If you're easily offended by profanity, you may want to think twice before reading.
_____________________________________________________________
_____________________________About___________________________
Set in a 2012 post-apocalyptic world, taking place primarily in the fictional city of Daringer, this story follows the lives of just a select few members of an elite military sect known as the Ruins, their specific team called Ruins Naff (naff meaing "to fool around"). The world around them has changed significantly, the most notable of changes being the presence the supernatural, such as werewolves and mutants, all of which Ruins members are responsible for keeping away from the general public.
_____________________________________________________________
___________________________Chapter One________________________
The small, red light flickered on, barely able to pierce through the thick cloud of cigarette smoke to reach the eyes of its intended target, Officer Jeremy Renold, in order to signify to him that the camera was now rolling. Just in case, the camera man, Iseigha, gave a thumbs up and a small smile.
"Diary video...s**t, what time is this, officers?" Jeremy asked, a hint of sarcasm dripping from his last word while he blew smoke out his nostrils and looked around for a volunteer to answer.
"Bajillion...Seven," supplied Cora, who then flashed a cheesy smile.
"Go ******** yourself," came her ******** your ******** your ******** your b*****d son!"
"I don't ******** 'im!"
Laughter took over the inhabitants of the room. Cora smirked proudly and puffed away at her Marlboro Red, allowing a chuckle or two to pass her lips. She made a face at Jeremy and leaned forward to ash in the tray on the coffee table before her and her couch companion, Hope. Across from them sat Miria, Gabriel and Elijah in their comfy recliner chairs. The seven of them made up just one of many units of an elite military sect, the Ruins, that went by the name of Ruins Naff, renown for goofing off and having a damn good time.
"Anyway, anyway, back to the vid. Diary video number who-gives-a-s**t, go," Iseigha prompted.
"Okay, alright," Jeremy replied, brushing his shoulders off suavely and stirring up a few more laughs, "So, um, here we are. Again. In...Uh, the red zone. Military zone. At our, er, the Ruins Naff barrack. And we are...Sitting around doing absolutely nothing."
"Liar," Hope detested, "We are...We are drunk, and enjoying nicotine."
"Right. Drunk and enjoying nicotine," he relayed, nodding toward the camera, "'Cept for Miria. Killjoy."
Iseigha turned to focus the lens on the frail, blond haired woman mentioned, cocking a brow in wait for her rebutle.
"I'm not killing any joy," she eventually defended, "I'm just...Warily watching."
"Warily watching my sexiness," Hope said slyly, running his hands all over his body.
She gave a roll of her pale blue eyes and sipped her soda before muttering, "No wonder you were left behind."
"Left behind?" Jeremy repeated with a tone that caused the camera to settle on him again, "What, like, left behind by God? This s**t wasn't an act of God."
"This was a Rapture," she stated.
"This wasn't a ******** Rapture. Proof? Bush is still alive," he countered.
"Zing!" chimed Cora.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Miria tsked, shaking her head.
"Bullshit!" he all but shouted, "This was just nature taking its course. This is because of what we did to the Earth. It was our fault, not this so-called God's."
She stayed quiet, eyes averted to her soda can, on which she was tracing the logo with her finger.
"Come on. You can't seriously believe all that religious crap! If this was a Rapture, Christ's second coming, okay, why did nobody report seeing Christ? Huh?"
"I saw Christ," Hope's voice made itself heard again, and he looked around at the momentarily stunned room, "...b*****d stole my piano."
"You play piano?" Cora questioned out of surprise.
"Magic ******** fingers," he assured, miming playing on a keyboard and then moving two fingers in a 'come hither' style for a bit of vulgarity.
The room once more subcame to laughter, although it was significantly quieter than the previous time. Miria rose from her spot, brushing a few pieces of fuzz from her bright red uniform shirt and starting toward the staircase that let to the bunk level. Jeremy's chocolate brown eyes followed her. The camera man no longer knew what to do with his camera, so he merely folded his arms across his chest and looked around.
"If you believe in...In that s**t, for real, Mir, than...Why are you still here?" Jeremy posed after a moment of silence.
The blond carried on, slinking up the stairs as the others convinced her verbal assailant that it had been enough for the day. They talked quietly among themselves for a little while, somewhat remorseful for how they had treated Miria...Again. She was just too easy a target.
Little more than a half hour passed before the remainder of Ruins Naff decided to call it a night, and the camera was shut off and set aside. The lights on the first floor were turned out and six pairs of feet carried their owners up to the second floor, where they would all lay down and rest up.
~~~
"Certifications?"
"Supernatural, hazmat, medicine."
"Position?"
"Medic."
"Team?"
"Naff."
The resident military doc bobbed his head in a single nod, glancing down to his clipboard to take down her answers. Cora took it as an opportunity to sneer at him without facing punishment, afterward brushing her light brown fringe from her hazel eyes. When he turned back to her, she put on a smile, poised and ready.
"Officer Renold is Naff's leader, right?" he inquired.
"Yep," she told him.
"And Officer Constance?" he polled.
"...Can't you just ask Hope yourself?" she answered his question with one of her own, "I mean, you're checking all of us out anyway. Standard mission s**t."
"It's just a lot easier if I get everyone's positions down first," he sighed.
"Hope's a gunner...," she informed, bringing a hand up to rub her face, "Miria is...Also a gunner. Iseigha's our techie. Gabe's our mechanic and Elijah is our weapons specialist."
He flipped through pages tacked to his board, frantically scribbling the information down. She watched him with annoyance. Every time they would go out for a mission, they'd have physical and mental examinations, performed by the same doctors. Why they couldn't just pull a file up on a computer instead of bombarding them with mundane questions was one big fat mystery to her.
"Alright, you're free to go. Send in Officer Constance for me," were his final words.
She pulled on her uniform shirt, which, like all the other medics', displayed a white cross outlined with the same colored circle on the red fabric; the cross of medicine. She heaved a sigh and pulled her hair back into a loose bun on her way out, waving a hand at Hope, who got up and passed her with his handgun logoed shirt. That was the gunner symbol. The techie symbol was a computer, the mechanic's a wrench, weapon's specialist's a disassembled rifle and leader's a large crown.
They wore red cuffs on their upper arms displaying those symbols along with their shirts, and had identifcation badges draped around their necks. The simplicity of the symbols and basic, bold coloring that served as a background to them made it easier for civilians to tell who they were and how they could help them, which, in all the madness of an apparent apocalypse, proved to be beyond value.
"How'd it go?" Gabriel wondered, dropping his feet to the floor to free up the chair they had previously been laying in for her.
"Like any other time," she responded as she sat down and covered her face with her hands, "I've got a b***h of a hangover."
"And that, is why I never drink before missions," Miria remarked from across the waiting room while she read the morning paper.
"You don't ever drink," Jeremy mumbled, rocking his chair back and forth.
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Elijah commented.
"Enough with the talking...My head," Cora groaned, curling up into a ball.
Silence fell over them and, one by one, they all went off to their examinations. By noon, each of them had been cleared to partake in a recovery mission that involved trecking into downtown Daringer, an area referred to as the 'hot spot' that was widely known for its mutant and zombie population, although it wasn't unheard of to come across a vampire or werewolf, in order to salvage what they could of the hospital's back up generators. Dangerous? Yes. Scary? Hardly.
"Eppy pens, where are my eppy pens," Cora muttered to herself in a sing-song voice, rummaging through ******** your eppy pens. Where's my revolver?" Hope snapped.
"Check the back of the jeep. Maybe you already packed it," Miria suggested.
She shrugged her shoulders and climbed into the back of that jeep, sitting down on one of two gunner's chairs and strapping in. She loaded the machine gun up with clips of ammunition and then looking around her to check the ammo supply. Good to go.
"How's it looking?" Jeremy asked Gabriel of their vehicle, crouching down to get at least a little closer to his level.
He rolled out from under the chassy and pushed his safety goggles up on his head, saying, "Perfect."
They smiled at each other and went about doing a final check of their belongings. While they all had their primary supplies on them, bags filled with food, water, medical supplies, spare weapons and communication devices filled up several foot lockers that were locked and laid out to form one neat line, separating the front of the jeep from the back.
"Alright, let's get moving, people!" Jeremy yelled, clapping his hands together for an added effect.
He whistled loudly and threw on his jacket before loading into the driver's seat. Cora joined him in the passenger's. They slammed their doors closed, and Gabriel and Elijah hopped up to take their positions on the sides, like firefighters riding on the trucks. Elijah pounded a hand down on the roof to let the leader know they were ready. He tigthened his grip as the vehicle lurched forward and pulled out of the garage with an almost sick grin.
"Yeehaw!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, laughing like a madman.
A mixture of dirt and tiny rocks were flung from the ground as the large tires went over it, causing a cloud of sand to form and block Ruins Naff from any onlooker's line of vision as they left the red zone for the hot spot.
Reply
