"Alien Apocalypse"

THIS ROLE PLAY IS ON HOLD WHILE I WORK ON OTHER IDEAS.


Despite the trillions of dollars spent over decades on a myriad of deep space detection devices, the governments and militaries of Earth learned that something big was on the horizon very much the same way John Q Public did: their cell calls were dropped, their cable stations became unavailable, and their internet access was, for the most part, inaccessible.

The first ships to arrive in Earth orbit were Unmanned Advance Craft, cruise liner-sized ships that were little more than gun batteries, a nuclear power source, and the rockets that got them here. They arrived undetected and began obliterating anything in orbit above the target planet. In under 12 hours, the half dozen UACs had destroyed nearly all of Humankind's 1000+ actively operating satellites, sending the developed world's previously over-connected, cell phone addicted, tablet toting population into a communications stone age. When the UACs had no active satellites to target, they picked off some of the nearly 3000 inactive satellites, some dating back to the late 1950s, simply to rid the heavens of potential navigational hazards.

The International Space Station was destroyed, too. The nine people aboard at the time were the first human casualties of what would come to be called The Alien Apocalypse.

A 24 hour a day light show began as billions of pieces of space debris rained down into the atmosphere. Children -- innocent and unknowing -- found the display exciting and spectacular. Adults, of course, saw the fiery streaks as ominous and inescapable signs of their planet's -- or at least their specie's -- imminent demise.

As the light show continued, the attack against Earth's human population began. The near-annihilation of the Human race didn't begin as spectacularly as the destruction of its communications grid had. The UACs' primary weapon, a Directed Neutron Projector, was -- in the simplest terms -- a giant killer flash light, beaming a deadly dose of neutron radiation down upon an area as large as 3,000 square miles, what amounts to the majority of urban area for even the largest of world cities.

Six UAC's fired an average of every 22 minutes for 6 days. When the barrage on the cities ended, more than 4 billion people were dying a gruesome death or, if they were lucky, were already dead.

The attacks that came next -- or more specifically the weapons used in them -- were of a kind more familiar to the people of Earth. The conventional, non-nuke, high yield missiles fired from the UACs took out military bases, forces in the field, major bridges and canals, dams, and more. Almost 100,000 bombs fell down upon Earth, devastating the surviving human population's ability to defend itself, to move itself, to feed itself, and more.

Life on Earth as it had long been known had come to an end.

And then, after 10 horrific days, the attacks simply ended.

(OOC: This post includes, at the very bottom, the introduction of an available female role. I'm thinking that they can become a couple in the near future, then become Rayth slaves -- sexual or otherwise -- shortly after that. But I am also open to suggestions.)

"Chinks" had earned his nickname during his teens. An abandoned child turned runaway foster kid turned juvenile delinquent and occasional burglar, he'd discovered how to find and exploit a crack in just about anything, be it a technical flaw in the legal system that helped him escape a guilty plea or -- after having been found guilty and incarcerated -- an actual crack in the wall of a jail cell that he'd been able to scratch at night after night for six weeks, eventually being able to pull loose the air shaft vent and escape via the country jail's sewer system.

The last ten days had been nothing new to him, of course. He'd been swept up by riot police on that first day of the Black Out as he and others were looting a grocery store, only to use a sharp edge in the police wagon to cut loose his tie binds and escape the moment the van door opened.

He'd used the mayhem of the following days to slip in and out of a dozen buildings and homes, gathering what he needed to survive. He'd stolen a bullet proof vest, police issue 12 gauge riot gun, and two boxes of ammo -- buck shot slugs and rubber bullets both -- from an abandon cruiser; and also filled, then hid all about the neighborhood, several backpacks full of food, first aid shit, more firearms and blade weapons, prescription drugs (which he hoped would have barter value), and much more.

He'd been feeling pretty good about his current situation when he came across a dying Air Force Captain who'd hidden in a storm drain and was simply waiting to die. The Captain told him, "Get out of town. You gotta get away ... far away from everyone else."

"But I got everything I need here," Chinks responded confidently. "Why would I go out to the boondocks?"

"Cause this town's gonna go..." The Captain made a poof gesture with his hands, mouthing the word. "They bombed the big cities. This'n's next ... maybe not today ... maybe not tomorrow ... but soon."

"How do you know?" Chinks asked, beginning to feel much less confident. But the Captain was fading away and only repeated the warning to get out of the city. The young man -- now trembling -- shook the man, begging, "Tell me how you know!"

But the man's head lolled back, and the life faded from his eyes. Chinks watched the man's chest lower as the last breath it would inhale escaped, then he hopped to his feet and ran, out of the sewer, out into the open of the wide boulevard, and down along the side walk. There weren't very many people on the street: most of the medium sized city's population had already fled to the countryside, already fearing what the Captain had so easily gotten through to the previously ignorant Chinks. Those who were on the street either got out of the running, armed man's way or just ignored him, occupied with their own survival and uncaring about whether this young man might be a danger or not.

Chinks checked each and every car he passed for keys. The one thing he had never learned to do was hot wire a car, and he was cursing himself as his panic level rose for never having learned it. Just as he was beginning to think this path was hopeless, he came across a welcome yet gruesome sight, a man sitting in the front seat of his SUV with a pistol in his right hand, a massive exit wound in his left temple, and his keys in the ignition.

Chinks pulled the dead man from the big car, hopped in, and turned the key. He shrieked with joy and relief as the engine fired up. He looked up and down the streets and found still no one paying him any attention. He roared the car down the road and began a well thought out circuit through the suburb, retrieving as many of his stashes as he could reach. Glancing at the fuel indicator to find it near full, he headed the SUV out onto the highway, then freeway, and headed to the open country...



He'd known he was low on fuel when he pulled off the Interstate and headed for a wooded hill. It had turned out to be a wise choice as, half way up the hill, the engine began to sputter and cough. He back tracked to a side road and pulled the rig down into the thick undergrowth just as the engine went silent. He was emotionally drained, and combined with the fact that he'd been awake for almost 36 hours, Chinks passed out right there in the driver seat.



He awoke with a start, jerking the .38 Special from under his right thigh and pointing it toward the passenger window ... and toward the beautiful young woman who was trying to pull one of his back pack stashes out of the open window.