Member
Framing A Moose
Sadie
LetsFly
Andreyich
Baphomini
DaysSunday, April 3 2022 -- Noon-ish (11 hours before the blackout)
555 Main Street, Roosevelt Island
The Island House condominium building
It was already midday before Beverly Harper regained consciousness after an alcohol fueled Saturday night that had reached all the way to the dawn: dinner, drinking, dancing, drinking, sex, drinking; it was just another Saturday night for the 21 year old.
She arose from a stranger's bed -- also rather normal for a Sunday morning -- and padded off naked to search for the unfamiliar abode's bathroom. Catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, Beverly giggled; her father -- a breeder of racing thoroughbreds -- would have described her as having been ridden hard and put away wet.
She peed and padded back into the bedroom, then the living room, looking for signs of the owner. The man with whom she'd performed an array of lewd but pleasurable acts in locations throughout the luxury condominium had left a note for her on the kitchen counter: Family thing in New Hampshire. Back before midnight. Food and drink in the fridge. Please don't leave -- still got that one thing you said we could do today.
Beverly was fairly certain he was speaking of yet another sexual act. With her body feeling the way it did, she murmured to herself, "Are you sure we didn't already do it?"
Regardless of whether or not she owed him something new and as-of-yet-unexplored, Beverly had no reason or desire to leave. The man's home was incredible, a nearly 2 million dollar condominium in the Island House complex. And, of course, there was the fact that he'd left one of his black cards for her to use -- as he explained in the note -- in any way that will make you happy enough to make me happy tonight ... again!
"Awfully fuckin' chipper for a man who didn't get a wink of sleep last night," Beverly told herself, smiling at recalling just what he had been doing during what should have been his sleeping hours. The man -- Robert Deering, according to the credit card -- had been absolutely insatiable during those hours, which was a serious turnaround for Beverly as she was usually the one who just couldn't get enough between the sheets, above the sheets, or even nowhere near the sheets. About his stamina, she mused after seeing the still-powdery mirror on the bedside lamp table, "Thank God for cocaine."
She showered and slipped back into her LBD and heels, then headed downstairs with the man's credit card held tightly in her hand. Robert had left instructions with the 24/7 doorman to let Beverly in and out as she pleased. Out she indeed went, getting breakfast, shopping for more casual clothes, catching lunch, picking out a bikini to use at the Island House's pool and Jacuzzi, and -- after a short but badly needed nap -- once again heading out for dinner and a cocktail.
While sitting down to lunch, Beverly had sent a text to her friend, Maria Gonzales: Surprise, bitch! I'm just across the street at some cafe called Nila's. I fucked my way into a black card. Come join me. The desserts here are incredible.
Maria hadn't been available for lunch, but the pair did meet for dinner. They talked about their very different lives; while Beverly spent her time hunting down men like Robert Deering, who didn't hesitate to spend their hard-earned cash on her, Maria spent hers divided between college classes, the bodega, and her extensive family. Ironically, each of the young women envied the other for the life they led.
They went their separate ways, making plans to see each other soon. Beverly used the black card at a dozen more places before returning to Robert's condo; she bought food, snacks, and drinks so her lover would have something to fill his belly upon his return late tonight; she bought lingerie and a few other special things for yet another night of 'til the dawn romping about the beautiful apartment.
But instead of Robert returning at some time past midnight, the Blackout arrived at 11:11pm.
Beverly had been sitting in what had to be the most comfortable armchair ever designed, looking out upon the Manhattan skyline to the west, when suddenly the entire world simply went black. She'd seen her share of blackouts in the past, but this was something she'd never experienced before: no high-rise lights up and down the far shore of the East River; no automobile headlights on the FDR; even the boats that had been moving left and right on the water below her suddenly disappeared with nothing but the low light of the waxing crescent moon shining down upon them.
She stood and moved to the west facing windows for a better view. Beverly was a city girl who had never been in a real wilderness area, a place where you could scan the horizon in every direction and not see artificial light in one form or another; she'd never seen a dark so dark in all her life.
But that dark didn't last long. Within seconds -- ten, fifteen maybe -- the night was lit up by the most horrifying flash, followed quickly by the rising red and orange of exploding fuel. Beverly knew in an instance that it was an explosion, and her immediate thought was that terrorists had blown up the power station providing electricity to New York City.
Suddenly, there was another fiery explosion off to the left, and a moment later there was a third far to the right. Another seconds later out of Beverly's direct line of sight drew her out onto a balcony, and from there -- over the next couple of minutes -- she would count dozens of similar explosions, near and far.
The thought of simple terrorism was quickly replaced in Beverly's thinking: they were under attack. 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 explosions, Beverly caught the fiery glow reflecting off a jet airliner's fuselage and wings as it dived rapidly toward the ground at a steep angle. A moment later, another fireball rose into the sky, 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 Roosevelt Island, Beverly realized that the explosions were all aircraft -- small planes to gigantic airliners -- that had been taking off from or about trying to land at one of the greater metro area's many local, national, or international airports.
Suddenly, there was an explosion just across the East River. Beverly hadn't seen a plane falling from the sky and crashing there, though. She couldn't know it now, of course, but a fuel tanker truck that had lost power had crashed, begun leaking, and subsequently exploded under Rockefeller University Hospital. During the night, the world renown health care facility would be utterly destroyed by the conflagration, as were several other buildings in its vicinity.
Beverly rushed back inside to find her cell phone, only to find it dead. She went to Robert's laptop, his television, and his stereo radio: again, no joy. Everything electrical in the apartment was simply dead. She rushed to the bedroom to change out of the lingerie and robe Robert had unknowingly purchased for her and donned the more casual clothes his card had also purchased her.
But at the door, Beverly hesitated, wondering Where the hell you gonna go? Instead, she moved back to the windows and simply watched the mayhem unfold. Her mind ran wild with explanations of what she was seeing.
Her heart just about leaped out of her chest when a pounding came at the condo's door. Beverly spun to look toward it; the glow of the distant fires were the only illumination in the apartment. The pounding repeated, followed by a familiar voice: "Bev! Beverly Harper! Are you in there?"
She rushed for the door, crying out as she banged her shin on an unseen piece of furniture: "I'm here! I'm here!" Arriving to unlock and open the door, she found in the light of a couple of small lanterns the familiar face of Maria Gonzales and the unfamiliar one of a woman in a NYPD uniform. "Thank God!" Beverly threw her arms around the slightly taller Maria, hugging her tightly before pulling back and asking in panic, "What's going on out there? I ... I saw planes falling out of the sky."
"This is Naomi, she's a cop," Maria said as the three of them entered the condo. Greetings were exchanged, and Maria explained the reason for their visit: "We need to see what's going on."
They moved to the balcony and looked out upon the madness. There were dozens of fires, spread across the metro area and beyond in every direction. Between them, they decided without any doubt that the explosions had, in fact, been falling airplanes; Naomi ventured the correct assumption regarding the fire that was slowing consuming the hospital.
"How is this happening?" Beverly asked. "Are we under attack? Is this Russia?"
"Could be, but I dunno," Naomi said. She, too, couldn't imagine that this was how Russia would take on the assault of the United States. Then, something came to her: "EMP."
Beverly had no idea what that was, but Maria explained without having to be asked to do so, "Electro-magnetic pulse. It's ... a bomb. Kinda like a nuke but ... instead of blowing up a city, it just kills everything electronic."
They spent a couple of minutes discussing that as a possibility before returning inside again to decide what to do next. Naomi was quick to say, "The two of you should stay right here. It's the safest place for you right now."
"What about the store?" Maria asked, concerned. "What if it gets looted?"
"Can you stop that from happening?" Naomi asked. "If a bunch of thugs with guns and sledgehammers come a'knockin', are you going to be able to stop them?"
Maria didn't want to confess that she'd be at the mercy of such people, so she only kept quiet. Naomi continued, "You stay here, you keep the doors locked. I have to get back to the PSD and check in with the Sergeant. Don't leave here!"
They all agreed with Naomi's plan, and the Officer left to get back to her job.
555 Main Street, Roosevelt Island
The Island House condominium building
It was already midday before Beverly Harper regained consciousness after an alcohol fueled Saturday night that had reached all the way to the dawn: dinner, drinking, dancing, drinking, sex, drinking; it was just another Saturday night for the 21 year old.
She arose from a stranger's bed -- also rather normal for a Sunday morning -- and padded off naked to search for the unfamiliar abode's bathroom. Catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, Beverly giggled; her father -- a breeder of racing thoroughbreds -- would have described her as having been ridden hard and put away wet.
She peed and padded back into the bedroom, then the living room, looking for signs of the owner. The man with whom she'd performed an array of lewd but pleasurable acts in locations throughout the luxury condominium had left a note for her on the kitchen counter: Family thing in New Hampshire. Back before midnight. Food and drink in the fridge. Please don't leave -- still got that one thing you said we could do today.
Beverly was fairly certain he was speaking of yet another sexual act. With her body feeling the way it did, she murmured to herself, "Are you sure we didn't already do it?"
Regardless of whether or not she owed him something new and as-of-yet-unexplored, Beverly had no reason or desire to leave. The man's home was incredible, a nearly 2 million dollar condominium in the Island House complex. And, of course, there was the fact that he'd left one of his black cards for her to use -- as he explained in the note -- in any way that will make you happy enough to make me happy tonight ... again!
"Awfully fuckin' chipper for a man who didn't get a wink of sleep last night," Beverly told herself, smiling at recalling just what he had been doing during what should have been his sleeping hours. The man -- Robert Deering, according to the credit card -- had been absolutely insatiable during those hours, which was a serious turnaround for Beverly as she was usually the one who just couldn't get enough between the sheets, above the sheets, or even nowhere near the sheets. About his stamina, she mused after seeing the still-powdery mirror on the bedside lamp table, "Thank God for cocaine."
She showered and slipped back into her LBD and heels, then headed downstairs with the man's credit card held tightly in her hand. Robert had left instructions with the 24/7 doorman to let Beverly in and out as she pleased. Out she indeed went, getting breakfast, shopping for more casual clothes, catching lunch, picking out a bikini to use at the Island House's pool and Jacuzzi, and -- after a short but badly needed nap -- once again heading out for dinner and a cocktail.
While sitting down to lunch, Beverly had sent a text to her friend, Maria Gonzales: Surprise, bitch! I'm just across the street at some cafe called Nila's. I fucked my way into a black card. Come join me. The desserts here are incredible.
Maria hadn't been available for lunch, but the pair did meet for dinner. They talked about their very different lives; while Beverly spent her time hunting down men like Robert Deering, who didn't hesitate to spend their hard-earned cash on her, Maria spent hers divided between college classes, the bodega, and her extensive family. Ironically, each of the young women envied the other for the life they led.
They went their separate ways, making plans to see each other soon. Beverly used the black card at a dozen more places before returning to Robert's condo; she bought food, snacks, and drinks so her lover would have something to fill his belly upon his return late tonight; she bought lingerie and a few other special things for yet another night of 'til the dawn romping about the beautiful apartment.
But instead of Robert returning at some time past midnight, the Blackout arrived at 11:11pm.
Beverly had been sitting in what had to be the most comfortable armchair ever designed, looking out upon the Manhattan skyline to the west, when suddenly the entire world simply went black. She'd seen her share of blackouts in the past, but this was something she'd never experienced before: no high-rise lights up and down the far shore of the East River; no automobile headlights on the FDR; even the boats that had been moving left and right on the water below her suddenly disappeared with nothing but the low light of the waxing crescent moon shining down upon them.
She stood and moved to the west facing windows for a better view. Beverly was a city girl who had never been in a real wilderness area, a place where you could scan the horizon in every direction and not see artificial light in one form or another; she'd never seen a dark so dark in all her life.
But that dark didn't last long. Within seconds -- ten, fifteen maybe -- the night was lit up by the most horrifying flash, followed quickly by the rising red and orange of exploding fuel. Beverly knew in an instance that it was an explosion, and her immediate thought was that terrorists had blown up the power station providing electricity to New York City.
Suddenly, there was another fiery explosion off to the left, and a moment later there was a third far to the right. Another seconds later out of Beverly's direct line of sight drew her out onto a balcony, and from there -- over the next couple of minutes -- she would count dozens of similar explosions, near and far.
The thought of simple terrorism was quickly replaced in Beverly's thinking: they were under attack. 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 explosions, Beverly caught the fiery glow reflecting off a jet airliner's fuselage and wings as it dived rapidly toward the ground at a steep angle. A moment later, another fireball rose into the sky, 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 Roosevelt Island, Beverly realized that the explosions were all aircraft -- small planes to gigantic airliners -- that had been taking off from or about trying to land at one of the greater metro area's many local, national, or international airports.
Suddenly, there was an explosion just across the East River. Beverly hadn't seen a plane falling from the sky and crashing there, though. She couldn't know it now, of course, but a fuel tanker truck that had lost power had crashed, begun leaking, and subsequently exploded under Rockefeller University Hospital. During the night, the world renown health care facility would be utterly destroyed by the conflagration, as were several other buildings in its vicinity.
Beverly rushed back inside to find her cell phone, only to find it dead. She went to Robert's laptop, his television, and his stereo radio: again, no joy. Everything electrical in the apartment was simply dead. She rushed to the bedroom to change out of the lingerie and robe Robert had unknowingly purchased for her and donned the more casual clothes his card had also purchased her.
But at the door, Beverly hesitated, wondering Where the hell you gonna go? Instead, she moved back to the windows and simply watched the mayhem unfold. Her mind ran wild with explanations of what she was seeing.
Her heart just about leaped out of her chest when a pounding came at the condo's door. Beverly spun to look toward it; the glow of the distant fires were the only illumination in the apartment. The pounding repeated, followed by a familiar voice: "Bev! Beverly Harper! Are you in there?"
She rushed for the door, crying out as she banged her shin on an unseen piece of furniture: "I'm here! I'm here!" Arriving to unlock and open the door, she found in the light of a couple of small lanterns the familiar face of Maria Gonzales and the unfamiliar one of a woman in a NYPD uniform. "Thank God!" Beverly threw her arms around the slightly taller Maria, hugging her tightly before pulling back and asking in panic, "What's going on out there? I ... I saw planes falling out of the sky."
"This is Naomi, she's a cop," Maria said as the three of them entered the condo. Greetings were exchanged, and Maria explained the reason for their visit: "We need to see what's going on."
They moved to the balcony and looked out upon the madness. There were dozens of fires, spread across the metro area and beyond in every direction. Between them, they decided without any doubt that the explosions had, in fact, been falling airplanes; Naomi ventured the correct assumption regarding the fire that was slowing consuming the hospital.
"How is this happening?" Beverly asked. "Are we under attack? Is this Russia?"
"Could be, but I dunno," Naomi said. She, too, couldn't imagine that this was how Russia would take on the assault of the United States. Then, something came to her: "EMP."
Beverly had no idea what that was, but Maria explained without having to be asked to do so, "Electro-magnetic pulse. It's ... a bomb. Kinda like a nuke but ... instead of blowing up a city, it just kills everything electronic."
They spent a couple of minutes discussing that as a possibility before returning inside again to decide what to do next. Naomi was quick to say, "The two of you should stay right here. It's the safest place for you right now."
"What about the store?" Maria asked, concerned. "What if it gets looted?"
"Can you stop that from happening?" Naomi asked. "If a bunch of thugs with guns and sledgehammers come a'knockin', are you going to be able to stop them?"
Maria didn't want to confess that she'd be at the mercy of such people, so she only kept quiet. Naomi continued, "You stay here, you keep the doors locked. I have to get back to the PSD and check in with the Sergeant. Don't leave here!"
They all agreed with Naomi's plan, and the Officer left to get back to her job.