Anima — Roleplayer Guild

One Year before the Blackout

Shock may have been putting things far too lightly. Nicole had seen these things before when she was sent to a black site overseas. What she had to do and witness back then let lose a flood of mixed emotions. Amanda showed symptoms that folks in panicked trauma typically exhibited. She pulled her down as another explosion tore through the already raucous night. A warzone. It took a few moments for Nicole to realize that it was farther away this time. It didn't change how scared she was though. Whoever or whatever was responsible for this was going to be in for a very rude awakening. She would see to that. The agency and the whole entire United States would demand it. Since 9/11, this was the worst case of domestic violence seen since.

“I have absolutely no idea what’s going on,” Nicole said. That was the complete truth. Cut off from the comprehensive database of the CIA, there were no references or informants to notify her — or anyone if this was nationwide — if this was a terror attack, power plant failure, or anything. She wanted to laugh at how reliant she was on technology. “I was meeting a friend from university. Just a little catch up. It was pretty normal until the power went out. I thought it was just my immediate area. But, Amanda, that was before airplanes fell from the freakin’ sky! Did you have any power? Any news at all?"

"Manda," she said tentatively. She knew how much Amanda loved her work and the fashion collections, which Nicole never got into. The 'hot' trends changed for too frequently and was way above her paycheck to afford. She had grown up on practical having been born and raised as an outdoors girl and thrift shop extraordinaire. Where her friends preferred the latest trend, she trusted her typical jeans, t-shirt, sneaker combination to pull her through. “I don’t think we should head deeper into the city. Even before planes started falling from the sky, I saw mobs forming. The police are there, but I don't know what's happening now."

Though Nicole dreaded going back into the city proper, she knew how much Amanda valued her craft. Having been quite the fashion queen back in university, Amanda’s love for the market showed with how she dressed. One look at the woman, and it would’ve been apparent of her heightened fashion sense. The collection within her studio wasn’t cheap either. On the selling and acquisition side. It would’ve broken the girl’s heart though Amanda had a tough exterior. Nicole’s guess anyways.

Sighing to herself, Nicole felt her hip as she felt the bulge of her concealed. Making sure it was there, she dropped her hand. She seldom had to use it in the states, but when it was needed, it was handy. “I don’t know how much we’ll be able to move,” she said. “We’ll take the backroads. Alleyways. Away from the crowd. Stay with me and keep moving, alright? You okay to walk? There’s a bench over there if you need to sit?”

Present Day

Nicole smirked as she listened in on the banter between Amanda and Horace. She should’ve known the philosophy teacher took her meals latish when her students met. She watched as Horace scrapped what was left in the pot. It was a handsome amount.

“Well, if our dear teacher can’t handle the kids, I don’t know who can.” Draining her glass, a hint of a smile pulled at her lips. There was little that made her smile these days, which was why she clung more so to whatever anchored her to the past. “Have you tried bounding his hands and duck taping his mouth shut?”

“Oh that’d go over really well with the Department of Education,” Richter said, sarcasm dripping off of his words. “Don’t listen to her Amanda, Nicole’s not as kind with the children like you are. Probably why she leads grunts like us."

“It’d at least allow her to eat at a decent hour,” Nicole retorted as she pushed away her empty plate. “Get serious for a minute. Have you looked at the replacement for our squad. We’ll need to break him in tomorrow. Straight out of the Garrison.” Richter rose and eyebrow then looked at Amanda. Nicole saw his discomfort. “Commissar Mackin isn’t going to send us to re-education because of this.”

“You never know these days.”

“Richter, I’ll take responsibility. I doubt our lovely teacher will snitch.”

The first sentinel sighed. He clicked his tongue — his telltale of nervousness. “You don’t think the Minister of War did a good job? Remember when we went through the Garrison? Sadistic son of a bitch he was.”

Try the Intelligence Unit Nicole wanted to say but didn’t. Members of that branch save for the director was sworn to secrecy. In return for their high risk work and double shift, they were afforded privileges that others did not receive. For instance, when sentinels and regulars had to be wary of passing commissars, intelligence operatives did not. To be inducted into intelligence, a whole battery of tests were administered. Loyalty was demanded, but the rewards were quite high.

“Still have that scar on my back,” she said reluctantly. An obstacle course wound. The minister - an ex-SEAL - made it an interesting that day, and she received the short end of the stick. “Didn’t prepare us for our first firefight. Remember the raiders? Eastern border? Say … four months ago? Half the sentinels froze. Good portion were killed.”

Richter nodded as he finished his vitals. “Then we’ll break him in. Why not? Probably have a bit of fun while we’re at it. Anyways, I’m going to turn in. Morning patrol tomorrow. Something about dissidents in the northern sector. Night Amanda.”

Sighing and getting to his feet, Richter grabbed his things and walked towards the kitchen where Horace was still cleaning the pots and pans used throughout the day. Nicole turned her attention back to Amanda. She reached over and gave her a slight shove. “I meant what I said with the kid though,” she said. “Get chow with the others, don’t have to deal with the smart ass, or find someone to piss away the time with. Sounds way more tantalizing than what you did. I bet your philosophy goes in one ear and out the other for the kids. Hell, even I have trouble following sometimes. How’re you holding up otherwise? How're the girls doing? You know, the fashion pow wow you hold?”

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