"Ya, jumping off a building is a great way to escape." Hardy scoffed. "Escape life, maybe." He almost skipped over to a seemingly undamaged vehicle and started examining it.

Trent stops. "Oh, don't tell me we're on top of, like, a cliff, or something."

"You're not very perceptive, are you?" Hardy pointed to an almost hidden edge. The valley below matched the ground they stood on, giving it the illusion of solidity. "I wouldn't wander too far from here, if I were you, unless you have good eyes. Now go check on the building. The stairs are over there." He pointed to a run down staircase caked with yellowish mud.

"Uck." Trent says, and starts to walk toward the stairs with Hunter. "Alright, we'll be over here."

"Hey Penn, tell me what you think of this vehicle, here. Do you think we could fix it?" Hardy pointed to a wreck. It was a dull, gray iron alloy pieced together by random welding and plates of metal. There was seating for five, including the mounted turret position. Of course, the gun itself had long been disassembled.

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As Trent and Hunter ascended the staircase, the mud started to thin. Either wall was covered in a thin layer of dust. Upon reaching the top of the elevation, they entered a room. It wad dimly lit and smelled of sweat and blood. Trent's nostrils flared. This scent was a familiar one. His memories of his life on the street were brought back to him all at once. The voices echoed inside of his head, bouncing off the sides of his skull. He felt lightheaded, but ignored it. The only thing in the room was a table with cigarette packs littering it. A large bag of teriyaki beef jerky was lodged in a crack in the wall. A knife lay on the ground next to it. A door lay to the left and a crawlspace to the right.

"Where are we going?"
Hunter asks as he follows Trent.

"I say I'm gonna go check out that crawl space." Says Trent. "Alone." He adds. He looks around and finds an open bottle of not-yet-empty red wine, and picks it up. He takes a chug to polish it off, and then smashes it on the table it was sitting on, ending up with the spiky top to a bottle of wine. "Now go back to Gizmo and his friend, and tell them I'm inspecting." He says as he goes down into the crawlspace, bottle first.

Trent was surrounded by darkness. All he could do was continue forward. Inching his way down the dark path, he never suspected a sudden drop. As he tumbled downward, the shaft widened. He fell into something soft and squishy.

Trent looked around, slightly dazed from the fall.

He could see nothing. Reaching through the darkness revealed a switch. Trent contemplated turning it on.

Penn walked over to the vehicle, limping once or twice. He began to inspect it, first the front, working his way to the gun. "Well, it's.. In good enough shape to repair, I'd say. I doubt it would be a good idea to use it as an active means of travel, however." Penn said minutes later, shaking his head to confirm it.

"Hmm.. but we could use it for at least a day, right? That would be just enough time to get to the next town, assuming we don't run into any more brigands." Hardy picked up a random piece of machinery and examined it. "Plus, who do we know with technical know-how? I'm not that great, but..." He turned and looked at Gizmo. "Well, he's pretty damn good with this sort of thing. Gizmo, come here." The small boy wandered over to Hardy and stared at him. "Do you think you could get this thing running for us?"

Gizmo started to circle the vehicle and look it over. Eventually, he stopped. "Ya, I could probably get it done by tonight."

"Perfect. Get to work." Hardy strolled over to Kyra and sat her on a smooth boulder. As he talked to her, Gizmo unsheathed a wrench from a hidden holster and started to hammer away at the car.

An ill air descended upon the area. Something was approaching.



------------------------------------ [Location: New Capital] [Year: 1 AH (After Humanity)] Urgent Report Received from Scouts------------------------------------


"Sir, there's something you need to know."

"What is it, my pupil?"

"Our scouts have returned from the country. They bring news."

"Yes?"

"Well, everyone has been kil- cleansed, as you requested. And.. um.. uncleansed."

"Grand."

"Yes, but it seems that we haven't been thorough enough. There have been bands of rogues spotted throughout the countryside. Most I've seen have either gone into hiding or have become bloodthirsty marauders."

"No matter. Let the famine and drought pick them off."

"Yes, sir. But.. there is one more thing."

"Is it important?"

"Number 12 has been spotted."

"Num.. WHAT?!"

"Ga- um- well, you see-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses! You told me you had him put down! Do you betray God, now?!"

"No! Sir, I would never! It's just, he was rather strange.. he was able to bypass all of the security and basically just walk out of here! I don't know how he did it, but we always thin our security at night, he could have easily dispatched the night watch, I don't really think it'll be too hard to-"

"Enough! I will deal with him, myself! Ready my helicopter!"

"Y-yes sir.."

"I wasn't talking to you..."

"Wha..? HNNNGGHH!!!"

*thump*

"He was useless.. the wretch.. now ready my helicopter, Drone."

"Yes, my master..."

The sound of a helicopter rotor filled the ears of everyone in the group, many minutes before the vehicle was even visible. When it was, however, it became clear that this was a military helicopter, something made clear by it's pristine condition and weaponry. just below the c*** hung what appeared to be a small cannon, while to both sides a single minigun turret was mounted, the only visible weapons at that time.

"You are sure these blasphemers have taken shelter here?" The man asked in a gruff voice, seeing the building in which they had been kept in the distance.

"Yes, Master." The pilot responded, hovering no more then hundred meters away from the roof. "Shall I destroy the building?"

"No!" The man commanded, before pausing as he looked around the helicopter, at the five people sitting around him, each dressed casually, a suprising contrast to the robes worn by the man. "Call them to the rooftop, I shall speak to them, it is my duty as God's messenger to tell the impure ones about their impending doom." He stated. "Besides, when doing God's work, we must be thorough, these fowl creatures have escaped God's judgement once, already."

The pilot nodded his head. "Yes, Master." He repeated, flipping a switch, allowing him to send out a message. "This is a message to anyone who can hear this; gather upon the rooftop, the President of the New World wishes to speak to you!"

"Grk!" Hardy tensed. "s*** fu- um, um. Well... I guess we should do what he says... everyone to the rooftop." He herded the group up the secondary stairway. Once everyone was up, whispered to Penn. "I'm going to go find Trent. Make sure that psycho President doesn't murder everyone." He slipped off into shadows and ascended the primary stairs.

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


Something shifted in the darkness. Trent's sweat fell to the ground, sounding off like a cannon. A low growl broke the silence. He wasn't alone.

Trent pointed the bottle toward the growl and slowly backed into the corner so that he could only be attacked from straight ahead. His eyes were slowly adjusting so he could now barely see the walls next to him.