12th of April, 2073
1:17 pm
Underground/Sewer System
4 days of food remaining.
4 days of water remaining.

It was cold and damp. That was the first thing you’d notice: the cold. The smell? Not as bad as you might’ve assumed but, uh, still pretty bad. It had to have been… some kind of underground construction happening due to the large open space. Decently high ceilings (Or as high as they could be) that did little to fight against the chill. Archways leading to different sectors included, it gave off a cramped feeling and a feeling of emptiness at the same time.

It appeared that another group had previously taken refuge here considering the rather… lived in appearance it held. From the posters on some of the walls to the ratty old couch that was covered in a bunch of, arguably damped, pillows. Old boxes and crates were used as tables. (Probably junk that was thrown down here at another point. In the apocalypse, there’s no time to be picky.

There were a few hanging lights but they seemed blown out. Some replacement bulbs would be needed to even consider some kind of electrical lighting. A damp beanbag chair off to the side with an odd-looking chair far off. (Another against a wall.) This was what you saw when you first walked in.

To the right, there was an open area to what looked to be some kind of rest area. There were hammocks and a few cots. They were short 2 beds. There was a small chest at the end of each ‘bed’, clearly the previous group had some kind of storage system for each individual.

Straight ahead, there was another open area. It must’ve been some kind of storage area considering all the crates (Who knew what was in there?) that were in there. But, it had appeared to be re-purposed into some kind of eating area. Some of the larger crates had been pushed together to create some kind of mockery of a dining table. Add a few pillows surrounding it and you got some place to sit-sorry, kneel, and eat. There was also charred remains a little further in leading to the idea that a fire had been made there. A few pots and pans that looked unstable laid strewn around. There was broken glass scattered around the area from what could’ve been broken plates. There were a few chipped and cracked ones remaining however. Add in a, what appeared to be at least, metal bench over to the side. There was also a crate that seemed half empty but with a few leftover rations and water that could last a few days.

Then, to the left when you first come in, there was not another area. Instead, it was just a curtain that’d been attached to what looked like a hand-welded pole to the wall that separate the area. You could only guess that it was to wall off an area for changing and… maybe showering? (Taking a huge leap in assuming there was some kind of showering system, at least.) You had no idea.

The entrance was just a steel door in the middle of a larger circular door. It must’ve been electrically operated for it to open and close at another point in time. But with no electricity? Pretty much just a 10 ft. tall circle.

And that was pretty much it.

Lavender was… skeptic, to say the least. Green eyes studied the environment with a kind of worry that came from any new area.

Are there any alternative exits and entrances that just aren’t seeable?

Are there any breaches?

The smaller door, how weak and frayed is it? Could it be broken down easily?

Food… what about food? More importantly, what about water? They could go a little while without food but water? That’s a whole other story in and of itself.

Stepping a little further into the space, Lavender’s boots made a bit of noise considering the overall dampness of the area. She’d wandered over to the couch, eyeing the table to see what looked like… schedules? Schedules for… Rick, Annie, Mike… they must’ve had assigned roles and jobs amongst themselves… not a bad idea.

Her fists unconsciously tightened from their place in her pockets. The weight of her rifle felt comforting on her back, a reminder of the fact that she wasn’t completely defenseless. She adjusted the weight of the first aid kit attached from her pants; it was a familiar weight she appreciated.

Taking a few steps to the right, she peered into the sleeping area. Regardless… what’s first? She thought, the tall girl’s eyes flickering to the rest of her… whatever it was that they were. She still hadn’t decided yet.

The Latino girl reached to her side and twisted shut the valve that gave her clean oxygen, before removing the head of her suit, the breathing 'octopus,' (or, at least, that was what she thought it was called, the text on the piping was a little faded and spotty- not the best to read, it had to be said, dangling out of her mouth. She picked up the pressure gauge and took a deep sigh. 25 PSI. Enough for about... Fifteen minutes topside. She would need to fill it up again, but for now she contented herself with putting her welding torch down, her shoulder aching from hauling the heavy battery. She didn't know these people, but they were her best bet at surviving.

She fumbled in her pocket and drew out a tattered box of small, white pills. Caffeine. Worked as a placebo drug too if you didn't know what they actually were. She balled up some spit and popped one of the little things, struggling to swallow. "I'll take one of the cots," she mumbled, before walking over to one of them and inspecting it closely. It looked to be an actual bunk bed, metal posts and frame. She pressed down on the mattress, and even through the thick gloves she was wearing, could feel that they were cheap, and filthy. The mattress had no cover, and the blanket was threadbare, but hey, four pillows. Probably because they were so small.

The rest of her suit came off with a little difficulty. The first thing she needed to do was to remove the overcoat and air canister 'rucksack' sown into it, which required it to be unzipped from the inside. She removed her gloves- they were hockey gloves with a butcher's chainmail hand protections burnt into the plastic for added protection, and a thin leather layer over the top of that. They were heavy to say the least, and clanked loudly when she put them down on the floor.

Then there was the zip, and she carefully took off the jacket- a thick cagoule with a modified rucksack to hold the air canister and oxygen feed, with waterproof inner layer gloves. She had picked it carefully- it was the item that she was most relying on to not get rad sickness, after all. Underneath she was wearing a ratty white t-shirt with faded blue writing and a graphic on it. If it had been intact, it would have been a biohazard symbol. Slightly ironic- it had been nukes that had bumped them off after all.

She doubled over as a coughing fit overtook her, wiping away the black that she hacked up on her trousers, before undoing the zip on them and stepping out of both her boots and her trousers in one go. They had been salvaged from an actual hazmat suit. Whilst the original wearer had taken a shotgun to the chest, she was no stranger to looting dead bodies.

Finally, she was left standing, looking like a normal human being. Her eyes had bags that you could carry shopping in, and her hands and arm were a red reminiscent of bad rash, but she was otherwise OK. She removed the scrunchie around her ponytail, tucking it into a pair of navy tracksuits and walking barefoot out onto the freezing cold concrete. She bent down and unsheathed her machete, before hanging it on the end of her bed and walking back to the unofficial leader of the group. "What now?"

Aviel lingered in the doorway for a bit as she surveyed her new... living space. Her deep brown eyes passed slowly over every surface, taking stock of what they had and what they would need. Crates in what appeared to be a dining area; possibly full, definitely useful. Beds, with storage for each. Looks like there's not enough for everyone. How... unfortunate? She wasn't sure that was the word she should use, considering the condition of what few beds there were. She tapped her jaw a couple times, and then slowly crossed into the space she was pretty sure she would have to call home.

She first wandered over to the sleeping area. Passed the girl wearing what Aviel could only assume was a space suit, carefully touched the mattress on the next cot over. Damp, probably mouldy. The next one was even worse: it appeared nearly soaked through, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was ready to collapse under the weight of whoever was unfortunate enough to pick last. Turned her attention to the hammocks, but only briefly; she decided quickly that she didn't trust the rope that held the rickety things together.

...Mouldy bed it is then.

Aviel turned to the space woman and made a curt noise to get her attention. "Mine," she announced, motioning toward the bed. It was the most Aviel had said to this woman since they had met. In fact, she had barely spoken a word to any of the group she currently traveled with. Aviel couldn't even be sure that she had given them her name - she certainly hadn't gotten any of theirs. Her decision to travel with these people was purely one of survival: they seemed capable, and she no longer wished to travel alone.

She opened the chest at the foot of her bed, but lost interest upon finding it empty. Her attention then wandered to the crates in the dining area. She slowly crossed the room and began going through each, checking to see if anything of use to them had been left behind.

A blue sky with a bright yellow sun laid overhead, seeming vast and endless to the six year old girl staring up at it on the school playground. Then suddenly it lit up brightly, forcing her to shield her eyes as a low rumble could be heard in the distance.

…

“Hurry, we need more bandages!” The six year old heard, multiple doctors and nurses rushing around the halls of the hospital, the smell of blood and sound of the injured filling her senses.

…

“We can’t stay here any longer...”

“...what are we supposed to do? Leave these people, they’re injured and we’re doctors, it’s our duty to help them!”

“Look around you, we’re running on generators for electricity and the water has stopped running, I don’t want to leave these people either, but we have our daughter to think about.”

“Fine, we’ll go...”

The girl overheard a man and woman, her parents, quietly arguing whilst she laid on a couch, pretending to be asleep, not being able to do anything other than stay awake after all she experienced.

…

“This is a good find, we should be able to make this last a few weeks,”

“I’m glad we found such a good haul, I was beginning to get worried with how low our supplies were getting.”

The woman that was a the now slightly older girl’s mother looked down at her daughter, “Thanks to you, we found a lot of supplies, you’re our good luck charm,” The woman said to her with a smile, bending over to kiss the top of her head.

“Hey, help! I’m trapped!” A voice was heard not too far away.
…

“Hand over your supplies and no one will get hurt,” A man said with a grin, a shimmer coming off his pistol as a small amount of light hit it. Three other people also having their weapons drawn at the family.

“Alright, you can have them, just don’t hurt my wife or daughter, please...” The girl’s father said shakily, setting down the bag of supplies in front of the group of people holding them up.

“Hmmm, think we’ll also be taking this one as well, think she’ll grow up to be real pretty and will make a fine addition to our group,” One of the bandits said with a grin on his face as he reached out and grabbed the girl by her wrist.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” The girl’s father said, pulling out a knife he had hidden and slashing the man across the face and then went about keeping the other three at bay.

“Take our daughter and go, now!”

The woman picked up her daughter into her arms and then reluctantly fled whilst her husband held off the rest of the bandits.

“No, go back mommy! We can’t leave daddy behind!”

The woman gently placed her hand on the back of her daughters head, holding her close as tears stung her eyes and left their burning trail down her cheeks.

Suddenly a loud shout rung out through the tunnels and the man that stayed behind to let his family get away fell to the ground, lifeless.

…

“DADDY!”

…

Sarah’s eyes shot open as she panted, beads of sweat coated her face and neck, her adrenaline rushing through her like crazy, so much so that she felt her hand shake as she brought up her hand to her face, covering her eyes as she collected herself.

“That same dream again...I don’t know why I keep having it, not like the past will change if I keep remembering it...”

She suddenly felt a light piece of cloth land on her shoulder, looking down at it and then to see where it came from, an older woman was standing in front of her, wearing a dingy lab coat over and equally dingy green top and blue jeans.

“Had the same dream again, huh kiddo?”

Sarah let out a sigh and then took the cloth resting on her and wiped off the sweat that was still covering her.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, mom?” Sarah retorted as she got up from the wall she had been sleeping against, stretching out her arms and lurching her back forward.

“Well you have been helping me with the patients for twenty-two hours straight, I thought that you could use some well deserved rest.”

“Well I only wanted a quick nap, so how long was I out? An hour or two?” The red headed girl asked as she let out a yawn, still trying to wake up.

“Well, if my watch is still working...” Her mother responded, pausing for a moment as she checked the underside of her wrist where the watch’s face lay, “...more like seven,” She gave a small grin.

“What!? Seven hours? But I told you to wake me up in thirty, an hour at the most,” Sarah clenched her fist with a look of irritation on her face.

“Right, but as I said, you needed your rest.”

“Still, there’s a small infection going on, people are still getting hurt expanding this place or going out of the sewers and there’s not that many people here with medial training like you or I, so I need to be up as much as possible to help you and them.” She responded earnestly, taking a step forward to begin heading over to an area that could best be described as their medical area, but suddenly stumbling forward, thankfully being caught by her mother.

“Whilst I’m glad that I could teach you about medicine and the human body, you’re still just a kid and over taxing your body isn’t something you should be doing.”

“I’m not a kid, this world stole my childhood and if I’m going to do anything, it’s at least going to be something useful rather than sitting around doing nothing.”

Her mother gave a small smirk as she briefly closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, “You sure are a stubborn one kiddo, but I guess you got that from your father, huh? Well if you really want to help, I won’t stop you, just don’t overexert yourself further, alright?” She said as she draped her arm over Sarah’s shoulders, leading her to the medical area where there were a few cots with people either sleeping or needing to be treated.

“Go ahead and stitch up Mr. Hayes, he’s over on Cot 2, I’ll tend to the ones with infection.”

Sarah let out a sigh as she was handed a clip board that had various notes and information, the closest thing they had to medical charts. She made her way over to a man in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, he looked to be in his late 30s, early 40s.

“Damn it Mr. Hayes, this is the third time this month I’m needing to patch you up, are you clumsy or just a masochist?” She growled as she pulled up a chair in front of the man, tossing the clipboard onto the nearby instrument tray.

“Well I just like seeing your pretty face and this was the best way I could do that,” He joked as he let out a hearty laugh.

“Yeah, I bet, be sure your wife doesn’t hear you say that, she’ll think you’re trying to go after a younger girl,” Sarah retorted as she pulled out a pocket flashlight, clicking the back of it and shining the light across the underside of the man’s forearm, “Hmm, looks like it’ll be six stitches this time, just what exactly were you doing this time?” she added as turned off the light and set it down on the tray.

“Really? Six? I thought it would only be three or four at the most?”

“Afraid not, again, what were you doing to slice your arm open like this?” She asked once more, pouring a small amount of alcohol onto what could be considered a clean rag and then disinfected the area.

The older man winced as he sucked in some air through his teeth.
“Oh stop being such a baby, it’s just a little alcohol, need to clean this so it doesn’t get infected and I don’t have to see that ugly mug of yours every two weeks,” Sarah responded to the man’s discomfort, a small smirk given as she glanced at him.

“Real nice bedside manner you got there, doc,” He said with emphasis on the last bit of his sentence then added, “as for my arm, we were working on making another area, perhaps something for the kids or a lounge area, just to take the edge off when this world gets to you.

“Well...it sounds nice, but I don’t think many have the luxury of being able to relax when everything wants to kill you, well except maybe for children, they don’t have to endure all this as much as we do.”

“You’re still a kid too ya know, you don’t have to grow up so fast.”

“Nah, I’ll tell you what I told my mom, this world stole my childhood, I knew what it was like before everything was like this, so no, I’m not a kid anymore, I was forced to grow up after everything went to shit.”

She finished the last of his stitches and then wrapped a bandage around the freshly closed wound, “There, you’re all fixed up, now don’t go getting hurt anymore, at least not for a while, can’t be wasting all our supplies on every cut and scrape you get.” Sarah added as she closed the box that had various bandages in them.

The older man looked at his bandaged arm, making a fist with it and then stood up, resting his hand on Sarah’s head, “Thanks for patching me up and...I don’t think you’ve grown up too fast, I believe this world will get better and you’ll be able to make up for all the years you missed as a kid,” He gave her a smile before walking out.

Sarah gave an irritated look as he walked out, she always hated when he rested his hand on her head and treated her like a child. She leaned back in the chair, letting her head hang back as she stared up at the concrete, “This world getting better? Ha, not in my lifetime...though it would be nice if it did,” She said to herself before getting up and helped her mother with the other patients that still required assistance.

The cold nipped at her skin even through her sweatshirt. Threadbare furniture was strewn all about. Exactly what she was used to. The second Colette stepped into the oddly-empty space, she knew she was at home.

That word had lost all meaning a long time ago.

She stepped toward the flickering lights to draw on what little warmth they offered. One by one, her companions - the first strangers she had encountered - claimed the few cots in the space. There were not enough of them for everyone. Colette glanced at the rickety hammocks that would serve as the dregs for those who didn't get a proper bed. Inwardly, she sighed. It would take some work to ensure they didn't dump her onto the cold floor. But, as always, she would manage.

"I'll leave the cots to you guys," she said.

She strolled over to a beanbag chair and sat tentatively on it. Her light backpack rested on her patched jeans, and her long, dark hair draped over her shoulders. As far as she could tell, she was the youngest member of the group. No matter how much she wanted one of those cots, one way or another, someone else would take them from her. Better not to get on anyone's bad side by putting up a fight.

She extracted her sewing kit and quickly got to work on a pair of socks she had been making for herself. In these kinds of situations, it was best to busy yourself quickly. The people who didn't would be put to work by someone else soon enough, and they might not like the tasks they were given. So Colette dexterously continued her project, working mostly reflexively. The bulk of her attention was reserved for watching the others. There was nothing more important than understanding the people around you.

Despite tension that made her want to grind her teeth, she smiled and said. "Well, it's roomy!" A little optimism would nudge her toward most people's good books, though too much could prove irritating quickly. "Kind of chilly, though. If any of you get cold, just give me your measurements and I'll see what I can do." In the short term, her personal warmth wasn't terribly important. She could survive a few days in the cold, and then she could make something comfier for herself. Her immediate concern was to establish a safe long-term setting - and that meant securing her social position, not her physical one.

Eli couldn't leave them. But one by one, those he tried to help, died, usually in his arms. There had been four in all, in his last group, and now there was one. He carried a near empty backpack as he humped through the sewers. Feeling hungry, he stopped walking and pulled the pack off him. Opening it, he saw the final can of Dinty Moore stew. He sighed and closed the bag before continuing to walk.

Hearing someone up a head, Eli concealed himself around a corner. The darkness made it impossible for him to get a good look, but he thought he could hear multiple women entering some sort of chamber that echoed. He thought for a moment to consider what this might mean. Echoes like that mean tall ceiling, which means more space, which means a possible place to scavenge for or store food and other supplies.

Ever the trusting type, Eli was about to move around the corner to greet them, but he stopped. When has that ever worked? Once. The other dozen or so times nearly ended with his life removed from him, and certainly what little food he had. But from what he could discern from their voices, they sounded like all women. Surely he could take a couple of girls if they tried anything. Well, depending how many there were. Besides, at this stage, everyone had been hardened into a survivor, not a victim. All of the victims perished within the first couple years, once the strong ones realized that protecting the weak risked their own lives.

However, Eli had never held to that philosophy. "Do unto others."

So he inhaled deeply, took his knife from his pocket, flipped it open in his knuckle-gloved hands, and slowly moved down the sewer toward the voices. As he approached the door, he was shocked. Without even entering the room, he could see a couple of them clearly, through the door that they had carelessly left open for some reason. Perhaps they were expecting someone else? Perhaps they were expecting him. That's a scary thought.

Eli clenched his blade more firmly and swallowed nervously before clearing his throat, getting Collette's attention at the very least.

Lavender’s eyes flickered to her right at the sound of speech, thinking it was to someone else. But, she was taken back to see that the latino girl had been talking to her. Eyebrows furrowing, Lavender looked down at the girl. She’d have preferred to just slip into the background and go about her business, but with the woman literally staring at her and asking about what to do next… what could she do? And that also raised another question:

When did she get silently voted leader?

Giving a somewhat nervous look, the tall girl quickly looked around almost as if hoping someone else could swoop in and be the hero of this group. Let’s see…

Cold and quiet woman who’s only word so far has been a territorial ‘mine’ in regards to a bed. She’d immediately gone to walk to the crates in the mock dining room. So, she’s resourceful then.

And a very nice woman who seemed to be trying to make the best of the situation, seeming to be quite good at making clothing. Size didn’t matter, any clothing would be important.

Welp, no help there.

Eyes moving back to the woman standing by her, she cleared her throat slightly. Ignoring the small twinge of pain, she licked her lips before opening her mouth to speak. “Maybe we should take stock? See what has been left behind so that… we know what we have to… work with?” The light southern accent was practically made naught by the grumbling deepness of her voice. She internally cringed at the sound, not even minding the small ache that came from her throat.

Before she could even ask what the other women thought of the idea, a clearing of a throat caught her attention. And it was distinctly male and, last time she checked, there were no males in this group… quickly looking over as her left hand automatically went to her back as if to grab her gun.

But, she was brought face to face with… a guy. Just some guy. Her eyes flickered to the knife in his hand and she felt nervousness bubble up inside of her along with anger at the sight of the open door. Sure, the big door was no problem. But, we must’ve forgotten to close the other door. She scolded herself, but decided to not focus on her own annoyance and instead focus on the new arrival.

“Who are you? What do you want?"

Aviel glanced briefly at the others - first the child, then the space woman - as they spoke, pausing to try and process what had been said. The space woman, Aviel concluded, was looking for direction from the tall woman; the child's words gave her more trouble. Aviel did hear the word "cold"; the child was smiling, so she likely wasn't complaining about the temperature; she was sewing, perhaps she had said something about that?

Aviel shook her head; whatever had been said, it obviously wasn't important.

As she reached the dining area, she noticed a half-empty crate pushed off to one side. Upon further inspection she found it to contain food and water, enough for a few days at least. She was relieved at this discovery, as it meant they had a little bit of time to regroup and figure out what else needs to be done. As a signal to the others, she picked it up and carefully dropped it onto the table. The goal was to make some noise but not enough to echo out the door and alert any potential bandits; her efforts to do so were only mostly successful.

The tall girl was speaking now. Aviel didn't bother listening to her words; she was too distracted to try and decipher them. She began collecting the pots and pans and stacking them next to the rations. Most of them looked unusable for cooking, but she figured they could probably find some other use for them.

Then the tall girl's tone changed. Aviel looked up to find the new arrival - a man? Without thinking Aviel dropped the pot she was holding and quickly pulled out her pistol, aiming it at the stranger. It was only then that she noticed the knife in his hand. A scowl crossed her face; what the hell was he doing? Where did he come from? And did he really think he was a match for them?

... Was he alone? A slight panic rose in Aviel's throat as she considered the possibility that he might have companions waiting outside, out of their view. Was this their home? No - this placed belonged to Aviel and her group now. They had come a long way before finding it, and she wasn't about to give it up without a solid fight.

She took a single step closer and steadied her aim. She wasn't going to shoot unless she had to - bullets were scarce, after all - but she also wasn't about to let this man get away with whatever he came here to do.

The dark sewer tunnel just around the corner from the group and their newly discovered chamber was nearly silent.
All except for the slight squeaking of a large black rat which scurried across the damp slime and algae patched floor.

The rats' stubby little head turned from side to side as it shuffled along, it's nose twitched away as it sniffed for any hint of food.

It suddenly stopped and raised up on its hind legs instantly, sniffing away madly at the air.
It suddenly stopped it's sniffing and dropped to the floor, it's eats were perked and it stood up high on all fours, as if ready to bolt into the shadows that lined the walls of the bleak tunnel.

A loud echoing thump could be heard, and the rat instantly darted off to the left and disappeared into a small grate built into the wall.

The previous near silence of the tunnel was suddenly broken as a ragged chorus of heavy footsteps split the air.

Three ominous looking figures came limply staggering down the tunnel way, all three wore adorned in mud stained and ripped clothing, and had heavy dark brown boots on their feet.

Their ears were suddenly stimulated by the sound of a higher pitched voice up ahead of them.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

On hearing this, these three shadowy beings stretched their jaws apart and released the most ungodly sounds imaginable.

A shrieking like scream with a strange clicking and droning sound to it.

They began rapidly picking up their pace as they hustled onward, towards the voice which they had heard, all the while screeching and clicking away loudly, broadcasting the ugly sound throughout the tunnel.

As they pushed ahead, a strange glow emitted from clusters of crystal-like growths which sprouted from their heads, faces, and across their bodies, which deeply illuminated them in thd murkily lit tunnel.

The latino was unsure if she'd made the right choice in who was the leader here. She wasn't really clear on the dynamics of the group, but even so, men were bad news, and she had good reason for distrust. Shame she had left her machete back on her bed. She settled, instead, for scowling at him and turning around, thumping her chest and looking out at what she could use for scrap and junk. No doubt the myriad of guns pointed at him would quickly leave him with the 'correct' impression.

Bench could be broken down into scrap. She pulled the curtain rail... Damn. If they were all chicks, then this might not have been such a big deal, but it looked like they'd need to waste valuable tarp on privacy. Anyway, behind was a few bottles of bleach, and a 'toilet,' made out of a ceramic seat, a bucket, and an upside down road cone. The smell wasn't as bad as she had expected but...

She unscrewed one of the bottles. Clorox brand. Heh. Not much left, so she emptied it all out into the bucket. Sure, the bottle had had bleach in it, but plastic scrap was plastic scrap. There was a lot she could use it for.

That, was when she heard the sound of a clicker. "We've got company," she said quietly, before carrying the plastic bottle over to her bed and tossing it in the locker at the end. Those could be scrapped too. Of course, that was not the issue here, as she picked up her machete, watching as a rat scurried across the area. A large rat. The kind of rat that could have a lot of rat kids, and all of them would be edible.

FOCUS HERE! She thought to herself, twirling the machete in her hand. "Maybe those guns should be pointed at the clickers?"

Then the tall girl's tone changed. Aviel looked up to find the new arrival - a man? Without thinking Aviel dropped the pot she was holding and quickly pulled out her pistol, aiming it at the stranger. It was only then that she noticed the knife in his hand. A scowl crossed her face; what the hell was he doing? Where did he come from? And did he really think he was a match for them?

Elijah was holding the knife down by his side, trying to appear as harmless as possible. It wasn't until the impulsive one of the group leveled a pistol at him that he had to restrain the rage. It was a mental self-defense mechanism that all US military personnel were instilled with: if someone points a weapon at you, you eliminate the threat immediately. Nobody probably immediately noticed the Army dogtags that hung around his neck (though they were lined with rubber to prevent them from clanging and being heard). But Elijah had to forgive her, because she obviously hadn't known many military people. The rule of firearms was simple: you only point a gun at someone you want to kill. Never use it to threaten someone. Instead, he took a deep breath and turned his face away slightly, so that he was not looking directly at the woman or her gun. He knew that with his Krav Maga training, he could probably disarm her before she got a fatally accurate shot off, but he didn't want to hurt, or be hurt by, anyone else in the room.

So with his face turned aside, head lowered slightly, he kept everyone in his peripheral, but tried to look both nervous and submissive; he was actually neither.

She took a single step closer and steadied her aim...

This time he stepped back while raising his unarmed hand, nearly falling through the threshold of the entrance he'd just walked through. He tried to get a glimpse of the handgun for any vulnerabilities and noticed that it was not of a caliber that had an abundance of ammunition lying around, like his own. 9mm bullets were the most commonly manufactured and used round before the apocalypse, so the same was true after. And since one of the last survivors he'd met was a gunsmith who'd been pretty adept at reloading bullets, Elijah had no shortage of the 9mm caliber bullets, at least compared to most people.

Both his sight and hearing were not that good, so even though he was closer to the real threat down the sewer passageway, he did not perceive it until the latina did. Thankfully she was quiet about warning the others, and as soon as she did, Elijah stepped backwards through the door and turned to the right, making it evident to the woman with the gun that she was not the reason why he was now raising his knife.

"Close-quarters only," he whispered to them, just in case one of them wanted to be less than stealthy while taking on this relatively mild threat. "And shut the door."

Without waiting for the others, except for possibly the latina, who was the first of the ladies to hear it, Elijah dropped his bag of one canned item at the door and moved swiftly but quietly down the corridor toward the oncoming creatures. He'd encountered them before, many times. The two things that saved his skin before was his martial arts training, and not being where the zombie-things thought he was/would be. So Elijah closed on them before they could get closer to the shelter. Even if he was lost, the shelter would be safe.

Colette's eyes barely flickered from her work when she saw a man appear at the door and clear this throat. By the time the others confronted him, Colette had noticed his only visible weapon was a knife. She put down her needlework and blinked, wide-eyed. There was no reason for her to be involved. Several of the other women had guns, and were brandishing them accordingly. Colette remained frozen. One way or another, they would get rid of him, and she wouldn't lift a finger, nor would she be expected to. Everything was well in hand.

That was what she thought before she heard the screeching and clicking.

Colette didn't need to be told what the source of those awful noises was. In her brief time on her own, she had seen more of them than she could bear. And they were not threats she could be complacent about. Not without devaluing herself in the eyes of those around her.

She hastily stuffed the half-knitted socks into her backpack and extracted a knife held to the inside by a strap. It wasn't particularly sharp - she used it to cook, not to kill. Those who paid close enough attention would realize she didn't have a proper weapon. At least, she hoped they would.

She didn't have to fake her trembling. Never before had she been in a direct confrontation with these creatures, and she had no intention of changing that. She looked around, furrowing her eyebrows in mock confusion, as the sounds grew louder. The man - as well as several of her companions - were already reacting to the approaching threat. Colette could let them handle it for her - couldn't she? She was small for her age, and they probably thought of her as a kid. It was only natural for her to be inexperienced in combat. Despite her trembling, she took a small step forward. The most important thing was not to appear to be a coward. If the others thought she was willing to learn, they would probably be less harsh on her for her initial failure.

Of course, if the others failed, all she could hope for was to run. She bit her lip. No way would that happen. She had been through too much to die so suddenly.

Why did she always have to be so unlucky?

Despite her lack of strength, Maria had found that killing clickers was actually extremely easy, especially when armoured. They might be fast and brutal, but they relied on sound, and were predictable. As the man turned around to face them, she walked forwards, scraping the tip of her machete against the ground in order to attract them onto her. Although most were focused on other sounds, one turned, arms outstretched, screeched, and rushed towards her.

Or, more specifically, the noise. Just like in the bullfighting ring, she thought to herself. Not like she had ever sen a bullfight, but she knew what happened. The bull charged, the matador moved, the bull swished past the cape. Just like that, the clicker swiped at the noise, and she calmly jumped out of the way, before lashing out with her blade, hitting it in the back of the neck and avoiding the growth at the front of it.

There was a spray of blood, and she averted her face, but the creature simply whirled around- the blow not having been a killing one. Keeping silent, Maria carefully circled around it as it clicked and clacked, before lashing out again at the same place she had done so before, feeling the blade bite down into its spine, the creature howling, but lying on the floor, incapacitated.

Not wanting to dull or scratch his pocket knife, Elijah distracted the running creatures with a cough, causing two of them to move in his direction as his jog became a sprint along the right side of the hallway. Seeing one of the abominations split off and go after the woman, Elijah slowed his gait just enough so that when he could execute his maneuver without being in her way, and vice versa.

The long-haired bearded man continued making noise on the right side wall until the creatures lunged and then, while running, leaped onto the wall and then off of it again, landing on the other side, almost behind them. He quickly plunged his knife into the neck of the closest enemy, driving it completely into its brain and probably almost severing the spinal cord. Twisting the blade back and forth for only a couple seconds, Elijah ensured a proper demise before taking a step back and moving to his right, just as the other opponent turned to face him.

He wasn't sure if the one his ally had taken down was dead, but figured even if it wasn't, she could take care of it. Elijah planted a side kick to his second monster attacking him, causing it to stagger back. Elijah backed up against the opposite wall and raised his knife, prepared to end it, but shaking from adrenaline and anxiety.

Maria finished the screeching creature with a final lop, decapitating it for real this time, and panted heavily. She turned towards where the man was fighting the other one and crept behind it, before giving a shout just as she lunged, meaning that the creature half-turned, allowing her to hit it in the temple; the weakest part of the skull. It gave a strange gurgling click and she drew it out, looking at the man, unconsciously scratching her forearm.

Well. That had gone rather well.

Lavender was initially annoyed and nervous. Her actions could’ve been thought of as reckless or paranoia-induced. But, you could understand where she was coming from, right? Coming from a world where your next-door neighbor or childhood friend could kill you without a second thought, having a stranger show up out of nowhere visibly armed would be enough to make anyone on edge.

And considering as soon as he showed up, those weird fungus-y monsters showed up?

Yeah, she’d like to think that her ‘paranoia’ was understandable.

But, her worries were diminished when the newcomer and the Latina female both attacked the 3 creatures. These fungal creatures where some of the weakest, you just had to be mindful of the crystals embedded in their skull. But, she would like to assume that they knew that.

Sparing nothing but a glance at those that remained in the shelter, she quickly removed her rifle from her back and levelled it out the outsider. Peering through her scope, she watched the fighting from afar as she looked around for any other enemies. Her eyebrows furrowed a bit before she relaxed, seeing there were only the 3 initially. She’d simply take it as luck and would not question it.

When the 3 were taken care of she put down her gun, trying to calm her nerves and relax her tense form. Rolling her shoulders, she cleared her throat before speaking, making sure to keep her voice down but enough to be heard. (It took a few attempts before she managed.)

“Now that that’s taken care of, maybe we should go back inside? You know, close the door this time?” She knew leaving the door open was a bad call and noted that. She’d remember next time and hopefully everyone else would too.

When that was done, Maria leant down and wiped her blade off on one of the corpses, before turning back to her bunk, and carefully placing it back down on the end of it, walking to her suit and taking out the air compressor that allowed her to fill up her air tank again. She took her welder and carefully disconnected it from the car battery, before attaching it to the compressor and flicking it on. There was a whirring, grinding noise, and she secured it properly in, picking up the PSI gauge, watching as the needle creeped back up.

"I need to go out again. There's not enough stuff here for me to really do anything. There's no point in me sticking around and using up resources. I think there was a car chopshop not too far away. Junk metal is always useful."

Aviel's eyes flicked momentarily away from the stranger toward the sounds coming from outside. Clickers. She carefully adjusted her aim as the man moved to confront them, still aiming at him but feeling more confident that she wouldn't have to shoot; after all, if there were more of his kind waiting in the dark, they certainly wouldn't wait there to be murdered by clickers. And as for the clickers themselves... well, she would never spend a bullet on those things, as they were easily dispatched in other, less wasteful ways. She watched as other members of her group went to take care of the problem. As far as she could tell, there were only three of the monsters. Not too much of a problem, and so she decided not to get involved.

Aviel slowly began to lower her gun, but stopped as she noticed the child pull a knife from her own bag and take a step toward the doorway. Is she mad? Aviel mumbled under her breath in Hebrew as she jumped the table to get closer to the child; she stood blocking her way, mumbled a curt word that was supposed to be "Stop", and again pointed her gun toward the entrance. Entirely unnecessary, she knew, but if it would stop the kid from being stupid, then it was worth it.

Besides, Aviel reasoned to herself. The child must have some use if she has been kept alive this long.

She finally lowered her gun when she saw the space woman return to the shelter. Aviel's eyes followed her momentarily, but turned back toward the door when the woman started fussing with her space suit again. She said nothing as the others came back.

Without turning her head, she looked to the space woman as she began to speak, but only briefly before returning her gaze to the tall girl and, as soon as he was visible again, the stranger.

Wiping the blood and brains from his blade on one of the fallen abominations as well, Elijah moved to follow the woman down the corridor back to the shelter. While she headed into the bunk room, the man remained just outside the door, as if awaiting permission to enter this time; he folded his pocket knife and sheathed it on his belt. As he did so, he brushed back his trench coat to reveal a foot-long blue and white braided cord hanging from his waist. More than likely only one person in the room would recognize it.

The woman spoke of heading out to a chop-shop, piquing his interest. However, unless she was in a hurry, Elijah wanted to introduce himself.

"I'm sorry for any misunderstanding earlier," he said with a slightly higher pitch in his voice than the average male. Though he spoke in a subdued manner, his voice carried a little more than normal as well. "My name is Elijah. I'm sure I could be useful if I could join your group."

Elijah glanced between them all nervously, discerning that the decision would not be down to one person, but the group as a whole. He assumed that even if they had a leader, their process was more akin to a democracy or republic than a monarchy. However, his eyes nearly stopped on the dark-haired woman in her early twenties. Having spent some time abroad in the military, as well as extensive research on the Hebrew culture, Elijah recognized her middle-eastern ethnicity. But his natural anxiety around new people (especially females) made him quickly look away. In a couple seconds he deduced she was not Iraqi simply because he spent a lot of time with them and knew what to look for in their facial structure. Inhaling deeply, and giving the others a thin, bearded smile, Elijah wondered if she was in fact Hebrew as well, but by birth.

His eyes returned to the latina who looked ready to leave - eyes that almost pleaded with her to vouch for him.

Colette nearly tumbled backward as one of her companions leapt over the table in an obvious bid to keep her out of battle. Once she realized she was just being protected - and that two of the others were handily dispatching the clickers - she had to fight back the urge to smile. She lowered her knife and slightly bowed her head to signal her compliance with the older woman's orders.

Stay back and let the others do the fighting? Fine by me.

Of course, she didn't voice that self-satisfied thought, but instead took a small step backwards and looked away as if embarrassed. In reality, she was delighted. Her group was comprised of people who could fight, including a woman who, despite looking stern, perhaps had some sort of protective streak. These people were perfect - if her last group was an indicator, they would eat her act of naivety right up and let her play a less risky role.

Once the clickers were dead, she mumbled, "Sorry," then shuffled back to her backpack and slid the knife inside. Once settled in the beanbag chair again, she resumed her sewing. She bit her lip as she worked. Worry, she figured, was appropriate in situations like this, so just this once, it was fine to let a hint of her true feelings show.