Post by Poison Shot on Nov 16, 2016 22:45:48 GMT -5
The sun shines high in the sky over the barren wasteland of District 4's north end, the wind breezes between abandoned buildings most of which are collapsed or standing by a single thread ready to fall and join its forgotten comrades in the dust. Crows circle the area in search of food but often find little. Not much can survive in the wasteland and that which does cannot survive for long. It wasn't always like this. The area used to be alive with the sound of music, laughter, and children but now only a lone building stands. The El Capitan Theater. An old theater that housed many plays in the day, just north of what used to be called Los Angeles but is now referred to as Battery City. The theater Stands tall but still its roof is damaged, part of it missing, the sign reading 'El Capitan' hangs off its hinge with all but one lightbulb fixture broken.
Through the hole in the roof sunlight shines through, creating beams of visible light onto the main stage illuminating the red curtains and the red seats where spectators often spent an evening. A single man lays sleeping center stage, the light shines through almost like a spotlight onto the man. He's wearing a green hoodie under a tattered black jacket, goggles around the neck and his gun holstered in his jacket but firmly held as one often learns to do while out in the zones alone.
The wind runs through the curtains and produces sounds. Not a whistling like one would expect, but a voice... the voice of ghost. The man lay sleeping still, but the voice gets louder and more wind picks up rattling the windows. A storm is brewing outside. No doubt a sandstorm from the west. The voice continues. It doesn't say anything comprehensible. It's more of a faint memory than a voice. Muffled sounds and music. Yes the music... the sound of the piano from the theater a time ago. You dont see pianos around very much, or musical instruments for that matter. Not since BL/ind normalized the population.
The man turns.
The voice begins to become more comprehensible
Noah, wake up
The man turns again.
"Wake up, i know you can hear me lazy bum"
"ughh five more minutes"
"Noah, you need to get up. Time is of the essence. Wake up, they need you!"
A small fox , adorned with a red bandana with a large hole on the side and its fur dirtied from the wasteland, climbs out from underneath one of the seats where a blanket lay and nudges the man to wake up.
Miew the fox squeals
The man jolts up with his gun in hand and surveys the area, cautiously pointing his gun straight at the entrance. The theater may be his safe house but he knows better than to let his guard down for even a moment.
"Hey Nali, looks like i slept in a little bit huh" The fox jumps onto its owner and licks his face.
"I heard her voice again. She sounded worried... " the man gets up and dust his clothes off before grabbing his cap from one of the coat racks and putting it on backwards.
*Nali stares*
"Don't give me that look. I know it defeats the purpose, it's how we used to wear them back in the day" He continues to put his sunglasses on and grabs his keys and extra ammunition packs from the safe behind the tapestry in the office with the word "management" written on the door, half of its letters missing.
" We better get going bud. We need to make a run for some supplies today. We're running low on fuel and chow.. *checks ammo pack* A few cartridges wouldnt hurt either..."
He walks out back behind the theater, followed by the little fox, into an underground parking lot lit by only the few cracks in its structure. There sits a black 1967 Chevy Impala, the ride his grandfather had left for him before the wars once a beautifully restored classic car, now ... still a pretty beautiful classic car. Scrapes and dings find its way onto it across the zones but being good with his hands, the man never fails to bring it back to some level of glory.
The engine roars as the pair enters the Impala, he reaches into the center compartment to pull out a small walkie talkie radio and tunes his car stereo to his normal frequency. Part of his daily routine since the disbandment of the old crew.
The engine revs and the man cracks a smile and pets the fox who sits in the passenger seat eagerly looking out the window.
"Lets Ride"
Through the hole in the roof sunlight shines through, creating beams of visible light onto the main stage illuminating the red curtains and the red seats where spectators often spent an evening. A single man lays sleeping center stage, the light shines through almost like a spotlight onto the man. He's wearing a green hoodie under a tattered black jacket, goggles around the neck and his gun holstered in his jacket but firmly held as one often learns to do while out in the zones alone.
The wind runs through the curtains and produces sounds. Not a whistling like one would expect, but a voice... the voice of ghost. The man lay sleeping still, but the voice gets louder and more wind picks up rattling the windows. A storm is brewing outside. No doubt a sandstorm from the west. The voice continues. It doesn't say anything comprehensible. It's more of a faint memory than a voice. Muffled sounds and music. Yes the music... the sound of the piano from the theater a time ago. You dont see pianos around very much, or musical instruments for that matter. Not since BL/ind normalized the population.
The man turns.
The voice begins to become more comprehensible
Noah, wake up
The man turns again.
"Wake up, i know you can hear me lazy bum"
"ughh five more minutes"
"Noah, you need to get up. Time is of the essence. Wake up, they need you!"
A small fox , adorned with a red bandana with a large hole on the side and its fur dirtied from the wasteland, climbs out from underneath one of the seats where a blanket lay and nudges the man to wake up.
Miew the fox squeals
The man jolts up with his gun in hand and surveys the area, cautiously pointing his gun straight at the entrance. The theater may be his safe house but he knows better than to let his guard down for even a moment.
"Hey Nali, looks like i slept in a little bit huh" The fox jumps onto its owner and licks his face.
"I heard her voice again. She sounded worried... " the man gets up and dust his clothes off before grabbing his cap from one of the coat racks and putting it on backwards.
*Nali stares*
"Don't give me that look. I know it defeats the purpose, it's how we used to wear them back in the day" He continues to put his sunglasses on and grabs his keys and extra ammunition packs from the safe behind the tapestry in the office with the word "management" written on the door, half of its letters missing.
" We better get going bud. We need to make a run for some supplies today. We're running low on fuel and chow.. *checks ammo pack* A few cartridges wouldnt hurt either..."
He walks out back behind the theater, followed by the little fox, into an underground parking lot lit by only the few cracks in its structure. There sits a black 1967 Chevy Impala, the ride his grandfather had left for him before the wars once a beautifully restored classic car, now ... still a pretty beautiful classic car. Scrapes and dings find its way onto it across the zones but being good with his hands, the man never fails to bring it back to some level of glory.
The engine roars as the pair enters the Impala, he reaches into the center compartment to pull out a small walkie talkie radio and tunes his car stereo to his normal frequency. Part of his daily routine since the disbandment of the old crew.
The engine revs and the man cracks a smile and pets the fox who sits in the passenger seat eagerly looking out the window.
"Lets Ride"
Yes, I'm still running - sort of. But it is lonely out here. Haven't seen anyone else for a while.
//