A few minutes would pass as Myra occasionally brought the glass to her lips and swallow a small sip of her drink. She dared never to venture into total intoxication because a drunk and passed out woman would appear very vulnerable to all sorts of ill intent. Instead, Myra pursued that buzzed, carefree feeling. It helped her become rather numb to the whole world. It got rid of fear and sadness that tended to hang around like a shadow, but drinking never got rid of Myra's anger and attitude. Thankfully her anger was always repressed to a certain passive form of aggression. Like her quick quip with that one smelly guy, who appeared to be coming back again.

Myra sat there, oblivious to really anything the man said but instead, sat there staring with a tucked away grin behind her glass. Secretly, she sort of enjoyed getting underneath people's skin. It was just kind of her way of getting back at a rather vicious world. When he finished, Myra took another sip from her drink before setting the glass down. She met the man's eyes directly as she spoke. "No I don't really want to talk to you at all but yet here you are, engaging me in conversation." Myra still had her rather sly grin plastered on her face appearing like she was enjoying it. "But I suppose I should be flattered, it isn't always that my petty insults get such a reaction out of someone. I can see that you've really taken it to heart, seeing as you came all the way back here to simply insult me back. But let me explain why you still have to get your head checked. In the time it took you to say all that you wanted, I could have casually managed to draw my weapon and fire, assuming I'm batshit crazy like you suggest. But you also gave my associate the time to wander up behind you and he too, could have drawn his weapon at any moment. However, I feel sorry for the less fortunate working man and instead I offer you the chance to walk out of here, pride and life still intact."

When she finished, the big lump, Dumb, grunted as he stood about a meter away from the previously smelly man. Dumb was bald with a hairless face. He had a huge round body filled with muscle and fat. His clothing was ripped and defaced all over, giving him a very trashy appearance which conflicted gravely with Myra's clean and neat appearance.

Adrian tried to stand as proudly while the woman spat back at him, he realized the stupidity of him actually talking to her about her insults, but perhaps the biggest realization didn't appear to him until he heard heavy footsteps stop behind him. He didn't even dare to turn around to look at this so-called associate, and swallowed what must have been a ton of...well, something heavy. Inside his mind, he was running around like a headless chicken, just saying Fuck over and over again, while on the outside he appeared to be much calmer. Adrian nodded to the woman, carefully taking a few steps to the side, still not daring to look at the man behind him.

"Touché, Miss. Then I will leave you to your drinking, bye."

It didn't take long for Adrian to have left the tavern in a calm pace, but as soon as he exited the doors, he pace quickened. Then he started jogging. And running. He had been a fool, the bartender had been right after all when he told Adrian to leave it be; in this world, words were of little use unless you had something to bargain with, and in this case he had nothing.

Adrian stopped running when he stood outside of Taffy's, the town's general store. With what little he had earned from today's scavenging, he could perhaps afford something he had decided would be useful down in the sewers. As he stepped inside, he called out for Taffy, and not long after the dark haired woman came out to him. -"Hi Adrian, long time you've been here. Where have you hid yourself all these weeks?"

"Oh you know, helping out at the tavern, helping town-watch at night, and scavenging the sewers while battling rats, the usual." Adrian said to Taffy with a smile on his face, always enjoying talking with Taffy. Yes she was sly and always loved scamming her costumers (especially strangers from out of town), but to Adrian she had been fair. "Anyway Taffy, I need some proper boots. Water-proof, if you have any."

-"Hmm, give me a sec', I might have some..." Taffy disappeared, and came soon back after the sound of falling boxes and cursing. To Adrian's luck, she came back with a pair of boots. It was when she came back that he realized she had something on her head. -Here you go Adrian, good quality boots, water-proof. That'll be 24 bucks, but just because I'm in a good mood today."

"I can see that, is your mood somehow connected to your new hat?" Adrian asked her, handing her the money and quickly taking the boots, knowing Taffy all too well to wait taking his goods.

-"Yeah, some drunk was just here buying ammo and firewood, and I snatched it from his own head. Didn't even have time to react before I had it in my hands, but don't you worry your good heart; I told him to come back tomorrow to reclaim it." Taffy's smile was as wide as always, while Adrian couldn't help but chuckle at her acts.

"Come on, give it to me, and I'll give it to him. He might not even remember where he lost it by the time he wakes up tomorrow, if I know what you usually get your costumers served."

After a while of chuckling and staring at each other, Taffy finally gave up the hand and threw it to Adrian, who thanked Taffy for the boots and the hat, before leaving. Now where was the drunkard?

It wasn't difficult to find him, Adrian found him making a fire and cooking what smelled like rabbits. "Good day, I think this is yours?" Adrian said to him, holding out the hat for the man to take while he sat down opposite of him, across the fire. The man looked as if he wasn't too drunk at the moment, but Adrian knew how effective the booze they served at the tavern could be. "Don't judge Taffy, she loves playing practical jokes and fooling her costumers, she really was going to give you back it tomorrow. Anyway, nice fire you've got going here. I'm Adrian, Adrian Whitestone, what's your name? Planning on staying here for long?"

Twix sat gazing into the flickering fire, he felt... okay.

"Good day, I think this is yours?"

Someone spoke besides him and so he looked up to see a guy, dark hair, decent enough gear, sitting down and holding something out towards him. It took Twix a moment to recognize his hat, how'd this guy have my hat?

As Twix puzzled over this the man continued

"Don't judge Taffy, she loves playing practical jokes and fooling her costumers, she really was going to give you back it tomorrow. Anyway, nice fire you've got going here. I'm Adrian, Adrian Whitestone, what's your name? Planning on staying here for long?"

Twix buried his puzzlement and slowly reached out to get his hat back, as long as he moved slowly the world stayed relatively still, any fast movement and everything became blurry and wobbly.

Taffy...Taffy... wait I remember Taffy, she stole my hat! and then...
"Yeah, she was quite some'hing"
Twix's eyes glazed for a moment
"Nice to meet'ya, I'm Twix, I'm just passing thro-"
Twix's hat slipped from his slowly returning hand and landed square in the middle of his fire.

"MOTHER FU..."
He dived forward quickly retrieving the now singed hat, patting out sparks and flames as he did.

He felt like he was spinning, really really fast.
With the last of his resistance he stubbornly reached up and pulled the hat down over his hair, and halfway down his face. that done he collapsed onto his back and lay as still as he could.
"feel free t... t'have some rabbit... leave one...for me"
and with that his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Flint finished his drink and nodded to the man beside him "see you around". Flint said softly as he went to leave the tavern. He walked across the street, combing his hand through his greasy hair as he entered Taffys shop. The bell dinged and Taffy was in the back as per usual. Flint began to look to the jars of ammunition at the back wall until she appeared "Evening Flint" She remarked as Flint removed the wad of cash. Giving it to Taffy "That's for your cut and some .44 magnum ammunition" She began to leaf through the bills "Wow a pretty good win. so it worked once again?" Taffy asked as Flint began to unstrap the wrist mounted device. He placed it on the counter. It looked like it was a device to secretly stash cards within the sleeves and that could place these secret cards within the holders hand. "Yep like a dream." Flint began to make sure the machine was stocked with cards before slipping it back onto his wrist. Taffy went to go grab some .44 "Well no-one plays cards with me anymore" Taffy remarked returning with a glass jar. Inside was filled with different sized bullets. She began to look through them, finding the least mangled rounds and putting them too the side. Flint removed his revolver from his jacket. The large handgun looked old but reliable "She is one nice gun I will give you that Taffy" Flint said as he admired its bulk "Well you get what you paid for here.... unless I feel I can get away with it" Taffy wasn't known to be the most honest resident but the deal she had with Flint made it so she would want to be on his good side. The revolver was a gift from her. In her own words "I wouldn't want you getting killed with my poker hand device now would I" Flint loaded the revolver and slipped it into his jacket once again. It was significantly heavier as it was loaded now for the first time. Flint pocketed the few extra rounds then looked if he needed anything else from the store. Finding nothing he said his goodbyes and left the shop. Wondering if he would be able to find anyone else to talk too before he settled for the night

Jason had long since stopped counting how many miles he had walked. He couldn't have been certain even if he had continued to count, it's not like he was following a map. He didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but he had grown lonely since his fathers death. His entire life had been pretty lonely, his father being pretty much his only lasting friend. With him gone the world seemed far emptier than it had ever been before. He had been a pretty great man, his father. He had managed to fill pretty much every roll Jason had needed and he had known when it was best to act in that role, even when Jason himself hadn't. A lot of the time he simply needed a friend, but often times his father couldn't teach Jason what he needed to teach him and be his friend at the same time. Jason realized that now, but he hadn't at the time. He had finally become a man, though not completely by choice. He had asked his father what made a person a man once upon a time, his father had replied that growing into a man was the conversion from being the bucket to being the tap.

Great, Jason had thought. He could already hunt as well as any man and quite often he would hunt alone whilst his father did whatever it was he did after he started sending Jason off to hunt alone. Being a man was easy; providing was easy. Once again Jason realized he had been dumb, naïve and dumb. His father had provided so much beyond simple food and water. He had spent the last two decades of his life being Jason's emotional and mental rock. He had encouraged him, raised his morale everyday and taught him lesson after lesson all whilst moulding him into the man he needed to be to survive. Not once had he ever looked to his son for emotional or mental support, he had been an incredibly strong man. Mourning and remembering aside Jason shook himself out of his thoughts. He was dangerously low on supplies and had been told that there were bandits in the area. He needed to be even more vigilant than usual, if that was even possible.

If he could remember correctly the town he was looking for wasn't too much further. It had been a couple of years since he had last visited, but his father was a bit of a regular. For quite a while he would hunt around the town and trade what he got for other necessities. Jason hoped they would remember him, it was getting dark and the last thing he needed was to be seen as a bandit. He really didn't want to deal with a bullet wound. Chances were if one guy fired he wouldn't need to be worried about living anyway, in his experience bullets were always followed by more bullets. He would be filled with more holes than his socks. All he could do was hope that he got in without trouble, he couldn't find another town with how little supplies he had left and it would be extremely dangerous to camp in bandit country.

Around half an hour later he finally reached the town he was looking for; Aurora's End. He had had his first drink there; his father had bought him a glass of whatever the hell it was as a reward for such a great hunting bounty. The alcohol had tasted like ass, but the sentiment was nice. Jason was happy and his father was proud. It had been a good time. As Jason approached the town entrance he found guns on him, which was not unexpected.

“What's your business in Aurora's End traveller!” A voice bellowed. In the relative darkness Jason had a hard time seeing any faces, but he slowly raised his hands to show he meant no harm anyway.

“Water, trade, maybe a drink.” Jason declared. “I've been here before with my father; Neil McKeating, maybe you remember him?” Jason hoped he did, if he was thought to be a liar he was in deep shit.

“Hell, I remember Neil! Man kept his word, said he'd get me a deer and by God did he always deliver! How is he?”

“He's dead. Fever took him in his sleep.” Jason spoke, sadness creeping on him.

“Damn, I'm sorry. He was a strong man, I wouldn't a never of betted a fever would take him.”

“Thank you... Me neither.”

“Come here son, I gotta flash light, lemme see your face.”

Jason did as he was asked and took a few steps forward, soon being blinded by the light being shone in his face, after about five seconds of this Jason was close to losing his cool, though kept himself under control; he wasn't up for being suicidal tonight.

“Yeah, you're your fathers son all right. I'd know that frown anywhere.” The man laughed, lowering and switching off the flash light much to Jason's appreciation. “You can head on through, and once again, I'm sorry to hear about your pah, he was a good man.”

Jason gave the man a rare smile, nodded his gratitude and headed on through the extremely old bus.

The town hadn't changed any to Jason's memory. Everything looked the same at least, but it had been two years. He momentarily wondered how many people had died along with his father in the last couple of years. He didn't like to think on such things, the world was dark enough. He decided he needed a drink and soon found his way to the towns tavern; The Pump House. It was time to drink a glass of ass tasting liquid in his fathers memory.

He didn't really like taverns. Years on the road had made him extremely introverted and sometimes anxious among groups, making a place crowded with people more than a little uncomfortable. Despite the anxiety he pushed through the place, getting to the bar and ordering a shot of whatever the shit they sold was. Thinking about his father he picked up the glass and downed it, actually enjoying the taste. He paid what was asked somewhat grudgingly despite it being cheap, or at least cheap compared to his knowledge on alcohol prices, which was admittedly very little. Turning around and leaning against what functioned as the bar Jason took the place in. The place seemed comfortable and everyone seemed to have an air of familiarity with each other, everyone except a pretty red headed girl. She seemed oddly out of place. Her circumstances weren't for Jason to wonder about though, he consciously kept his eyes moving from person to person, looking for anything else of interest.

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.

Snap. Snap, Snap.

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 thud 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.

Flint awoke to gunshots. He sluggishly sat up on the mattress he had been sleeping on. "Target practice?" Flint wondered. He had been awakened a few nights before when a group of drunks decided to start shooting cans on the wall. "No this is automatic fire... " Flint thought as it soon clicked that something was wrong. He slipped on his long coat and checked his revolver was still loaded before looking out the window to see an explosion of flickering lights. Gun shots. He quickly ducked down, hoping no-one had spotted him in the abandoned building. Flint slowly began to sneak down the rotting stairs, his eyes attempting to adjust the darkness within the house. When he got to the front of the house he peeked through the gaping hole a car had made years before hand to the carnage unfolding within the town. He was about two streets away from the shooting and so Flint began to run, scurrying to another abandoned building and seeing the tavern and general store up ahead. He quickly ran once again and, as he was spotted, began to barely dodge gun fire swearing as he went. He ducked behind a husk of a car. The man had stopped to reload his weapon and so gave Flint enough chance to peek over the car to see where he was. The bandits face was covered with a bandana but he looked young and none willing to give up. He wasn't in cover and so Flint began to fire his handgun towards him. 6 shots later he hadn't hit anything except the wall behind the man but he had scared him off to take cover behind a brick wall. Flint continued to swear mumbling something about getting his aim back in as he reloaded the revolver hastily. He hoped Taffy had been generous as he flicked the cylinder of the revolver back into the chamber and began to shoot back at the man, finally hitting something vital as the man stopped firing and slumped down, screaming obscenities into the night sky. Flint reloaded and began to move on, making his way to Taffy's shop.

Twix jerked upright as the sound of gunfire washed over the small clearing he'd started his fire in.

He glanced down the street towards the gate and the sound of fire but saw nothing, the sharp ache of a bad headache drew a few curses from under his breath. he pulled his gasmask from his side and quickly strapped it over his face. after some small adjustments it was.. well more comfortable than before, by his side one of his rabbits had been taken off the fire and looked well cooked, if a bit cold, he felt a sharp pang of hunger looking at rabbit but now wasn't the time, he gathered it up and tied it onto his coat oncemore. The fire had gone out long ago and nothing but a small street lamp lit this small area of street.

Being careful to stay crouched and keep a wary eye towards the sound of gunfire Twix snuck across the now empty dirt road and over to the streetlamp and reaching into his coat pulled out a sharp hunting knife, he reached up and quickly sawed through the thin power cable running up the wall to the lamp, the light died leaving the street in darkness.

In the dark he felt more confident and he moved quicker returning to his clearing, the gunfire was starting to die down now which could mean one of two things.
back at the remains of the fire Twix took a moment to load his gun, he was slightly nonplussed upon finding only 30 bullets in his pocket, and substandard rounds at that, still he chose the best 13 and loaded his pistol, cocking it ready for action he kept it out ready to use.

His clearing was on the main road through the settlement, anyone trying to go deeper than say the tavern would need to come past him or take the long way around, with this in mind Twix found some cover with good firelines down the street, someone had abandoned a small pile of scrap metal, twisted and rusted, and no one had bothered to clear it up, this was good for Twix as the scrap metal was just about the right size to conceal him lying down behind it, lying on his front, gun out infront, Twix kept an eye down the street through small gaps in the twisted pile of scrap, as a last step in his preparations he reached into his jacket and from inside a hidden pocket pulled out two innocent looking cans, he placed them by his left hand ready to be thrown.

The night had gone eerily quiet, the sound of gunfire gone, the wind fallen silent.

It was but a momentary pause, the sound of assault rifles firing began again this time it sounded closer, inside the town, the gate had fallen. Twix kept his position, unless whoever was attacking was stopped they would almost have to come down this street. up ahead the loud crack of a revolver firing joined the mayhem, 6 shots in close succession followed a moment later by more and then a scream.

Twix's left hand strayed to his hat briefly before he brought it back down, resting next to his improvised smoke grenades, eyes keeping watch down the street Twix lay in waiting, the steady ache of a bad hangover improving his mood not at all.

The sounds of automatic gun fire sounded to life in the near distance, peter was sat on a rusty swing set, the rain starting pour heavily as black clouds filled the sky, obscuring the stars and moon, making it dark.
"perfect" he whispered to himself in deep voice.
With a mighty swing forward he carried himself into the air and off the seat, sending splashes of muddy water on his boots. The Gieger counter in his bag clicked gently, radioactive rain. The fallout still hadn't completely dissipated from the upper atmosphere and so it rained. Peter had his .45 out and started to creep through the mud and shadows of the building raising by his side, toppled monoliths of an age long gone. The sounds of gunfire started to become louder the more he moved the way he was going, the echos of screams and shouts starting to become audible over the din of automatic kalashinikov fire.
"Aurora's End" he whispered under his breath in a thick scottish accent, watching gunman after gunman entering through the main gates, spraying rapid fire jolts of lead with no visible aim.
Suddenly a crack of lightning branched across the sky, the sheer volume of the thunder causing his ears to ring, it gave him an idea. He waited patiently behind a slab of fallen concrete for the next crack of lightening, when it came he hold his breath and sighted down a bandit, when the sound of thunder came he pulled back the trigger sending the lead fly, hitting the gunman's center of mass sending him down. He repeated the process and by the time his magazine was dry the rain was clearing.
Peter stood up from behind his cover and started to open fire ok the confused assailants, as they tried to look for "the sniper".
A bullet slammed into his shoulder sending him down, he crawled behind cover as the bandits openned fire, chipping bits of the ancient concrete as the bullets impacted.

The drunk who had fallen asleep had been kind enough to offer one of the rabbits to Adrian, and Adrian didn't need to be asked twice. Happy like a fish in the sea, Adrian took the rabbit and ran back to his home. Well, in this world a home could be anything from a cardboard box to a wooden shack, and to Adrian home was an old maintenance room. It wasn't much, but Adrian had left his mark in it; an improvised book-shelf with a few books, magazines and small "souvenirs" he had found. He had a hammock hanging from the ceiling, and chest filled with cans of food. But tonight, Adrian feasted with rabbit steak and beer.

Gunfire woke him up later that night from the sound of gunfire, then silence, and followed once again by the same gunfire, only closer. Adrian knew that this was firing-practice, the were under attack. To his luck, he managed to fall out of the hammock face first, just what had to make his day perfect. He grabbed his Colt Revolver, as much ammo as he could fit into his pouch, and started running down the street in the direction of the gunfire.

It was then that Adrian realized the search-lights were out, it was too dark out in the streets and on the rooftops. Then he got an idea. He pulled off the goggles he was wearing, and suddenly he could see what the shadows were hiding, including a ladder leading up to the roof overlooking one of the street leading up to Taffy's.

Adrian climbed up onto the roof and looked down at the battle unfolding; the bandits who had managed to get into the settlement were shooting at a man running towards the safety of Taffy's. The man couldn't see the bandits, but in the shadows Adrian saw clearly the masked men firing with their AK47's, luckily they had no idea where he was. "Let's hope that practice finally payed off at long range." He loaded the revolver with the .22 rounds, span the barrel and cocked the hammer before aiming down into the darkness. Slow and steady, controlling his breathing and slowly pulling the trigger. Bang. To Adrian's surprise, the bandit he had aimed at fell back and screamed out in pain, the other bandits trying to find the sharpshooter.

He took aim again, and proceeded in the same way, thankful he had been allowed to keep those .22 rounds for himself. Perhaps luck was on his side after all? "Oh wait, the hammoc...Nevermind."

Jason stopped and listened intently after the first distant shot. He had an unusually keen sense of hearing; something that he had developed due to his lack of smell he guessed but even he had difficulty hearing over the tavern chatter. As more shots rang out the whole place went dead quiet however and people began going to the taverns windows, grimy as they were. Suddenly Jason seemed to realize how many people were around him and a sudden anxiousness took over him and made it hard to breathe. He quickly went for the door, being the first out of the tavern and getting his breath back in the emptiness of the street. He needed a vantage point so he could know exactly was going on. It shouldn't have been too hard to find one, Aurora's End was home to many a collapsing building, all he had to do was find one that he could quickly scale to the top of. It didn't take long, he remembered one he saw on his way to the tavern through the town's main street and went straight there, running up what stairs remained and scaling rubble when and where the stairs had fallen. Within a minute he found himself atop a large enough building staring down over the large school bus that protected the entrance to town and out into the waste. Within seconds he saw the muzzle flash of what seemed to easily be a dozen weapons. By the consistency of the flashes Jason concluded that it wouldn't be long until they were in town, they seemed to have plenty of ammo and enough bodies to do some serious damage. He highly doubted this was just a scare tactic.

Done with scouting Jason tried to formulate a plan in his mind. He couldn't think of anything really though, he had three rounds in his revolver and his trusty combat machete. He was deadly with both but they weren't nearly enough for him to organise a one man attack or defence plan with. He imagined this would simply be a whole lot of chaotic killing and dying until one side ran out of bodies. He hated bandits, especially the ones who attacked towns. He knew survival, he had been learning it his whole life but wiping out some of what little society was left to do it was fucked up. There was more to survival than keeping your life. You had to keep yourself too, if you lost what made you yourself were you truly surviving? Not in anyway that's good he thought. Jason quickly pulled himself together, his mind had a habit of wandering and wondering even in dangerous situations; an outcome of not fearing pain he guessed. With no real plan in mind he ducked down and checked his revolver, swinging out the cylinder and finding the three rounds he knew would be there. Rolling it back in he holstered it once again, deciding instead to pull his machete. Maybe it would be best to kill quietly if he could, and if he couldn't he was a pretty quick draw, hopefully quick enough to save his own life. A whole street in the town went dark as the lights were cut off leaving Jason to wander how on Earth the bandits had made it into town so quickly and fearing worse that they may have had inside men.

Finally prepared to do what he knew he was going to have to do Jason began climbing down the building, being as quiet as he could in order to remain undetected. He came out on the street where the lights had been cut out and had to wait a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. By the time he did so the eerie silence was once again gone, replaced by the sound of gunfire and panic. He crept down the very dark street, keeping as close to the buildings as possible for cover under darkness and concrete if he really needed it. It didn't take him long to spot a couple of the raiders. They were slowly moving down the very same street as he firing into the buildings whenever they saw or imagined movement from within. Luckily their consistent muzzle flashes meant that their eyes had failed to adjust properly to the darkness and they failed to see Jason in the blackest shadows near the walls. Finally the two bandits passed him as he hid in a doorway, now having their backs to him. As quietly but quickly as he could he moved up behind them, raising his machete in the air and bringing it down into the soft part where the shoulder and neck met on the first bandit, letting go of the machete as the body and weapon fell. The other bandit had already registered the danger and was firing in a panic as he spun around. Jason's hand had been going for his revolver since the moment he had pierced the first man and his hand quickly wrapped around the handle. He tore it from it's holster and quickly raised the weapon, pressing it against the second man's ribs and squeezing the trigger. The man dropped as Jason imagined the .38 round bouncing around inside him tearing his internal organs to pieces.

Aware that the revolver and AK-47 shots would bring more bandits or even friendly bullets his way in the darkness Jason moved as quickly as he could; retrieving his blade from the already dead man's neck and moving again to the second man. He was gurgling and choking on his blood, not having the luck of his heart being pierced like his friend. Jason quickly put him out of his misery; powerfully bringing the blade down through his ribs and destroying his heart. Quickly holstering both of his own weapons Jason picked up the man's AK-47 and smiled. It was a fine weapon. He couldn't admire it any longer however as shots rang out all too close and the rounds flew past his head and hit the buildings behind him. He quickly dropped to one knee and brought the rifle up to his shoulder; aiming directly at his aggressors chest. He squeezed the trigger only to hear the deafening and panic inducing sound of a stoppage. He couldn't think as his life flashed before his eyes.

Garsin left his town after burrying the bodies and resupplying. His rifle was severely damaged and unusable so he discarded it. He was still seriously injured but there was nothing he could do about it here. He made his way to the closest town only to find out that the bandits were attacking here as well."What has these bandits so riled up lately?" he wondered.

He took cover close to the wall of Aurora's End. It seemed most the bandits were inside. Garsin could still feel the rage inside of him from fighting the bandits last night, an dhe decided to go into the thick of it. Garsin came out of cover, pistol drawn and keeping his shots slow and steady, not missing his mark so that every bullet counted. Two shots fired, two bandits fell. "Ten bullets left," he mentally counted. Garsin ducked into cover just in time to avoid their retaliation. He then moved on to fight the bandits in close quarters using his sword as much as possible. He could feel his own wounds reopening, but he shook them off for now.

Garsin was still in full armor, albeit damaged, but still functional. One bandit was stunned as Garsin walked toward him, bloody sword in hand. When the bandit raised his gun, Garsin backhanded it to the side and ran the blade straight through the man's neck, then kicked him off his blade. It was the last man he killed before his wounds got the better of him. He overextended his bodies abilities and his wounds, new and old, were too great to bare. He tried to move forward, but his legs failed him as he fell forward. he was out of ammo, and out of energy.

By coincidence he fell in front of The Pumphouse.

A bit of smug satisfaction washed over Myra as she watched the once-smelly man dart out of the building. "Good work. He wasn't going to do anything but something about a man running with his tail in between his legs makes me feel waaay better than any rotten beverage can." She finally turned to face her bodyguard, "At ease. Go back to your post." She shooed him off and returned to her thoughts and her drink.

The rest of the day would be rather basic. Eating, shitting, and drinking. Most of the day would be chalked up to a blur as Myra got more and more inebriated. At some point she called it and slipped her head down onto the table for a little nap. Nobody would bother, Dumb would make sure of that. Dee, however, was still nowhere to be found and right now that was Myra's biggest problem. The idea of him plotting against her came up right before she nodded off.

--

The hammer of gunfire woke her up sometime later. Dumb was standing right beside her, she could smell him. "Dumb! I can smell you... back off!" Her head rose off the table and she began nursing her eyes. "Goodness what is happening?" She looked around the room, still in a partial daze. The tavern was almost entirely empty, save for a few cowering souls. Myra slowly got up from chair and drew her sidearm. "Well I think I've had enough of this dump... Let's go." But first she wanted to take a detour. She still needed to score some money from this rot hole and next door there was a general store that just might have what she was looking for.

Myra followed Dumb as he kicked open the door and peered out. The firefight was close but there was room to slip away. Myra also poked her head out and saw what was going on. However her attention was drawn to a fallen metal man just in front of the door. He was still moving slightly so he wasn't a corpse yet. "Dumb! Drag that guy inside. He's blocking us." In truth, he wasn't blocking them but Myra could be a good person...

The large burly man approached the fallen metal man and wrapped his arms around the man's midsection. He heaved and lifted but the metal man's weight was quite unexpected. Myra groaned at the prospect of helping but she did. She kept low as she grabbed the man's ankles lifted them just off the ground. She struggled but she managed to help just enough for Dumb to drag the man inside. Both of them roughly dropped him inside the Pumphouse. "God.... that guy was heavy." Myra wheezed as she signaled her bodyguard to weight a minute.

The gunfire had picked up again up ahead as the Bandits ran into another knot of resistance, could be the Tavern, it had also grown more dispersed as they spread throughout the town, Twix even thought there might be a gunman ontop of one of the buildings on the opposite side of the road, he'd heard gunshots from that direction but couldn't be sure.

He kept watch down the dark street, the cold ground leached any heat his body might have had stored leaving him shivering, as ever when you lie somewhere long enough it become uncomfortable, A small rock or stick or something pressed into his stomach but he kept his position, moving would only momentarily ease him.

The gasmask restricted his peripheral vision but he was used to it and the mask made him feel safe.

A lone figure came into view coming down the street, some form of revolver in hand and wearing a big greenish coat, Twix lay still scanning the area behind the figure, nothing.
As it got closer Twix was able to confirm that it was a guy, he was moving warily but with purpose, as if he knew where he was going. It'd be unlikely for a bandit to wander off alone on a raid, unless they were complete incompetents and a pistol didn't match with the sound of assault rifle's he'd heard from the gate, this was most likely a local trying to find somewhere to hunker down or maybe he had someone he had to protect, still it would be rude not to introduce himself, very rude indeed Twix thought as a wicked smile stole across his face. he returned his gun to his pocket and drew a sharp hunting knife.

As the man drew level with Twix's hiding place he tensed, and leapt up and into a sprint, the mutation in his muscles giving him that extra burst of speed necessary to close the distance before the man could get shots off, the dark and surprise no doubt helped aswell.

The man had begun reacting to the sound as soon as Twix moved but Twix was on him before he could make good any attack, he barrelled into him taking them both off their feet, Twix on top, as they fell Twix grabbed for the mans gun hand and as they hit the ground the wind was knocked out of the man, Twix brought his knife up under the mans chin.

Twix held the winded, gun hand pinned, knife to throat man down, he leaned closer to the mans face.

"Could do with some help holding 'ere, you game?"

Flint moved down the street. moving cover to cover and keeping an eye out for anWHACK
Flint was winded before he could react. He didn't struggle as the figure placed a knife against his neck. The gasmask covering his face restricted flint from knowing who it was. What he did know was this wasn't a bandit. He would be dead by now if they were. "Could do with some help holding 'ere. you game?" The figure asked quietly, muffled by the mask. Flint didn't know what to say at first. His gun was heavy in his hand but there was no way of moving it "Sure if it means you wont kill me" Flint joked when he was nervous and he hadn't been as nervous as this in a long time. "I'm trying to find Taffy, she probably has some better guns for us and a lot more ammunition. Also it might seem odd to most but I do have a heart and although I know she can hold her own I shudder to think what could happen if they got to her." Flints coat had unfurled on his right arm and the cheating at cards device was in plain view. Flint hoped the figure wouldn't notice.

"Sure if it means you wont kill me"

Twix almost snorted, as clearly a bit nervous at having a knife to his throat the man replied.

"I'm trying to find Taffy, she probably has some better guns for us and a lot more ammunition. Also it might seem odd to most but I do have a heart and although I know she can hold her own I shudder to think what could happen if they got to her."

Twix considered for a moment, now the man was pacified he could keep an eye down the street ensuring they were alone.

"I'm Twix" Twix said as he sheathed his knife and got off the man, he crouched next to him for a moment, the man had an odd contraption strapped around his wrist but Twix couldn't think of what it was for.

"You go to Taffy's, If you can get us some guns good, if not I need 9mm, I've got 13 good shots most. Bring Taffy back with you, an extra guns an extra gun?"

he made the last statement a question, demanding townspeople fight never seemed to go over well with people.

"Sounds good" Flint remarked as he stroked his neck. A trickle of blood where the knife nicked him in the collision but nothing bad. He stood up slowly "Nice to meetcha Twix, you can call me Flint". Flint listened to the mans plan and nodded "Sounds good ill grab your pansy 9mm" He joked as he checked his revolver was loaded. "I will be right back." Cover me if I get chased just make sure to not hit me" Another joke for another nervous conversation. Flint nodded to the man as he quickly was on his way. Going down the back of the alley this time as he soon got to the back door of Taffys shop. He slowly knocked on the door only to be replied by the door exploding outwards in a flurry of splinters. A fist sized hole next to where Flint had been before jumping back "You better fuck off if you know what's good for ya!" Taffy was scary when she was mad. "Its Flint!" He yelled back "Where the hell have you been!" She replied as she unlocked the door and opened it. Dragging Flint inside. Taffy had ammunition belts on her chest and waist filled with shotguns shells. The double barrel shotgun in her hand's, barrels smoked slightly as she reloaded the round she had spent. "Me and a man called Twix are gathering a few people for a counter offensive" Flint began looking through the jars of ammunition. "Not that drunk he isn't any help" She retorted "Well he got the jump on me so he is a pretty quick drunk" Flint found that Most of the ammo whas mangled and crappily made but he was able to grab a few rounds of 9mm. He couldn't find any .44 though thinking of how ironic it was that having such a large round could be his down fall. Flint and Taffy heard a noise coming from the shop. "We have to move" Taffy whispered as Flint nodded they both made there way to the back door.

Garsin started to come to. Through hazy eyes and a cracked glass in his visor his vision wasn't the best at the moment. He felt he was against a wall and he propped himself back up. As his vision started to clear he could see a woman and a large man watching him. He was breathing weakly, but he was hanging in there. He turned his head toward the two and attempted to talk. "From mines...east of here...did anyone m-...make it?" he asked them between raggid breaths, hoping beyond hope that someone may have escaped the attack on his town.

Tallahassee was the last man Viktor had talked to besides an innkeeper he spoke to later that day to reserve a small one bed room for the night. The owner of the building went through making extensive repairs to turn it into an operational inn. Viktor's room was on the first floor just to the right of the check-in counter of the small two story building and could have easily been mistaken for a supply closet due to its size. Viktor didn't mind though, all he wanted was a place to get some much needed safe and sound deep sleep. But in the Wastes one is never that lucky.

He awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of small arms fire. At first he dismissed it, but it kept coming, and Viktor realized it was not some strange occurrence, the town was under attack. Viktor hurried to get his clothes and gear on while the gunfire kept getting closer. By the time he finished the small window near the top of the wall had been shot out by stray gunfire. As he reached his hand for the doorknob he heard the door of the building get kicked in and screaming coming from the atrium, screaming that was soon cut short by what sounded like a rifle butt to the head. He could hear one a man shouting orders to the others to clear the rooms.

Soon after there were more screams and several gunshots from what Viktor could hear. He could not do anything but let it happen, knowing he was outnumbered and presumably outgunned. Nevertheless, they were still raider scum, so Viktor loaded his pistol and prepared to face a fight when they realized they hadn't opened his door yet. As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, footsteps began getting closer to his door. He stood against the wall next to the door, absolutely silent and frozen.

A man kicked the door open, breaking off the flimsy hinges and falling to the ground. The bandit rushed into the room and next found himself being thrown against the wall, weapon flying out of his hand. Viktor full on tackled the bandit, feeling something in the man’s body crack upon impact. While the bandit shouted out in pain, Viktor had managed to get him into a hostage-type chokehold, with one arm around the bandit’s neck and the other one gripping his pistol aiming out the room.

Viktor figured when there wasn’t any cover, he had to make the best out of what was available. He knew it was a risky as hell move, but these bandits are rarely ever trained well enough to know what to do in situations like this, much less never trained in hand to hand combat except for bar crawls. It was a bet, but a safe bet.

The bandit in the entry hall was visible from the doorway to Viktor’s room, and by the time he had figured out what was going on, there was a bullet in his chest and he was gasping for air. Viktor dragged the man in the entry hall, yelling at him in Russian to further intimidate him and get him to reply to the commands. By the time the pair was in the entry room, another bandit rounded the corner and began spraying rapidly into the room. Viktor turned the man in time to absorb the bullets coming from the bandit’s rifle. Viktor put the bandit’s head in his pistol sights and not a moment later the wall behind the once-alive figure was covered in blood. Viktor’s ‘friend’ by this point was quickly dying and Viktor was the only reason he was still standing, so he simply let the man fall to the ground and put a bullet in his head to make his death quicker. Viktor figured he earned it.

Viktor immediately began searching the rest of the inn for survivors and found himself a surprise. After making sure the first floor was clear, he headed upstairs to check the rooms on the second floor. After entering the second room, a bandit followed Viktor into the room and placed his revolver against the back of his head. Viktor’s entire body immediately froze. This is it. Rat bastards. was the only thought that went through his head. When the bandit pulled the trigger however, nothing happened. Whether the gun had jammed or was out of ammo, Viktor didn’t spend the time to ponder on why this chance had happened. He grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and used the leverage to hurl the bandit over his back, laying him out on the ground in front of Viktor and sending the gun sliding across the floor. Viktor drew his pistol once again and put a bullet in the bandit’s head without a second thought.

After finishing his sweep on the second floor, Viktor decided he had seen enough of bloody mess the badnits made of the people occupying the rooms. He headed backstairs to see if the lady who had been hit was still alive, which in fact she was, just unconscious, and head trauma could wait until the town is secure. Viktor continued to search the bodies for whatever ammo he could use for his pistol they may have contained. After only finding four usable rounds, he loaded them into the clip and headed out into a street whose lights were apparently completely off. Guiding himself by the dim light being put out by the night sky and the flashes of gunfire going off in the street, he found an alleyway where he could properly assess the situation.

The sound of gunfire had by now spread out further into town, as it wasn't so concentrated around the main street and entrance. That meant the bandits had spread out, either because of losses or to find more loot, most likely both of them. By now Adrian had taken down three or four bandits, and injured at least two more while turning others into a retreat, the darkness had ultimately payed off in his favour, unlike that hammock. Oh, Adrian promised himself to never sleep in that hammock again, well if he could find a substitute for such a comfortable bed.

It had been quiet for a few minutes now, when suddenly Adrian saw movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned quickly around to see what was happening down in the street. It was a lone figure moving, only armed with a revolver, headed for Taffy's, not the bandit type. But he kept watching, as the man were taken by another figure, leaping out of cover to his surprise, he hadn't seen him with all that clothing. Adrian aimed at the apparent brawl, or at least what seemed like it, until the first man reappeared, unharmed, again heading for Taffy's. "Would you look at that, good thing I didn't shoot them both." Adrian said to himself, with a happy tone, as it seemed to him neither of the men had been bandits, and perhaps even planned on counter-attacking.

Adrian decided to climb down from the roof and head over to Taffy's too, he could always need more ammo for his revolver. But before he could take the last step down from the ladder, he felt something grab him by the leg and pull him down. Once again he landed straight on his face, but was pulled up again by what could be no other than a bandit. He was scarred and wore a bandanna, masking him from recognition (of you didn't notice the scars). Without a word, the bandit punched Adrian in the stomach, forcing him to the ground, gasping for air. The bandit laughed quietly as he was about to bend down to beat the living shit out of Adrian. Adrian wasn't going to agree on this, after having been stripped of his dignity more than once that day, and pulled out his club and swung it towards his face. The spiked bat hit perfectly across the bandit's cheek, causing him to take a step back, before Adrian struck again, and again. "Never...make a fool out of the guy with the club..." Adrian panted out, having beaten the guy to death with a club, which must have been painful. But he had no time to celebrate his victory, he quickly searched the bandit for anything of use; Ammo, knives, lighters, anything. He took the 9mm Beretta the bandit carried, a couple of magazines of ammo, and to his surprise a rifle that the bandit must have put down as he was to take care of Adrian. Adrian didn't have time to examine it, and just slung it over his shoulder before running as fast as he could to Taffy's, of course putting the sun-glasses back on so he wouldn't be blinded by the lights.

"Taffy, it's me, Adrian! Don't shoot, I'm coming to help!"