As the day came to a close, the black of night began to settle in. A not to subtle buzzing resounded around almost every inch of Aurora's End as portable generators powered on and the town lit up so as those who had to work by night or simply enjoyed the "nightlife" would not be stumbling around in pitch blackness, bumping into every second thing they pass.

The loud chit-chat of day had now gone to the mumbles of night, not that it mattered the town was lit up like a Christmas tree, but people had the respect for fellow settlers who just wanted to rest until the next waking day.

Atop the old bus that acted as a sort of gate to the settlement a few of the militia men stood, including one the leader, his red jacket and grey beard setting him apart from the rest. They were all examining a large lamp, one that was salvaged from a military base when the settlement was first being made.

"It's not the bulb..."

"I'm just saying that if we open the lens and-"

"It's not the fucking bulb! I checked it there just before you came... Hey, where were you anyw-"

"Alright enough." The leader's voice commanded respect and authority just through tone of voice. "What else could it be?" He asked, looking around to the men that were with him.

[i]Snap. Snap, Snap.[/i]

The men, recognizing that sound more than the sound of their own voice ducked for cover, those that could rushed back to their usual positions. "Fucking gunshots..." The leader grumbled as he took his AK-47 assault rifle into his hands, prepared, aimed and began firing at the shapes he could just about make-out in the distance, shortly after the other militia men using hunting rifles, handguns and whatever else they had began returning fire. "Someone get that fucking light on, now!"

It was only a few minutes before the attackers found themselves at the entrance to Aurora's End, all of them concentrating their fire into known manned positions of the militia. Both sides of the skirmish were firing orders to their men as fast as the AK's could fire rounds. And with every passing minute it seemed like someone else at the gate died.

"Where is that enginee-!?" The leader was cut off, now instead of screaming orders, he was gasping for air, a bullet had pierced his throat and gone straight through, leaving an exit wound. He dropped his rifle and raised his hands towards his trachea, but there was nothing he could do now, except await death's embrace. He fell and tumbled off the bus landing with a loud [i]thud[/i] on the sandy floor beneath, as the dust and sand nestled back into it place after being sent into the air, the last signs of life left the man, a raised hand as if looking for help, fell limp by his side.

Within moments from this the bandits/raiders or whatever it is that you'd want to call them, forced their way through the bus and into the town, it was total carnage. Here, the real battle would begin.

---

Dorjan, who'd been in the pub when the commotion began, now found himself (like many of the others), with their faces pressed against the window, trying to get a better look at just what was happening. Of course, Dorjan knew, maybe this was the group he used to roll with. However, would luck favor him so much as to get the chance to take his revenge on Munch? He doubted it. Slipping a magazine into his gun, reloading, he made his way to the door of the tavern, pushing past those who were still trying to get to the window. Once he got out of the building, he took his target, held up his gun, took aim and began to fire.