Drobabes
Sweet'n'Sour
- Joined
- Mar 7, 2015
- Posts
- 9,485
Hard Knock Life (closed thread)
Chapter One: Old Lessons and New Beginnings
__________
The bus was rolling through the streets of the abandoned city, it's bloody sunrise being able to be seen through the smoky haze lingering in the air. The driver-a young women looking as if she was freshly out of her teenage years, was sucking down her third cigarrette, having lit it up mere seconds after putting out her second. It was met with a lot of protest from the current riders, though all they received for their protesting and complaints was a harsh, 'shut the fuck up', and a cold glare through the driver's mirror.
The current riders of the bus had seemingly nothing in common with each other. Their ages ranged from just barely able to vote, to maybe they might make it in a bar without getting carded. Likewise, there was an equal mixture of genders amongst the group, with some being difficult to tell which way they leaned. Really, the only thing they had in common at all was the unmistakable haunted look in their eyes. A look that was only earned through years of seeing untold horror, of living in a harsh concrete jungle and surviving off of the scraps that were left behind by the privileged, or perhaps being cunning enough to run their own game. A look that said, while they may not have fought in the wars of men, they had certainly felt the pain of watching comrades die in their arms, or lost something so precious that a piece of their soul was ripped from their very being, never to be returned. It was a look of madness and sorrow; a look that could only be recognized amongst themselves, as the rest of the world slept peacefully under their covers, blissfully unaware as to the nightmares and horrors they had all seen. That they still saw.
And this was the reason that they had been gathered. The reason that they had been offered, and in some cases, almost forced, to come join an elite group of people whose goal was similar to other secret organizations-save humanity. Or at the very least, try to curb the amount of suffering that it was experiencing on a nightly basis.
Roth had chosen a seat in the bus that wasn't quite at the back, but was very close to it. With his back leaned against the cool metal of the rolling vehicle, and his long legs spread out over the seat, he occupied himself with a sketchpad in his lap. The drawing only slightly held his curiosity, as his ears were sharp, and his heather colored eyes, which sometimes appeared more floral in the light of day, would occasionally come up to glance at the other occupants; taking in as much detail about them as he could with those quick looks. He was quiet, only speaking when spoken to, and he tried to let the way his shoulders slumped back against the window give a facade of simply being too exhausted to interact with the group.
In the row opposite to him, just a seat up, two young men were slumped in their chairs as well. One of them was asleep, leaned slightly against the window, and the other seemed to just be staring ahead with a worn out look. Roth wasn't surprised by the look, as for most, if not all of them, this was their regular bedtime. The rising of the sun meant safety-the only time they could sleep without having to have someone watch their back, and he himself was pretty tired as well. What was keeping him up was the need to learn and the excitement of seeing an old friend.
A harsh bump in the road shook the bus so hard that the driver let's out a curse, and for just a second, he questioned if the bus was going to flip over. It corrected itself, but not before a lot of teeterous rocking, and after, many of the occupants were stirring from their sleep.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
Roth glanced up, his dark ringed eyes going to the young man opposite him. He was looking over at his companion, who seemed to have bumped his head pretty harshly against the metal, as he was now rubbing it with his left hand and scowling.
"I swear to god man," the newly awakened boy growled.
"If you make a fucking Skyrim jok-"
"You were trying to cross the border, right?"
Suddenly the young man was standing up, and his companion cringed as he tried to escape his rough hands. Escape he could not, however, and soon enough his shirt was pulled up over his head, and his arms were roughly stuffed inside of it, almost tearing the flimsy cotton in the process. From the front of the bus, a loud yell could be heard as the driver told him to sit his ass down unless he wanted to be the first one put on cleaning duty at the facility.
That sparked Roth's interest, as he hadn't been given a whole lot of details as to just where they were being taken, but the fact that a facility was involved meant that the place was likely bigger than he had first imagined. His eyes turn back to his sketchpad, his creamy pale hands quickly working to erase the last few lines he had drawn and then work back over them with the pencil, building a more accurate mental map. He briefly wondered how far off his picture would be, compared to the real deal. When he was done making his adjustments, he let himself relax and stare out through the haze, his sight being drawn to broken concrete rubble, and a few abandoned cars in a junkyard.
Chapter One: Old Lessons and New Beginnings
__________
The bus was rolling through the streets of the abandoned city, it's bloody sunrise being able to be seen through the smoky haze lingering in the air. The driver-a young women looking as if she was freshly out of her teenage years, was sucking down her third cigarrette, having lit it up mere seconds after putting out her second. It was met with a lot of protest from the current riders, though all they received for their protesting and complaints was a harsh, 'shut the fuck up', and a cold glare through the driver's mirror.
The current riders of the bus had seemingly nothing in common with each other. Their ages ranged from just barely able to vote, to maybe they might make it in a bar without getting carded. Likewise, there was an equal mixture of genders amongst the group, with some being difficult to tell which way they leaned. Really, the only thing they had in common at all was the unmistakable haunted look in their eyes. A look that was only earned through years of seeing untold horror, of living in a harsh concrete jungle and surviving off of the scraps that were left behind by the privileged, or perhaps being cunning enough to run their own game. A look that said, while they may not have fought in the wars of men, they had certainly felt the pain of watching comrades die in their arms, or lost something so precious that a piece of their soul was ripped from their very being, never to be returned. It was a look of madness and sorrow; a look that could only be recognized amongst themselves, as the rest of the world slept peacefully under their covers, blissfully unaware as to the nightmares and horrors they had all seen. That they still saw.
And this was the reason that they had been gathered. The reason that they had been offered, and in some cases, almost forced, to come join an elite group of people whose goal was similar to other secret organizations-save humanity. Or at the very least, try to curb the amount of suffering that it was experiencing on a nightly basis.
Roth had chosen a seat in the bus that wasn't quite at the back, but was very close to it. With his back leaned against the cool metal of the rolling vehicle, and his long legs spread out over the seat, he occupied himself with a sketchpad in his lap. The drawing only slightly held his curiosity, as his ears were sharp, and his heather colored eyes, which sometimes appeared more floral in the light of day, would occasionally come up to glance at the other occupants; taking in as much detail about them as he could with those quick looks. He was quiet, only speaking when spoken to, and he tried to let the way his shoulders slumped back against the window give a facade of simply being too exhausted to interact with the group.
In the row opposite to him, just a seat up, two young men were slumped in their chairs as well. One of them was asleep, leaned slightly against the window, and the other seemed to just be staring ahead with a worn out look. Roth wasn't surprised by the look, as for most, if not all of them, this was their regular bedtime. The rising of the sun meant safety-the only time they could sleep without having to have someone watch their back, and he himself was pretty tired as well. What was keeping him up was the need to learn and the excitement of seeing an old friend.
A harsh bump in the road shook the bus so hard that the driver let's out a curse, and for just a second, he questioned if the bus was going to flip over. It corrected itself, but not before a lot of teeterous rocking, and after, many of the occupants were stirring from their sleep.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
Roth glanced up, his dark ringed eyes going to the young man opposite him. He was looking over at his companion, who seemed to have bumped his head pretty harshly against the metal, as he was now rubbing it with his left hand and scowling.
"I swear to god man," the newly awakened boy growled.
"If you make a fucking Skyrim jok-"
"You were trying to cross the border, right?"
Suddenly the young man was standing up, and his companion cringed as he tried to escape his rough hands. Escape he could not, however, and soon enough his shirt was pulled up over his head, and his arms were roughly stuffed inside of it, almost tearing the flimsy cotton in the process. From the front of the bus, a loud yell could be heard as the driver told him to sit his ass down unless he wanted to be the first one put on cleaning duty at the facility.
That sparked Roth's interest, as he hadn't been given a whole lot of details as to just where they were being taken, but the fact that a facility was involved meant that the place was likely bigger than he had first imagined. His eyes turn back to his sketchpad, his creamy pale hands quickly working to erase the last few lines he had drawn and then work back over them with the pencil, building a more accurate mental map. He briefly wondered how far off his picture would be, compared to the real deal. When he was done making his adjustments, he let himself relax and stare out through the haze, his sight being drawn to broken concrete rubble, and a few abandoned cars in a junkyard.
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