Lo Pellegrino

Apocalyptica

If it isn't already clear, Tomás Gellemo Lombardi is the younger brother of Simon-Pietro Lombardi and a member of the 1007th. His CS brings you up to the point of him joining the 1007th, not for their ideals, but because they have resources devoted to finding his brother. The squad he is a part of is a hunting party with the sole mission to hunt down the Pirate Crew -- specifically, Daryl, Alicia, Simon-Pietro, and Cass. My goal here is to provide another take. Humanize some members of the 1007th, not necessarily making them 'good', but giving more dimension. Not sure how everyone else will go about things, but I'd welcome anyone who wants to get involved directly with that side too.

In other words -- Free Faller, I'm coming for you! :P

Apocalyptica

The road smelled of blood and gunpowder. Patches of grass burst from the neglected cement, cracked all about, now covered in blood and bullet casings. Tomás took in the sight. Bodies lay scattered about, still warm, and for the moment still. While he stood ahead of the road, others dressed like him strolled between the bodies. Despite their military grade body armour, rifles, and other gear, to Tomás, they were just well armed civilians. His assault rifle scanned over the street and his comrades ahead. They moved casually, yet also like marionettes. Once a body was within three yards they would raise their primary weapon. Fingers hovering over the trigger, they checked the spike attached under the barrel, and once closed in -- the strike. In one fatal move the spike plunged through the eye and out the back of the skull. A simple, but effective measure so the dead stay dead.

"That's it, LT," Tomás exclaimed, lowering his rifle.

Raising a hand, the lieutenant gestured for a meeting. At once the squad assembled without question. The eight collected around their squad leader, quietly awaiting her order. Tomás had jogged from the furthest point, but not been the last. That honour was reserved to Corporal Ramos, apparently the only one among them who'd been with the lieutenant during the initial Siege of Evergreen. For Tomás, these were no different from other war stories. Every glory in victory has an atrocity swept under the rug, and he didn't need to see much at the haven to know the siege had more than its fair share. Ramos moved slower and shot less than the rest of them. Not too different from the lieutenant, really, except she insisted on leading by example. First into battle, first to strike, and she took great pride in the first blood. Maybe that's why Tomás was Designated Marksman so often. Given the opportunity he could be a downright brute, but combat wasn't always the best way to go. His brother taught him that.

"Needless to say, these were not our targets. We have maybe five hours of daylight left. We'll be staying put until Bravo squad's messenger updates us to their progress," the sound of chuckling cut the lieutenant's explanation short. Her rifle slung over his shoulder, she glanced about as if for show, before finally settling her eye on the culprit. "Private Barkley, is something funny?"

Clearing his throat, the private looked to Tomás at his side and grinned. "Well ma'am, you said 'Bravo squad' and 'progress' in the same sentence. Might be new, but I sure-as-shit know they ain't done one we ain't yet. Practically sit on their asses and let us lead the way, if ya ask me."

Barkley scanned over the squad with a sidewise, puckered smile. He was young, southern, and rough around the edges. Admittedly, this was the sort Tomás saw the most of in the old world's Armed Forces, yet these were also the most annoying. Tomás and those also around the private inched away as the lieutenant made her approach. A less disciplined crew might collectively beam, but such behaviour belonged on reality television.

"No disrespect, ma'am," Barkley chuckled, this time forced and quick. "Maybe if they had a boss-bitch like you they'd be--"

The lieutenant walked by Barkley before spinning on her heel. In turning, she kicked out the back of the private's nearest knee. He crumbled immediately, arms flailing, only to have the lieutenant catch him with a single hand on middle of his back. That cold, absent look in her eye bore into his, replacing all but a sliver of his humour with fear. However, a sliver was still too much. Before the corner of his mouth could twitch into that asinine puckered smirk, the lieutenant brought her second hand up. She brought down a gloved fist directly onto his nose in one blow. Blood spurt onto his mouth as the punch connected and, at the same time, the lieutenant allowed him to fall. Only when the private hit the ground and coiled did she look back to the squad. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the lieutenant gave a blank expression -- then a smile.

"You will respect your comrades or you will fall. You will respect me, and all the women in this squad, or we will break you. Do you understand?" the lieutenant asked in a strong, sturdy shout.

The squad straightened their backs. "Ma'am yes ma'am!"

"As I was saying before. We will be staying put until word comes in from Bravo. This town may look like shambles, but that doesn't mean nobody's shambling about. Go in pairs and search for scavengers. Look for clues about our targets. Corporal Gellemo, you've got Barkley."

***

Just outside of the town Tomás stood watch as Barkley gingerly rubbed the blood from his nose. The two had found a small gas station, like those 'members only' outside of some supermarkets. Salvageable supplies were already gone. Necessities like water and what food you might dare to try went shortly after the world changed, fortunately, there was enough Coke to clear two decades of plumbing -- let alone one broken nose. Bent over a grimy sink, Barkley poured the dark, fizzy drink over his face and winced. The bathroom was barely big enough for one of them with all their gear, so Tomás hung back, facing out toward the station's entrance. Past the racks of long expired or otherwise unappetizing snacks, he could see clear beyond the town's edge. Besides a few stumbling dead-heads in a distance there wasn't much. Tomás eyed the land regardless, interesting or not, as he was trained.

"Ain't nothin' out there," Barkley snorted. Brown and red thick ran down his cheeks, probably into his mouth, but his expression remained a pained scowl. "This's some game, right? Does a show for the team, show'em what's cool n' what ain't, then the muscle finishes the job. Why'm I even cleanin' myself? Just gonna get bloodied up again, ain't?"

Tomás cocked a brow. Before he could reply, he observed Barkley closer than he'd care to prior. The private was thin, and from the scars on his brow and mouth, a scrapper. His pale skin was pockmarked and tattoos appeared without any obvious theme. Judging from all that, not to forget the accent, Tomás went over the statement once more. This was a man who clearly suffered before. Smart ass retorts only worsened by a clear lack of education covered up that Barkley might understand hierarchy all too well.

"I don't know where you came from, but that's not how it works here. The world might've gone to shit, but this is a military unit all the same. You listen, you observe, and you act. Our job is simple. Simpler since we're a hunting unit -- all we have to do is find our targets. There's quite a bit of latitude here, but the same rules apply. Stupid hurts. You probably got that part, huh?" Tomás explained, daring to smile a bit at the end. "The slate's clean though. Don't make a series of mistakes or they add up, but work to fix and you'll be fine. Just don't lie to us. In their eyes, there's nothing worse."

For a moment the private stared blankly at Tomás. "I need a minute, Gellemo. Thanks."

Without another word, Tomás stepped outside of the mini-convenience station. He thought over his own words and stuck at the last part. Gellemo. Years lie between the age of personal information beaming to and fro unattended to then, where your name was what you gave. All the same, Tomás had stuck to a name nearly true. Lombard was a wanted name, to him and the rest the squad. While he might embrace Simon-Pietro with open arms, the others would not. He couldn't imagine any other fate for the brother of their prey either. Tomás Gellemo was a shield just one name away from death. A thin lie, yes, but so near to the truth how could you tell?

Apocalyptica

@FreeFaller: I notice Cassie was working at Evergreen, right? In my initial post I figured having Tomás be a part of a 1007th hunter party trying to track down the Pirate Crew could be a fun, dark way to start. If someone was at Evergreen beforehand and the haven had a file on them, perhaps Tomás would already have Cassie's name (similar to how he saw Simon's). I'm looking forward to having him track you all and see how it goes along the way.

Wait... slavers?

@Fallen: We'll see who out-brutals one another!

Apocalyptica

Aweena said
Truthfully, I did not expect Simon's brother to appear out of nowhere. I don't know why it took my so long to make the connection - "Lombardi" isn't even that common of a surname. At first I was on the fence about this idea (), but after reading your CS, I think I'm okay with it. I can't speak for Shon himself, and if he ever does return the two of you may need to have a conversation. If Tomas was presented without any connection to Simon, I would be ecstatic about having you on-board (I still am thrilled to have you, mind you). Your writing style is amazing; you'll definitely fit in with us. I'm still going to accept you (I'd be stupid not to), but can I just ask that you come up with a way to work around things should Shon return and decide he's not okay with it? He was a great person and I don't think he'd be upset necessarily, but I just don't want to put either of you in that uncomfortable situation. So, welcome to Apocalyptica! Start as soon as you please. Also, Simon was 29. He may be 30 by now, however. Seeing as half a year has passed and I can't remember reading about when his birthday was. Hope that helps a little.

Thank you for accepting Tomás! Glad the idea was surprising, I thought I'd try something a bit different that respected Apocalypse's history.

When I write I love the dynamic of one sibling searching for another, especially when it's the younger, 'weaker' doing the search. Reading the Simon character seemed like he was the sort with that common moral center. You know the type who said they were edgy, but really, they're well adjusted. I like that, but I like the idea of Tomás being the opposite. He thinks he's the strong and morally centered. Yet, being isolated then only exposed to the 1007th has changed his idea of right and wrong and he doesn't even recognize it. If Tomás actually did find Simon one day I have no idea how they'd relate.

I totally get it if Shon comes back and isn't cool with this character. Since the main goal for Tomás is that journey to find him, I'm totally fine with that either not coming to fruition or things not going so hunky-dory. Who knows. Maybe Tomás will be a monster by then. To be totally clear I have no plans for creating Simon as I think that's where the author's territory comes in. Besides, that search for Simon would really keep Tomás around those who knew him, and that just sounds awesome to play through. If he returns and is a bit surprised I don't mind chatting with him.

Life Continues

My next post will talk about the bridges and ways out of the city, so you all know. My characters are totally fair game to interact with, but they'll also be used to show world events and what not.

Don't be afraid of going big, like Kingfisher, by the way. Treat your characters as you would act if the world reacting like this. If you'd assume things are falling apart, then act that out, or if you'd be in bitter denial, that too. Have fun and be free with it!

Apocalyptica

Introducing Tomás Gellemo Lombardi... Deep thinking veteran desperately searching for his older brother, only to discover that the best way of finding him is through the 1007th.

Not sure how old Simon-Pietro was, but I'm operating under the assumption Tomás is 28-31. Strengths and weaknesses are written into the last couple of entries. Let me know if you need anything else!

Journal of Tomás Gellemo Lombardi

21 September 2020

As the ferocity of winter's bite grows, I find myself thinking of before. In the blink of an eye I'm walking in the California sun as a child. Parents ahead of me, my older brother walking by my side. Those memories are fragments. I remember later on a bit better. The day we moved to the Pacific Northwest, just in time for the freak ice storm. Maybe I had seen snow, but never so much, and never like that. Despite my brother and I being teens we played like snot-nosed kids. Throwing snowballs, 'building' snow huts, just acting making total fools out of ourselves without a care. We didn't give a shit. Most of our lives were spent in a place where a number of houses had to have water trucked to them. Give us a couple feet of ice and snow -- how could we not freak out? That was before everything changed. Before the first frost meant a new struggle. Nevertheless, even with this new reality and the challenges it brings, I still smile at the thought of winter. I still smile at the thought of snow. And I hope to have the chance to be that snivelling California kid with his older brother.

13 December 2020

According to my count it's been about three months. This trip has been long, and It might be foolish, but I've already made it to Centralia. The roads clear once you're out of the major cities and suburbs and the junk left behind is amazing. From the looks of it there are definitely bandits, but nothing like the rumours I've heard elsewhere. Supposedly the gang of note here is called 'Legion'. It's funny, because my brother was always artsy and he'd study the old Greek-or-Roman works. He'd probably flip to see his cultural wet-dream reduced to bunch of brutes with guns. Well, what with the stories, I hope he'd just run. These guys seem seriously tweaked like the sort who'd shoot first then check for zed later. I'm sure he's fine. I mean, I don't even know if he's alive still, but if he is, I'm sure he'd know better.

2 January 2021

I didn't expect to find him here, honestly. A part of me hoped and dreamt that despite all the horrors and chaos he'd somehow be here waiting. The more childish part of me thought I might even surprise him. Deep down, I never expected to make it this far. After things went to shit and I decided to get moving, the thought of finding him was really just an excuse. Staying where was before was like lying in my coffin. The search for my brother was just my denial at work, my mind coping with the fact that there really was no reason for me to exist any more. I knew how much he spoke about Olympia and after passing by his old, burnt out flat, I figured why not. At worst, I died on the trip up. At best... well, I had my hopes.

Finding Evergreen State was surreal. I made this drive dozens of times back when he was a student and this was still a college. Back then Evergreen State meant free love, hard studies, weed, and creative freedom. He started school at the same time I enlisted too. When I went to visit I just remember the conversations with the 'Greeners'. I had only just completed boot camp and was already growing more rigid, perhaps more conservative. Speaking to them about politics, religion, and philosophy undid what weeks of tireless training had worked to establish. I never felt so alive and doubtful. The systems that I had only just learned to trust with my life seemed nothing more than illusions to convince me to throw my life away. I just remember thinking, both laughing and crying, that I wish the Recruiter's Office had been here. I wished I'd heard what a person could make for themselves with education and support rather than discipline and apathy. The Evergreen of today is far different. I only just arrived, and I expected some fortification if anyone had survived, but the guards here are well armed. When the gates opened I'd expected a rag-tag group just doing their best. Instead, I was met with a trained military force. How much has really changed?

4 January 2021

Shortly after arriving to Evergreen I was taken into a dark room. Although they grabbed me as I finished my last entry, they left me with both my journal and pen. The only things they took were the most obvious weapons. That said, despite the poor lighting, I could clearly see myself in the mirror. Multiple means to create a weapon or, I guess, kill myself. Maybe that's the point.

Seeing myself in the mirror was more startling than isolation. I normally wear my hair short and have no patience for scraggly facial hair. Haven't had much choice lately, hell, I really haven't cared either. My face is now a dark tan and both long as well as gaunt. The bottom half is consumed by an untamed beard that curves toward the center at a point a few inches below my chin. Atop of my head is a mess of long hair that I've clearly let tangle -- not dread, mind you, this is far worse. The hair stretches down to my chest. Somehow all of this is a surprise. Somehow I never realized just how long it'd been since I saw myself. Or maybe I had. Maybe I'd walked by mirrors countless times and just not cared until now. Until I found others. How long has it even been?

10 January 2021

I have been given the choice to stay or go. Something seems off about the soldiers here and the community, well, they don't express much anything. I've cleaned up a little, but kept all the hair. I consider it my way of not settling. They gave me the choice to stay or go, but it doesn't matter. I saw my brother's name on a document. He's alive. They have a sketch of him on a wanted poster.

There really is no choice. I didn't expect it to be this way, but if this is how I find you, so be it. See you soon, Simon.

21 February 2021

Training with the 1007th has been brutal. My time in the Marines prepared me for physical side, not to mention walking some hundreds of miles just to get here. What really has me sweating is the intensity of these people. Can you even call them people? Most of them would sooner mow down a few travellers rather than hitch them a ride. They have what little fuel is left, great weapons, and even body armour, but it's like they're afraid of every little thing. Why? I know my strength and had to make my own weapons while out in the wilds. With their armaments I'm not the least bit concerned. What stops them from thinking like me and seeing this as the potential to help? Maybe that's conceded.

23 February 2021

I was told that I didn't know my own limits yesterday. They told me my strength and ingenuity was wasted on someone who didn't know the end of their abilities. Since when do these guys get off going philosophical on me? Most of them are murderers, dammit. But fine, I'll accept that. I've been told before I'm bullheaded and been hurt because of it, probably will again. It's like I see a challenge and can't back away, and that might sound pathetic, but it's pretty damn serious when that challenge can easily break you. Otherwise, I feel pretty well established in this world. I can take more punches than most, and often do, but I usually figure it out on my own.

I will admit, this journal has really helped. Looking back at my entries, I hadn't spoken to a single living person for at least six months before arriving here in January. If I hadn't been writing I'd probably have been some dribbling fool. Can't say I'm some Casanova nowadays, I'm nowhere near as charismatic as my brother, but at least I can hold a conversation.

...

- Tomás Gellemo Lombardi

Apocalyptica

Will this version of Apocalyptica start after the old IC or are you wiping all that history? Just curious, if I have my character relate somehow to the prior ones, I'd like to know what's gone on in the world.

Life Continues

Recruiting is still open! The Roleplay is young and highly conducive to new blood joining us.

Life Continues

@KingFisher: Good post. Looks like Chessa has first blood, huh? Can't wait to see how she reacts as things get worse.

@Silver: Humour is fine, just keep in mind this is a serious project we're all working on here. Respect the efforts your mates put in. Be funny if you please, but I think you know what I mean. The storage container is fine, just be realistic when it comes to just how much they'd even have stored and don't turn Mark into some power-god just because he finds some guns.

Apocalyptica

Will the returning players be bringing their characters? I see a few I wouldn't mind having my guy's history interlacing with. Is that something that can happen?