Author Topic: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm  (Read 22588 times)

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Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« Reply #5145 on: July 10, 2019, 12:22:55 am »
2 months ago

The sound of the air tight seals popping open filled the room as the first sounds to greet the silence in nearly fifteen years. The heavy footsteps that followed echoed as the five men stepped out of the stasis pods and shook the drowsiness from their heads.

Once they were able to fully avail themselves of their faculties they moved to the lockers in the room to retrieve their uniforms. Each man donned a grey uniform that was accompanied by a pair of black boots, a metal Sallet helmet and a black chest rig. Walking over to a console one of them switched it back on and inserted his thumb into a slot.

‘ID confirmed: Alexander Sokolov. Rank: Crusader. Status changed: Active’

Moving to another console Sokolov connected a wire to a small port in his neck. ‘Adjusting bionic liver. Tuning bionic eye. Calibrating…’

All of them went through the same process of having their bionics calibrated and getting their gear in order. When all was said and done they approached the door and waited as one of their number stepped forward and read the instructions on the door console. Tapping a button the man started to speak “Howard R. M., Captain of the order speaking. Stasis pods were deactivated, alert from Secure Compound Zeta under the..local bank. Present with me is Alexander Sokolov, survival specialist.” He rattled off the rest of the names and jobs of the men with him before signing off and walking out of the facility with his men in tow.

1 week ago

Sokolov watched his captain stare through a pair of binoculars at the men in the building in front of them. Tilting his head back Sokolov finished the mickey of vodka as he waited. Finally his captain spoke “There’s gotta be thirty of them, maybe more. Heavily armed and looking twitchy from here. You still ready for this Sokolov?”

Setting the bottle down and grabbing his rifle Sokolov shrugged. In the past month he’d watched one of his friends shoot himself in the head because of this apocalypse and two more get gunned down by scum. The way he figured it the pair of them would either complete their objective or die trying. “We go quiet and stay quiet.”

2 days ago

Sokolov sat in Haps bar sipping his drink. And waiting. He’d  been waiting for the past two days. His armor was stowed in a large carryall bag sitting next to him. Pulling his hand from his pocket he sorted through the coins he had, palming one and dumping the rest back into his pocket.

The man he’d been waiting for had entered the building and sat down. Standing up Sokolov walked towards the door. As he passed the table he flipped the coin onto it. Before the man could question it Sokolov was out the door.

“I do not enjoy work. I do not relish a piece of paper being handed to me. I do not savor the moment before action. I do my work as is my duty. When I pass may the Lord forgive my soul. If he does not then may I take my place at Lucifers right hand. Please oh lord hear this sinners prayerr.” Sokolov said to himself as the man picked the coin up to inspect it.

Sokolov didn’t need to hear the gunshot that came quickly after, nor did he need to see the blood stain on the window of the bar.  Sliding the Salet helmet onto his head Sokolov stared down at the coin that had returned to his hand as he walked. The only thing Howard would know of what had happened is that the man whom had been giving the orders to the men that had held the bank was dead. He would never really know how it happened.

For a brief moment the hooded figure walked beside him. He’d been told the man was an old gun who’d wagered his soul for one of the devil’s coins. The Templars wanted to destroy it, the Order had smuggled it away from the Catholics. Then they’d hidden it from the Cleansing Flame.

The Archival Order of Holstadt, a long destroyed town, had hidden many things of historical and religious importance in their eyes. Most of their catalogue were mundane items, glasses of some historical figure, a pair of pants that a crusader had worn, things of such mundane nature. But every once in a while they got their hands on something special.  Along with their modern public facing cover they’d changed the name simply to The Archival Order.

Sokolov had broken a long standing agreement among the high ranking members of the Order when he’d taken this coin. Anything abnormal was supposed to be left in a secure room in the Order’s headquarters. But it had served him well in his work as an assassin of the Order.

When he returned to Howard he informed him that their target was dead. Then he received the news. Some cultists  had taken over. Ones that liked to eat the flesh of the undead and other humans.

Present day

Sokolov had seen the group at the bank and knew no matter what they brought two men wouldn’t be able to take them on. So he’d started his journey to where the friends of an old enemy of the cult lived. Walking down the abandoned road he spotted a handful of the undead here and there but not enough to cause him any problems.

Of course he needed to sell something to these people. After all why did he care that these were the men that killed their friend? So he took a moment to settle back into his old accent. It had been years since he’d spoken like this, since he was a teenager if he recalled correctly. After his mother took him to her homeland of Ireland she’d taught him how to hide the accent of his homeland. “My name Alexander Sokolov, pleasure to meet you. I have news concerning mutual friend Alexei’s killers. I know where man that gave order is located, but I need help to kill.”

Even with practice speaking in broken english was painful at this point. And that was assuming they would be interested in getting revenge on the men. Assuming his intel was accurate. But that was all he had to go on while Howard kept sketch on the old bank.

Shooting a zombie that had been running at him Alexander also wondered about just who this Alexei had been. Why had these men been so angry that they were still partying and celebrating this man’s death? But that and all of Alexander’s other questions about the man would have to wait. He was getting near his destination, Walkerville.

Meanwhile TJ had finished helping Alice and Isaac with the lunch rush and was currently sitting outside leaning against the wall. He’d gotten enough parts to start working on the air gun he wanted to make so he set to work. Sliding the pieces into place and fastening them as best he could onto the frame he’d made TJ soon had the rough outline and basics of it down. Actually getting it to work would take quite a bit more work.

Looking up from his work he spotted a young misling watching him. Scurrying over upon realizing he’d been seen the young misling grabbed the makeshift air rifle and inspected what was built. “Needs seals. Barrell will only work with large bearings or darts. A padded stock would also make it more comfortable.” Handing it back the misling scratched at it’s damaged right ear and said “Could probably scrounge the parts you need, but it’ll take a while.”

TJ blinked, stunned for a moment, before saying “Wait you..want to help me? How much?”

Shaking his head the misling said “No charge. No real scrip around here so it doesn’t matter anyway. Scratch your back now you scratch mine later?”

TJ nodded after a moment’s thought and said “Sure. I’m TJ by the way, what’s your name?”

“Friends call me Bolt, or Wrench, or Driver. I don’t really care, I do my work and get my food, names don’t affect work. Which I probably need to get back to.” Bolt said before scurrying off into Walkerville.

TJ wasn’t sure what had inspired the young misling to talk to him but he had a feeling Bolt would probably be a good friend to have. Standing up and stowing his project TJ decided to explore the place a bit. Maybe even find some work of his own now that he was thinking about it.