forum "the world is over-" "maybe, but its our world now" (large group - open 5/7) **PLEASE JOIN** (or at least look at...)

Started September 21, 2021 by @CaseyJ group

tune

It was an early morning, the door to the refuge, as always, was locked and guarded. Not that Sean would let that stop him. He had been a scout for the gov for a few years, starting at a young age. He never was a fan of rules. He had been in the refuge for a few months, and he missed outside. He went from being out there everyday, to being stuck in a cramped maze with a bunch of other losers. He knew the rules. Everyone did, they were reminded of them everyday, posted on every hall, and read to them every morning. The first rule, the one Sean was set on breaking, was in big bold letters. He wasn't used to people knowing his name, he prefered the numbers. 5349 permanently written on his arm. Everyone had a number, even if they were never taken by the government. Scouts were taught the way of figuring out someones number by whatever name they go by. The Gov was smart, he'd give them that.

He stood at the corner, watching the door, it had taken him weeks to find, and he had gotten punished for trying to multiple times. Granted, "Leader" as everyone called Mark, decided the punishment, and Sean had gotten on his good side for helping them over the years as a neutral party that had access to the Gov. He checked his watch, he only had it because as a Scout, he had curfews, and the gov were not one to take breaking it lightly, their punishment was worse than the refuges. A few more minutes before the guard switch changed, he could sneak past them then, he wasn't planning on running away, he just wanted to go outside, fresh air, sunlight, even if the air wasn't fresh, and the sun wasn't very refreshing, it was better than the artificial light that filled these plain gray halls.

Mark had went out with the group of scouts that morning, he did it every week or so, when he was sure no one would get in trouble, or notice he was gone. No one had ever dared to break his main rule. All of his rules were made to protect the others. From the outside world, some people had only memories of the Refuge, the home he created for them to feel safe, welcome. He had once been a part of the government, a son of one of the leaders, but he left. He left and started the rebellion.

He looked at the other scouts that had went with him, they were spread out in an old town, going through houses, trying to find both people, and supplies, the gov didn't give them food, water, anything. So they had to find it on their own. Granted, they did have a greenhouse, that Mark was in charge of, but that only gave them so much. He himself was standing at the head of the road, a gun slung over his shoulder, he didn't like using it, and not one of the scouts had ever shot someone to kill, it was mostly a threat tactic. He knew as well as anyone that everyone that worked for the gov under the age of 25 knew only this world. Even he didn't know what the world was like before, besides what he learnt from his parents and research.

(ALRIGHT GUYS. HERE IS THE STARTER!!! [starting before the one person who breaks the 1 rule does, that guy being Sean])

3110 leaned back from his desk, breathing out heavily through his nose, holding the bridge in his hand. He gently massaged the temples on his skull, looking at the piles of papers on the desk. He'd been going through the stack of books and reports for several hours now and even the flickering lights above him seemed to burn his eyes. The words flickered in the harsh light when he blinked. 3110 eyed the basic bed, tempted to just lay down and sleep… But he had work to do and he knew it. He threw on his dark jacket, not sparing a glance for the set of numbers on his arm that made up his existence. His room was bare, practically spartan in appearance and no larger than a good closet. He'd worked hard to get a room of his own, to be able to work in the relative quiet of the compound. He still felt that twinge of pride when he stared at it, 3110 felt recognized for his work and in a few more years he might even be allowed a few luxury items, not that he wanted anything anyways. He wanted to continue his work, he felt on the cusp of a breakthrough, if he just kept-

A knock on the door interrupted 3110's daydreaming. He bristled, shoulders falling back and standing up straight, his face falling into a practiced expression of polite indifference. "Come in." He dead-panned his voice as the shaved head of his overseer peeked in. The man scowled at the papers on 3110's desk, then glared at him with a harsh expression.

"Get your gun, we're going scouting. Not much but we've picked up a few scattered reports of raiders on the fringe. Be late and your rations will be docked, the usual." 7265 was a strict man, but he clung to the rules like a rapid dog to a leg. 3110 gave a quick nod, pulling up the hood on his jacket and heading to the make-shift armory. His gun wasn't a new model, but it was well taken care of. Carefully balancing the familiar weight in his hands, 3110 looked down the long distance scope of the rifle, nodding with satisfaction. He hated the rapid fire guns, much preferring the careful preparation of sniper rifles, being able to hit a target from a distance you couldn't see with the bare eye. He slung it across his shoulders, nodding at the rest of the scouts. 3110 fought to keep a tired or annoyed expression from his face, the blank look kept him out of trouble and hid his emotions well. He grabbed the supply kit in his other hand, and popped one of the caffeine pills to keep him on his feet. It would be a long day, but 3110 felt an odd sense of forboding as he left the compound of the Government..

Delilah was standing at her post, looking for any movement anywhere that might signify a refuge, she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and exhaled slowly. The sun was blazing, sending occasional black spots into her vision, she took her canteen out of her pocket and took a swig from it, tucking it safely back into the pockets of her cargo pants.

She found herself wondering what it would be like ot be a refugee, then shook her head. No rules, no following said rules. She wouldn't be standing in the blazing hot sun, that was for sure, but still, she wondered…

(I didn't know what to do with Jules, so I did my best. Jules is just doing Jules things lol)

Jules didn't know what the world was like beyond these walls. His memory failed him at best, and he was alright with that. He didn't care how or why he was here since he was needed. He'd exhausted all of the things he could do when he wasn't working to relieve the fatigue of the long days. The room, like everything else, was bland and gray. This was the infirmity, it was what he called the room, but he spent most of his time here. The shelves were stocked with medical supplies, though he could always heal the wound himself, no supplies required. Jules had his own little desk which was piled high with medical journals. He wrote these every time someone was in his care to keep track of their history and document how they were injured. These logs were critical in keeping the troublemakers in line. Except for the few places of bedding reserved for people with severe injuries, nothing else stood out. The majority of people did not sustain serious injuries. Many were minor scrapes or cuts that could be healed with a gentle touch. He'd always known himself as Jules, and he'd always wondered why he was labeled with numbers like a dairy cow. It made no difference to him. The preservation of lives was all that mattered.

He'd been with the refugees for a while, trying to make friends with those he could. Jules sat in the corner, strumming the strings on his guitar, ready to pass out from the sleep deprivation he had inflicted on himself. There were times when he wished for something exciting to happen to spice up his dull life. He never complained, but his mind's tongue was sharp.