((Sorry I kinda scrambled it together to get the kickoff. I hope it will suffice!))

The sun hid behind the clouds on the dead old world as the light came through the cracks and traveled across the ruins in blinding speeds, revealing the nightmare of the post apocalyptic setting. With it came a new life, one that will be harsh but possible to survive in despite the odds against humanity. In the end, though, one's morals and values are put to the test, how far will someone go to stay alive or keep those around him/her alive?

((For those who wanted the GM to put them in a spot~))
Underground where the metro tunnels ran in their tightly knit system, the humans and anthros went through their daily tasks: fending off mutants, fending off each other, getting food and necessities, and even getting a daily kill to steal from the unfortunate. Of those stations was the center of it all, the metro station. The numbers were plenty and the diversity flourished for the neutral, independent station with only 57 of them being guards and some of the residents associating with rival factions, but they managed to band together in order to stay safe and alive. All was normal from the brief mutant raids to the shooting outside the gate until one day news had been drifting around about a group of refugees fleeing from the red line coming their way. It was rather usual to hear such things, yet this was different, and it became clear when distant gunfire echoed down the tunnel. There was a good chance those refugees were being massacred by something.

Nearby a bar where tables and small rooms for rent were set up, two of the station's armed protectors came in and went straight to the counter, one of them waving to the bartender as they spoke of the daily rumors. "So from what I heard, some guy arrived claiming to be a survivor of the shit going down in the tunnel. He says they're rounding up people and executing them or something like that.. Poor bastards."

"Shouldn't we send some men out there to hit them? If they're killing off people coming our way, what's stopping them from just attacking our station?" The other gunman asked, propping his shotgun against the counter. At that moment the bartender arrived with the bottles and he too jumped into the conversation.

"I for one heard of a ranger supposedly going to get them, but it's obvious those raiders or kill squads or whatever are still alive and well. We are for sure in trouble with this stuff now coming home."

"Well we only got soo many guys who are willing to do that and we need them here if we are attacked, no? Besides, those guys will probably find that its not worth the effort to run through two more stations to get to us when we're armed and ready. We should be fine." The first guard replied to the other two, already taking up the bottle and unscrewing the cork before pouring it's contents into two nearby cups: a clear liquid with the stench of alcohol. "It's the post captain's call, and I sure am not going to throw my life away when it is needed here." After that the three continued in their own, off topic chatting, despite how loud they spoke earlier. Regardless of what was going on, there were still jobs available on a board nearby, unless someone were to try and take up the rumor.

Union Station shops before the apocalypse

---

"CHRIST IN HEAVEN! How many fuckin' times do I have to tell you, ya slit-eyed yellow fuck-muppet, that I'm not selling any of my inventory for some meager fuckin' shrapnel!" ranted Torben at an Asian man who was trying to buy some warm clothing off of him with no more than a few pre-apocalypse coins.

"But sir! I have a family and we don't have any firewood left! I really need to-"

"Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah nee-nee nah!" interrupted Torben. "No fuckin' discounts. Fuck off and gander around a bit, you rootin' bludger. I don't care about your wife or little shits, or if the weather'll freeze the donger off a brass monkey. I'm a merchant. I have my own needs, my own concerns. If you can't get that through your thick little Oriental skull, I'm selling you fuck all. Now rack off until you've got something of value to barter with. Cunt."

The Asian man then walked away from Torben in fear and embarassment. One less customer trying to rip him off with trying to get discounts on his store's inventory of jackets. With the man gone, Torben then folded up the jacket he had out for the would-have-been customer, took it off the merchant stand, and took it back in his home behind the stand. Just a small home set up in one of the old stores, with two beds, a makeshift kitchen area, a workshop for making and repairing clothing and other things, a living room, and various dressers and cupboards all around for storing various weapons, tools, supplies, and whatever else Torben and his mom had laying around. Rather spacious and luxurious by post-apocalyptic standards.

"G'day, mum." greeted Torben to his mother, who was lounging in their living room area. "Bludgering Chinese fucker's trying to root us out, and... stew's ready, I suspect?"

-Union Station-

Johnny happened to have hear the Asian man walk away from the merchant across the street. Johnny takes the bag of his head to look at himself. Just pants. that's all he ever wore. just pants. but recently his robot arm had been freaking people out, so johnny had decided to get a jacket. on with LOTS of pockets. Pockets... ah pockets. He puts the bag back on his head and walks across the street to the merchants shop. He begins to pick up the a jacket when he smells... Ew... That could use something. It smelled like a dying rat being dipped in sewage and then being farted on. It was a smell he had smelled before, but he couldn't quite pin it. Johnny puts down the jacket and walks into the house. He makes a break for the kitchen where the horrible stew was.

(THIS NEVER HAPPENED)

"...thank you for this meal, and may you continue to look over us and-"

Then came a paper bag-donning robot-armed man wearing nothing more than a pair of pants and a backpack, ever so rudely barging into Torben's home without even so much as knocking.

"FUCK ME DEAD!" exclaimed a startled Torben. "You bastard! Don't go barging into my fuckin' home! Get out!"

The angry little Australian man then marched over to the intruder with a cudgel in hand, ready to whack this fucker in the nuts if he didn't get out.

"The rootin' fuck's with you coming into my fuckin' house like that? You fuckwit. I'll pound yer fuckin' balls off with my beating stick here unless you give me a fair fuckin' dinkum explanation for why you barged in like this."

"Torben, sweetheart! Calm down!" called Torben's mother from the dining room table.

Johnny looks at the merchant and stares for a moment. "Your soup smells. Where is the food? I must fix it." He then sets his bag Down and looks at the mother. "Good day, ma'am." He walks in the kitchen and looks at the soup.

"G'day, stranger- Oh, not in the kitchen!" said Torben's mother.

Torben became furious as the strange man walked into their kitchen. Did this man have any manners?

"YOU FUCKING DILL!!!" screamed Torben as he marched over to the kitchen to get within personal range of the man, where he then took a swing at one of the man's knees with his cudgel.

Johnny turns around, jumps, and looks at the merchant man. "Look sir, I'm only trying to help you and your dear old mum here. I was going to make soup, warn you of the raid thats going to happen, and take you to a safe place. So please stop trying to kill me, if you want to survive." Johnny turns back to the kitchen and says "ma'am, do you have any meat? More meat will help this soup from sticking."

Naomi stood in the relatively crowded Metro Centre, this being a major transfer station for most of the lines it made sense why she was sent here to do recruiting rather than the more populated, though less traffic heavy Union Station. Naomi had been here for what had to have been a month or so, but it was hard to keep track. She knew this was for the best, getting away from the front lines, only having to deal with skinheads on occasion and the military even less, but she couldn't help but think that the general populace was no better. Many of the people outside of the red controlled stations didn't take kindly to some punk ass commie trying to sell them on the idea that everyone has the right to not be exploited by the capitalist machine. A man walked by and Naomi handed him a hand drawn flyer. He read the title "Be Equal, Don't be a Slave to Greedy Merchants" and he spat on Naomi's torn up shoes. She figured he must have been a merchant.

After an hour or so of being pushed around by passers-by, Naomi made her way towards the "food market" which was really just a collection of little storefronts set up by people hoping to make a quick buck off some needy travellers. However, Naomi had developed quite a rapport with the man who ran a shop that sold canned food from the old world. He was a communist sympathizer, though he needed to find some way to make a living outside of the red controlled area. An older woman eyed a patch that adorned the left sleeve of Naomi's sweater, the hammer and sickle printed on it, as she made her way towards her seller. Naomi smiled at him before placing 5 cigarettes in front of him. "What can these get me?" She said, knowing full well that it will be gross tomato soup, as always.

Naomi sits against a wall, cold soup in hand, carefully drinking it so as to not cut herself on the frayed edges that were left from the manual can opener. As she watches people pass by her, she just hopes that her day can only go up from here, as a fox/man steps on her foot accidentally on purpose.

After quite a bit of traveling along the yellow line and making it to the more central area, a group finally made it to Metro Centre. Granted, they had their share of run ins, but they were easy targets for the giant hulking figure of the group. Two were of the anthro species, the bigger one a black tiger with pale grayish white stripes, aqua blue eyes examining the area and people around them. His giant figure stood around eight feet, wearing black armor, and had a sledgehammer holstered to his broad back.

A well known figured those near their territory or those who dared enter Elvira tribe turf. Xurga, a powerful warrior that is said to eat bullets without flinching while ripping apart surface monsters with his bare claws. To his tribe he was the high ranking warrior, a Achashverosh.

The other was a black canine looking anthro with red eyes and long hair. His red eyes looking more bored than concerned compared to his much taller companion. He stood around 5'5 and his figure was much more slender, but he carried guns on him , wearing a black jacket and pants.

There was a human girl, seeming to lead the way through the station, she had long blonde hair that was braided back, though strands from her bangs flowed over her pale face. Standing five feet, she walked along in a pair of shorts, a black tank top, and a cream colored jacket. Her right hand held a black cane, the tip constantly tapping around the ground just about a foot or two in front of her. Occasionally tapping against someone's foot.

"<Is it required to be here? I do not care mingling amongst too many outsiders. Especially the Aplesshar.>" Xurga spoke in the Elviran tongue. He didn't quite care being this far into the other stations.

"<Ah don't be such a stick in the mud! New sights to see! New garbage to eat! New beautiful ladies or handsome boys to gaze your eyes upon! What more could you ask for?>" Ashiek the black canine replied with a smirk, his hands behind his head as his muzzle gave a cheeky grin. In which the tiger simply gave a gruff in reply.

The human girl, Skylar or just Sky, gave a chuckle in amusement, turning her face slightly toward Xurga who stood on her right while Ashiek stood on her left. "<Metro Center has some useful supplies. We can use the trade. Plus this is one of the more international stations amongst the others. So less likely of getting jumped on with all of us. We don't want to go out exploring without supplies.>" she said in Elviran as well, pausing a little as she felt her can slightly smack someone in the foot.

"Awe, pardon." Skylar gave a quick apology to whomever.

Ashiek looked to see a woman seeming to eat some soup, or drink it more like. She was pretty short as well and had less fur then most Aplesshar regularly do.

Seamus' perspective:

Seamus was eating with his brother, Keane, when he realised that he needed to go to the merchants to get more supplies. He knew of one, Toby? he thought, or was it Torby?
Either way, he needed the supplies. Keane's old enough to look after himself now, he though, or, more precisely, hoped. Seamus couldn't keep bringing Keane to get supplies with him. Not when sometimes he had to get bullets, and knives. Seamus felt guilty, he hadn't been the best role model to his younger brother. He wouldn't be a good role model to anyone, not when he killed people for a living. He had gone through shirts like he had gone through cans of food. There was no reliable way to clean blood out of his clothes, especially when cleaning supplies were, unsurprisingly, running low. He hugged his brother goodbye, like he had done everyday. They were each other's only family, and knew that they might never see each other again. He would have to go along the red line to get to Union Station, and the merchant, but it wouldn't take too long.

---

Keane's perspective:

Keane sat on the floor with his brother, on a blanket that Seamus had gotten a few weeks ago. The blanket was already stained with brine, and different flavours of soup. Seamus got up, but his can of food in the bin, and hugged him goodbye. Keane knew exactly where he was going. He needed to get more supplies from the merchant in Union Station. Specifically, ammo for his gun. Keane knew it was low because he remembered the combination lock for Seamus' ammo box, and had seen that morning before Seamus had woken up. Of course, Seamus did not know this, Keane had looked whilst Seamus was unlocking his ammo box. Whilst Seamus liked to keep it a secret, Keane knew exactly what Seamus did for a living. He was a hit man, someone paid to take out your enemies. Keane always had this in the back of his mind, wondering what would happen if someone didn't like him. Seamus would never hurt me, he thought. However, Keane always flinched a bit when he saw Seamus with his silenced pistol, or knife.

He remembered a time, when Seamus had been hired to dispatch someone by slicing his throat. Keane had been in the house, but Seamus thought he was out getting food. The merchant had been closed, so Keane was back much earlier than Seamus thought. He was in the bedroom, and Seamus had dragged his victim into the makeshift house, and slit his throat, as slowly as he could. And, for a moment, Keane thought that he saw a smile on Seamus' face, as if he was actually enjoying it, getting pleasure out of killing his target.

But Keane put that thought out of his mind, as he got dressed into clothes he could go into the station with.

Missed the fucker's knees! thought Torben. Oh, he's going to help us make soup, and then a raid's gonna happen. And before that, he's barging into our house.

"Waste of my fuckin'... mum, are you really going to believe this basket case?" Torben scowled at the thought that his airhead mother would probably buy into this spastic dipshit's words.

"Torben... he wants to help, and he says there's a raid coming, so we should-"

"So we should stay here. How in the blazing fuck are we going to drag all our shit around?"

"They'll carry it for us?" replied Torben's mom.

"And then they'll steal our shit. Smarten up, mum. This fucker just crashed into our house, not even so much as knocking. He's probably plotting something!"

Torben groaned and then turned to the weirdo that entered their home unexpectedly.

"We're fine. We don't need help. Now get out of my bloody home."

Johnny turns back to the merchant. "Okay. Now that you know, I can leave. But, here take this." He reaches into his pocket and hands the merchant a card. The card reads; " Come to this address to be safe; 678 Ne Union Station Alley Way. Ask For Johnny." "Come and find me. I can get you and your mother out before the Raid." He looks over at The merchant's mother " Good Day Ma'am." He picks up his bag and leaves the house. He disappears into the shadows of Union Station.

The fourth was a bundled up bunny barely a hair taller than the human girl, their ears poking out of the top of a drawn hood, holes having been made. Fumbling a map in one gloved hand and a faulty compass in the other, he seemed to pay only slight attention to the group. "<I hear Apelesshar have come far in clinging to the old world...>" This boy, Keepa, mused as he folded up the map, realizing they were practically already there before continuing. "<...the ugliness of it and all with...uh...>" He began, his eye catching one of the guards who responded to his look with a tightening of his grip on the rifle he carried. "<...Yeah- it shouldn't be too bad if we stick together>" They concluded with a small cough, feeling for the bullets in his pocket. He still had rations to spare for another few days, but was low on water and was curious if the shops may have CS gas stocked. Maybe while they were there, he'd have the opportunity to swipe some pool chalk...

"<I suppose we all have essential needs to acquire>" They stated after the thought and Skylar's explanations before bumping into the group from the sudden halt. "Is something?" He asks in English, trying to get a look at why they stopped.

Naomi put her now empty can of soup down on the ground and kicked it away as she stood up. She was a bit angry as this was the fourth time in as many minutes someone had bumped into her and she assumed that this was on purpose as usual as the homeless guy sitting only about 10 feet away was not having any trouble enjoying his mouldy bread. It was when she finally looked to those who had disturbed her that she calmed down a bit. For starters it seemed the one who had hit her was at least had very big problems with her vision, if she wasn't completely blind. But other than that there was one huge tiger guy that looked like he would completely rip her to shreds if she dared give them anything close to trouble. She brushed herself off a bit, though it did next to nothing to the actual cleanliness of her clothes. "Don't worry about it, it's no big deal. Karl Marx once wrote that 'The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.' So it's whatever." She smiled at the girl and her ragtag group of animal travellers as she brushed some of her hair from in front of her left eye. She was happy they didn't jump her the moment they laid eyes on her but she hoped they would understand her quote and not hurt her more to alleviate her 'mental suffering'.

Karl Marx was of course someone that Naomi knew a lot of quotes of. From pretty much the moment she started with the Communist uprising she was taught the words of Karl Marx, and all people who work with the communist regime must carry a copy of The Communist Manifesto, many being handwritten by the workers themselves due to a lack of actual printed copies. Though Naomi had hers stolen in the last week by some 'patriot' scumbag and she was waiting on a new one to be delivered to her by a friend back home.

Seamus' perspective:

Seamus heard the train arriving, and ran as fast as he could down to the red line platform. He only just managed to make it onto the fully packed train. The trains didn't run very often, so you had to get one when you could. After a few minutes on the train, he got off at Union Station. He walked over to the merchant's stall, and saw that it was empty. However, he did quite need to bullets, and decided to knock on the merchant's front door. "Oi!" he shouted, "It's me, I need some stuff!"

---

Keane's perspective:

As soon as he was sure that Seamus had gone, Keane picked up two cans of food, and went out into the station. He knew exactly where he was going. He started walking down nearer the platforms, until he reached a girl standing near the food market. He secretly fancied her, but didn't tell anyone, least of all Seamus. The girl was a communist, and Seamus, like nearly all other people in the Metro Centre, were completely against communists. But Keane didn't care about her political values, he just cared about her. She looked pretty good, and he had spoken to her for a minute or two when she had given him a flyer. Keane had kept it ever since, making sure not to let his brother see. When he got there, he gave her the two tins of food, "Hi," he said nervously, "these are for you."

Johnny watched from a distance at a boy giving a girl some food. Readjusting the straps on his bag, he quickly walks over to the boy and girl. "Hey. You two. I need to tell you something. It's your chose whether you want to listen or not." He then reaches into his bag and produces a tiny bit of meat. Slipping it under his paper bag on his head. He smacks his lips. " Delicious."

As time crept by the people and the visitors of the station continued their daily business, the sounds of laughter, anger, and much more erupting through the stalls and the many restored stores of the area. During all of that, the intercom came to life but started off with the screech of a microphone error.

"Attention, all available armed personnel associated with the guard please report to the gate. At this time any departures from this station is restricted due to complications outside the gate. Please have a sense of patience metro dwellers while your safety is insured." As the announcement was being given, the huge gates that were open for the trains were pulled shut by two men on each gate, moments later every guard who wasn't dealing with some issue or on some assignment was making their way towards the entrance to the tunnels. Some of them were at the ready, and their weapons were in their hands as if prepared to raise and fire at any moment. Something must have happened in the tunnels.

Despite the flow of market being typical, there was a sense of concern drifting through the air. Some people were voicing concerns about returning to their own stations, others were cursing the authority for starting up some lock down. Needless to say; without a visit to the gate and a permission from someone there, the only way out was up to the surface.

Skylar smiled a little, as she turned her face toward where the feminine voice came from, propping her hands gingerly on top of the upright cane. Listening to her words, the blonde chuckled softly as she recognized the quote and name. "Ah a fan of Karl Marx? Mhm I once read a book from him back home." she mused thoughtfully at the memory. It was quite hard to find a book in Braille, but The Communist Manifesto was one of them. She didn't quite share in their beliefs, but she tended to respect just about any sort of belief.

"So perhaps I should have hit you harder o make you mentally feel better?" Skylar joked softly with a soft chuckle.

"If you could do us a favor, we were wondering where is the best store to get some supplies? Like food for traveling." she asked warmly, her smile bright and cheerful. Out of the group, she was the most socially friendly, and not very intimidating. She liked talking with people, learning new things and such. It was a fun experience for her.

Xurga's bright glowing blue eyes stared down the female Apelesshar, seeming to watch for any sign of trouble toward his Apelesshar daughter. His powerful arms crossed and his claws clinking lightly against his armor. He wasn't as trusting nor as friendly towards outsiders of the tribe, though his judgement would only call forth if they do something wrong. Which is quite possible.

As Keepa seemed to question about the situation, Xurga glanced toward the much smaller male. "<Dont fidget so much. It makes others more nervous and likely to think your up to something. Skylar tapped her stick against a female Apelesshar.>" he said.

Ashiek rolled his eyes, canine pointed ears twitching as he tried to listen to what the two were saying. He knew more English then Xurga, but not too much. "<Yeah nothin special. She's just asking where we can get some supplies before heading up. Bet if we show you off we can get a discount. Too cute to resist.>" he smirked as he lightly tugged teasingly on the bunny's long ear.

As a man approached, Xurga's eyes narrowed at him at the approach, examining this new possible opponent. Ashiek watched him as well, but looked more relaxed.

Skylar blinked as she turned her head to face toward where the new male voice came from, unsure who he was exactly talking to. Considering where the sound of his voice came from, she guessed it was for this girl she had come across. Just then, the announcer spoke and the blonde human couldn't help but flinch and cover her ears at the loud noise. For the others, it was pretty normal, but to her it rung her ears due to her heightened sense of hearing.

Ashiek moved closer and gently patted her back in order to somewhat comfort her, and she nodded her thanks before turning to Xurga and repeating the announcers message in Elviran.

"<We should move out to the surface. Things may get ugly here. I rather not be part of a firefight here.>" the large black tiger said in a calm voice.

Keepa's ears drooped from the disapproval of his inquisitive nature. Having never really been away from the tribe's station other than to roam the surface, he couldn't really help his curiosity of Apelesshar culture; he often didn't get to see much of them before they were killed, served for dinner or ran off the way they came. "<Ehrm, my apologies, sir>" Keepa muttered, taking his hands out of the pockets of his short coat.
The proposal to 'show him off' almost made him stop, empathizing that the discount was a five-finger one of sorts, with himself as a distraction. Still, he didn't know how to take the 'showing off' part, receding a bit into his coat and scarf to hide his expression before Ashiek tugged on one of his ears which flicked in his fingers.
"<P-please don't>" Chirped the bunny, tail fluttering lightly as they pulled their scarf up over their nose, a hint of a blush teasing over the edges of the fabric.

The sound of the intercom came as a surprise, but Keepa did his best not to jump. "<Yeah, its not our fight, anyway>" He agreed, noticing he had still instinctively rested a hand on his shortsword in his coat which he tried super hard to pretend he was only crossing his arms.