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OOC: http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...ypse-OOC/page2
You're on your way to the shelter. Nearly there, what's that in the distance? Oh wait it's the gate to the place. Well more of a door than a gate. Needless to say you enter, to see a line with other people and a machine. The machine asks for identification before asking you to step through, if a weapon is found you get kicked out.
The apocalypse had come. Everything was to be lost. Well, almost everything. Travis stood in a line numbering in a range he couldn't easily count, and truthfully, didn't care to. Instead, he observed the overall condition of the people standing around him. He saw before him a group of soot-engulfed, anxious people, comparable to what would've been called 'homeless'. But, of course, they were all virtually homeless now. The line moved surprisingly quickly, and Travis soon found himself close enough to the door to make out most of it's details.
In simple terms, one might have expected it to home giants, not humans. The door itself seemed made of a very heavy, very thick slab of metal. It's gray, melancholy look made Travis feel a little on-edge, as the thought crossed his mind that he might never see sunlight again. As he waited, he noticed the primary function of the guards outside the door involved an inspection. Thoroughly searching each 'guest', any found with concealed weapons were immediately thrown out. Quite literally, thrown out. Travis should have expected as much, as a couple of knifes and guns locked in a giant vault with nothing to shoot but other survivors seemed like a partially bad idea. At least the food would last longer, Travis thought as another man found with pocket knives was thrown away from the door like a rag doll. He himself became slightly worried now, as he was carrying concealed fire arms of his own. I still have time, he thought, but what to do? He looked up at the fiery sunlight, took in a deep breath, and began thoroughly searching his surroundings.
Tobias was observing his place in the line, and the shocking amount of people being thrown out. He was well aware of the no-weapon policy, but he had come prepared. He'd dismantled his gun days prior, and carefully and monotonously hid all the parts so that noone would know that what they were. The barrel and slide of his gun he had carefully lined with various lenses, so that, in its current condition, it was a functioning opthalomascope. The trigger mechanism he had rigged to an "automatic air expanding" balloon catheter. The grip and sights he had installed onto a dental drill, and the firing pin he had spent much of his money having implanted in his upper jaw, as a "retaining wire". The clips were trickiest. In the end, he had dismantled them, placed the sides and bottom in the "emergency splint" section of his bag, and they could indeed be used with a splint. Or, at least appeared to belong there. The springs he had placed in standard spring-reinforced stethoscopes. The bullets were indeed the trickiest part. In the end, he had to coat all of them with a rear cap, and paint them in a soloution of white that was removable only by a secondary soloution he could concot later. These he hid in a medicine pouch, alongside laxatives, which the bullets had been disguised as. He had rehearsed his story and excuses for the odd-looking equipment so much, that it was perfect. And so, with his doctors bag and luggage in hand, he approached the machine.
Sighing softly, Elinor readjusted her grip on her backpack, shifting the strap squarely onto her shoulder. Stepping to the side, she craned her neck, trying to see around the mass of people lined up ahead of her. There was a machine, and a door, which hid what was supposed to be their salvation. Behind that door was the shelter that would keep them safe when the world ended, where she would live with all these other people for who knew how many years to come.
She couldn't believe she was doing this.
This was insane, she must be acting on nerves, lack of sleep, pure paranoia. Yet, no matter how much she tried to logically reason herself out of this decision, her feet remained planted in place, refusing to budge even an inch. There was something, in her heart or her gut, that told her this was the right thing to do. Evidently, her brain told her that her heart and her gut were both imbeciles, but apparently that wasn't good enough. As she she fled closer and closer to that looming door, Elinor could only brace herself. Either for the end of the world, or the realization that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Quite honestly, they might as well have been one and the same.