Thread: This War of Mine (Alvis & BaadBaarbie)

No one had expected it to come down like this. No one thought it could really all fall apart this quickly. It had been a nation with every advantage that could be thought of, with one of the most robust economies and excellent technology. But now...well, no one was even sure that it was a nation anymore. The rebellion had been far better equipped than anyone had thought, adn ahd moved quickly to capture adn occupy numerous cities, consolidating their power. But there were a few vital targets that had been denied them. One of them was the might New York. The beating economic heart of the nation, losing it would cripple the economy within weeks. Of course, it being cordoned off, and put under siege had resulted in something similar. And when the economy started to collapse, the delicate balance of the rest of the world came down with it. It was the Russians that moved first, planning to exploit the opening to make a land grab, they landed in Florida and pushed inland. China wasn't far behind, moving quickly to stop the Russians from making too much headway and gaining an unassailable advantage. Once both armies were involved in fighting, the rebels and the loyalists went to fighting everyone, still not able to unite even in the face of the foreign assault. New York was still nominally held by Loyalist forces, but only just. There were pockets of rebels within, and the Russians had taken over the siege lines. They had severed the train lines cleanly and quickly, and blockaded the port. Overland routes were closed off, and a siege work was dug to make sure that nothing got out of hte city without the Russians knowing. The only remaining way in was the Brooklyn Bridge, battered, but still standing defiantly in the face of the attack. Each end of the bridge was sealed off, the city end by the Loyalists, the other end by the Russians, with small pockets of Rebels using the maintenance areas to stay alive and cause problems for anyone trying to cross. The Rebels had fired some shells into the city to try and dislodge the Loyalists, but the siege had been relatively mild, order staying largely intact. The Russians changed that. The first day, they unleashed Katyusha rockets, raining explosive death into the city, blasting out huge sections of the once mighty skyline. Panic reigned, and things began to break down very quickly. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed in that opening volley, and even more died in the vicious infighting that began almost overnight as external power was cut, limiting the amount of buildings and services that could be powered. By day, most people stayed under cover by necessity. The Loyalists were firing on the Rebels, and Rebel Sympathizers that they saw moving, which seemed to be anyone. And the Rebels opened fire on Servants of the Oppressors which also happened to be anyone they saw moving in the day. Even worse than that were the bands of looters that moved around by night, doing all they could to consolidate their own position, and taking everything they could from anyone they could. It was hard to survive, staying on the move left you safer from looters, but more vulnerable to soldiers. Holing up did the opposite. But the survivors were just that. Survivors to the core, still moving forward and living as best they can. But even these hardy souls are a single mistake away from death... It had bee a stupid idea to the core, and he knew it, knew it from the start. But hunger occasionally made people stupid, and it had come down on him quickly. He knew that the tenement building was occupied, and by people that never seemed terribly sympathetic to the plight of others. But he'd found a way inside, adn raided their stash of food. Of course he'd screwed up the exit completely, and they'd opened fire on him as he ran. The sound of shots had drawn the attention of the soldiers, and He'd not been able to stop running since. Small walls that gave cover weren't strong enough to stand up to more than a few shots, and he wasn't sure if his continued survival was by picking his moments well, or if he was just being toyed with. The man on the move called himself Ben, and he made a good target really. Taller than most, and well built, he'd made a living at one of the foundries in the city before it had taken a shell, blasting the building apart, along with most of the workers. Ben hadn't been at work that day, taking a personal day to rest, which had turned out to be the best call he'd made in his entire life. He'd tried to help some of his neighbours shift the rubble from some of the destroyed buildings, but the advent of the sniper fire had ended that plan. When his own home had been leveled, he'd been forced to go on the move. Now, a week later, hunger and desperation had dropped him in this situation. A bullet hammered into the pavement near his feet. Ben had to jump to the side, hopefully throwing off the aim of the snipers, and he dove forward. He rolled along the ground, aiming for the wall of a nearby building. When he slammed into the wall, it gave. With a startled yelp, he fell into the building. He landed hard on his back in what had to be the basement. He groaned, but as he lay there, he realized that the sounds of gun shots had stopped. Wherever he was, it seemed...safer than the outside. He picked himself up, brushing himself off as best he could, and looking around. If he was going to be stuck here for awhile, he might as well look around.