#stcrryknights

[xgoldxnhour]

It had been two days since she made the decision she was going to leave. Her father was dead and there was nothing left for her to rot in this hellhole they called regime. Orders were orders, but yet no one thought about the residue. What’s left behind.

To their surprise, the young blonde became more responsive, though never saying very much since the incident. But, she’d sign up for patrols or whatever job meant taking note of security—who’s coming in and out, what time they change shifts. Everything was exact on the dot.

It was a process, especially with one pair of eyes constantly looking to make sure her plan was never suspected. No one paid much mind to the orphaned girl who doesn’t speak.

But, she needed supplies for however she’d trek on her own, eyeing the closet down the hallway, past the double doors. Time was essential and the window was small. Lost in thought, tracking down the math of how many steps it would take, trying to calculate the time between each step.

Her gaze shot up the moment a figure walked passed, now sitting at her table.

“You here to babysit me?” Her gaze met the man who took a seat with his tray, barely giving a glance to hers untouched. Price was one of the newer additions to the ‘community’, which usually meant people turning head as another mouth to feed, content with their own routine. Though her her and her father took him in gladly.

Now, it was just the two of them, the death of her father still a fresh, much like an open wound she couldn’t tend, slowly bleeding to death. He was her everything and without him, she had nothing. Which was why she had to leave.

@stcrryknights

[darkaetheriisms]

@stcrryknights

Samantha had lost track of just how long she was in isolation in Block 8. her dog had been taken, she hadn’t seen Weaver since helping the strike team escape Berlin, she had been tortured over and over by the Director himself and she got very little sleep. She looked completely disheveled and just laid on her hard mattress, shivering and wishing to be out of this dreadful place. She should have never came with Requiem after they rescued her from the Dark Aether. After her interrogation sessions with the Director she had doubts that Weaver was really even her friend. She liked to think of him as that, that he had her best interests in mind. Could the entirety of Requiem just be using her as an asset and not as a person? She couldn’t let herself think like that, if she did she would just get more depressed. 

Suddenly she heard her door open, craning her head to look over her shoulder she saw Weaver standing in the doorway. “Weaver, is that really you?” She asked softly. The former BND Agent was completely defeated and didn’t have a bite in her voice that she had with the director. “How is Fluffy doing?” She asked inquiring about her dog with a weak chuckle. “Can I have him back soon, I haven’t tried to escape again Weaver. You all have won, I’ll cooperate from now on.” She sighed.

[thenxmbersprogram]

Fragile Alliance (Sims and Naga)

@stcrryknights

The dark cell became something of a familiarity to Lawrence Sims after his team’s capture in the Ural Mountains roughly about a year ago by Omega Group, the KGB’s secret organization that was dealing with this threat of the Undead and other Unholy creatures from a plane of existence known as the Dark Aether.

Sims wasn’t a scientist nor was he well versed in Quantum Physics, but that wasn’t what he was tasked for within NATO’s own secret group, Requiem, whos operational control was run by Grigori Weaver who answered to ‘The Director’ a person so secretive that only ones with the right clearance could known who he or she was. The Strike Teams were unconventional too, ranging from Mercenaries, Defectors and Joint Work with other agencies that were Ex-Warsaw Pact. Glancing over into the Cell on Sims’ left, was the Mercenary and Gun Runner called ‘Naga’, a known Perseus asset but a Mercenary through and through and would work for one Helluva paycheck and from what was whispered through the grapevine, it sounded like Naga was offered a paycheck to retire once this job was done.

As captured agents, they were forced and conscripted to do Omega’s work in the Outbreak Zones, listening to orders from Lev Kravchenko and hearing that bastard Peck gleefully tease them from the radio. But nowadays it sounded like something else was brewing. Next to Naga’s cell was Ingo Beck, another agent brought on mostly because of his experience in Europe and was a guide for them to Poland

Beck was about to speak the door seem to open and in walked Kravchenko himself flanked by armed guards.

“Rise and shine, Requiem. I have a task for you.” he said

[imafirefly]

@stcrryknights​

      With the California sun beating down on her, Abby knew it was time for a breather. Finding her way inside of a gas station through blown out windows, she tucked herself behind the cashiers counter to hide away.  Her assigned sector had been cleared of any infected as evidenced by the still fresh blood staining her bowie knife. Unconfirmed rumors of Rattler sightings in the area in addition to infected had made their way to Catalina Island and she was one of the first to volunteer in consistently sweeping the area for them. After what they had done to her? She relished the thought of coming across them. They’d left her to die, a beaten down woman strung up by her hands. If only she encountered them now, she would show them she hadn’t stayed broken. 

      Abby’s focus shifted from the canteen in her hands to noises outside. It didn’t sound at all like the grunting and pained groans that usually came from infected. No clicking. Perhaps it was nothing, but on the off chance it was a Rattler? She needed to be sure. With the water capped up and back in her backpack, the woman made her way silently back to the window. No sign of infected but indeed there was a human, a man. There was no noticeable insignia to indicate he was a Rattler, no biker jacket with the logo sprawled out on his back but she wouldn’t let it go that easily. With her pistol in hand and ready to go, Abby stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a few steps back to put some distance between them. Gun raised and aimed at the back of his head, she pulled the slide back, the unmistakable click of a now loaded gun breaking the silence. “Hands up. If you’ve got a weapon, toss it. Try anything, you’re dead. Do you understand?”

[mettleborn-a]

Plotted starter for @stcrryknights

The car ride from JFK to Hell’s Kitchen is annoyingly stilted, indeed, not once, but twice, Igor has found himself forced to tell his driver Sarkis to stay in the car, rather than leave the vehicle and deal with disrespectful taxi drivers. Sarkis is a large man, huge in fact and Igor’s quite convinced that one punch is all it would take to put most of these New Yorker’s straight into a coma; the last thing he needs when he’s arrived in this city to depose a King.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, Igor looks over the dossier details one more time.

Anatoly and Vladimir Ranskahov - former Bratva members, who successfully escaped from Utkin prison after serving only 3 years of their sentences. Following their incarceration, they had fled to America, eventually settling in New York to begin undertaking criminal work for Wilson Fisk - the man who is the real target here and the only reason the brothers aren’t being executed for deserting Bratva.

Fisk is a powerful man, one who has began bringing together various criminal factions in an attempted power grab. Indeed, he has even been successful in recruiting many Bratva members, which is exactly why Bortsov has been sent here from Russia; to deal with a man the organisation has decided is more of a threat than he is asset. A simple assassination however is not an option; it would spread too much suspicion among the various criminal organisations and would ultimately leave a power vacuum that many might feel tempted to fill. No; better to take down the man’s operation from the inside and allow it to fail on what appears to be its own merit, or lack of, as the case may be and that, of course, is where Anatoly and Vladimir come in.

Alighting outside a factory near the Hudson River, Igor waits with Nicholai as Sarkis parks the car. Nicholai, unlike Sarkis, is a quiet sort with a steely gaze; a killer that possesses more stealth than strength, though admittedly Igor is quite capable of taking care of himself and is similarly well armed.

Rapping hard on the metal gate with a meaty fist, Sarkis stands back to take his place beside the boss, to wait for an answer as Igor lights a fresh cigarette and tries to ignore the taste of the air here, which due to their current proximity to the river, smells a lot like seaweed and hot garbage.

[mkbell]

@stcrryknights for Adler

Technically, Bell was plenty old enough to keep himself occupied for an afternoon. He would have scoffed at the mere suggestion he demanded constant supervision - and yet, with Adler tucked away in the backroom for the better part of an hour, disquiet had rapidly set in. No one had explicitly told Bell that the office was off-limits; it was simply a fact. One of those facts he ought to know without prompting, in the same way one ought to know their own name. 

It still left Bell ill at ease. He had long harboured the sense that something was amiss; that he was something of a guest in the safe house, absent of the ease with which the rest of the team seemed to move. The others were nice enough. Polite, even. Often to a fault. There was no sound rationale for the disquiet that settled whenever Bell was left with a moment to think. 

Perhaps it was the way several pairs of eyes seemed to follow him around the room, snapping away the moment they were noticed. Perhaps, it was the way whispering clusters formed and dispersed the moment Bell got within earshot. Or perhaps, it was the tangible sense of unease that hung thick like smog in the air when he strayed too close to the door - or the way someone would inevitably abandon a task to offer unsolicited company should he chance a trip into town. It had quickly become his favourite game; unsettling colleagues with a rash decision was a private amusement to pass the time. 

Adler was better than that - subtler. He was wise enough to avoid treating Bell like a ticking timebomb of unknown origin, at least not overtly. No one seemed to keep as close a watch on him when Adler was around - and with something of a shared history, Bell had privately deemed him better company. It came as instantaneous relief to see the office door crack; Bell's restlessly bouncing leg stilled, and stiff shoulders sank as he unfolded from his spot in the corner, the room cleared in six quick strides. "You've been busy." 

[rebelliousfamily]

@stcrryknights liked for an ellie starter from their main blog

Ellie had been on a little bit of high alert. She had been for the past few days, even with there being no sightings. She had thought that it was strange they’d seen no infected and thought that there must be some reason. Either they were all far away or they were all in the same place and close by.

She sat out by one of the trees, one of the shotguns in her hand as she kept a watchful eye, humming softly to herself. She heard a branch snap and stood up, on alert raising her shotgun.

[xgoldenhour]

When the world no longer tracks the concept of time, it feels like the very thing stands still. Weeks, months, years, who knows how much time had passed since the beginning of all this. The end of the world.

At first people stuck together, but as the very thing that makes us human begins to strip away, the more that dispersed. Some didn’t even have a choose—stripped away and buried six feet under the ground. Or wandering God knows where.

It was the latter for people like El, wandering the wasteland with nothing but the clothes on their back and the very little you can carry.

Alone.

Aching feet and blistered hands, the young blonde wandered her way through a ghost town and found the oasis of an abandoned house, completely ransacked to the the bare bones. But, it was dry and solid.

Dragging herself through the hallways, she found one of the bedrooms with a stripped bed and torn up mattress and practically crashed into at the moment of impact.

@stcrryknights