Ivy and Chrome PbP Forums

Luckily, the armor stops complaining about the depth as they rise through the narrowing channel—but Shep feels the pressure building in another way as Carl’s stories wash over him like static. Echoes of another life, another battle. Each familiar phrase, each mention of the Cataclysm, stirs something raw and jagged inside.

He swallows hard before answering. “No… not sheltered,” he says quietly, his voice thinner than he means it to be. “I’ve seen my share. Enough that I don’t like talking about it— I can’t talk about it.” He forces down the bile rising in his throat as flashbacks of a bloody massacre threaten to overwhelm him.

For a few seconds, the comms stay silent except for the faint hum of electronics and the slow rasp of his own breathing in the helmet. His breaths quicken before he can steady them. “Let’s just say… the world outside Camp Wilson didn’t make anyone soft. You live long enough out there, you learn what survives—and what doesn’t.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, using his arms in a gentle swimming motion to help propel himself along—careful not to go fast enough to make a wake, slowing further as the stream grows shallower. He forces himself to focus on the terrain ahead, on the sound of the water against the armor—anything that isn’t memory clawing its way up through the cracks.

"Well, my boy, you're moving this thing like you've done it before. That, or you're a natural. So Shep, what are you to me? Grandkid? Great Grandkid? Am I an ancient ancestor lost in the annals of history? But I know that you're a direct descendent or you wouldn't have been able to open the vault... unless you found DNA somehow. My existence should have been mostly secret."
***********************************
Then it happens... He remembers more...
***********************************
92 P.A.
An explosion flings Shep through the air like a ragdoll. He flips onto a large rock in the sandy wastes, he hears the audible snap as his left arm succumbs to the combined weight of his body and gear and the trajectory of his fall.

"SHEP RUN!" his dad screams over the Samas loudspeaker, "F*&^ing RUN!" Is the only intelligent voice he can hear over the sounds of gunfire, terrified screams, exploding grenades and the C-40R Samas rail gun blaring at the dark figure against the twilight sky. The glowing crescent moon eyes are the only clearly visible detail on it. It stands at least ten to twelve feet tall with massive hands. An eerie, yet calm, chuckle booms from it. Whatever it is, it's enjoying this.

Several people are stuck in some sort of prehistoric goo on the ground. A glowing net holds down a few more. The demon simple walks over and steps on them, then twists, like they're just bugs on the ground. Their screams cease with a crunch...

Shep's father, Peter, buzzes the demon, trying to clothesline it with his wings, only to be caught by the helmet and body slammed on top of Cory Fillmore. The demon raises its other hand, whilst holding Pete on top of what's left of Hughes father, as several streaks of fire lance out from each of his fingers into the Kuschyenko family, blowing the husband apart and burning the wife alive. Her screams are inhuman as her hair and clothes rapidly melt away, then her eyelids and nose.

Shep fights through the pain and tries to stand, but can only manage to get to his knees. He finally notices that he's pissed himself and possibly defecated. A hand pulls him up by his broken arm. Shep screams in pain. A familiar voice shouts, "Worry about your damned arm later! Run!" Hank Harper gets behind him and pushes. Shep vomits as he runs, letting bile and today's chicken ooze down his chest, permeating his nose with putrid sharpness.

Mrs. Kuschyenko's, Irina's mother, screams go from high pitched to a deep, weak cry as she mercifully perishes. Smoking bones with some flesh hanging is all that remain. Shep peeks back, but the future sheriff of Camp Wilson blocks his view, likely on purpose. "RUN!" Hank's expression tells Shep that Hank may murder him himself if he doesn't listen. Shep keeps running, feeling excrement rapidly running down his legs with each step.

"Alfred, come on!" Hank yells at Mr. Kersch, "Forget that shit! We can get the medicine later!" as Mazur's father agrees and joins the run back towards the "lines."

* * * Shep begins to successfully block some memories... but then... * * *

The demon has somehow let go of Peter, but not before tearing him out of the armor and begins his chase of the last five survivors: Shep, Hank, Alfred, Donnie and Rose. Shep peeks back to see his father is now hoisted into the air by the demon's fist. Peter, in his old age, is still spry, takes his laser pistol and shoots the demon in the side of the head. It stops, looks at Peter, turns him to face Shep, "Run! Shep, r..." The demon suddenly squeezes, Peter looks like a rotten tomato oozing from between those giant fingers. Shep is too mentally numb to process it.

The quintet continues to run. The bluish white glowing line only yards away when the demon magically appears in front of them. Shep runs past and ducks as the creature narrowly misses grabbing him. He crosses the line. He glances back to see that Rose, Jack's mother, in the demon's giant hand. She screams as he slowly plucks each of her fingers off, against the protests of Hank, Alfred and Donnie. Shep can no longer look as he already knows that it's pulling her appendages off, slowly, one by one. He hears its eerily whispery voice state, "Wilson and Harper, you're next..."

**************************

Shep snaps out of his worst flashback in years! He knows that there was much much more, but he can't stomach to remember. He tastes bile in his mouth but is sure that there's nothing to vomit up. His underwear and pants are wet. Yet, Carl is still rambling on. "Then there was this time we flew to a place called Silverton, in Colorado. Great place! Lots of gambling, women... well for... you know... But the flyboy contests were so fun! Carl and I won!"

*** Not again... Please by happy... please be happy ***

"Now your turn, Shephard," Pete grins proudly, kicking the dust off of his boots. "Carefully aim at that rock over there," He points to a rather large boulder as Shep raises the rail gun, centers the crosshairs on the HUD and gives the trigger a squeeze. The recoil is very slight as the rock explodes into dust, leaving several small dust clouded craters.

"Wooohooo! Your great great granddaddy would be proud! Tomorrow, you learn to hover! After that, you'll learn to fly forward. We have a town to defend and you'll be taking over after me. Family tradition!" Pete slaps the side of the Samas.

*** Yay! It was happy! ***

"And with those winnings! We were able to repair me!" Shep has no idea what Carl is talking about now. He just rambles until he's verbal white noise. "Hey! Are you even listening?"

“Sorry… more memories flooding back.” He realizes he’s stopped moving and forces himself forward again. “It’s painful. I remember seeing Dad—your grandson—get crushed by some kind of demon while saving my life.” He takes a breath, his voice tightening. “Maybe someday I can talk about it more. For now… I need to change the subject. How much farther should we go before it’s safe to get on dry land and move at full speed without those other SAMAS spotting us?”

“Sorry… more memories flooding back.” He realizes he’s stopped moving and forces himself forward again. “It’s painful. I remember seeing Dad—your grandson—get crushed by some kind of demon while saving my life.” He takes a breath, his voice tightening. “Maybe someday I can talk about it more. For now… I need to change the subject. How much farther should we go before it’s safe to get on dry land and move at full speed without those other SAMAS spotting us?”

"Wow, so... you're my great grandson! Well, howdy Shep. Pleased to meet you. What was my grandson's name?" The AI then remembers the question, "Oh yeah, about a mile. After that, we should probably just move along the ground at about a vehicle's pace.

"So, I remember little Andrew. Great kid, really looked up to me... err us. I was also sad when Carl put me in the vault. I knew I may never see Andy again. He'd just sit there and ask me questions or to tell jokes. Sometimes, I hope Carl felt regret for taking Andy away from me. What happened with Andy?"

Shep hesitates, forcing himself to breathe steadily before answering. “His name was William,” he says quietly. “Will. People called him Willbill sometimes. Most of what I know about him… it’s from old records in the Camp Wilson library. Town logs, leadership notes, that kind of thing. He held things together when a lot of communities were falling apart.”

He keeps moving at a steady pace, letting the motion help settle his thoughts. Shifting toward safer ground, he focuses on the mission instead of the ghosts clawing at the edges of his memory. “So—a mile, right? Once we hit land, I’ll keep it low and move at vehicle pace. Hopefully that’ll cut the odds of the other SAMAS spotting us. Is the enhanced imaging pack fully operational—telescopic, thermal imaging, and the rest?”

Shep hesitates, forcing himself to breathe steadily before answering. “His name was William,” he says quietly. “Will. People called him Willbill sometimes. Most of what I know about him… it’s from old records in the Camp Wilson library. Town logs, leadership notes, that kind of thing. He held things together when a lot of communities were falling apart.”

"Oh, so William, he named you Shep. I wonder why." Carl adds.

He keeps moving at a steady pace, letting the motion help settle his thoughts. Shifting toward safer ground, he focuses on the mission instead of the ghosts clawing at the edges of his memory. “So—a mile, right? Once we hit land, I’ll keep it low and move at vehicle pace. Hopefully that’ll cut the odds of the other SAMAS spotting us. Is the enhanced imaging pack fully operational—telescopic, thermal imaging, and the rest?”

"Yip, already checked through. And we're almost there. So you never got to know your dad very well?" Carl asks as the armors head surfaces over the ever shallowing waters. The smoke of Camp Wilson is over the horizon. Hopefully the town is still there.

"Not really. He was gone a lot when I was growing up… and then he was just… gone." Shep forces himself to keep his voice steady, letting the words trail off without inviting further probing. Switching back to the mission at hand, he adds, "When we think we’ve reached a safe point to surface, I’ll run through a couple of the different optic modes first—take a look around before we come all the way out of the water."

"Not really. He was gone a lot when I was growing up… and then he was just… gone." Shep forces himself to keep his voice steady, letting the words trail off without inviting further probing. Switching back to the mission at hand, he adds, "When we think we’ve reached a safe point to surface, I’ll run through a couple of the different optic modes first—take a look around before we come all the way out of the water."

"Shep, I'm tracking two bogies approaching from the south, little buddy. Humanoid, moving at about five kilometers per hour. Dead ahead about two miles. Use your HUD to toggle between optics."

Shep finds the optics toggling feels incredibly natural, finally finding telescopic sight of the two individuals, covered in blood, stumbling up the road. He finds it difficult to see if they're injured and fatigued or if they're more undead. One of them is a woman, missing a shoe, walking along with a torn sock.

"I need a closer look. These could be the zombie creatures from town—or they might be refugees." Shep scans the surrounding area for any other bogies, particularly Coalition SAMAS or troops, then searches for a route to close the distance to within a mile without being detected. Travel through the water has been slow, so he hopes to approach quickly yet discreetly, staying hidden from any Coalition flyboys overhead.

"I need a closer look. These could be the zombie creatures from town—or they might be refugees." Shep scans the surrounding area for any other bogies, particularly Coalition SAMAS or troops, then searches for a route to close the distance to within a mile without being detected. Travel through the water has been slow, so he hopes to approach quickly yet discreetly, staying hidden from any Coalition flyboys overhead.

Nothing on his visuals. Radar shows two bogies, far off, over Lake Crenshaw. So far, the water route, albeit slow, has provided ample cover from detection. Shep and Carl trudge forward for what seems like eternity in silence. Eventually, Carl almost startles Shep with, "They're probably zombies." really loudly, "No heat signatures are emanating from them. What's your course of action? Engage, avoid or observe? And what rank should we make you? Since you're pretty much a volunteered soldier now."

"Whoa—one question at a time," Shep cuts in, steadying himself after Carl’s sudden volume spike. "First, we can’t let them reach Crenshaw. If they’re zombies, they could infect the whole town. We need to engage, confirm what they are, and, if they’re a threat, eliminate it." He keeps his tone practical. "If we show ourselves and they’re infected, they’ll probably rush us without thinking. If they’re not, they’ll most likely run. Either way, I need to know what we’re dealing with."

The rank question stalls him for a beat. "As for rank… I don’t know that I’ve earned it, but if we’re trying to bluff our way through encounters, ‘captain’ at least sounds like someone who’d be out here on a classified autonomous mission."

With that settled, Shep adjusts his route. Moving through the brush at speed would be like a wrecking ball plowing through undergrowth, so he steps out of concealment and heads up onto the road instead. From there, he closes the gap quickly while the terrain is clear, slowing once he’s within roughly a hundred meters of the two figures to assess the situation before engaging. As he advances, he continually scans the surrounding area for any other signs of a threat, unwilling to let anything slip past him while he figures out what these two really are.