Reign of Fire

[Ice]

ooc

The day was unknown, as was the time and year. Everything that was once the norm was now so insignificant. Routines seemed pointless, solar and lunar cycles played no part in life. And yet routine still played a part of her life, she almost needed it. Katie, or Kate as she went by now that she was without her parents, had a bucket with hundreds and hundred of pieces of paper. Each piece of paper had a number on it. And each number represented something. They counted out the days that had been spent in captivity, as Kate put it. Her whole life had been taken from her and she was forced underground for years. Now her life was spent in an old castle in the North of England, where she worked as the only fully trained and apt medic. The World that once held a million and one offers and promises was now slaved to the beasts that had destroyed it. Although in truth, man had caused it to reach the devastation now. As was always the solution, or so it seemed by History records, War would be the answer. Bombs and fire would slay the beasts. It had not. It had caused only more deaths and devastation, and the world fell. And now, a decade after the first bombs fell, humans tried to cling to life and survival.

Katie had been slow to rise this morning, but then time played little part for her. She did not work, she did not get paid. Kate was woken up when she was needed, she was in the infirmary when someone was injured. She had no privacy and no real life. She slaved to the people, socialised and the self made drinking hall and slept. Kate tried to avoid going outside. The world was scary now. It was cold and it was dark, there was death and devastation. Looking about now, it was like the films she once used to watch. End of the world types of movies, the Zombie apocalypse style films. And yet being a medic meant that at times, going out of the castle grounds was necessary. Kate had a lot of responsibility for someone so young, and it had given her cause to grow up very quickly. But at times she just kept herself in the makeshift bed till late, facing another day was often a hardship. Kate was lucky that she did not have to share rooms with people. Her own room was off to the side of the infirmary, based in the basement kitchens of the castle. Some would call is spooky, but Kate was long since over any fear she might have had of spooks and ghouls.

Washing in a cold bucket of water with the large tub of liquid soap, Kate looked into the cracked mirror. She was looking a little white, and her hair was unkempt. Shaking her head, she reused the cold water to wash her hair through as well. Straightening herself up she walked naked across the room, and pulled open the box beside her bed. Her hair was wet and dripped over her. The cold was biting at her skin and she shivered a little, as she pulled out her clothes. A lot of it was recycled clothing that had been found, or what had belonged to now deceased women in the community, or stuff that had been made. Kate was a tall and slender woman, and often clothes hung off of her, so things were always being altered to suit her frame. Pulling on the black combat trousers, she pulled the belt through to the self made hole in the beaten leather belt. The trousers still rested on her hips and she sighed, picking them up by the belt loops then dropping them, and watching them fall back down to her hip line. Shaking her head she pulled on the black crop top and grey vest, her hair still soaking wet. Her room was still cold without the fire, but she wouldn't waist oil to burn a fire to get ready.

Some time later Kate left her room and made her way up to the dining hall. Not much would be provided for the meals. The food levels was dwindling, and the harvest was not yet ready to crop. If they did so now, the seeds would not set for the next harvest and they would have no food. But several reasons were mounting to the fact that their current living situation was not working! Katie had pulled her towel dried hair back into a high knot, and added a jacket and boots and a scarf. Luckily she had no patients at the moment and the scavange troop were not due back yet. Although there was one woman who was heavy with child, and Kate expected her to labour soon. Walking up the stone steps from the basement, Kate looked outside and she frowned. It was a frosty day, and that meant bad buisness for those who worked in farming. A mist had settled over this morning and the earth seemed frozen and grey. "Another shit morning" Grumbled a male voice, and Kate looked round to see one of the men who worked in security look out the window.
"Every morning is a shit morning" Kate replied.
"Optimistic is the nurse" He teased, and Kate just looked to him before she smiled. She passed him and walked into the smaller hall.

The great hall of Alnwick castle was used as storage for everything they found and needed. Supplies were running low now though, another reason for the added misery of the residents of Alnwick Castle. The smaller hall was used for meetings, eating and gatherings. As she walked in, the chatter hit her and Kate was shocked to see so many people still eating. Maybe everyone had a slow start this day. Walking to the front, she collected her ration pack for the day and looked inside. Looking back up, she raised an eyebrow at the matron just shrugged and Kate shook her head. Walking over to one of the benches, she sat down close to the barrel on fire and sat down, pouring out a cup of hot water from the canister on the table. She added the powdered soup to it and stirred, looking back to the pack. Porridge oats, cucumber slices, a packet of cold meat. They didn't even have enough food to provide large and fully cooked meals right now, not until the cow aged more and they would kill it. But it was pregnant once more and one more calf to rear was a bit of positive news for them all.

Picking up the cup of plain soup, she sipped from it and looked about, before she heard talking behind her. "Spotted up near the coastline, by the cliffs"
"When?" Replied a panicked voice.
"Through the night, asleep"
"Will it attack?"
"Probably... this'un's green though... a brown one was spotted yesterday, and the red the day before"
"The red?"
"The red!"
"Fuck"
"I'll say... think they know we're here?"
"They're just beasts, dumb witted animals"
"Wouldn't say that Clint, they're smart"
"Mark my words, they'll be here"
Kate didn't really want to listen to much else, so she shoved her rations packet into her pocket and got to her feet with her tin cup of soup. She made her way, reluctantly, outside. Everyone seemed to be talking of these sightings, and it made Kate feel sick. She sighed as she walked outside and the gravel and broken stone of the castle crunched beneath her step. She kept one hand in her pocket and the other around the cup. She looked out over the stretch of fields, and down the hill slightly where the crops were grown and she sighed. The silence was eerie and creepy, and Kate didn't like it. She stopped by the old fire engine they sometimes used, and leaned against it.

Closing her eyes she sipped from the cup and listened to the still air. It was refreshing, nice change. She was always surrounded by noise and chaos. There was also no sightings of the dragons. At the announcement of the red one, Kate felt quite sick. There was something about that red dragon. It wasn't seen very often, but it caused mass devastation wherever it hit. The last time it had hit the north, over a hundred and died. It was more dangerous than the rest, and that was saying something. Kate placed her cup on the roof of the engine, before she climbed up herself. As she was afraid to come outside, she forgot just how nice it could be sometimes. As she sat down, she looked to the broken castle that was their home, and the beaten and starved lands that surrounded it. It was a sorry sight. Especially as it had once been so lush and full of life. Kate brought her cup to her mouth and drank the soup down, and looked to the light grey sky.

[Gunther]

Three canvas and aluminum cots placed in the corner of the damp and musty basement made for the current living conditions for Jacob Carpenter and his two children. Jake sat up and stared into the darkness. 'What's the matter, honey? Are you having trouble sleeping?' Meri's voice cut through the cobwebs of his mind. He heard her as though she were truly there with him. He could see her laying under the sheets of their four-poster bed. He could smell her. He could feel her warmth against his back. The house was quiet. The feeling of joy and exuberance filled his chest and his heart. He stepped into his slippers, walked down the hall and was greeted by his two children, William and Michelle as they bounced out of their beds. The children were happy to see their father. Portraits of loved ones hung on the walls; grandparents and ancestors from a different time. The house was neat and orderly as it should be. It was warm. The next minute, reality seeped back into Jake's consciousness. It was not warm and things were not neat and orderly. Nor were there portraits hanging on the walls.

Jake slid his feet into his black leather combat boots and laced them up. He tied them at the top and tucked the laces into the boots along with the hems of the pant legs. This is the way he'd always wore his pants when he was in the Marines. Given their current living conditions, it only seemed natural to adopt some of the ways from his past. It made him feel comfortable. It was something tangible to cling onto.

Jake looked over his shoulder and observed his two children sleeping. He tucked their covers in for them and kissed each one on the forehead. The air was cold as is every morning. The wispy vapors of his breath rose and dissipated with every exhalation. He slipped his half gloves on, picked up a hammer off the workbench and headed up the stone steps.

Jake had climbed three flights of stairs to reach the main dining hall where the community came to consume what little food they have. He half listened to the conversations; knowing what they were talking about and preferring not to listen. He tuned the inconsiderate bastards out as he headed for the door. He had forgotten to put his jacket on when he stepped outside, but he didn't care. The cold morning air embraced his flesh. He remembered something Meri often said to him, 'you'll catch the devil, if you go out like this.' and she'd hastily retrieve his jacket, pushing it onto his arms and over his shoulders. The thought kept him warm.

The sun was on the eastern horizon casting its rays across the land. He knew he had work to do later. There were a few stone walls that needed some patching up. A few bags of mix were in the storage room along with the wheelbarrow he used to make the mortar.

The cool air filled his lungs and reminded him that he was still alive and that he had two small people counting on him thirty feet below. He returned to the dining area and retrieved morning rations for three. He did not want his children to eat in this room and be subjected to this conversation. He felt it was better for them not to hear talk of the red one, or the green one or the brown one or any of those nasty mother fuckers. No one questioned him for taking three rations; everyone in the room new who Jacob Carpenter was and the story with his family.

He made his way back to the room where his children lay sleeping. He placed the food rations on the workbench, reached for a match and lit a candle. Jacob Carpenter then attempted to rouse his children. "William, wake up. Michelle, wake up," he spoke as he gently shook their bodies. Their eyes opened and Michelle rubbed her's as she did every morning. "Good morning, da." Her beautiful smiling face looked up at him. In the dim light of the candle, he could make out her blonde hair and blue eyes. She was the picture of an angel and every bit the picture of Meridith Adele (Brine) Carpenter. Michelle looked so much like her mother. Her appearance made Jacob both happy and sad at the same time.

"Good morning, sweet." Jake greeted his daughter.

"Is the sun up, da?" She asked with exuberance.

"Yes Shell, it is," he answered, "as it is every morning. Now get out of those beds and come have some breakfast." The children slowly worked their ways out of the warm blankets. They quickly pulled heavy clothes around themselves for comfort. "Da?" Michelle asked and repeated over again several times, "Da?"

"Yes, Shell?"

"Can I have a pony?" She asked her father with the same tone as if she were asking for a glass of milk.

"Why yes of course. As soon as I happen upon a pony in the hinterlands, I'll fetch him right away."

"Thank you, da," she smiled knowing that one day she would have a pony. "Da? Could you tell us what flapjacks taste like?"

"Heaven, my sweet," Jacob answered his daughter. "Your mother made the best flapjacks in the whole world. i can taste and smell them now; moist and delicious with fresh syrup."

"I miss mommy," William stated. William never talked much, but when he did it usually had something to do with his mum.

"Me too, honey. Me too." Jacob returned to finishing his breakfast, staring intot the candle and remembering the last time he looked into Meri's eyes.

[Circa 9]

Just find your happy place.

The thought crossed Eric's mind briefly, and the notion of it almost made him laugh. He contained it, though, knowing that it'd be impossible to do with a pair of rusty pliers in his mouth. He'd had a toothache off and on for a few months now, and he knew better than to let it get any worse. With one good pull, and the previous humor still pushing him along, he yanked it out, tossing it onto a improvised table next to him. He tossed the pliers aside and grabbed a rearview mirror he'd salvaged off a car to inspect his work. He tongued the blood away and spit once, content that his back molar was indeed gone. He sat the mirror aside and rubbed his jaw once, pleased with a pain he knew would pass rather than a constant throb that drove him mad.

They had morphine, along with other pain killers and medicine, but Eric was too proud to have anything wasted on something so petty. Even though their morphine was mostly used to see the gravely injured out, he refused to waste it. He also could have had their medic take a look, but his eyesight was getting so bad Eric worried that he might pull the wrong one. No, instead he swished around some saltwater and gargled it before he brushed his teeth with a makeshift paste, the rest of which were fine. He gave Luc a scratch on the head, who had just been sniffing the blood on the ground.

"It's alright boy, it'll take more than a cavity to put me down."

The dog twisted his head as if straining to understand him, but Eric didn't waste any time attempting to explain it to him. It was still early morning, and the other men were just rousing from the tents of their makeshift camp. A cold morning at that, but it didn't bother him much. The weather had been the least of the complaints he'd had to deal with as of late. If it wasn't guns misfiring it was the trucks riding bad, and if it wasn't that then it was the food, but Eric knew the real problem. He threw on the same pair for tan fireman pants he always wore, whose needlework would have been a top contestant for the worst ever. As it turned out, the Slayers weren't renowned for the knitting. He left their red suspenders at his side and threw on a dingy gray thermal shirt that had a slit at the neck to better accommodate his massive chest over his white wifebeater. He rolled up the sleeves and spit again still trying to get all the blood out of his mouth as he bent down to throw on his steel toes.

Those, like most everything else, had also been salvaged and scavenged from somewhere or someone. They were beginning to wear, but they still tied and kept his feet dry, which was all he needed anyway. He looked around his tent once, his 'command post' as it were. Some command post, he laughed to himself as he looked around. There was a cot he'd had to reinforce to sleep on with a single wool blanket, no pillow, a small table, a footlocker for his belongings and a few buckets. Luc also had a bowl for water, which Eric normally spit his morning water into when it wasn't full of blood. He didn't have long to enjoy the view though, with Luc starting to growl. It wasn't a dragon, that was three barks. No, this was something else, something that had been happening more and more the longer the Slayers went without downing a dragon. He could already hear the yelling.

"Wait here."

He said to Luc as he threw the flap of his tent open, never for an instant thinking of grabbing his pistol from the table. He already knew what was going on, and he would die himself before it came to using that. Outside the men were lined up behind the truck where they kept their food rations, a morning ritual. Before Eric became leader the top dog always ate first, but that rule went out the window when he took over. He and Luc ate last, after every other man had his fill, and he didn't have a bigger ration either. Despite that, an argument had broken out between two of the men who already had their morning meal. The other men just watched on, content to eat theirs enjoying some good entertainment.

"Hey!"

Eric yelled as he neared, but he got no response. He tried again, closer this time, but the two were already in it too deep to hear anything that didn't have knuckles attached to it. Eric understood that much, and wasn't afraid to step in the middle of it either, because infighting was one of the things he did not tolerate. He approached the two without saying another word and pushed one to the ground, but the other, still in a rage, threw another punch aimed at Eric this time. He easily dodged it, but wasn't about to let it slide, knowing it would be a show of weakness not to answer the challenge, however misguided it was.

In an instant Eric had effortlessly lifted the younger man off the ground by the neck and pinned him to the side of the truck. He didn't choke him then, and instead just held him there and allowed the man to hold some of his weight by grabbing onto his arm. He looked him in the eyes for a few seconds. The man, Abel, was newer to the group, picked up during their last tour through Germany for his skills as a hunter, and apparently he hadn't understood the rules.

"Control your anger boy, or it will destroy you. We fight dragons, never each other."

At that he dropped him, and he fell to his knees clutching his neck. He gave the others a once over, even the men that were manning the fifties who immediately turned back to the skies as his eye caught theirs. No one contested, and the man he'd knocked to the ground was already back on his feet. He started to say something but Eric just raised his hand to silence him. He didn't have to ask to know who started it, the rest knew his rules.

"You think you're hungry for food? You want his food now?"

He said to Abel who was still on his knees, pointing at the two rations of what their cook called beef stew that was still steaming poured on the ground. He spit again, and wiped the blood he knew was forming on his lip away with his thumb.

"You're hungry for them," he said as he pointed to the sky this time, "you all are. And we can't kill them when we are fighting each other..."

He paused, and looked over at their cook, Johnnie, who was swirling around what was left in the bottom of his pot to keep it from burning any more.

"...especially on empty stomachs. Half my ration between these two, and you," pointing to the man back on his feet, "help Abel up."

"Luc," he called as the dog emerged from the tent and came to him. "Breakfast time, eat," he said with a gesture to the spilled food, and Luc took to it. "And if anyone has a problem with him getting double rations I invite you to take it up with him."

Abel eyed the dog as he got to his feet, and Luc caught it. He furled his lips and showed his teeth as he stared at him, arching the fur on his back until Abel looked away and he went back to eating. Eric just smirked, the other men knew better. With a last look around to see everyone eating their meals Eric walked over to a pot of boiling water, a murky light brown from the skim amount of coffee it had in it. He filled a cup and set off around their small camp, making his morning rounds.

[Deviant Dolly]

Pitink!....Pachink!...Pitink!

The solid resoluting sound of metal striking upon metal vibrated through the small workshop. A stacked pile of broken pots and pans had been placed on the floor near the work bench, thoes that could be salvaged were but thoes that had proved unrepairable, were melted down and cast into something useful. Make use with that which is available, reuse, reuse, reuse. Sally, the community blacksmith, had her work cut out for her today. There were many repairs to be made to both kitchen and garden tool, as well as finding uses for scrap metals. Normally she would melt the scrps and craft especially sharp and personaly designed arrow heads for hunting bows, but earlier talk to dragon sighting would have her switch things up a bit and possibly make more ammunition for the few guns and rifles they had. Although there was a nice stock pile already, one could never be too safe in these times.

"Mummy!" A sweet angelic voice called out, sounding as it were out of breath. Sally looked up from her hammering and a warm smile bloomed on her soot smeared face as her little boy rounded the corner. "Time to break your fast mum!" Corbin stated as a matter of factly and handed the woman a ration pack as he hopped onto a sitting bench with his own.

"Thanks m'love." Sally set her tools down and moved over to her son who was busy tearing the package open with his teeth. "What is it today?" She asked softly as she settled at his side and peered over his shoulder into the ration bag.

"Look like soup, cold meat, and some dried bread mum." He turned his chrub face up to her and shrugged unimpressed. Sally thought for a moment and looked about before rising to her feet.

"I have an idea." Her blue eyes sparkled with a smile as she held her hand out for his packet. Corbin eyed her for a moment before handing it over and moved to stand on the bench as his mother carried both rations in one arm and scrooped up a freshly repaired pot with the other. She made quick work, each movement deliberate and precise as she ladled some clean water into the pot and set it upon one of her small fires. Adding the powdered soup from both packets as well as quickly chopping up the cold meat and within moments, Sally had a decent stew brewing. She had no extra spices, but warm food always made things a bit easier to swallow. Fishing two handmade spoon from a drawr, she wiped them down with her apron and handed her son one. "It is going to be a bit hot, Corbin, so don't burn ye'self." She used a pair of oven mits to grab ahole of the pot and transfer it to the table before the young boy.

He smiled brightly, a sight that made her heart melt, as he stood bent over the pot and took a deep wiff. "Oh! Almost forgot." Sally turned as she placed the mits aside and reached for the ration packaging. "Try dipping it, love." She handed Corbin his share of dried bread and he followed her words. The resulting smile was more payment then Sally could ever wish for as she shared a meal with her darling, letting him eat his fill. He was a growing boy afterall, and looking more and more like his father everyday.

[iByaah]

Grey clouded skies, bleak, burned countryside, and thin shriveled excuses for trees occupied the sniper's scope. Frigid, blowing wind cut through his jacket though he didn't mind. In truth, Connor liked the cold a hell of a lot more than the heat of a dragon bearing down on him. From his spot on top of the tank, the wind was bracing and pleasant. Sighing, he lowered the scope from his eye and placed it back in the case next to his disassembled Barrett. Sprawled alongside the case were the meager rations assigned for the day. He took a slight sip from his canteen and looked up from his work to the escalating argument behind the food truck.

Connor sighed again and laid the canteen down as he saw Canter break the fist fight up. It's been 2 weeks since the last dragon sighting and almost 3 since our last kill. These boys are getting restless and there's little more conducive for squad self-destruction than literal truck loads of guns and ammo with no targets to shoot at. One thing that always impressed him though was Canter's ability to whip the men back into a mindset that ensured survival. Well...at least survival for a couple more months. He caught the short glares Abel gave the surrounding slayers and shook his head. That one will have to be watched closely...

He quickly shoveled down the last of his rations, eyeing the parts of the anti-materiel rifle laid out before him. Connor washed down the scant food with more water from his canteen and proceeded to reassemble the weapon. As he zipped the container back up, he wondered when the next attack would come. They'd been lucky so far. Lucky...now that's a notion for the history books. During the past couple years, they've been a tight group. They picked up men with combat experience here or there and most of them were worth their weight. However, every encounter with a dragon had produced no less than 3 casualties. Sigh, our attrition rate is too damn high. We're not going to last through to next year if we keep going like this...

Once he was sure that the squad had finished their breakfast, Connor shouldered the packed rifle and hopped off the Slayer's Challenger 2. The sniper strode briskly to catch up with Canter as he rounded camp. As he fell into step, Connor withdrew a faded and stained road map of England. It was a detailed chart, a fortunate find from a supply stop at a gas station. Along with the roads, it depicted levels of elevation as well as locations of fuel depots which was fortunate because his compass had been damaged months before. Dead reckoning will have to do though I doubt any of the actual structures are still up.

"I didn't see anything last night on my sweep before lights out." Connor gestured around their camp's current position on the map with his free hand. "If we follow this road north," he continued, tracing the line upwards, "we'll hit this community in a couple days." The sniper slowed to an easy gait. "I could be ready to move with my squad inside an hour." Out of respect, he said this next bit in a lower tone than before.

"I don't want that one on my reconnaissance sweep this time around," Connor stated, nudging with the map towards Abel. "He's a hothead and an idiot to boot. He'll give us away in no time. He needs this time to cool off."

[Craythey]

On a cold day in the early light of dawn, two people stood on a hill overlooking a castle. The castle, once grand, now looked run down and worn. But despite its appearance it still served a purpose, which was to house a large community of survivors. It was this castle that the two figures and the rest of their group had been looking for.

One of the figures on the hill was an Englishman named Theodore. He hailed from the southern region of the isle, but he had traveled all over England in it's hey day. Theodore, along with his Spaniard friend Miguel, helped foreign survivors navigate England in search for family or save haven. Four others of the group, a French couple and their infant and the husband's brother, were in search of family who lived on England's north coast. The last member of the group, Theodore's companion on the hill, was simply traveling without reason. When hearing of the castle in which there was a community of survivors she decided to see if they would accept her. If not, then she would try to find her own way in the world.

"Are you sure you want to go alone, Christy?" Theodore asked the young American girl. "It's a two mile walk."

"I'm sure," Christy said with a nod, the arrows in her quiver rustling with the motion. "I hate long goodbyes."

"Well then, I wish you the best of luck."

Christy smiled at him and then the two parted ways. She headed toward the castle and he returned to the foot of the hill where the rest of the group sat waiting in the old farm truck they traveled in. By the time she reached Alnwick Castle the sun had come clear of the horizon, but there was still a chill in the air. As she neared the castle one of the men on guard duty stopped her and asked where she came from and what she wanted.

"I was traveling with a small group heading up farther north," she said. "I heard that some survivors had established themselves here and I hoped to join. But if you don't want me then all I ask is for a night's rest under the cover of a roof. I even have some supplies I can exchange for it."

The guard thought about it for a bit and then finally gave a nod of approval. "I'll take you to see Kate," he said. So he left his companion at the post and Christy followed him into the castle in search of this woman named Kate.

[Gunther]

For many of the survivors, gathering equipment was a reactionary event. The dragons came, killed many people and destroyed many buildings. The Army mobilized and attempted to fight the dragons. The Army ceased to exist as a combat effective fighting force by 2013. Tony Collins was one of those soldiers. Not every soldier died, but their previous unit cohesion evaporated when more than 98% of their combined strength was now dead. Tony considered himself one of the lucky ones.

Tony had spent most of his military career either in the Parachute regiment or in the Special Air Service. He saw combat against humans twice, at least that was what was on paper and unofficially another half a dozen or more occasions. He had jumped into Iraq, south and west of Basra in 2003 with his SAS team and again spent two years in Afghanistan's Helmond Province as a Platoon Sergeant with the 3rd Paras from 2006 - 2008. Unofficially, he never conducted HVT (High Value Target) assassination missions in Argentina in 1995, Intelligence gathering assignment in Egypt in 1996, no fewer than three counter terrorist operations in Manchester, including one involving hostages, a Counter Terrorist operation in London in 1997 and an additional counter terrorist operation in Northern Ireland in 1999. In Edinburgh, his SAS team helped to break up a drug ring assisting Scotland Yard in early 2000. Officially, those operations never happened. There are no records of them anywhere.

Today, he still carried his Bergen. The same Bergen he carried as Company Sergeant Major of No. 1 Company, 3rd Parachute Battalion. That was his last duty assignment prior to the end of the Army. He crawled out of his sleeping bag, affectionately known as a fart sack. He slept under a wet weather poncho stretched out between four trees using bungee cord with hooked ends. The poncho hood is tied off with a length of 550 Lb parachute cord and tied to an overhanging branch in order to provide room for someone to sleep underneath.

He crawled out, pulled down his poncho, rolled it up and stashed it inside his Bergen. He then rolled up his sleeping bag, inserted it into the wet weather cover and slung it on the bottom of his pack. Next, he picked up his Load Bearing Equipment, what is commonly referred to by its acronym, LBE. The LBE is attached to his body armor and contains, two 1-quart canteens mounted on the left and right rear; a butt pack in the center rear with his weapon's cleaning kit; a first aid pouch on the front left chest and four 30-round drums of 12-gauge ammunition. After slipping the body armor/LBE over his head, he then slung his AA-12 shotgun over his head and left shoulder so that it slung down on his right side. The last item to put on was his black patrol cover; facing backward.

Anthony ambled over to the chow truck where the boys were gathered. He got in line and was served his meal. After sitting down out of the way, he observed two men get into a fight. His reaction was to break it up, but the boss, Eric Canter had arrived and was already getting involved. Tony had to remind himself that he was no longer the top ass kicker of the company, like the good ole' days. He finished off his meal and looked for a small clearing away from the others.

Once settled in, Tony removed his LBE, body armor and weapons. He dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups. He pumped his arms slowly up and down maintaining a rigid plane from shoulders to the back of his calves. After completing fifty push-ups, he flipped over and began alternating right elbow to left knee and left elbow to right knee in an abdominal crunch position. He alternated this movement back and forth repeatedly for at least a minute. He then flipped over onto his stomach and laced his fingers behind his back. He raised his legs, head and chest in an attempt to stretch out his stomach muscles. He stretched the abs three times giving himself twenty second rest periods between each stretch. Once he completed the ab exercises, he returned to doing more push-ups; another fifty push-ups and then back on his feet. He found two large rocks; placed one rock - a small boulder actually, in each hand and performed lunges for about two minutes. Then he returned the rocks to the ground and completed another fifty push-ups. Next he stretched out his legs and did a few more sets of lunges. When his morning exercise routine was complete, he picked up his gear and returned to where the boys were. 'I certainly do miss the weight room most of all.'

Tony had lost his mother about seven years earlier when the dragons hit. He had no siblings and no other living relatives that he was aware of. He never took a wife although he had slept with many women in his days. He just never fell in love. Since the Awakening, he was content to simply call the boys, his brothers. They were family to him. This kid, "Abel" on the other hand had a lot to learn. At age 50, Tony sometimes felt like their dad or at least an older brother.

He had picked up an empty magazine for both his pistol and his shotgun. He removed the magazine from the weapon and emptied the shotgun shells from it. Then he pulled a fresh magazine out of his vest and inserted it into the weapon. Next, he took the empty magazine from the Bergen and loaded it with the shells that had been in the first magazine. This full magazine was then placed into one of the storage slots on his LBE. The empty magazine that had been in the weapon would be returned to the Bergen. He did this with his pistol magazines too. This was to insure the resiliency of the springs in the magazines. If they are left depressed all the time, loaded with ammunition, they become weak and may cause stoppages or cartridge jams during operation. 'Take care of your weapon and it will take care of you.' This was a saying he said frequently to his men in 3rd Platoon in Afghanistan and to his soldiers in No. 1 Company.

[Ice]

She sat with her knees in her chest, talking with one of those who acted on security. She had finished the soup and now held the warm cup in her hands as she looked to the man, as he informed her. "Just on the coastline... three were sported this morning" He informed, his Scottish accent emphasizing words. "The usual brown and one of a red colour" He informed her.
"This red one keeps making appearances" Spoke Kate, as she sighed and looked up over to the Vegetable patch in the distance. "What's the deal with the colour difference?" She asked him.
"Dunno... sunburn?" He offered, and Kate laughed.
"In this pissing country? We hardly got sun before the bombs" Kate informed, placing a hand on the side of the fire engine, ready to jump down as the man laughed. But the laughter was cut short as they heard shouts, and Kate stopped from jumping down. She looked up and over to where the vegetables and crops were grown. "Fuckers" Whispered Kate.
"What?" Demanded the Scot. Kate jumped down and pointed over to where a group of men were raiding through the crops. He swore too, and the pair broke out into a run.

Kate ran quickly, she ran faster than the man actually. Kate had high stamina and was athletic, and she was very quick. She jumped over the paddock fence. "HEY!" She belted out, and the men turned and saw her. They dropped the crops on the floor and ran. Kate's face fell and she stopped when she reached the spoilt food, looking to the squashed tomatos on the floor. "No" She breathed, her chest rising and falling. It was ruined, and the seeds wouldn't take to the ground. Not only had this food been ruined for consumption, the seeds also wouldn't crop for next season. Kate scowled and looked up, and as the Scot reached her, Kate took off again.
"KATE!" He roared out, but she didn't listen. She was furious and she hated theives, especially now as it meant extra starvation for her community. So she ran, she ran at full pelt after the men who were now running across the open feild that would lead to the rocky path and coast line. "KATE!" She heard from behind her but she didn't stop, instead she neared in on one of the men. Her chest burned, her sides ached, but Kate saw red and it wasn't shifting. Not until she got some form of revenge on these men.

And as luck would have it, Kate reached one and her hand reached out for him. She pulled, he ran and they ended up a heap on the floor. Limbs went crashing and Kate landed awkwardly on the floor with a groan. But she quickly remembered why she had chased the man and she rolled up, and her arm swung back. With as much force as she could, Kate smashed her fist into his jaw. He groaned and kicked out at the same time, and his foot went straight into her stomach. Winded, Kate was forced back and landed on her arse, and her hand rested on her tummy. She gasped though as he lunged to hit her again, and her leg kicked up quickly, and she kicked him straight in the first place her father always told to go when taking down a man. He groaned and fell to the side, not before landing a heavy blow on her thigh. "Fucking..." Growled Kate, as she got up, ignoring the aching pain in both her thigh and stomach "Thief!" She added to him as he whimpered in pain.

Kate was just about to lunge at him again, but a deafening roar sounded. Her insides froze and her heart dropped, and she paused, looking up. Her hair had fallen free from its knot in her frenzy, and she looked through that which had fell before her eyes to see the dragon soaring down. "KATE... WATCH OUT!" Bellowed the Scot. Kate pushed herself to her feet, and she dragged the man up.
"Fuck...off...crazy..."
"Get up!" Hissed Kate, ignoring the pain she too felt, helping the man to his feet. She should have left him to it, left him to the dragon, but she wasn't that cruel. Forcing her injured body and company on, Kate made for the refuge of the crops maze, although the dragon roared again as it sailed for over towards the grounds of the castle and their haven. "Move!" Kate urged to the man, and as they reached the crops and the Scot pulled her in, the thief pushed Kate hard in the chest, before running off. She hardly had a moment to speak as out of no where, a dragon head crashed through the crops and snatched the running man.

The Scot grabbed Kate and they ran, her body screaming in pain and exhaustion as they rushed back to the castle. In the distance she could hear the claxon sound, that which warned of a dragon attack. But their way out ahead was soon drowned in flames. Kate gasped and was pulled to a stop, and they looked around. There was only one other way to get through to the castle and back into refuge, they would have to crash through the wild thicket that lined the vegetable garden. The man grabbed her and he pulled her along, and they forced their way through the thorns and brush, ignoring the many scratches and tears they received. Another roar sounded, it screeched through the air and Kate's hands covered her ears, pushing herself through. She fell out onto open ground and onto the gravel, wear the security and defence squads were heading out into action against the two swarming dragons, and one of the ex military men by the name of Dave pulled an exhausted Kate into the castle, where she fell down and leaned against the wall, panting hard and littered in scratches.

[Gunther]

His children were in class. Jake pushed them from his mind as he set about the task of fortifying the castle walls. Several of the stone and mortar walls had collapsed creating inviting holes in the walls for dragons to get in and look for a quick meal.

He slowly spread the mortar across the uneven surface. When there was an ample supply, he would heave one of the large rocks into place and attempt to seat it. Then he used his trowel to wipe away the excess mortar returning it to the tray. He labored at this routine for several minutes; slowly repairing the wall when he heard the claxon alarm sounding and the security force yelling, "Dragon!"

Jake dropped what he was doing, ran to get his rifle; the L129A1 he had scavenged from a dead British soldier many years before. He joined the security force on the ramparts of the castle walls scanning the skies for a target. The site of two people running toward the castle in the distance quickly became evident. Then, the Fwapping sound of large leathery wings slapping at the air became much more apparent. Carrying the rifle and watching the skies reminded him of his years spent as a Royal Marine.

The beast rose up into the sky, peered down upon the castle and dove. It unleashed a firey blast which enveloped a brick structure and then the dragon veered off to miss the castle. It flapped its spindly wings as it fought to gain altitude again. The security force, including Jacob Carpenter all raised their rifles as one and unleashed a hail of lead skyward. It seemed to have no effect.

Jacob wondered how they could get rid of this menace. He figured it may have been better if the dragons simply left them away, but no matter what action they took, the dragons always seemed to come back. 'We must be their primary food source.' Jacob thought to himself.

[Deviant Dolly]

Sally had soon returned to her work, Corbin had dashed off to morning classes to join the other children who dwelled in the castle. She had just finished washing out the cast iron pot and set it on a low fire to dry properly then the loud warning bells sounded out. She turned her face towards the door, breath trapped in her chest for a moment, before grabbing two large leather bags filled with ammo and slung the straps over her shoulder. As she made her way towards the door, she rached out and grabbed a hand-made long bow and her quiver of crafted arrows. She had become a rather good shot after years of hunting and practice.

"Get inside!" She called out as she steped out and saw a few younger girls looking about with wide doe-eyes, "Gather the children and head to the great hall!" She added as she dashed off towards the walls to join the others, the bags of ammo bouncing against her hips. "Jacob!" She called out and climbed up the steps to drop a bag of ammo at his side then continued down the line and dropped the other bag at the feet of a shooter. "This isn't all of it, light her up!" She yelled out and set the guiver down to lean against the wall and took aim with her bow.