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| Where we are, where we need to be...; Chapter 1 of HUF Campaign. | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 2 2008, 10:02 AM (71 Views) | |
| BlackDawnAdmin | Feb 2 2008, 10:02 AM Post #1 |
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Anthony stood, rifle in hand, atop an overturned, burned-out tank. Its insignia suggested a Keman, or Vampire bandit group. Wincing against the sun, he looked around at his surroundings. He was told Hong Kong was a place of remarkable beauty once. What rubbish; all he could see around him was ash, skeletons, destruction; he seemed to stand in death's corridor. "Oi, Anthony!" yelled a voice; Anthony turned around to reply. Ikateh, the resident imperial priest stood, waving his hand in the air. "Anthony, 30 minutes till Death Squads meet up here." Anthony nodded acknowledgement, and Ikateh turned away, moving quickly down the street. The death squads had all been recalled and pulled back to Hong Kong. It was a popular meeting place, though not as popular as it once was, since Vampire hives had started showing up. Anthony hopped down from the tank, stretched his limbs, then ran down the street. The air's so hard to breathe, very ashy, was the thought that crossed his mind. The rest of his team were waiting for him at the entrance of an old theatre. Movies would have been shown here, or plays, a gathering of so many people, and would be used as a gathering place again for the next few minutes. Some squads, such as his own, had come early, so more were expected; it wasn't a surprise to see the theatre so empty. But still, the hall big enough to hold two thousand people would only hold a hundred and fifty today. Anthony leaped into one of the back row seats, next to Eliath, the "tamed" werewolf, and Stas, the annoying pet's owner. Anthony sat stiffly in his seat, awaiting the others. "Supreme Commander Shaun-Tao wants to speak with you," said a voice nearby. Anthony nodded, stood, and walked quietly down the isle, reaching the front row. Shaun turned to Anthony, stroking his beard. Shaun patted the seat next to him, and Anthony sat down. "And how is my boy?" asked Shaun. Anthony smiled. "I'm well, but I'd rather be back in Port Jessica then here," said Anthony as he placed his rifle on his lap. "So, why are we all here?" he asked. Shaun's expression lowered, dropping out of the friendly smile into a graver, serious, more set face. "At 0600, Emily and her team found - I don't believe it myself but - they've found Dr. Smith." Shaun paused. "Well, his son at least. Apparently he knows just as much as his father." Anthony reeled back. He had opted out on the search for a fabled 'Dr. Smith', and his project to clean the atmosphere. Anthony had refused because he realized that the Keman needed the increased nitrogen in the air, realized that he couldn't bear to hear so many cries silenced because of him. "All rise!" ordered the overseeing officer before Anthony could reply to Shaun. They all stood up, formally; despite the informal tone this was an official military gathering. Shaun walked up to the stage, where he explained what had just happened to the missing group, the ones who should have been in the theatre but weren't. "And, at 0750, Emily's contact was caught in a vampire raid, and we have not heard of them since," finished Shaun gravely, watching the crowd intently for reaction. Some of these were little more than rogue factions themselves; groups of soldiers and survivors, clustered together. They had been forced to join the HUF, to fight the Keman and Vampire, and there had been rebellion from the roped-in groups before. This sort of thing was just the kind of issue that sparked them off, and he was proven right. "And we shouldn't care," yelled a man in furious defiance. He stood, waving his fist. "Are we to damn all that live upon this Earth, just because we are at war? His 'machine' involves the death of everything outside of the dome cities! That I cannot agree with! It's genocide! We could just as easily be them; the only reason we are here is because we are immune! They are still people, 'Supreme Commander'. The Keman and Vampire do not deserve to be eradicated. We call ourselves human. Genocide is not human!" The man was shaking in barely controlled anger. Another stood up to address the first man. Also furious, he spat out his argument like the words were bitter in his mouth. "And look how they treat us! Like scum! Should we feel sympathy for them, never! They want to kill us! Your mercy will not protect us! Will you condemn more of our children to die, because you have a moral issue?" The first man replied with as much emotion as the second. Anthony stopped listening. He'd heard it before, and sympathized with the first man; Anthony had turned down the Dr. Smith mission because of this very dilemma. Shaun watched the men yelling, and didn't say anything. Both were leaders of small but powerful sub-groups in the HUF, and the Supreme Commander couldn't afford to lose either of them. He stood, waiting for one of them to stop. Neither of them saw the shadow, hiding in the curtains behind the stage, poised to attack. They couldn't see the presence there, biding its time. Krysaara watched the men and women tracking into the city from a hill a few hundred metres away. The stolen binoculars pressed against her eyes. She didn't like them; they were too heavy and cumbersome to carry easily, and they didn't let her see what was close to her. She was relying on her other senses to know if someone else was nearby. They could do the job; her hearing was superior to most dogs', but she would have felt better with her eyes at work too. She would have preferred to use her own eyes for the examination of the city as well, but they were better at night. Here, in the dawn, she lost the advantages of her Vampire heritage, and instead saw less, her sight bleached out by the sun. The binoculars, however, were useful enough to let her know that almost a hundred people were in the shell of the city, gathered, waiting. She knew they were military; they had to be. Where Keman and Vampire had simple citizens, people who sat around and led ordinary lives, there were too few humans left to live like that. They were all military, more or less, roaming the lands that had once been theirs, trying to reclaim them. Their weapons were military-style, too. Only military would carry guns like that, so obviously; her own weapons were carefully concealed. All twelve of them. No more people came, and she knew the building they were going into; the large one, closer to her and left of the centre of the city. She ran down from the hill, leaning back, keeping close to the ground. They could be observe her with as much ease as she observed them. Actually, not so; they would be hard-pressed to see her. She wore a sandy-coloured camoflauge fabric, blending in with the brown, dead grasses. Her long hair was tucked under her shirt, and she was adept at moving unseen. But too many brushes with death had taught her lessons well, and one of them was to always act as though someone is watching you. If they aren't, nothing lost, and if they are you are prepared. Krysaara entered the city, passing through the narrow streets. Her pulse rose another couple of beats per minute; she carried the Vampire hatred, and almost fear, of technology, and around her she could see what was left of it - street lights, neon signs, bombed-out cars. She passed all this quickly, her weapons still undrawn. To a casual watcher, she would appear to have been late to the meeting. Of course, military gatherings like this were hardly protected by 'casual' watchers. The ancient building bore a name in a language she could not read. Actually, she couldn't read any language; raised by slavers since she was a baby, she had learnt only what she needed to. For a minute she paused, remembering those first terrible years with them; the constant pain, the fear of more, hunger, thirst, fear. She watched them slaughter those who were useless to them, taking their clothes and possesions. She watched others, just like her, being sold off to faceless, nameless figures. But she had killed them. Krysaara smiled grimly, remembering that too, her first kills. The slavers' bones lay in the open, picked clean by vultures and scavengers. She shook herself out of the memories and focused on her task. Supreme Commander Shaun-Tau. That was his name. The name of her target. Krysaara assassinated high military officials, from all four main factions. The higher the rank, the harder it was to get to them, and that was what she enjoyed. Surprised, when she killed the slavers, by her pleasure and skill in killing, she had continued. Now, three years later, she was a well-established assassin, killing whoever she pleased. And for the past week she had been tracking Shaun-Tau, seeing it as another challenge. She laughed softly as she entered the abandoned building. A challenge! The Supreme Commander in the HUF, and he held his meetings here! A location with no defenses, no strategic advantages and posted no guards! Krysaara almost turned back, to hunt someone more challenging - the Enclave captain Kerre, for instance. She had heard of Kerre - who hadn't? - and knew he would be a pleasure to kill. But Krysaara stayed, to punish Shaun-Tau for his negligence. She carried the names of the the people she killed like medals; captains, generals, lords, even two sons of the Keman Emperor. And now the Supreme Commander. She laughed again, in anticipation, and kept moving through the building. She followed the sounds of the meeting from the outskirts of the building, and followed them closer in. She found herself at the back of a large room, mostly empty, filled with curved rows of seats facing a stage at the very front. And there he stood, her target, Shaun-Tau, completely out in the open, easy. If she'd had a gun, she could have shot him then and there, but she didn't. And there was no diffuculty in the kill that way. She moved through the corridors, silent as a ghost, her Vampire genes again helping her. She could see perfectly in the dark, or almost perfectly; only half-Vampire, she knew a full-blooded one could see better than her. She made it, completely unseen, to the back of the stage, and crouched among the curtains at the right. She was parallel with Shaun-Tau, now, at right angles to him. He was watching something in the crowd. It didn't matter. For the first time she drew a weapon. It was a favourite of her many weapons; the knife she carried strapped to her upper left arm. Perfectly balanced for throwing, it was too short and light for anything else, but she had others. She held it, blade first, and pulled the curtains aside a little more. She felt the anticipation build. Within seconds, Shaun-Tau would be dead. -A Post by Anthony Tran and Krysaara |
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9:52 AM Nov 28