm again, feeling as though he'd just done wrong by pointing him out so bluntly. He often forgot how intimidated males became around him which could quickly morph into anger or jealousy. These human emotions are so sensitive, he thought. Luke The man in the distance lowered his weapon and stepped out from behind his hide, his shoulders broad and square. He was curious about those who skirted his territory. Through his scope, he had studied the three and was quite sure they were not hunting him. Two women and a rather interesting man who seemed to take the lead yet he repeatedly looked to the tall blond for direction. Perhaps they'd received Nathan's message... was it still broadcasting? He pulled his eyes away from his company and looked towards the tower, wondering. Without a doubt, he was the last in this area. He would have to ask these newcomers. A message like that would now only act as a lure, bringing humans to the area in hopes of finding survivors, only to meet the beasts that lurked in the shadows. Looking back to the three people down below, he lifted his hand in a large arc in greeting. He did not dare to yell. Ducking beneath his hide, he was gone a few moments before appearing on level ground, walking towards the newcomers, his rifle swung over his shoulder. "I do not have much," he began. "but I will share my supplies with you." They did not appear needy, but he would much rather assume kindness than expect them to hold him at gun point and demand gasoline or ammunition. They would never find his larger stash if they tried. Let them take his smaller, more visible supply on the roof. He watched as the dark haired man studied him and then stepped aside, taking up a position a step behind the blond. "Ah... a bodyguard." Thrusting out his hand in greeting, his eyes flickered to each person around him. "You may call me Luke." |
Slate Slate watched the new man approach and hold out his hand. Was he human? She lifted a brow as her eyes scraped down his lean physique. He was built fine, gorgeous really, but a demon’s façade could be most anything. There were no indications that he wasn’t, in fact, human. She was just about to reach out and introduce herself when Angel took his hand, shaking it firmly. She looked outrageous up against Luke, being nearly two feet shorter than him. “Name’s Angel. Slate. Benjamin,” Angel spouted their names while she pointed. Slate felt a growing sense of anger. Sure, it was possible that Angel had also figured out that the man was human, but being careless with names could get somebody hurt. She felt Luke’s eyes upon her and she met them, her cool blue clashing with his gray. “Slate, huh?” She shrugged and then motioned towards the town, “Are there any other survivors?” She watched his face drop and he shook his head, “I’m the only one. But we shouldn’t stand here, they can be sneaky.” “You’re telling us,” Angel retorted and followed Luke out of the open into the door he had came from. The building was mangled, Slate noticed, but organized. They walked up to the second story of the building and found a multitude of items laid about, neatly. There were food rations locked in a cabinet. Weapons were locked in another cabinet but for now the chain was loose. Slate looked back at Luke giving him an approving stare. “We heard a broadcast,” Slate said, breaking the silence, “We came searching for survivors.” Luke’s face fell for a moment, “I hadn’t realized it was still up…” Slate looked out the window, her mind racing, “Who put it up?” “Nathan,” when Luke offered no more information she turned back to him, “Why are you still here?” Luke shrugged, rubbed the back of his head with his hand, “I couldn’t move without being attacked, it’s easier to hold them at bay from here. They come and go in waves mostly. I get nomads. But I don’t have a working vehicle. So I would be footin’ it.” Slate’s mouth formed a single ‘ah’ before turning back to look outside, “You are more than welcomed to come with us, unless you’d rather stay here.” Luke studied them all again, wondering. It had to be better than sleeping by himself with an eye open and the other man, he seemed odd but Slate trusted him. He could hold his own, but for how long? He would run out of ammunition eventually and food was getting scarce, “I could go.” Angel nodded, “Good choice.” “Angel,” Slate muttered softly, “We can head out then since we’re not familiar with the territory, but we have to shut that broadcast off first.” Luke nodded in agreement, “Let me gather some things first.” Slate nodded and motioned her head towards the door. Benjamin, Angel, and herself moved out into the doorway on the ground level. Angel was grinning, like she was proud of herself. “What is up with you?” Slate asked. Benjamin was eyeing her warily. “We found someone, Slate,” Angel seemed to shake a little. She reached down into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She placed it in her mouth but didn’t light it. It was an odd quirk but Slate didn’t mind. They had indeed found someone, but who was he? |
Benjamin Benjamin sized the man up. He noticed the hairs on Luke's forearms raise, and Benjamin quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere. The team worked together to load Luke's belongings into their vehicle. It seemed as though a small colony once occupied the building considering the amount of loot Luke had in his possession. They were shown the many hiding places where ammunition, non-perishable food stuffs, and building materials were kept. They took as much as they could fit into their vehicle, taking into consideration the addition of another body as well. The rest, they carefully re-hid and locked up for safe keeping. It was highly doubtful they would return to this area again in the future but they had the option to pass it's location on to trusted souls for retrieval or make a second trip back if they acquired a larger vehicle. A larger vehicle however, required more fuel, which Luke could not provide for them. Tack boxes now stuffed, spaces between and beneath the seats now showing hints of being filled with items, Benjamin looked to Slate who stood with her hands confidently on her hips, giving their supplies a final tally. He watched as her eyes flickered slightly, becoming aware of him, and finally turned her face to him. He enjoyed that she never questioned his attention of her but rather faced it fearlessly. He allowed his human face form a sleepy grin at her before lowering his head respectfully and waiting for the others to take their seats. Luke "The broadcast is coming from the tower there," Luke said, his large arm stretched out, pointing at the radio tower only a short distance away. "You can be sure it is swarming. If you'd rather not risk it..." He looked at the two women in his company. For a moment, he had forgotten it was they who rescued him. He was the damsel in distress here, not the rather intimidating survivors who now looked at him smugly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He laughed, the sound clear and resonating. "I am an idiot. Let's go." Climbing into the vehicle, he managed to squeeze his bulk into a comfortable position near Angel, noting that Benjamin took the passenger seat next to Slate, who, naturally, drove. The dark-haired man did not say much but his presence was no doubt valuable. He'd spotted Luke within moments and seemed to have a way about him that not only gave Luke the creeps but also commanded respect. As they drove, he watched curiously as Benjamin hung his head out the side window, seeming to be at peace while the wind whipped his hair. Slate had a firm grip on the wheel, her eyes focused in front of her. She seemed to be ready at any moment to dodge oncoming debris. Angel gave him a challenging look when he turned his head to study her... he grinned and looked away. The vehicle came to a slow stop before the radio station. Five floors. The four looked up. It would have been nice, if it was simply a small building with a short tower. "The control room is on the fourth floor. Nathan managed to get that across on our two way radio before..." "We're being watched." |
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