Post Nuclear Fallout [private]

[[Q]]

This is private. It means YOU CAN'T JOIN. Sorry, buddy.
(But if you want to read it, go ahead. wink )
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Tsurai is an 18 year old kid, stranded in the wilderness during the Great War. When Nuclear weapons were used, he was taken into Fallout Vault 335; Tsurai's not exactly sure how he got there, actually, but one day he woke up and he was there.

Lots of partying went on in The Vault, as it was composed of mostly men. They wasted their alcohol and beer rather quickly in a post-apocolyptic party, where Tsurai got so drunk he puked on himself, and they had to throw away his only shirt.

A year went by, and rashions got low. Tsurai had begun starving himself to give the children a chance to eat, although he didn't let others know. He was the kid and the jokester in the Vault, and liked cheering people up. But he has his own torment inside him.
















Isiah, on the other hand, is a heavily tattoed Irishman who loves to smoke. He passed the time in the Vault by reading smut over and over again, changing the story to his own liking.
Tsurai was attracted by Isiah's many tattooes, and they became touch-and-go friends. Little did Tsurai know that Isiah was part of an old religious cult, dedicated to fighting and pain.
And moreso, Isiah was an in-the-closet homosexual.

Leaded by Tsurai's anxiety and his own boredom, they wander out of the vault together with a heap of their own supplies in search of some new landscape and a new crowd. There, Isiah and Tsurai will share more than punches and stories. Because simply put, a kid as staright as an arrow and a muscular Gay Irishman don't mix.






----

Evil Disco: Water dripped from the musty, mold-ridden ceiling, the lucky few who had managed to reach the bunker in time cluttered together in seperate groups for warmth. Although the bombing had ended months and months ago, the few survivors opted to remain underground- radiation is a cruel and evil mistress.
Over the months, provisions were beginning to run low, and the pressure to venture out was growing. Fresh water was becoming a thing of the past, and recycling what they had was becoming a nearly impossible task.

Against the metal wall, pariah from the myriad of other groups, sits a man, appearing to be in his mid to late twenties. His clothes are tattered but well kept, as neat and clean as can be expected. What skin that can be seen is dotted and decorated with intricate, tribal tattooing, perhaps denoting a former career in some cultist priesthood. His hands and eyes pour over the tattered pages of a book, short auburn-red hair falling into his eyes, occassionally pushed away with a thick finger. He ignores the incessant drip-drip-drip that echoes through the enclosure, the only sound beyond it the occassional cough of another survivor.

Me: A blue eye opened from behind a barrage of brown bangs. That eye pierced the cieling from the head that laid on the pillow on the top bunk.

Two arms, rather muscular were behind the head as the eighteen year old lay on the bed, the other eye opened after a blink.

Military tags were on the neck of the young man, keeping the bare chest cool with their metal.


A tattered jean-covered leg shifted to the side of the bed, followed by the other, so the boy could peer down at the others from where he resided.

Hands grasped the edge of the bed, his long hair dangling over his shoulder from the rubberband that held it behind his neck. He really needed to get that cut.

Tsurai would have to say that he was the youngest one here. Everyone else was realy twenty or over and him.. He was just a little kid when all this happened.

But still, growing up underground wasn't so bad. He managed to have a pretty good character. He smiled as he yelled down at those already awake. "Hey down there! Who's up for some beer?" he laughed.

He was trying to make a joke. He knew there was no beer left.

Evil Disco: Isiah would look up in reproach, growling and turning the page.

Get my hopes up, why doncha.

He turns another page before sighing, shutting his book. He's read it too many damn times to go through it again. He pushes hair out of his eyes, digging through his jacket for his last carton of cigarettes.  

[[Q]]

"Of course," Tsurai answered, hopping down from the top bunk near Isiah, ripped pants nearly falling off him with the action.

The eighteen year old had no belt, and getting skinnier it was hard to keep his hips under his pants. Besides, he was a free man, and didn't have any underclothing on for his "prizes".

It seemed he didn't care when his pants seemed to sag, anyway. He wasn't gay, and assumed that no one was gay around here, so no one would look.

Regardless, Tsurai stood up after his landing and pulled up his pants before leaning over to look at Isiah's now closed book.

"How many times have you read that now, Isiah? 500? It's gotta be filled with porn or something to keep you reading it for so long."

He looked at Isiah's face through his own dirty bangs. Isiah didn't talk too much. With all those tattoos, he was kind of frightening, really.
In fact, Tsurai got the impression that Isiah and most everyone else thought he was an annoying kid who abused food.

But the eighteen year old hadn't eaten in a long time. His stomach growled at the thought- Tsurai was trying to give the others a chance to eat...  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah shrugged, tossing the worn paperback to Tsurai. "It's a romance novel. Not quite porn, but nearly." He dug through the multiple pockets in an old, faded pair of fatigues, finding the raggedy cigarette carton. He shook it, ten or so cancer-sticks rattling within. He had been hanging onto the thing for nearly half a year- by now all the cigarettes were stale and disgusting to the taste- but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he would 'suffer' through it.

The nicotine still felt good anyway. He pulled a lighter out of his deepest forepocket, putting the cigarette between his lips, bouncing as he spoke. "You don't mind if I light up, do you?" It was mostly just a formality- he wouldn't care if Tsurai said no, anyway.  

[[Q]]

Catching the book, he opened it up to a random page.

"Any good? And nah, why bother asking anyway... We're all gonna die at some point." he waved his right hand as if shooing away a fly, signalling that he didn't care.

In the meantime, Tsurai read a few lines of the book about how these two people loved eachother and would do anything for eachother.

A grimace came over his face and he sat down, oddly unable to tear his eyes away from the book.

"This..."

He still read on, "Is really corny..."

Finally he got to the part about 'revealing his sex to her' and tossed the book to the tattooed man. "How can you read this?"  

[Evil Disco]

He lit his cigarette, tilting his head to put it at the right angle against the lighter's flame. He took a quick, brief puff, letting the smoke sit in his lungs for a little before exhaling.

"Slowly and in small, short bits, that's how. It's better than contemplating my navel anyway."

He took the cigarette from his lips and toyed with it along his fingertips. "I guess it'd be more interesting if you kinda mad libbed every adjective or something." He shrugged before taking another brief puff.

He leaned his head back against the cold, cement bunker wall, sighing, smoke sailing upward. "I can't believe I'm gonna die in this dump."  

[[Q]]

"Contemplating your navel?" he said with a confused look.

Tsurai got up and pulled his ever sagging pants up.

"How long do you think we've been down here, anyway? One or three years? What?"

[[Would've been longer, but post got deleted and I'm lazy. You still need to accept me in your guild, disco.]]  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah sucked down all he could of his cigarette before flicking the butt at the disfunctional sink mounted on the opposite wall, exhaling smoke in a steady downward stream.

"Count the scratches on the wall and figure it out." He grunted a little at the primitive etchings. "No matter what the number.. too damn long, anyway."

His gut grumbled in agreement. Food was running low and clean water was quickly becoming a thing of the past- and the smell of a bunch of unbathed people, crammed together in a lead lined bunker, wasn't exactly pleasant either. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, slumping further down the wall.  

[[Q]]

Tsurai leaned back against the bunk bed.

"What happens if you drink the shower liquid?" he asked, cocking his head.

He was really pondering it, seeing as it was the next best thing.

"I heard you get really sick, but, I've never tried it..."  

[Evil Disco]

"Do you know what that s**t is? Badly refined piss and spit. I'm not sure any part of that makes for healthy drinking." He yawned, big canines shining, before shaking it off.

He ran his eyes down the hall at the huddled crowds of hungry people- the occassional moan or whimper from someone sleeping was the only real sound above quiet murmurs of subdued conversations. The confines of this place were beginning to drive him crazy, the people and the stench. It was all becoming too much..

"I give it another week," he spouted, randomly.  

[[Q]]

"Another week for what?" Tsurai asked, scratching his head.

"And if it's piss and s**t, why the hell are we cleaning ourselves with it?"  

[Evil Disco]

He groaned.

"It's recycled piss and s**t, a**. I'm saying another week until we run out of food." He rolled his shoulder a little. "It's gonna get ugly."

He shut his eyes for a moment. He didn't relish the thought of fighting the same people he had helped save, and had been saved by- it was a disgusting thought but an ever-nearing possibility. Even if it meant fighting and killing.. it was better to kill and live than to die and be eaten.  

[[Q]]

"And that makes it better?! Jesus. I'm never taking a shower again." he crossed his arms over his chest, looking away.

He didn't want to even go to the bathroom.

"Yeah, well, the food shortage isn't so bad. The guys are getting desperate for sex." he shuddered to think.

Two men were doing it in the shower the last time he had gone to the bathroom. They didn't even bother to lock the door.

Tsurai grimaced at the thought of even being remotely related to any sort of homosexual.

"Never taking a shower again," he repeated softly, thinking to himself.  

[Evil Disco]

He rolled his eyes. "Desperate is an understatement with some of these ********. If they need it so bad, they can ******** themselves to death outside in the radiation."

Isiah had long since learned to more or less curb any urges- besides, at this stage of the proceedings.. any sort of relationship was dangerous. He didn't want to have to end up defending somebody. Becoming attatched just meant another limb to saw off when times got rough, and he didn't want to lose any more blood from that particular vein.

He leaned his head back to spit in an upward curve toward the sink at the opposite wall, groaning. "Goin' stir crazy, on top of it."  

[[Q]]

"'stir crazy'?" he asked, looking back to the man, a bit confused.

Tsurai thought about Isiah's last comment... Outside in the radiation...

"We've been here so long, I wonder if it's begun to wore off... We could maybe search for our own food... Couldn't we...?" He thought to himself.  

[Evil Disco]

He snorted. "Y'know. Stir crazy? Staying in one place way too long? You kids. I swear all you learned in school was cheap oral sex." He placed his palm against the wall, pushing himself up from his sitting position onto his feet. He brushed his hands off on his pants, messily, yanking his jacket off arm by arm, his faded, thinning undershirt doing little to hide deep black tattoos. He slung the coat over his shoulder, craning his neck sideways to look down the hall, groaning. "Pissants."