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By the way, I'm back

[Very soon after things settle enough that Duo feels like he doesn't have to watch his back quite so closely, the first thing he does is find a place to take a bath. The next thing, so soon after that he's braided his hair while it's still wet, he's heading over to the apartment where he remembers Roxas living. He's still got a rifle over his shoulder, the same one that he took off a dead soldier, but then again he's barely put it down.]

[He hopes Roxas still lives here as he knocks on the door, waiting to see who is going to answer it, hoping that the gate hasn't taken Roxas home]
*the take-over has been successful, the Six have been defeated or captured, and the major players in the military have either been locked away or are now cooperating; rebuilding and repair work are now underway as usual after a zombie invasion, but now there's a key difference as some natives and Gatewalkers are hesitantly working side-by-side and the Gate is open for anyone to get close enough to see it--

--an aura of tension still looms over Veles, but it isn't the Gatewalkers who are nervous

<font color=red>[Mod Notes]</font>Collapse )

Zombie Invasion || Government Take Over

*Thanks to Trance's warning, everyone has long since assumed their positions; A few hours pass, and then the sound they've all been waiting for blares overhead along with the familiar message; warning klaxons almost drowning out a voice that starts off soft and then gets louder as if they leaned closer to the microphone--*

Warning to all Citizens! We have a wall breach! The wall has been breached! All military personnel to your stations! All off duty soldiers report to your commanding officers! Citizens stay in your homes and block all exits.

Again, I repeat, the wall has been breached! Military personnel report to your stations or your commanding officers! Citizens remain in your homes until the all clear as been given!

*--and abruptly the announcement is over and all that can be heard is the siren blaring overhead*


Sep. 11th, 2011

[Jason yawns as he comes out of his bedroom late in the day. He'd been feeling horrid lately, run down, bleary, with this constant background headache. He'd gone to work, but he barely remembered any of it, thanks to drinks spaced out through the night and if he could get away with it, a break for his new favorite relaxer. He hadn't really spoken to anyone he didn't have to in the last... month? He'd lost track of the time. Just hadn't cared. Now he makes his way out to the living room, flopping on one of the chairs and lighting a cigarette.]

Sep. 6th, 2011

[Things have been kinda quiet and just... going. Get up, do chores and errands, spend the day at the clinic, back to the apartment and sleep. The same thing, day in, day out. It's times like these when Fallen Angels called Flonne start thinking about things. And thus, one night, when laying in bed, she might happen to decide to voice one of these thoughts aloud. At least, try to, assuming the other is still awake.]

...Laharl-san? Are you still awake?


Spector 60

*Perhaps he was finally bailed out. Or perhaps the guards got sick of the incessant scratching against the walls of the cell, that being the result of one very bored mechanic who decided to relate in many, many great words of his adventures back home in Chicago and then to New York. He may have even gotten sidetracked with a sudden recount of his wonderful meeting with Ladd Russo. There's probably even a sketch or two of car parts. Scratched into the walls of the cell. That Allspark Shard is pretty sharp*

But alas, he was made to leave his masterpiece behind! At the very least, whatever poor soul gets locked away there will have plenty ta reflect on. Enlightenment! And oh the irony if such were true, born from a tale of utter darkness.

*He gives an exaggerated sigh, then stretches out his arms over his head, wrench grasped firmly in each gloved hand. Seems he's managed to persuade them to return that, too.*

Well now. I wonder what all I've missed. Somethin' and nothin' are both the same, rendering such a question pointless. And so I've been given freedom once again, but what's freedom when yer still surrounded by walls an' nowhere to go but-


*Aaand he turns on his heel to make a beeline for the junkyard*
*pa system comes on and the voice is sharp and very much to the point*

It's Rationals Allocation Day. Go to victory square during the appointed times or starve.

*very to the point*

[Well, well, look who just got out of jail? And who isn't rampaging through the streets, demanding to beat the crap out of everyone who put him there? Instead, he's walking at a rather sedate pace, probably because of his several broken ribs.

His face is still a mess, and it looks like more than a couple of his fingers are broken. Apparently, he hasn't been having a good few weeks.]

Book 31 - Backdated to Aug. 2nd, 1953

*Well, whether Don has realized this is potentially a bad idea or not by the time Sunday rolls around, Leon's not backing down from it. After making sure to wake the guy up early that morning, the little Felpool will be making his way to the temple*

Here goes nothing...

*Pulling his hood over his head to cover his ears, he falls into line after the group of worshipers that make their way inside. He's been brushing up on key Russian phrases for this, so he hopes his studies pay off*

((OOC: Open for if Don wants to be run into while he's been nominated for watch duty, or NPCs or whatever for Leon inside. 8D))

July 31, 1953

*Laharl is stalking back into Midgard, obviously in a foul mood. He's been checking every place he can think of, but a certain red-pigtailed demon hasn't shown her face. By now he can guess what happened, but...*

Where the hell is that lazy, good-for-nothing, miserable excuse for a vassal!?


[This is a totally drunk Don sitting outside, leaning up against the wall of Midgard, drinking out of a bottle of something.

A few moments later, this is a totally drunk Don pouring the rest of the alcohol out into the dirt and flinging the bottle as far as he can. It shatters somewhere off in the distance. Watch out for broken glass.]


July 27, 1953 [Day 603]

*Roxas comes into the Midgard lobby, apparently looking for someone but not knowing precisely where to find him. After hanging around uncertainly in the stairwell for a little while, he decides to sit down and read while he waits.*


Spector 59

*It's an awful withdrawal, helped only for the fact that he's both in pain and suffering from some kind of blessed numbness. His wrench has likely been confiscated, a fact he would be less than happy about were he in the right mind- or at least, right in his usual sense than from what he currently is*

Gone....gone, gone, gone....

*Why yes, he's finally been thrown into a prison cell, but perhaps that fact hasn't quite settled into his head as he's wedged himself in a corner, arms wrapped around himself as he rocks back and forth, back and forth. His muttering's already set the guards on edge, like as they're just waiting for him to snap*


*That tasty smell of grilled meat is in the air again. With rations being a little better off- some haggling and then a few deals made, America now stands by the grill holding in his hands a burger- one with actual bread and that might possibly be real vegetables in it. Scant as it still might be by American standards, it's more than he's ever seen in months around here. The country's joy is nigh tangible for the expression on his face- he looks close to tears*

I-it's so beautiful.....!
*pa system comes on and it's an unknown woman's voice that comes on this time*

Today is Saturday, July 25th, and it is Rationals Allocation Day. Please come to victory square during the appointed times to receive your weekly rations.

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[ D a t e || T i m e ]

THIS WEEK: View Here

As winter thaws, so do the zombies. The season begins anew with fresh threats and the stench and moans of the undead frustrated that their next meal is one wall away.

[ F o r e c a s t ]

Average min temp: 21°F (-6°C)
Average max temp: 36°F (2°C)

Avg Hours per day: 4.7 hours
Number of days with frost: 18

    {Spring is well on its way to bringing life again to the region. And with life, it will bring death as well. Salvage Run people should be careful on their trek in search for usable materials!


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