The Rules of Survival (Panic & AutumnRaven)

[Panic]

Combat boots clunked with the steady pace like that of a metronome, the sound bouncing off of the stark whitewashed brick walls, sending out a foreboding and ominous echo. The sound was a familiar one to those who resided in the compound- the sound of Olivia Brooks. Her tightly pulled ponytail holding back her slick blonde hair swung violently behind her in time with sharp step. Even the way the young twenty-something walked was menacing as it radiated intimidation and brutality. Some would joke that if they just slapped her face on a poster they would win the wasteland back within the hour. She was a cruel beauty in every sense of the phrase. Large green hawk like eyes dwarfed her other features to give her an air of controlled danger as the sharpness of her bone structure made it seem as if she was never without a scowl on her face. Even her smile was more of a smirk worthy of making even the most sinister take a step back.

There was no doubt that she was the compound’s Chief of Defense, a title someone had found on an old file paper laying around that stuck with the position. The paper was amongst many filed away in the transformed compound. The complex was merely an old army base in the middle of a Midwestern town before the virus took a little under a hundred years ago, but now it was the command center for the Exterminators. Faded letters reading FORT HAMILTON could still be seen under the crudely painted over black and yellow gasmask with a large E interlaced, the feared and respected symbol of the Exterminators.

The Exterminators were a group of survivors that prided themselves on having stayed pure and uncontaminated from the virus and mutations. They had been using high-tech weapons they found lying around cities, donned gas masks in order to prevent being "tainted", as they call it, and began to slaughter anyone with signs of the virus. No mercy. No restraint. It wasn’t anything personal, the freaks just needed to be controlled, like the varmint they were. Nowadays, any survivors were in hiding, hoping that they were never found. At least, that was the case until recently when the mutated started fighting back. Tensions were rising, and Olivia had been busy ever since the freaks first attacked. ‘Why couldn’t they lie down and take it like the rabid dogs they were,’ she thought bitterly.

A metal door abruptly slid open, making a faint hissing noise, and two people stepped out. The first was a tall, muscular man of about fifty, though his once-black hair had almost completely transitioned to a snowy white. A scar ran across his face, and something about him suggested that he had many more to match. After him stepped a slightly younger man, less muscularly built and without much gray in his hair, but at the same time commanding more respect somehow. Unlike the first, his face was scarless, but his eyes were colder, more calculating. Both wore the typical attire of the Exterminators: combat boots, a long, dark coat, and something that resembled riot armor. Usually a gas mask would be included, but secured buildings had been deemed fit to breathe in a decade or two ago.

The first man had taken no more than two steps when his pale blue eyes zeroed in on someone who had been awaiting them. Olivia had been waiting outside the door, maps and folders in hand. She stood up straight, and calmly met his gaze, which had turned triumphant and strangely mocking. After the man was sure his silent message had been passed on, the other walked on and turned left down a hallway, leaving the other two alone.

"Come on inside here, Olivia," the second finally said once the older man had gone, tossing his head at the room and proceeding in himself.

The inside of the room was fairly plain- a large desk sat in the middle, behind which loomed a screen that took up nearly the entire wall. No one really knew what it had been used for, but it had been determined long ago that it would never be in use again. A small bed sat in the corner as well, presumably so anyone who tried to sneak into the office would be caught. No chairs were in the room (aside from the one at the desk), probably on account of that fact that it wasn't very large, so Olivia stood while the leader of the Extermintors took his place behind the desk. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the paper-ridden surface and folding his hands.

"You realize what you've done," he stated rather than asked. "General Reeves doesn't appreciate fighting amongst us." It was strange, the way the leader was. He called most everyone by their first name (except Reeves, who demanded his last name and title be used) rather than the last, and treated them like family. Yet somehow, something in his voice demanded attention, and authority just seemed natural to him. He insisted the rest of the Exterminators refer to him by his first name as well: Ivan.

"And you realize that's not the reason this is happening," Olivia replied coolly. The so-called "fight" had been neither physical, nor her doing. Ivan seemed to understand this, and nodded.

"I'm sorry, but you simply cannot disrespect your superiors," the leader stated regretfully. "You were lucky. Reeves wanted you tortured and killed, but on account of your service to us, he agreed to let you off easier."

Not daring to hope, Olivia simply waited for her sentence. The thought that she might be let go never even occurred to her. Finally, Ivan spoke “You are to be demoted back to research and containment.”

Olivia’s mouth opened up in protest, angry at the notion that Ivan had even considered taking away her position. Before she could utter a word, however, Ivan stopped her with a glance that told her she should damn well keep her mouth shut before he did worse. “I know how frustrating the position can be, but trust it will only last a month or so before you are reinstated. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I can’t...” he started before a loud wailing interrupted them both. It was the old air raid sound that had been used during World War II in Britain, not that anyone alive was aware of such. It had been discovered when the old base was transformed to its current use. The sound reached every part of the camp, a sound warning of an attack. The pair waited for the expected “This is a Drill,” announcement to follow, but the wailing continued uninterrupted.

Ivan quickly stood up, his chair scraping with an unearthly squeal across the ground as it was pushed back. With a curt nod they both hurried out of the office, retrieving their gas mask and guns from the arsenal before joining the rest of the fighters. It seemed the freaks had finally decided to take an offensive position. What a blatantly block headed move to make, not that Olivia expected any better. Oh well, there was nothing Olivia enjoyed more than doing what she was best at- Exterminating.

[AutumnRaven]

"Don't forget what we came to do. " Came the soft voice of a woman through the small speaker that had been placed in each of their ears. A few people grunted Acknowledgment into the small microphone that was attached to each ear piece. There was one distinctive huff From the same woman before she continued on to say, "We will stick around for another minute, see if there are any guards making rounds . But after that, we move . Quick and efficient, we take out as many of them as we can . Don't go getting yourself hurt for no reason. And remember the most important part: we are here to get a hostage. "

It was quiet enough that Neon Hershal Could hear the rasp Of lips on microphones as a few of his squad Nervously licked At the chapped skin there. He Didn't blame them, his sister's plans Usually involved some level of risk, though some might just call it stupidity.. He Himself may Have called it that once or twice. But despite this, he knew that his sister could be a tactical genius. Even if those tactical plans somehow ended up involving me being the one to snag ourselves a pretty little hostage. He thought wryly With a soft twist of his lips upwards.

"If you keep makin' Me nervous like this Italy, I am likely to be needin'a new pair of britches..." One of the men Grunted, adding a Soft chuckle At the end.

Neon Could just picture the look on his sister's face, The way her pale skin Would redden Slightly, her lips Tightened slightly as her eyebrows lowered over narrowed green eyes that were bright with intelligence.. She was the perfect image of an Irish woman, Short of Stature and topped With flaming orange hair. Even her voice took on a slight lilt When the proper mood overtook her Something which happened at that moment. "I suggest that you Grow up real fast sonny Jim If you're going to be in my squad, Or get out of my site before I help you fill those Britches of yours." She Said in a good impersonation of something the man himself might say. There were a few More good-humored chuckles, intermittent With a couple soft grumbles, before Italy said sharply, "Focus!"

Neon Found himself flashing a brief grin before he allowed it to melt back into concentration. His sister could be as hotheaded as her hair suggested at times. He was completely opposite from her in personality almost as obviously as They were different physically. Their father had been Polynesian by birth, and this made the siblings as different as one could imagine. Where one was short, fair, and redheaded, the other was large, broad shouldered, with black hair That fell thickly around his ears. Yet despite these differences, Neon Retained a slightly lighter complexion as well as the mirror image of Irish green eyes. These Narrowed a fraction of an inch as he began to scan the compound, making mental notes of different entry points as well as any movement from the guards. His muscles bunched In preparation for the command when everything seemed to sit still for a heartbeat.

"Go."

His world seemed to narrow in concentration as Neon darted Forward at an incredible speed, Heading straight towards one of the outer walls. Without pausing to even blink, Neon had Run almost horizontally up The side of the wall. Part of this had To do with his increased speed and strength, while The other could be attributed to the fact that his shoes Were specially designed with extra gripping soles. Which ever it was, he made it to the top of the wall within seconds, fingers finding Exact points to grip as he vaulted his body up and over the barb wire. With barely any sound at all, Neon Landed on the inside of the compound, absorbing the impact in the balls of his feet, And was almost instantly standing up straight once again. The guard that he came face-to-face with looked almost as baffled as he did. Both of them stared at one another for a moment before Neon Collected his scattered thoughts and quickly darted his hands forward before the man Could react. They closed around his mouth and across the back of his neck, jerking Sharply to either side. There was a soft popping crack And the light of intelligence Abruptly Vanished from the man's eyes. Guiding the now lifeless body to the ground, It allowed itself to crumple quietly against the base of the wall and Neon Found himself feeling slightly bitter With the silent exchange. He didn't like to kill, even if he did live in a world where it was kill or be killed....

It was about that moment that his heart stuttered several beats when a loud wailing Suddenly tore the air to pieces. Eyes wide, He Instinctively dropped into a crouch, Head turning quickly from side to side. "What in the name of all that is good is that?" He breathed Into his microphone, voice barely able to get out around the swell in his throat.

There were several choice curses colorfully spit Into several microphones, Several sounded confused. After a moment, one voice cut across the rest in a sharp tone. Even Italy sounded afraid when she said, "It's the alarm. They know we're here.."