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Post by Alex Grey on Jul 20, 2010 8:41:06 GMT -5
The old motorways used to be hunting grounds for people like him. Back in his teens, when he was a Raider, the sight of the long stretches of empty road used to fill him with excitement. Back then, the motorways were full of chance an opportunity, not knowing what kind of luck you'd run into on a raid, unless the whole thing was planned and staged. Now, the place made him afraid. He couldn't remember the feeling of what it must have been like to lie low on long grass, gazing steadily along the barrel of a paintball gun as you lined up your sights on the neck of some unsuspecting Settler. The very thought of that made him shiver again and check his surroundings. This place used to be a good place for him. Now it gave him the creeps.
Would he be attacked? It was impossible to tell. He was born a Raider, raised a Raider. He had the tattoo on his shoulder to prove it. Maybe in the unlikely event that he was jumped by his own brothers, then he’d be safe. Maybe he’d be welcomed back with open arms, and a knuckle rub to the top of the head. Nah, don’t be silly Alex, he told himself. What are the chances of that happening? If he got raided out here, then he was on his own, regardless of his past. Uneasy, Alex turned in mid-step and began to walk backwards, raising a hand to his brow to block out the sunlight over head so he could see further down the road behind him. It wasn’t vehicles he was looking for; these strips of tarmac hadn’t seen a set of wheels in years, he was looking for movement. Maybe the tell-tale rustle of grass going against the breeze, a whisper on the air that wasn’t a breath of wind. He knew how to read the signs.
Turning back to face the direction in which he was going, Alex saw the shape of a service station up ahead. Unnerved by the eerie silence around him, he broke into a sprint towards it.
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Post by Mark Sanders on Jul 20, 2010 10:42:47 GMT -5
Mark sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair and looked out of a grimy window over the Motorway, he didn't know which one it was but then again no one really knew the old codes they used to be called: M1, M4, A2. No one really knew, unless you had access to an old road map and they were rare as hens teeth now-a-days.
He sat and ate a chunk of beef jerky from the batch he'd bought in a settler occupied village a few miles back. He'd been there on business, talking to the people and suggesting that they join the Enforcer cause. Admittedly this hadn't gone completely according to plan, they had declined but this was a first visit so he couldn't force them to do it or threaten them. He simply had to thank the village leader for his time and take his leave, after buying a few supplies as a courtesy for them housing him for a night.
He to another bite of the tough jerky and gazed out of the window. He had spent the night in an old service station and was currently sat in the fly-over tunnel that spanned above the Motorway. He put his feet up on another chair and relaxed a bit more, he would make a move back to York in a little while. He took another look out into the broad stretch of road, spanning on into the distance. He paused for a moment an stared harder out of the window, someone was walking along the road. On their own. This was either a very brave or foolish individual, or a trap. He decided to stay in his little tunnel/bridge thing and wait to see what he was dealing with.
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Post by Alex Grey on Jul 20, 2010 13:22:09 GMT -5
As he neared the service station, Alex began to slow.
He was not an especially brave man; most of the stuff he did was done in the name of other people who needed someone killed or a relative protected. Those things he did with the promise of money and proof of a deposit in his pocket. Many a man had been killed simply for a few pieces of stamped alloy and the happy jingle of them in his hands.
Glancing again over his shoulder, Alex could swear that someone was watching him. It was when he looked up to the fly-over tunnel suspended over the motorway. There, in the window, he saw someone, a man, watching him from the windows.
Alex didn't recognise the man. From where his watcher was positioned overhead, he was given the perfect vantage point from which to pick Alex off with a gun. Even the roof above the dried-up petrol pumps wouldn't offer secure cover. This theory was fairly solid, until Alex considered the plastic shatterproff windows that covered the tunnel. Not exactly the ideal gunning situation.
Nevertheless, Alex darted into the cool shade of the service station for what little cover it offered. he crouched beside one of the old petrol pumps and rummaged in his bag for a small knife he knew was there.
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Post by Mark Sanders on Jul 20, 2010 22:36:52 GMT -5
Mark watched as the person made a run for the petrol station, “if this were before the Fall” he thought “That would have been a bloody stupid place to take cover”. He took a swig from his bottle and then loaded up his gear, arming his Bean bag gun and equipping his riot shield. HE walked slowly towards the steps leading out of the bridge/tunnel/overpass and towards the individual who had run for cover, not taking his eyes off of the steps for a moment. For all he knew that person could be the bait to a Raider or Syndicate trap.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and worked his way towards the front door, staying low and keeping his eyes on the car park beyond the glass doors. His footsteps crunched where he stepped on the broken glass of an old shop, now completely ransacked. He couldn’t see the figure outside but he knew he/she was out there somewhere. He reached the door, took a deep breath and went out into the car park.
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Post by Alex Grey on Jul 21, 2010 18:32:51 GMT -5
Shrugging the bag onto his back again, Alex flipped the knife in his hand and leaned out from under the shelter to check if the man was still watching him. Alex frowned againt the sunlight, shaded his eyes. The man was nowhere to be seen. Alex frowned, his eyes darting along the tunnel that led to the other side of the road. The tunnel was clear, meaning he'd be able to see the man if he went that way, and it had been only a matter of seconds since Alex had last seen him, so he couldn't have already descended and vanished into the trees beyond. That meant that the man could only have gone the other way, towards him. Alex tried to creep out a little further, but the service station roof blocked his view of the tunnel.
Alex's ears caught the crunch of footsteps. It came from the bottom of the stairs at the nearest end of the tunnel. Alex darted back behind the nearest petrol tank again, putting a giant chunk of metal and pipes between him and the man who seemed to be watching him. There, he crouched, clutching the knife, hoping he remained unseen.
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Post by Mark Sanders on Jul 22, 2010 15:17:22 GMT -5
Mark stepped out into the sun light and scanned the area in front oof him. To his left was the petrol station and to his right was the carpark. The carpark had only one or two husks of cars that were emptied of all possible supplies, even the seats were missing. He figured that some one sooner or later would be coming along for the frame and what was left of the body work, come to think of it he may as well report it back to york when he gets a chance.
After a quick visual check of the carpark, he began to make a move towards the petrol station. If that person was still about then they would be hiding out there. He got about ten steps away from the pumps and stopped, shouldered his gun and called out. "Okay look, if you are still in there just come on out. I'm not in the mood for fighting so if theres a chance we can be peaceful about this then I'm all for it". He paused for a second then called out again "By the way, dont assume I won't fight you if you start aything. Ill take you down if I need to"
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Post by Anthony M. Steiner on Jul 22, 2010 20:56:35 GMT -5
Anthony welcomed the few hours of sunshine that had graced him lately. It had been drizzling nearly non-stop for nearly two days now. "Damn, the Carolinas have nothing on this part of God's green Earth. It's almost always wet," He thought quietly. He had never seen such a constant pissing of the sky. It was hardly of any real force, but it was just so constant. Luckily though, the clouds had moved further East and he had a chance to take in what ever warmth the sun could offer. Humid or not.
2 weeks. 2 weeks and 2 days actually since he found himself lying on an outcropping of blackish brown rock on the shore of Great Britain. "Welcome to our wet, cold, God forsaken patch of ground," is what a settler had greeted him with after explaining his situation to the travelling caravan. They were timber men, taking their freshly cut boards of conifer to... oh what did he call it... bad fort, bedford, Bradford? Something like that. 2 weeks 2 days, and still no sign of his sister nor her kidnappers. The caravan suggested that he head towards York, and contact the city "outreach" embassy. They sent, what they called, ambassadors out to outlying towns and settlements to try and convince others to join their cause of unification. Sounded like a worthy goal to him, but the trader claimed, "All you'll find with them is the same hypocrisy and controlling rubbish that allowed the 'Old World' to crumble in the first place. Thugs. Thugs and their masters, ever grasping for more power."
Anthony 'Marcus' Steiner thanked the older man, and after trading some of his salted fish for a small amount of goat jerky, continued his way South along the highway. "If what the old man said is true, then these Enforcers and their parliament sound like the light beer version of the Tyrants that were vying for power, back in the States." He shook his head clear of such foreboding thoughts however. His grandpa always told him that for all of the faults of the "Brits", they were professional. Especially when it cam to military matters. He wasn't sure of what state the remnants of the British Law was like, but he would defer to his grandpa's judgement before someone he hardly even met.
He snapped out of his reverie, however, when he noticed movement about 300 meters out, just beyond an over pass."Damn," he railed at himself. "Got distracted again." The sun was also blaring right into his eyes, so he wasn't able to make out exactly what he saw. He couldn't be sure, but he wasn't taking any chances and hopped over what was left of the galvanised railing that bordered the road. Crouch walking in the tall grass, he continued South. He didn't like it. His instincts warned him of possible danger, but he had to keep heading South. These 'Enforcers' were the only lead he had to finding his sister, and this was the only approach he knew of that would take him to York.
On the other hand, if this panned out to be the very scum that had taken her to begin with then may God forgive them. Because he won't. He smiled inwardly at the thought, as he instinctively brought his hand closer to his hip. His fingers playing with the handle of his knife. 100 meters now... almost there.
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Post by Alex Grey on Jul 25, 2010 12:12:45 GMT -5
Alex heard the approaching footsteps along the tarmac. The man who’d been watching him was nearer to his right, so Alex shuffled left around the opposite side of the petrol pump. They were coming closer, closer. Closer. Then they stopped. Alex tipped his head back and laid it against the metal of the pump behind him, casting his eyes upwards to the roof above him.
He did not expect the man behind him to speak. So when he heard a voice from a fixed position behind him, Alex listened. By the way, don’t assume I won't fight you if you start anything. I’ll take you down if I need to, the man had said. At that one, Alex bit his lips together as he stifled a small snicker. Trash talk... it was trashy.
As the man must have waited for some kind of response, Alex considered his options. Assuming this man was hostile, which it was always safe to do, he could run and maybe get shot in the arse, hide and eventually be found out, or he could turn on his trusty charm and hope to talk his way out of a sticky spot. But if he talked, his voice would betray his location, so it was pointless hiding.
Alex stuck the knife, handle-first, into the back of the waistband of his pants, then stood from his position behind the petrol pump. His palms were up, revealing them to be empty; it was the familiar sign of pacifism. It told the man he didn’t want to fight. "I won’t fight you unless you force me to," Alex declared, lowering his hands. "Tell me your name."
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Post by Mark Sanders on Jul 25, 2010 12:49:39 GMT -5
Mark watched as the guy stood up from his hiding spot, slightly more to the left than he had guessed. Had the guy been armed with a ranged weapon he may have got the drop on him, maybe.
He eyed him for a second, still not lowering his gun. "First, tell me if theres any one else out there. I'm not lowering this gun until you give me your word that we aren't being watched" He took a step closer, "Second, we're going to head back inside. Just in case your not being honest. I also want you to put any weapons that you have on you down on the floor, try anything smart and I'll hit you right in between the eyes".
He took a step to the side, Bean bag gun still leveled at his targets head. "You can go first". His training was making him more hostile than he wanted to be, but in this world you could never be too careful. For all he knew there could be a sniper or a gang of raiders waiting for him, and if that was the case his best bet was to take this one captive.
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Post by Anthony M. Steiner on Jul 25, 2010 15:27:28 GMT -5
Once he had arrived at the overpass, Anthony inched towards the entrance, keeping his back to the concrete wall. Peaking his head around just enough to see the other side of the tunnel, he made a quick scan. "Damn, looks like that dude is holding someone up!" thought Anthony, as he watched the progression of the situation. The one guy was holding some oddly shaped firearm on someone else he couldn't see, he couldn't make out alot of the words (the short concrete tunnel was throwing the echo) but he heard,"I'll take you down if I have to." That made up his mind.
Anthony unslung his bow and drew an arrow, a wicked broadhead made of metal. He closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the rough cement at his back while he said a small prayer. It was a familiar prayer, one he has repeated for years when ever he knows he's about to head into danger. He readies the arrow and silently swings around the corner, arrow aimed for the man's torso. Keeping his angle of position to the gunman's back, Anthony began his silent stalk forward.
He had nearly cleared the distance in full when he was finally able to see who the man had drawn his gun on. Anthony was positioned well behind the aggressor, but at enough of an angle to see what needed to be seen. The other man had his arms slightly out, palms facing forward, the universal I Don't Want Trouble sign. "I'll hit you right between the eyes..." and, "...You go first." That was all he needed to hear. The hunter drew his arrow back, aimed center mass, and tried to catch the victim's eyes. "Come one... come on. Just let me know you know," he kept chanting to himself. He found a spot where he was obviously inside the victim's line of sight, took a knee and adjusted aim canting the bow slightly, prepared to roll behind a rusted out hulk that was once a car; should the guman spin around.
He kept his voice soft but cold, "No sudden movements, less your goal is to die this day."
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Post by Alex Grey on Jul 26, 2010 10:26:09 GMT -5
Alex stared at the man who held the weapon level with Alex’s face. Alex’s eyes darkened, and he looked as though he was chewing furiously on the inside of his lower lip. The man wasn’t putting the gun away, even though Alex had so peacefully given up his position. Alex listened to the orders given to him, and stared the man straight in the face. "No," he said simply. There was nothing implied to the word, it was just plain defiance. "I asked you your name, and I’m not moving until I get it."
Alex wondered if he could start to lower his hands. It would remove any symbolism of being subordinate to this man, but it could also easily be misconstrued as an attempt to grab a weapon and attack. It was as Alex’s hands began to inch lower that he saw another man turn around the corner, armed with a bow and a notched arrow. Alex understood his attacker’s insecurities, he could have been the bait for some kind of ambush,. And with another armed man sneaking up behind the first, that was exactly what it looked like. Alex kept his eyes on the man aiming the weapon at his face.
The hunter was approaching silently, trying to catch Alex’s eye. Alex could see him advancing behind the man, but if he let his eyes flick to the side, then his attacker might see it, turn to see what he was looking at. Though, if he was as trained as he acted, maybe not. It wasn’t good to turn your back on someone you’ve just threatened.
Alex allowed himself a glance at the silent hunter. A flick of the eyes, and that was it. Just to acknowledge the second man’s presence, to let the hunter know that Alex knew he was there. No sudden movements, less your goal is to die this day. God, Alex felt really vulnerable. He was the only one not holding a weapon.
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Post by Mark Sanders on Jul 26, 2010 10:33:07 GMT -5
"No sudden movements, less your goal is to die this day."
Mark looked over his shoulder slowly, still pointing his gun at the man in front of him. This is exactly what he was worried about, the first guy was bait for a trap and the one behind him was the business end of the trap.
Now all that was important was deducing whether they wanted his gear or his life. And the only way he was going to buy enough time to do that was to keep the baits life on the line. The moment he was safe the other one could fire.
He was tempted to try reaching for his OPU badge and try pulling rank on them both. But that only ever works inside the York border, or in Enforcer friendly villages.
He tried to turn slightly to get a better view of the man behind him, however he couldn't risk taking his gun off of the one in front of him. There was something about the guy behind him that didn't seem right though, his accent. Mark had never heard an accent like that before.
"I'm not going to make any sudden moves, but I hope you ca understand that I'm not lowering my gun either. I know how these things go down and the moment I loose my edge I'm dead". He knew he was just trying to buy time but he figured he could get out of this alive. That accent still didn't sit right with him. "You aren't from around here are you?" he asked.
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Post by Anthony M. Steiner on Jul 26, 2010 15:22:05 GMT -5
You aren't from around here are you?
The man was obviously uncomfortable. The way he held himself and kept trying to look back, it didn't exactly scream "cold blooded". But then again, he didn't lower his weapon either.
"Been around long enough to know that if a man is holding a weapon on another who has his hands out like that, odds are that man is looking to misbehave."
Jeeez Steiner, melodramatic enough? He laughed inwardly as he realised that he was starting to talk like those old radio shows his grandpa had on Compact Disc. He never was one for upfront confrontation, and he was already low on steam as it was. The whole way this appeared and played out made him more than a little nervous, as his instincts screamed of DANGER; but it wasn't directed from either man in particular. More of a situational danger.
The assailant sounded like no stranger to violence, but his choice in words were odd. Like they didn't fit the role of mugger, but more like a man who expected to be mugged. "You wanna try and explain why you appear to be holding up an unarmed man?" He hoped the path out of this would become clear soon. He was running ragged from the 2 weeks of travel, and his arm was beginning to tire from keeping the bow taut and ready to fire. If this predicament doesn't rectify itself soon, this arrow will be flying whether or not he deserves it.
"You," he directed at the other man. " You want to try and get out of the line of fire here? Or you just going to stand there and wait to get shot?" He hoped his lack of patience didn't show thru too badly, but he could feel the burn of strain start to creep into his bicep and fore arm. He'd like to know for sure whether what's infront of him really was as bad as it looks. Preferably before he made mister funny-gun a paraplegic.
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Post by Svothe Jackson on Jul 27, 2010 16:38:11 GMT -5
Awakening to the noise of a scuffle I rolled myself over quickly grasping my baton. keeping low, still below window level I bought myself over to the old broken frames peering out on the sight before me. 'What the hell is this?' it looked like one man was robbing another, while the first robber was being robbed. This truly is a messed up world we live in now days, can't even thieve without getting mugged yourself. Hah! sitting for a moment longer looking over the three men posed so awkwardly I noticed a slight sparkle on the centre robbers jacket; What was that? As I looked in closer I could see the second mugger, 'the bowman' straining to keep the bow drawn as the veins and blood vessels on his arms began to pop up under the pressure.
Quietly sliding my stab vest from off the old table and pulling it over my head I stared on just waiting, waiting for one of them to make the first move. With still everything seeming quiet I decided to completely mess the situation up. As noiselessly as possible for a big bloke like me I shuffled out the door and behind one of the support beams of the service station. Peering round the situation hadn't seemed to improve much so as I often did I went into 'Spur of the Moment Mode' as I liked to call it.
Loudly walking out from behind the pillar I point my baton aggressively at the bowman speaking confidently and loudly "Alright mate, I think theres a little too many people to be taking down with that one arrow alright? So just lay that down and lets see if we can't find ourselves a peaceful way to get out of this." Looking over at the beanbag gun wielding man I finally managed to work out what it was. It was a enforcer badge. I'm sure of it, glancing down quickly at my own hanging off of my breast pocket to see if they looked similar.
Turning my head once more to look at the other enforcer I nod slightly muttering "alright boss?" my generic name for all other enforcers now half glad that I had stepped in and stopped the chaps demise; atleast for the moment anywho.
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Post by Anthony M. Steiner on Jul 27, 2010 18:09:09 GMT -5
Alright boss?
*Why can't plans ever go smooth?* Anthony couldn't help but crack a tired grin. Got one guy holding up another, with a piece of hand held artillery. Now yet another one, the size of a red oak, with a police baton whose attention was directed at him. Anthony didn't even need to look directly at him, *God that's gonna hurt if it connects...*
With the situation gone sideways, he spoke up, "You make another step, and your partner loses a kidney. Even if you get me afterwards, your friend here dies slowly and with no small measure of pain. If you two fellas wanted peace, you should have thought of that before Mr Cock Sure decided to hold up an unarmed m...." *Ah bloody hell, is that really a shield?* Sparing a direct glance at the newcomer's badge, and at the walking mountain himself *figures*, "Shit, is that really an Enforcer's badge?" His face matched his mood. He didn't know whether to feel embarrassed about getting the situation turned backwards, or be alarmed for potentially holding an officer (or for what passes for one) at the point of an arrow.
His brow was beginning to break out in sweat, and his fingers were close to shaking with fatigue. *Why can't plans ever go smooth?*
[edited for grammar and scenario structure]
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