ItIsJustMe

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Deleted

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Deleted.

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Rebecca "Becky" Roytecamp -- Air Force Staff Sergeant; sniper (more on this below).

Physical Description:

• Image
• 24 years old
• 5'8", 160 lbs; physically fit body.
• Slightly curly, brunette, shoulder length hair; typically held back in a pony tail.
• Light brown eyes.

Personality:

• Prior to the RP:
  
  
  
  • Publicly, she is heterosexual; privately, she is bisexual.
  • Intelligent, innovative; civilian and military education (more below).
  • Serious about doing what's right and wrong, while also dedicated to the chain of command; these two will come into conflict soon enough.
  • Well disciplined.
  • Not afraid to kill bad guys; she'd killed 2 men in Syria pre-RP. (More below.)
• After the RP's start:
  
  
  
  • No changes yet.

History (pre-RP):

• Grew up in rural Oregon, the middle of 5 children; her father was retired Air Force, while her mother was a stay-at-home artist and homemaker.
• Grew up around guns, specifically rifles; hunted often and became an excellent long distance shooter.
• After high school graduation (18 years of age), she followed her father -- still on active duty -- into the Air Force, working her way into the SERE Program: Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape.
• While deployed to Syria to train newly arrived troops there, she was called upon to take out a sniper targeting Kurd allies. She killed the sniper and his spotter before also killing 4 others; no other American female sniper had ever done this before.
• She returned to the US to attend the funeral of her mother -- killed in a car crash by a drunk driver. She was in New York City visiting a friend before redeploying when the blackout occurred.

RP History:

• April 4 2022 (Day 2): In the early morning hours, she awoke to the mayhem of rioting and looting.
• She immediately got her gear together and -- without an appropriate Air Force destination -- ran 20 blocks with full gear and her rifle to NYARNG (New York Army National Guard), home of the 1st Battalion, 69th Infantry. (See this post.)
• She was immediately dispatched to eliminate a sniper who was using the blackout to thrill-kill civilians from the 12th floor of the Flat Iron building. She took up station in Madison Square Park and killed the man within minutes.

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Monday, April 4 2022 -- 10:15 am
356 W 11th St, Manhattan (The West Village)

Beverly Harper had spent most of the rest of the night pacing about the loft, only falling asleep around 6am simply because she was so thoroughly exhausted, both mentally and physically. Being on the 9th floor and having shut the sliding glass doors again, she could barely hear the sounds of the rioting, looting, and vandalism taking place on street level.

Now, though, she was jerked from her restless sleep by the sound of a very nearby banging sound. She rose from her sleeping position to listen, then -- still dressed except for socks and shoes -- leaped from the bed at the realization that someone was trying to break into her new lover's condo. She ran to the living room, arriving just in time to see the big, sliding steel door of the former commercial storage space shake violently to the beating it was taking from the other side.

"Go away! Stop! Just leave me alone!" she screamed, hoping that the knowledge that someone was inside would deter the wannabe intruder. It didn't; the door shook again as the home invader slammed against the outside of it once again. "Go away!"

The pounding continued, though, leading Beverly to rush back to the bedroom. She found her shoulder bag, dug frantically into it, found that for which she was searching, and rushed back to the living room once again. She hollered toward the door, "I have a gun! I know how to use it! I'm not afraid to use it. Just go away!"

There was a pause in the invasion attempts, followed by the biggest crashing sound against the door's other side so far. Beverly fired at the door, then again, then again; she wasn't even sure if the Taurus .38 Special's rounds could penetrate the metal, but then again, she wasn't trying to kill the intruder but was only trying to deter him from his activities.

She stood there, silent and still, waiting for some evidence of whether she'd stopped the man or not. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Beverly realized that blood was slowing entering the loft from under the door's lower lip. She'd killed the man, it seemed; he wasn't striking the door, blood was spilling, so ... that was it, she'd killed him.

A chuckle escaped Beverly's throat, surprising her. She was relieved; that was the reason for it, rather than some horrid pleasure at having killed a man. Right? That's it, right? She'd purchased the little 5 shot pistol after having been raped at a party three years earlier, and at the time she'd wondered whether or not she would ever be able to use it as she had just now. Got my answer, she thought to herself.

The pool of blood had stopped expanding, and Beverly thought she should open the door and clean up the mess. But she didn't; it occurred to her as she contemplated her next move that if she left the man laying there like that, then perhaps the next wannabe intruder -- or potential rapist? -- might think twice before attempting it.

She returned to her purse, shaking out the five shells -- three unused, two not -- and using the Quick Loader to bring her back to full defensive ability. Then, determined that she was going to live through whatever this was, she began searching the condominium. She found new clothes -- jeans and deck shoes, amongst other items -- that likely had belonged to one of her new lover's former lovers, possibly a live-in girlfriend and changed into them. The .38 went into her belt; the extra two rounds into her front pocket.

She checked the fridge and freezer for food that would go bad if the power didn't return and made a mental list of what she could eat, the order in which to eat it, and how she would prepare it; the loft's owner had a decorative brazier on the balcony over which she could cook most of the perishables.

The rest of the day was divided between watching the world beyond her fall apart and finding ways to survive that collapsed. This was all very new to Beverly; she'd never once imagined she'd be faced with some sort of apocalyptic situation, not that she'd yet decided that this was anything more than just a blackout.

By day's end, though, Beverly would realize that this was something far more tragic than just a power outage.

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody considered Kengetar's plan a moment; she didn't like the idea of sending the children, women, and non-warrior males back the way they'd come with only a partial guard, so the Sedent made sense.

"Fine, we'll do it your way," Melody responded; she tried to sound reluctant but failed to contain the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. To Broon, she said, "Put a third of your men on watch, a third on performing camp work ... hunting, fire wood, and such."

"And the rest, m"Lady?" the Captain asked.

She looked to Kengetar. She said with humor in her voice, not wanting the Sedent to think she actually thought of him as such anymore,"Put them under the barbarian's command. Kengetar, use then as you will: scouting, making tools, labor, whatever you need."

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Monday, April 4 2022 -- 0440 hours
68 Lexington Avenue, Manhattan
New York Army National Guard
1st Battalion, 69th Infantry

Arriving at the gate of NYARNG, Manhattan, Rebecca "Becky" Roytecamp leaned over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She was in the best shape of her 24 years of life, running a dozen marathons a year when her schedule allowed for it. But running the streets of Manhattan in the dark with a full pack and weapon had been a test even for her excellent state of fitness.

The Guardsmen on the other side of the closed and locked gate had already been on alert because of the power outage and mayhem erupting in the streets. Seeing a stranger in full military garb carrying a sniper rifle only made them more anxious; one unslung his rifle while the other pulled his sidearm, challenging her. She identified herself by rank, rating, and service.

"Air Force?" the pistol wielding soldier questioned. "You're in the wrong place I think."

"I'm supposed to be in Berlin," she snapped back, standing tall but keeping her arms casually out to the side. "I was supposed to ship out last week but I had family who tested positive for Covid."

"Why are you here?" the soldier inquired.

"I have no where better to be," Becky responded. Her answer was pretty much what another woman on the other side of Manhattan had been thinking five hours earlier. She couldn't know it now, but eventually she and Beverly would be making their acquaintance soon enough. "Maybe you can put me to use?"

The soldier instinctively reached for his radio, only to remember that it was dead. He sent the second man toward the office, then opened the gate, demanding, "Hand over the rifle ... until you're cleared to have it back."

Becky did as told, then raised her jacket to show the 9mm strapped to her waist. The soldier took that, too. From the building behind him, his guard partner called, "Bring her in. The Sergeant Major wants to see her!"

She shed her pack in the office and gratefully accepted and downed a 16-ounce bottle of water in a single act of gulping. It would be almost an hour before she actually saw the highest-ranking Officer on the grounds at the time. Sergeant Major James Jackson was a get to the heart of the matter kind of guy, and followed his modus operandi with Becky.

"Some asshole is shooting at people from the Flatiron Building, 23rd and 5th," the Officer said. Then, more to himself than to Becky, he muttered, "Fucking sniper in Manhattan. As if regular ol' pricks during a blackout aren't enough." He looked up to Becky, then to her gun, which the Guardsman still had. "You know how to use that I'm presuming."

"Absolutely, sir," Becky said with confidence. "You get me close enough to see him ... hell, you get me close enough to assume where he is--"

"And you don't have any problem with this assignment," he cut in, clarifying, "I mean taking this guy out."

"No, sir," she responded without hesitation. "Won't be my first kill, sir."

The Sergeant Major studied Becky a moment, then looked to the Guardsman who'd brought her in. He ordered, "Get her anything she needs. Then, get her there and take this fucker down. Dismissed."

Forty minutes later, Becky and a Squad of 8 Guardsmen were in Madison Square Park, weaving their way carefully through the now-leafless deciduous trees. All about them, they discovered the sniper's victims and those who were either rendering first aid or simply trying to hide under the cover of cars, fountains, tree trunks, and more.

While most of the Guardsmen did what they could do to help the civilians, three spotters remained close to Becky. It took less than a minute to find the shooter's hide: he'd smashed out a window on the Flat Iron Building's 12th floor and was picking off random people from there.

Becky was surprised at the man's position initially; his rifle extended from the window, likely supported by the pane, and the vast majority of his shots -- 30+ since coming into hearing range -- were for the most part only chipping concrete walkways or spitting bark off the trunks of trees. She realized that he likely wasn't a trained sniper but instead was just a nut with a gun. She set herself, considered the conditions -- wind, angle of shot, distance, and more -- calmed her body for the shot, and took it.

A moment later, the rifle tilted forward, dangled a moment, then fell from the window to violently disassemble when it reached the sidewalk below. Beside her, one of the spotters -- obviously impressed -- said with delight, "Hit! Target down!"

The Squad leader, a Sergeant, led half his men to the Flat Iron, where they found NYPD officers tending to one of their own; when they'd first heard by word of mouth about the sniper, they'd attempted to deal with him, only to set off a simple tripwire IED in the hallway. One Officer had been killed outright; the one here in the lobby would soon die from the ball bearing shrapnel that ripped his legs and right arm apart.

It would be decided that they'd wait for sunrise, an hour and a half from then, before they'd go inside the building. Even so, another IED was accidentally tripped, killing a cop and a soldier and injuring one more of each. Back at the NYARNG building, Becky was congratulated and offered a spot with the Unit. She took it.

"Revolution Manhattan", an apocalyptic story from NYC

(Inspired by the television series, "Revolution".)

Last night, in an instant and all across the globe, anything and everything that runs on electricity failed.

In Manhattan specifically, the electrical grid failed in its entirety, blackening the skyline; elevators stuck midfloor in thousands of buildings; subway trains stopped, sometimes deep in pitch black tunnels; hundreds of thousands of cars stalled in the streets; and all forms of electronic communication went silent. Almost 2 million people -- mostly but not entirely residents -- suddenly found themselves thrown into an electrical dark age.

What happens next?

Details of the role play:

• Replies should be long enough to move your character's story forward, be it a couple of lines to several paragraphs.
• Proofreading is requested. Mistakes will be made -- even by me :) -- but every effort should be made to find and correct them before posting.
• Writers don't necessarily have to interact with other writers (aka interactive role play); you can simply tell the story of your character if you wish.
• Although writers are encouraged to be creative and innovative, major "facts" you wish to present that will affect other writers should be presented to the Hostess first for discussion. That's simple courtesy.

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody took Kengetar's hand, gripping it tightly and smiling, pleased that he'd decided they'd had enough. She reached her other hand up to her lip, then held her bloody fingers out before her.

"That hurt," she said playfully to the man who'd caused the injury. Speaking about someone drawing her blood, Melody said, "Not the first time ... probably not the last."

She released Kengetar's hand and looked toward the tent flap. "Kapiten!"

Broon, who had been waiting anxiously nearby, hurried in; he held his sword in his hand, ready to avenge what ever harm had been done to his Lady. But instead of finding her signaling such an act on his part, Melody casually gestured him to remain calm.

"Gather your best ten men, Kapiten," she told him. "Equip them for a hike overland ... through the forest to the Bay Road."

She was speaking of the road that connected the fishing villages of the Southernmost Bay to the Capital City. It wasn't a road traveled much by Yallans anymore. It was patrolled by barbarian tribes who had a tendency of kidnapping travelers, ransoming those who came from money, and selling into slavery those who didn't.

She looked to Kengetar again. "We would have a better chance of surviving in these hostile woods if we were joined by those who knew them. And, of course, there is still the matter of the task you have agreed to complete ... and, of course, the payment I will make once you have completed it."

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Beverly Harper

Physical Description:

• Image
• 23 years old
• 5'4", 110 lbs, 32B-25-34; beautiful, sexy body.
• Straight, dark brunette, shoulder length hair
• Sparkling green-hazel eyes.

Personality:

• Prior to the RP:
  
  • Soft spoken but not shy in the least; flirtatious, sexually liberal.
  • Intelligent; well educated (more below).
  • Compassionate; giving.
  • No violent tendencies; has never physically harmed anyone.
• After the RP's start:
  
  • Not yet applicable.

History (pre-RP):

• Grew up in Queens, the only child of middle class parents.
• Graduated High School at 16.
• Completed a BS in Business Administration at 19.
• Left a four year Arts Program at 21.
• Since then (and until the blackout), she partied and painted.

RP History:

• April 3 2022 (Day 1): She was staying at a new lover's home when the blackout occurred. (See this post.)
• April 4: Shot and killed a wannabe intruder; he didn't get through the door but was instead shot through it while still in the hallway. (See this post.)

"Revolution: Manhattan"

"Revolution: Manhattan"

Sunday, April 3 2022 -- 11:11pm
356 W 11th St, Manhattan
The West Village

It had been nearly noon before Beverly Harper had regained consciousness after a long night out on the town. When finally she did rouse, she realized that the bed in which she'd slept wasn't hers at all. Big shock, had been her first thought, particularly since she was naked and felt as though she'd been ridden hard and put away wet, as her Montana born best friend and party partner would have described her post-coital condition.

The previous night was somewhat of a blur to Beverly. She'd begun the evening at dinner with a dozen people, of whom all but one were new acquaintances; she remembered an art and wine show at which she met even more new faces; there was dancing at a club into which even her cuteness and curves wouldn't normally have gotten her; and more drinking at a number of Manhattan bars, though exactly how many bars was a question Beverly couldn't answer.

Beverly had ended the evening in the usual way, getting naked and sweaty with the man whose credit cards had paid for the evening. He wasn't anyone special to her, just another man who'd attended her art opening and had expressed interest in her paintings as a ruse to do to, with, and for Beverly exactly as he had last night.

He'd been gone when she awoke, a note explaining that he had a family obligation in New Hampshire but that he'd be back before midnight, just in case you want another go-around 'tween the sheets. Beverly had nowhere else to go, of course, and -- despite having been a bit intoxicated -- she seemed to recall having enjoyed herself 'tween the sheets, as well as in the shower stall and bent over the back of the couch.

So, Beverly had remained, spending the day partaking of the benefits offered by the home of a man who had money, good tastes, and the knowledge of how to use both to enjoy life. Come nightfall, sitting in the world's most comfortable armchair, wrapped in a soft, warm Alpaca blanket, and sipping steaming hot herbal tea, Beverly was looking out over the Hudson River at the Jersey City skyline. Oh, it wasn't the same as if she'd been in Jersey looking back at Manhattan, but it was still a much better sight than she got from her basement apartment in Queens.

Still awaiting her new lover's return, Beverly had just drifted off to sleep when she awoke with a start to a deep rumbling sound. The apartment was pitch black, as we the West Village beyond the window and the entirety of the landscape beyond it and the river. Beverly had experienced New York City blackouts in the past, but this ... well, this was a whole different animal altogether; the lights that would normally be powered by batteries or back up generators even in the most extensive of power outages -- as well as those from the fronts and rears of thousands of automobiles -- were no where to be seen.

It was as if electricity had never been invented at all.

Then, there was a flash of red and orange off in the distance, and Beverly knew in an instance that it was an explosion. Terrorists, was her first thought; terrorists had blown up a power station, causing the black out. But that didn't make sense, as the blackout had preceded the explosion by, what, 30 seconds ... a minute?

Suddenly, there was another similar, fiery explosion off to the left, and a moment later there was a third that was out of Beverly's direct line of sight until she hopped up and ran to and through the glass doors that led out onto a balcony. Over the next minute or so, she saw dozens of almost identical explosions at locations far and near.

Terrorism was quickly replaced in her thinking with military attack: America was being attacked! Who was behind this? Russia? Obviously! The whole War in Ukraine thing and the accompanying tensions between Russia and the US had only been getting more heated every day.

But, if it was going to attack the US, wouldn't Russia have done so with nuclear weapons? Beverly looked out at the fireballs rising into the air in every direction and -- despite not being a military expert or war historian or anything like that -- didn't see this as the first step of a Russian invasion of America. No, this was something different; this was...

And then she saw something she hadn't seen before, and it all came to make both total sense and deep confusion. In the glow of one of the most recent fiery explosion, Beverly caught the reflection of a jet airliner's fuselage as it dived rapidly toward the ground at a steep angle. A moment later, another fireball, followed a few seconds later by yet another booming explosion.

They're falling out of the sky ... the planes ... dozens, maybe hundreds of them. They're just ... falling out of the air. Looking at the locations of the crashes and contemplating her location on the West Side of Manhattan, Beverly realized that the planes that had gone down had likely been either taking off or trying to land at one of the greater metro area's many local, national, or international airports.

Beverly moved to the railing and looked down to the street. Here, too, nine floors below her, was near absolute darkness. (The moon was in its waxing crescent phase, providing very little light to the surface street level.) With no cars, trucks, taxis, buses, or trains moving, Beverly could very clearly hear the people on the street clamoring on with the same confusion wracking her, too.

She went for her phone, hoping to find news on the internet or one of her news Apps: no signal. She went to her host's laptop, then his television: again, no joy. Everything electrical in the apartment was simply dead. She rushed to the bedroom to don not only her clothes but also a heavy coat and hat from her new lover's closet. But before she opened the door, a thought came to Beverly's brain: Where the hell you gonna go?