The Collapse: Remnants

A place for my
head - LP

“Hartland! We need to leave!”
Fox put their hand on Hartland’s shoulder,
trying to pull her away from the console

”NO!!”

”THERES NOTHING FOR YOU NOW! THE
GUNNERS ARE COMING IN DROVES. WE’RE
WAITING FOR YOU, MA’AM!”

”Fallback zone is overrun by zekes. WE GOTTA GO!”
Henderson looked back at the two hesitantly, before
switching her gaze to the main gate.

”Hartland. Please. Alex! It’s time to go”
Fox sighed, unholstering a clearly worn USP 45

“Go… just. Get them out, ‘Jax.”

“We ain’t leaving without you. Alex!”
Ajax contested

”You have to…”

”NO! I’m not leaving you… you’re like a damn
mother to me. I am NOT! Leaving you here…”

”Henderson-“
Fox tried to speak, but was
cut off by Anderson

”F-K! OFF! FOX! JUST BECAUSE
YOU’RE A MERC, DOESNT MEAN YOU
HAVE ANY KNOWLEDGE OF WHATS IT
LIKE TO LOVE SOMEONE”
Henderson yelled, the handgun drawn in
fox’s direction.

”Don’t you fu-“

”LADIES! CALM DOWN!”
Ajax stood inbetween both
Fox and Henderson
”Just… fox. Go get the truck
ready!”

“Fine… Secondary fall back is that makeshift airport
that you’re storing that plane at.”
Fox commented

”we won’t even have enough fuel to make it to
hong king anyway”
Ajax responded, his gaze focused on Alex

”Airport! my former ‘friends’ always mentioned
about a hangar. Safe bet is, either they have fuel,
or another plane.”
Fox then left the building, going out into the courtyard
of The settlement

”what if they don’t?!”
H questioned

”it’s just a thought”
Anderson shrugged

”a shit one at that”

”right. Alex… come on. We have to leave. We can’t stay
here anymore. This settlement. Our home? It’s- it’s not
ours anymore. We’ve lost too many people”

————————————————————

Apologies for my absence. I haven’t exactly been entirely motivated to write. But this? A. Reboot. Of sorts. Of my old ‘Collapse’ zombie thread?

The Collapse [Original]

I kinda wanna see how this’ll go.

———————————————————

[LORE DROP]
so. This is gonna be set a couple months after the events of the latter. The original settlement has been attacked numerous times, all of which, there hasn’t been too many problems. But the latest attack brings the last remnants to their knees. And the only actual way any of them will survive, and if Alex is to finalise ‘the cure’ they have to leave. Either that or risk being fully killed by the new chapter of the gunners. (Yes. They were originally inspired by the fallout Merc group)

———————————————————

Character Temps.
(if you’re playing an old character,
just copy and paste them)

NAME:
AGE:
GENDER: (Optional)
DESCRIPTION: (Self explanatory. Picture optional)

SKILLS: (So survival skills or tactical / weapons training, or even cooking. I really don’t mind. Be creative with it)

WEAPONS:
(Be creative. But keep it logical. Weapons development stopped in 2013. In this universe. If you want to use any ‘special’ weapons. Then ask me. I’ll try to get back to you as quick as I can)

GEAR:
(So if you’re carrying any med equipment or something, as well as ammo)(assuming your character has a bag / backpack)


BACKSTORY:
(If you’re using a returning character. Then yeah. Copy paste, & put here that your character has gone through the events of the original story)

My characters:
(I’ll do this in a little bit, as well as my main character, Fox)

It was nearly too awful to imagine, but Strange had a good imagination for awful.

After his long, terribly long journey from Boston all the way to California to reach the settlement, after all the people he'd stepped on to get here, and after all the work he'd done to become someone in his new home, it was all ash and terror now.

But, that was life. If you let the loss overwhelm you, you'd let yourself die. So now, as gunshots echoed throughout the settlement, overcoming the fuzzy sounds of half a dozen different screaming transmissions on the same radio band, Strange did what he had to do. He twisted the key in the ignition of the big truck, and it obligingly roared to life.

It had started life as a big International Cabover that Strange had pulled out of the wall of a long gone Frenso grocery store. He'd rebuilt it from a grain hauler into a tool a fiery death using scrounged materials from a college campus. It still had the ram on the front from that, that had never not been useful. The rest of a truck had been rebuilt however to haul crude oil from the few wells he'd got pumping to make diesel fuel for the settlement. It had a big tank on the back, uparmoured and strung with razorwire. The tires were runflats and the cab could resist small arms and zombie fists without too much trouble. Hanging from the side of the tank was a blue racebike, painstakingly rebuilt after a bad crash.

Strange mulled over how much he hated to go. So much work now lost, and all because the people here couldn't see the real problems in front of their faces, too busy looking up at the sky to save the world. He was driven on by the same insatiable will to live that had pushed him across the county, that now pushed the shifter into first. The ram made short work of the garage door, and the big rig burst out of one of the maintenance buildings in the settlement into a pitched battle. He pushed it into second, put his footdown, and grabbed the radio handset.

"This is Strange, I'm in the tank rig and I'm getting out." He said over the settlement's main band. "Anyone hearing this, scatter. We'll try to link up if we live. Stay away from the refinery building-"

He was cut off by a massive explosion from the building down by the docks where he had built his diesel refinery.

"Never mind. Looks like someone tried to grab it. Good luck, Strange out."

NAME: Wood
AGE: 37
GENDER: Male
DESCRIPTION: 6'0 male, approximately 220lbs. Dark hair in a small ponytail tied behind his head. He has a few scars and pale cuts on his arms from previous encounters and fights, both before and after the apocalypse. His typical attire is a pair of jeans, grey army boots, and a plain shirt under either a flannel or fur jacket. He has a necklace with a picture of his wife and daughter inside the pendant.

SKILLS: Wood is a true survivalist. He'd always liked hunting, hiking, and camping before the apocalypse, and since then those skills have continued to grow. He is a passable marksman, and while he has no military training, experience has been the best teacher for him. He knows a little bit of most common skills, including bartering, cooking, and repairing gear. He leaves most of the mechanicals to Strange, though he knows how to change a car's oil and how to siphon gas from a broken down car.

WEAPONS:
M110 SASS Rifle - Wood's primary weapon except when he goes on hunting excursions. This weapon fires fast and steady enough to conserve the little ammo the world has left. It is also convenient that it is chambered in the standard NATO rounds most army rifles of the time relied on.
Sig-Sauer P320 - Bought off of one of the sailors who came to port and traded with the settlement, this weapon chambered in 9mm was easy enough to handle for any close quarter combat or, on rare occasions, when it was more convenient to switch to a pistol than reload the rifle.
Hunting Knife- an old anniversary gift, he's had it through the whole ordeal of the world falling apart.
Collapsible Hatchet - Mostly used for hunting, can be paired with the knife for a two-handed fighting style.

GEAR:
Pickup truck with some minor protective caging, thick rubber wheels, trunk half-full with an eclectic mix of supplies meant for the growing hunting lodge at the nearby wildlife reserve park. Backpack full of extra ammunition, some water and jerky, and some other basics for survival that Wood never goes anywhere without.


BACKSTORY:
Wood was on a trip in the wilderness when everything went to crap. He tried to make his way home as quickly as he could, but by the time he made it home, his wife and daughter were gone. In the year or so since the initial collapse, he went back to his cabin and waited things out, hoping the number of infected might dwindle in the city. He planned to stay at his cabin indefinitely, until he heard a call for survivors from down in Los Angeles. It took Wood about a month, heading down Highway 101 until he got close to the city.

From there, he tested the waters and eventually joined the community. They had fairly defensible walls, access to the water for fishing and trade, and they had a scientist working on a cure. What wasn't to like. He stayed there and made some friends and eventually his family found them. He reunited with his wife Rachel and their daughter Jess. It'd been almost a year since then. While they'd been able to fortify more, the Gunners had grown to be a major antagonistic faction. They sent squad after squad at the compound, some in direct attacks, some trying to win by subterfuge. All failed and ended with casualties on both side.

Now they'd grown impatient and thrown everything they had at the settlement. And it just couldn't withstand that.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Bastards. Just. Keep. Coming." Wood said, each word punctuated by a shot. Unlike some of the other raiders, the gunners had managed to scavenge some armor from an armory or something up north, and most of the body shots only stunned them. It took Wood a few shots to manage to drop anyone, which didn't bode well. He stood in the tower, watching as more Gunners poured in from the hole in the gate. It wouldn't take them long to take the walls. Wood grabbed a nearby Molotov, usually reserved for a zombie horde, and threw it into the gap. Gunners went down screaming and the troops outside backpedaled in the face of the heat.

"I gotta get Rachel and Jess out of here." He said as he jumped down out of the tower and went running. He headed right for the med-tent. Rachel was there, trying to get some wounded patched up. Jess was standing nearby, a rifle in her arms. Even though she was 15, the gun looked large in her arms.

"Rachel, Jess, the Gunners broke through. I bought us a little time, but we need to get a ride and get out of here now." He said. Wood looked at Rachel's assistants and nodded. They looked at the man they were patching up and slowly put the gear down. They then rushed out of the medical building. Wood had Jess and Rachel behind him, and though they had to clear out a few Gunners on the way, they made it to the vehicle depot. Luckily, the truck was still there. Wood and Jess were going to go hunting, so the back had a few boxes of rounds, a few hunting bows and arrows, and some supplies to keep the hunting lodge furnished. Wood turned on the radio and heard them give the order to fallback to the Airport. Wood sighed and nodded, and as he pulled out, he saw Strange's rig plowing a path past the zombies and gunners and towards the airport. It wasn't a short trip, but luckily, it seemed the Gunners had been focused on the main settlement. Wood sighed and held Rachel's hand as they fled.

"Strange, we're right behind you. They said to make our way to the airport. You going that way?" Wood inquired.

A Gunner made a desperate leap, getting a foot onto the rig's running board. He wrapped a gloved hand around the handle and pulled himself up to eye level with the driver, only to find a barrel sticking out from between the steel slats that covered the window. The 38 gave a loud report, and the over-achiever fell back, never again to trouble Strange.

"Stupid." Strange said under he breath as he dropped the revolver back onto his lap. More and more of the bastards were in the walls now, and that made it harder to point the ram at them and avoid his own comrades racing around to find the best place to die.

The cab radio crackled, and Strange gave it a whack with the back of his hand. It cleared up obligingly. "We're right behind you--- to the airport, you going that way?" Strange recognized the voice. Wood wasn't a bad sort, and a check of his mirrors showed a familiar pickup on his tail. Strange picked up his handset.

"We'll I was planning on rolling south truthfully, my comms have been so garbled I didn't hear about the airport. That chainlink around it won't hold for anything Wood, if they've got us here they'll get us there too. Last I checked taxi-ing planes don't react to well to gunfire either. "

Strange paused for a moment, still holding the line open. Wood wasn't a bad sort, and that was hard to come by these days.

"Stay right on my tail and I'll get you there. After that I don't know, but you won't make it in just a pickup if they are shooting at you. Put the hammer down and I'll keep their attention. "

Strange dropped the handset. Looking for extra trouble was stupid, and that was exactly what he was doing. On the other hand, he didn't have a lot of friends, and he knew what his rig could do. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and turned onto the first road heading to the airport. An improvised armored van, gunner make, tried to block the road. The cab shook as a few bullets bounced off the armored cab, and that was followed by screeching metal and screaming gunners when the rig plowed straight through the van without slowing.

Ok yeah full disclaimer here.

i have fully lost my passion for writing, at this exact moment in time.
i’m still going to linger, maybe even participate in a few. But my time in the RP forum at the moment, making anything meaningful, is coming to a standstill.

thanks you lot.

enjoy your day (cause I know most of you are in the US, or certain places where it’s daytime. Otherwise, goodnight. Sweet dreams)

<3

Best of luck. Take a breather, maybe do some reading? That always encourages me in my writing.

I might do a few short pieces either on here or in the discord, to try get back into the feel of it all. But with being in college and that lot. I guess I’ve just kinda lost my motivation at the moment.

and yeah, thank you, wood

Name: Mercedes Galtian

Age: 32 years old

Nationality: British-American

Gender: Male

Profession: supply runner / burglar / scavenger

Description: A man with chestnut colored hair. He wears black parka, black pants and black shoes. He is also wearing a black handkerchief that is covering his face. He has a scar on his right back shoulder that is often mistaken as a zombie bite. He doesn't have trust to one who have authority.

Skill: As a former burglar, Mercedes can enter locked buildings with his finnese lockpicking. He drives around, so his driving skill is quite decent. Due to his kleptomaniac nature, Mercedes can properly scavenge among the rubbles in abandoned homes and find hidden loot that other scavengers missed. He can certainly fix things if he has the tools for it and he can also certainly cook.

Gear: As a burglar, Mercedes always have mechanical tools stuffed inside his old worn school bag that he frequently fixed to its top condition. His school bag can be easily identified due to it's unique patchwork, showing that Mercedes has decent experience of sewing. As for his tools, he has two crowbars hanging on both sides of the school bag. They are used to forcibly open locked doors and windows. He has lockpick sets to unlock special locks. Unfortunately, he isn't a hacker so unlocking electric locks is out of question. Instead of carrying firearms which he is super bad at using because he is bad at aiming, he is carrying a kitchen knife as his self-defense weapon. Though the weapon itself is noticeably sharp, meaning it hasn't been used once. He now has a Halliger Bar, a giant crowbar that was once used by firefighters in order to break down doors or debris that blocked their way in the building, meaning he can now enter buildings that are hard to enter even with lockpicks.

Backstory: Mercedes lives in a rural region in St. Davids. He has kleptomania. He always steal stuff from other people since kindergarten. He developed a sharp wit and he is able to fool people who suspects him. Up until now he always steal stuff he really do not need. Not until the outbreak has started, all the books that he stole were used to the fullest.

He was living in his home's basement for a few months, able to scavenge stuff and use all useless items to its potential. He is very sneaky and light-footed. Since he is good at breaking in people's home, he always salvage stuff that cannot be used in normal means, without getting noticed. Even a small penny is used to make buttons for his clothes. Though horrors alway follow his footstep and constantly trying to kill him, Mercedes never retaliated and choose safe options to survive. Because of that, he is familiar of how zombies and outlaws operate.

Eventually, he needed to leave his hometown due to lack of resources. He packed all the things he can pack inside a black van. He has no keys for it but as a burglar, Mercedes is able to hotwire the black van. He drives away out of danger and a couple of years later, present to 2017, he has reached L.A. He has a knack of visiting jewelry shops just to steal gems that were not taken away. He also can be seen vandalizing walls with spray paints.

As the world goes chaotic, I will leave my mark. I am alive. And will continue to do so, until the time will come for me to leave.

When travelling, Mercedes tried his best to be alone but happened to meet with survivors from different places. At first, Mercedes was quite wary of sketchy people that looked at his supplies. But one particular family made his heart warm up as they shared their rations with him. He had to find the hard way that kindness was slowly disappearing to extinction. Mercedes helped every survivors by creating supply crates around the city. These crates that he filled with materials helped everyone to survive in the savage world. He had been doing this before reaching the last place he was last seen, between Rose Ave. and Hampton Dr.

He met with a college girl and they were supposed to go to Santa Monica Piers to drop her there. But upon spotting the zed horde that were coming from the East of the pier, Mercedes drove his black van and lured the initial wave of the horde away from the pier. At that time, his radio ran out of battery so the communication between him and the survivors from Santa Monica Pier.

He didn't stop traveling around the place and kept making loot boxes for everyone to grab them for survival. He is last seen somewhere in Wilshire Montana and most buildings are now sprayed with his iconic spray paint, A white dove above the poorly made Star of David. His companion, Celeste Abraham made a hideout for herself somewhere in this region.

The safe place has been destroyed, but we're still breathing. I have to enjoy my life until my eyes go white as sheet.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _.

After replacing the battery of his radio, Mercedes gets surprised to hear the commotion that happened to the people in the settlement. It was destroyed by gunners.

Oh great, freaks showed up and they're not in good mood for tea. Sparks.