Post by jeremy118 on Nov 16, 2009 19:16:27 GMT -5
Night had finally surrendered to morning. The sun just barely began it’s ascent into the sky, breaking dawn into something lighter. The new illumination over the city was not always the best however. Buildings, streets, vehicles still lay in terrible shape. Scars of battle and strife marked the skyscrapers and small establishments, giving evidence to past skirmishes. However, one building lay mostly unscarred, protected by thick walls, with armed men along them. Guard dogs sat hooked to leashes held by human guards sporting high powered weapons. Carefully the guards scanned the out reaches of the compound, watching the streets for any incoming or immortals that were looking to be peppered with bullets. The inner courtyard lay practically empty for the moment, only sporting a small selection of crates claimed their own space on the concrete and grass.
Of course this was only the outside of the compound. The inner workings were already on the move, civilian and armed forces moving about their business. Soldiers moved from barracks, heading towards the mess hall for whatever meal was being served that morning while civilians moved to work stations they were assigned too. One room in particular sat with its occupant still inside, the grizzled super soldier slowly pushing himself up from the worn mattress. Bare feet touched the cool floor as closed eyes stared at the floor. With a groan, the man rolled his neck and finally stood up. Boxers were the only thing covering his body as he reached out and peel cargo pants from a nearby table. With a smooth motion, he pulled the clothing over his legs, before reaching out and pulling a white t shirt from the same table.
Jeremy Samson, creator of Haven had work to do today. Preparations for the inevitable war with the angels. Ammunition stockpiles, provisions, vehicles, gasoline, manpower, K9 units, super and normal soldiers. All of those things needed to be calculated before they could really commit to the test at hand. Haven’s creator picked up his hip holster and snapped the straps around his waist, Colt 1911 pistol still resting within its grasp. Quickly, he slipped on a pair of socks and combat boots before stepping out of the room and proceeding to the front gate. The night watch would soon be switched out for fresh soldiers, but he wanted the report from them before they left their post. He’d taken it upon himself to check on them every morning ever since the angels had appeared. Anything suspicious, he wanted reported to him considering it could be an angelic scout scoping out the stronghold. This was not just some military stronghold, this was a safe house for civilians, men and women not trained to fight.
Haven had withstood attack for years, mostly outsider, and he’d be damned if it fell to a raised of warriors still using archaic weapons. Just knowing that, their most obvious advantage was clear, and that was technology. Firearms and the like would be a tremendous help but that was where the problem started. Bullets. True, they had collected stockpiles of rounds over the year but wars consumed a multitude of ammunition. They would have to choose their battles wisely and send out searches for more. However, the city had been scoured and picked clean over the course of two years. They would be hard pressed to find anything, and besides that fact, the tools to make the bullets were practically unheard of. The whole situation was one gigantic weight on his shoulders and it plagued him night and day. Jeremy had difficulty believing he would have a good night’s rest until the angels had been defeated and pushed back.
The large front doors of the inner compound peeled open and the creator of Haven stepped out. Footsteps clapped on the pavement as he moved forward to the guard captain stationed there. A subtle nod was given to the man before the report was handed over. Jeremy’s eyes began to scan the parchment as he spoke. “You and your men are relieved for the day, go and get some rest.” Each word was spoken with him still scanning the paper, taking in the nights report.
Of course this was only the outside of the compound. The inner workings were already on the move, civilian and armed forces moving about their business. Soldiers moved from barracks, heading towards the mess hall for whatever meal was being served that morning while civilians moved to work stations they were assigned too. One room in particular sat with its occupant still inside, the grizzled super soldier slowly pushing himself up from the worn mattress. Bare feet touched the cool floor as closed eyes stared at the floor. With a groan, the man rolled his neck and finally stood up. Boxers were the only thing covering his body as he reached out and peel cargo pants from a nearby table. With a smooth motion, he pulled the clothing over his legs, before reaching out and pulling a white t shirt from the same table.
Jeremy Samson, creator of Haven had work to do today. Preparations for the inevitable war with the angels. Ammunition stockpiles, provisions, vehicles, gasoline, manpower, K9 units, super and normal soldiers. All of those things needed to be calculated before they could really commit to the test at hand. Haven’s creator picked up his hip holster and snapped the straps around his waist, Colt 1911 pistol still resting within its grasp. Quickly, he slipped on a pair of socks and combat boots before stepping out of the room and proceeding to the front gate. The night watch would soon be switched out for fresh soldiers, but he wanted the report from them before they left their post. He’d taken it upon himself to check on them every morning ever since the angels had appeared. Anything suspicious, he wanted reported to him considering it could be an angelic scout scoping out the stronghold. This was not just some military stronghold, this was a safe house for civilians, men and women not trained to fight.
Haven had withstood attack for years, mostly outsider, and he’d be damned if it fell to a raised of warriors still using archaic weapons. Just knowing that, their most obvious advantage was clear, and that was technology. Firearms and the like would be a tremendous help but that was where the problem started. Bullets. True, they had collected stockpiles of rounds over the year but wars consumed a multitude of ammunition. They would have to choose their battles wisely and send out searches for more. However, the city had been scoured and picked clean over the course of two years. They would be hard pressed to find anything, and besides that fact, the tools to make the bullets were practically unheard of. The whole situation was one gigantic weight on his shoulders and it plagued him night and day. Jeremy had difficulty believing he would have a good night’s rest until the angels had been defeated and pushed back.
The large front doors of the inner compound peeled open and the creator of Haven stepped out. Footsteps clapped on the pavement as he moved forward to the guard captain stationed there. A subtle nod was given to the man before the report was handed over. Jeremy’s eyes began to scan the parchment as he spoke. “You and your men are relieved for the day, go and get some rest.” Each word was spoken with him still scanning the paper, taking in the nights report.