The World After [Training - Invite]

In a world claimed by the flames of the Phoenix, nothing but tragedy remained. The hosts were given great powers, and as a result the planet was destroyed in the process. More than seventy percent of mankind had been destroyed, and the remaining few fought to survive everyday of the week. The planet was covered mostly in dirt and rubble, and the sky was covered in dust clouds the majority of the day. The world was always hot, as the cosmic flames burned into the soil and kept the heat trapped within the once blue planet. This Earth, was a byproduct of Armageddon. SHIELD was destroyed. Earth's heroes were taken out one by one from the mad Phoenix, and turned to nothing but ashes. Some survived, but hid. Hid fearing the Phoenix would return to finish the job it started what seemed like years ago. The scavengers of Earth would being to gather together, setting up settlements in old bountiful areas that were now laid to waste. This story took place in Las Vegas. The once colorful land was now nothing but a desert with broken signs and broken promises. There had been various turf wars between survivors of the Phoenix's reign, attempting to take control of the rotten city. No matter what state humanity was in, it would always look to hold itself back, simply because one side wanted more power over the other. A woman, wearing what appeared to be a dust covered white hood, would be digging through various boxes and bins located in a small walkway on the street. Their clothes were torn and destroyed, only resembling rags of what it possibly was before. "Nothing..Nothing..Nothing..haha..Nothing.." The female kicked over the last trash bin with a powerful kick, leaving a dent in the material. Within that, it was nothing aswell. Looking up towards the dirt filled skies, she'd remove her hid and reveal a partially painted face. White, like some sort of entertainer. The expression on her face wasn't that of a maniacal smile she was known for in the past. Instead, it was one of slight irritation. How did the world get so bad to begin with? Before, when she was known as the Jesteria, she had a yearning to watch the world burn. She wanted to hold the flame to the candle..But when the Phoenix Force arrived, and wiped out existence in one fatal swoop..Things changed. Taken from her was the majority of her goons, and her purpose. When the world went to hell, literally under another's whim, it took the joy of attempting it to do it yourself. Now Jesteria was an empty shell of her former self. The excommunicated Assassins was wandering the streets, avoiding any signs of life that she could. All status someone had in their previous life was no more. In this new world, you were just another face amongst the dying crowd. Another person to be taken advantage of.

As she left the walk way, the woman would hear the sound of a running engine. Ducking into an alley, and raising her hood, she'd hide in the dirt as a truck drove by. It was an old pick up truck with some sort of symbol on the doorway. On the back of the pickup were three men wearing masks and holding low grade firearms on their possession. They were the local militia. In the beginning they said they wished to protect the people of this new Vegas from outsiders. But as the months went by, they slowly became more and more corrupt. Now they ran the place, and made sure they were the only ones with any sort of power. As the truck drove by, the woman's eyes would narrow. If this was the past Larah. The past Larah that was a member of the Order. She would restore this balance. Even her Jesteria personality would do the same. When she was insane, she usually referred to herself as the modern day robin hood. Stealing from the bitch and giving to the whore. Either way, she'd make sure the truck was gone around the corner before dashing across the partially destroy street. Cutting into an alley way, she'd make an all out dash without any sign of stopping. At the end of this alley way was a brick wall, and a window opened on the top floor positioned to the left. Using her acrobatic prowess, Larah would launched up onto the wall and did a three step run. Kicking off, she'd jump for the window sill and grasp it with her right hand. Holding on for dear life, she'd pull herself into the open window and roll into the dark room. This building was known as a safe house to many who wanted to stay elusive on the streets of Vegas. Walking over to an old generator, Jesteria would kick it into activity, lighting up the room. She'd walk to the front door and open it to see if anyone else was in the building. Things were eerily quiet, just like usual. Walking into the kitchen of the safe house, she'd open the fridge and grab a warm water. There were only four bottles left, and supplies was getting lower and lower throughout the days. Something had to give sooner or later, or the members of this little safe house wouldn't last that much longer.

Taking a seat on the old dirty chair that sat in the center of the room, she leaned forward to turn on the TV. There was only static now. Leaning back into the dirty chair, the hooded female would raise a bottle to her lips and take a quick swig. "Oh, my favorite show is on. Static with a side of snow fuzz." In Larah's last life, she would have probably laughed at such a joke, but the time for jokes and laughs were over. Outside her very window, sounds of screams and gunfire could be heard. This was a normal thing now. The militia terrorized anyone they came across, and even created a curfew for all people living in Vegas. They gave them a choice to leave anytime, but this choice was hollow. In reality, if they wanted to leave, they'd be brought out the tranches of the city and killed in cold blood. Now don't get her wrong, Larah had all the training in the world, and could easily escape from this prison. But if she were to leave, where would she go? Travel the barren wastelands and die in the humidity? Larah was once insane, but in a crazy world she appeared to be one of the sanest. She had no wish to die like a dog in the middle of a wasteland. Lifting the bottle back up to her lips, she'd take another quick swig of the fluids. The woman's ear would twitch, as the sound of footsteps came down the hall. She removed her gun from its holster and pointed it towards the doorway and simply waited. After several seconds, someone finally arrived. A little girl, wrapped in cloth. She had a chubby face, with long dirty blonde hair that fell down her forehead and back. The Jester kept her gun pointed towards the child for a few more seconds before lowering it slowly. "You shouldn't come here unannounced. One day I may actually fire on you."

Oh, how the world fell to ruin so quickly, and it seemed that the once arrogant and self-righteous Nol was in a state of hiding. The world went to shit, and not very many people could embrace this new style of living. The trash cans that weren't currently on fire were getting looted, as if anyone in this post Armageddon planet would throw anything away unless it was completely un usable. Nol would have thrown away his previous clothing, even his gloves, as bright red was a color that would get you shot at, and while he could easily handle the bullets, he wouldn't want to jeopardize his stay in the city, not when he had a safe house now. The signs and such that were somehow still working were constantly being looted, even though the militia were cracking down hard on people. Nol was in the streets, simply looking around, breaking into buildings that were boarded up months ago, simply to see if he could salvage anything others couldn't. He was a lot stronger than normal people, but his powers were being used at an all time low frequency, simply because attracting attention wasn't something he wanted to do. As he traversed the streets, he noticed a boarded up clothing store, and decided to look around. There was no way in, and no one around currently, so be broke a board and jumped in. The hole was small enough for him to get in and out of, but not large enough for others unless they were skills in the use of their own bodies. Nol quickly started looking around the old clothing store, as he wanted some sort of hooded sweat shirt, something that would prevent those seeing his face or body scars, and remembering who he was. The current shirt he had was falling apart anyways from his constant moving around, hopping over fences and such, the shirt would get caught on things and tear. Months of doing this caused the shirt to basically be rendered to a simple rag one wouldn't even remove oil stains with in the world before this. Most of the clothing he could see around the store were heavily burnt because of the fires, or simply torn apart or gone. He finally found something worth looking at, and it was an old tan colored duster. A long overcoat that was worn with some sort of hat. He didn't have a hat, so he had to fashion a hood out of some cloth, and just sew it together. He had a few needles he used to paralyze people for extended periods of time while he looted their stores, but they could be used for sewing as well, he supposed. Once he was done, he held it away from him looking at it. "Well, it's not the prettiest thing, but it will have to do." Nol would discard his raggedy old shirt, and toss on the new one. He instantly felt the heat of it, but as long as he was moving and didn't have a shirt under it, it seemed to be fine. As he was leaving the store, he heard the sound of a truck, and quickly hid, using the hood he made as a sort of blind. The militia was parading around again, touting their guns and enforcing some sort of curfew. How the hell were they supposed to know what time it was when there were no working clocks, and the watches needed batteries, a rare commodity at that time. Nol happened to have one double a battery, which was worth it's weight in gold.

They passed, and Nol swiftly dove out of the hole, and then started heading towards his safe house. It was rather late, according to the militia, who basically controlled time around the city, if they thought it was curfew, even if you knew the time and it wasn't, you were shot anyways. Nol would enter the building through a window on ground level, and make his way up the blockaded stairs. There were a few militia around the back way, meaning that he couldn't scale the walls and enter through the open window he saw. Besides, he wasn't very acrobatic, so he couldn't scale it very fast. He made sure to be very quiet when walking up the stairs, and looked around when he was scaling to the actual living areas. There wasn't much living to be had those days, but Nol didn't mind trying to find something to do, he was trying to carve stones he collected into a chess set, and he was fairly close in doing so. As he was walking through the hall, he heard a voice saying one of the days they would fire on another person. Well, there was a girl, and she was armed apparently, so Nol would make sure to walk normally so that she could hear him. He didn't want to have to deal with a firearm when he was just going to sit down and relax, so he slowly crept into few with his hands up. "Yo, I'm not armed and frequent here too." Nol was hoping she wouldn't shoot, but he was ready if she did.

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The little girl looked up towards the male, and Larah's eyes would quickly dart towards him aswell. Narrowing her eyes, she'd stand from her couch and holster her gun on her hip. The little girl would walk into the room like she belonged, while the Ex-Clown Queen of Crime would open the fridge and remove two more bottles of water. This would leave her with one left. Tossing one towards the male, she'd hand the other towards the apple faced little girl. The girl would take the bottle in both hands and move to sit on the dirty couch that lined the wall. Jesteria, on the other hand, would raise a brow towards the male. "I haven't seen you around these parts before. But I can't really say I've seen alot of people. This little girl is the only one who pays me a visit. I'm sure everyone else thinks I'd kill them before they got the chance to say a word..Which would probably be true if I was like my old self." Larah walked to the window of her room, and looked through the cracks to see the dirt filled streets. Bodies were being packed into the back of one of the militia trucks, most likely to be dumped on the outside of the city. They were throwing them away like trash. Larah narrowed her eyes to the scene, as she walked away from the window and went back to her chair. To think she was once an Assassin killing people for sport. To think she had destroyed a city on a whim, just because she felt like it. When the world actually spiraled into hell it gave her a massive wake up call. This dream of watching the world burn. She witnessed it first hand, and it wasn't as extravagant as she presumed it would be. Infact, it was the complete opposite of what she wished for. Everything she had worked to obtain was gone in a blink of an eye, and the world was put into a state of arrested development. Would things always be this way? Why didn't the Phoenix Force simply finish them all off? Was it even logical to question such a tremendous force in the first place?

Crossing her arms and leaning against the far wall, Larah would give the man a look of indifference. "We're running low on supplies and only the Militia strongholds hold more. I don't plan on dying like a dog in here, so I'm raiding their strongholds tonight. We need much more supplies if we're going to last through the week.." The Ex-Assassin would tilt her head to the side, shifting her gaze to look back out the window and towards the streets. "I can only imagine how much security they'd have around their buildings, but knowing them, they are probably too cocky to even do their jobs correctly."

Total Words: 1706

Nol sighed in relief, as the woman that was wearing a hood holstered her firearm, and he was allowed in the room. He walked in slightly, and then found an old box and sat on it. He let out a large sigh, as if he was a bit tired. In reality, he was tired of everything, especially having to tone down his usual perky and loud mouthed self. Most people had guns, and were simply pointing them around corners it seemed, waiting for anyone to come around it and shoot them. Looting corpses was usually what happened, especially when the militia was involved. There wasn't even such a thing as a proper burial anymore. Nol was fairly annoyed that he couldn't just do what he wanted anymore. Nol was a bit happier that this girl tossed him a water bottle, although it was a bit dusty and warm, he wondered why the fridge was even there anymore, since it couldn't keep things cold. Nol sighed, knowing it was sort of dumb and useless to complain about these trivial things, and he simply opened it and took a few sips, before closing the lid again. The liquid was much better in his mouth that the dust and grime of the outside air. As he leaned back, his back touched the wall, as he pulled down his hood, revealing his snowy white hair, and the bandages that were on his face. As he was leaning back, he glanced over at the woman, who continued speaking, as it seemed that the safe house was running low on the various supplies that were needed to run your every day life, such as food and water. Nol had glanced into the fridge when the woman previously grabbed him a bottle, and he could see that there was only one more bottle, and there wasn't much else in there. They needed cans of food the most, because perishable foods weren't very good with a fridge that couldn't even keep a stable temperature. Then again, it was extremely difficult to find a stable source of power.

The woman described that she was planning on raiding a militia camp, and Nol knew of a few of them. He wasn't sure which of them were the least fortified, bit she was indeed correct in saying that they would probably make mistakes, because they had grown fat and complacent with their new lives as so called leaders. Nol would also suggest something as well as returning and responding to her. "You're right. I'll help in any way I can of course. I'm also wondering if we can steal one of the militia's gas run generators. A source of power would be a godsend, and give us a greater chance of surviving, especially when preserving whatever food we manage to get." Nol was of course referring to hooking it up to the refrigerator, so that it would be nice and cold, as the free on in the machine was probably good for another few years, as it was made to last. Nol would get out the piece of flint that he had in his pocket, and then get out his combat knife. The flint, if struck quickly against the dull edge of the knife, would create a large bundle of sparks, creating flame. However, if grazed against the sharp edge of the knife, it was a very great sharpening tool. He would begin stroking the knife with the flint, slowly enough to not cause a loud scraping noise, but the knife's edge would get slowly sharper. "So, what's the plan? Do you have a specific base to hit? Or are we going to do some recon first?" Nol was itching to do something, and knocking in a few militia heads was just what he had in mind. He was thinking that the militia base closest to them would be good, but it would probably complicate things if the other militia members figured it out. They would probably fortify the area around the base that was hit, so the farthest base from them would probably be the best, getting rid of all of the other factors such as security. He wished that the woman would simply pull out a city map, with the bases all circled nice and neat, because Nol never had formal military training.

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Raising a brow, the young woman would lean forward in thought. "Stealing a generator? If we do that, we're going to need a way to bring it back here. I'm not exactly super strong here, and I'm not sure, but it doesn't look like you could drag it back without trouble either." It was true, however, that they could use the power. It would be extremely difficult to get both food and a generator at once, and when they did hit one location it was most likely that they'd up the security on the others. A plan, or one could say heist, such as this would need to be well thought out. In her past life, Jesteria was one for explosives and brute force. Her alter ego, Larah Sa'l Ghar, was focused on subtle movements and stealth. So the real question was which personality was best suited for the job? Taking another swig of her water bottle, she'd looked towards a piece of shattered glass on the floor of the room. Though others would see a basic reflection, Jesteria saw another side of herself in the frame. Her more "sane" side, one could say. Reaching down to take the shard of glass in hand, the Jester would stare at her other side. Standing up from the seat, she'd begin to start walking while staring into the glass. "What should we do? There are multiple ways to go about this." The Jesteria side spoke to the glass reflection, picturing Larah. "You already know I'm a rather big fan of explosives and laughs! I mean, what's a better way to die, than with a smile?! HAHAHA!" The woman would let out a maniacal laugh that would probably be seen as crazy to the others watching. The reflection in the glass, however, would not return the laugh. This psyche of Larah was strong willed and stern. "Depends on how you plan to do it. Killing members of their guard without reason will draw attention. A more stealthy approach is much more desired in such situations as this. The main problem is the transportation of foods, if you plan on grabbing enough rations to last for awhile. The only ones with reliable transportation these days are the militia, so before this, perhaps you should hijack one of their trucks." Jesteria titled her head, looking towards the glass, while making a sort of pouting facial expression. "Aww, no killing? That sounds so boring..If it wasn't so sad, it'd be funny.." There was a long silent pause before the woman would shrug. "Oh what the hell, I'll laugh anyway! HAHAHAHAH!" The woman's reflection still did not return the laughter, at the reflection of Larah simply stared at her clown side counterpart. "There's a chance you'll die tonight if something goes wrong." The clown side continued to laugh throughout this. "Tonight is as good as any!"

The Jester would swing an arm, sending the shard of glass into the side of a wall before looking towards the male. "I hope you have some combat experience, because of this go south we'll need to fight our way out of there." Walking beside the television, the Jester would begin to dig through what appeared to be a grime covered silk bag. Removing various weapons from the bag, the young woman would look like she was preparing for war. Humming a song to herself, she'd remove one last weapon, strapping it to her back, before re-zipping the bag back to its proper position. "It'll be smart if we wait for it to get dark out. With the lights out, we'll have to use the stars and the moon to get by. I'm sure that'll be enough..And if it's not, I've always been a major fan of improvising. Heheh.." Spinning her firearm on one finger, she'd kiss the barrel before holstering it back upon her hip. "We'll do some recon first. Preferably we'll find a base with some means of transportation for the generator. But, to be honest, how long are we going to last stealing from them? Our actions are going to do nothing but cause the militia to get more violent with the people here. We should take out the leader some time down the line..But one step at a time, I suppose. But to imagine a hostile take over of their whole organization..Hahah.." Patting herself down, she'd move towards the window she had entered. Grabbing the sill, she'd lift the window and pull herself through the opening. Launching herself over to the other wall, she'd slide down, before hopping back to the opposite wall to slow descension. Once hitting the ground, she'd go into a roll to block off any impact damage that could have injured her. Moving towards the end of the alley, she'd press her back to the wall. Making sure no militia trucks were on the streets, she'd head straight towards an open manhole on the street. Sliding on her backside, she'd move within the small openly swiftly, before the next patrol truck would turn the corner. Landing in the grimed filled sewer, the woman would remove her gun from its holster and point it forward. Using the strobe light attachment at the end, she'd use it to illuminate the darkness as she traveled deeper into the soul of the once great city. Alot of people had taken to hiding underground, but most were demented freaks and thieves that had no place above ground anymore. Alot of mutants also took the liberty hiding underground, as alot of humanity blamed them for the destruction of their civilization. They were anything but peaceful these days, as they believed the sewers were their property and attacked on sight. So Jesteria even being down there was a big risk, as even she knew tackling a number of mutants wouldn't be a part of the agenda. Hell, it was more like a death wish these days with what she had seen. Mutant kind was growing more violent than in the past, and their powers varied. Now she was no professor, and she doubted any reliable professors still lived, but she did know little rumor of the gene most mutants held with one another. The gene that gave them their powers, to be more specific. That small bit of information wasn't that helpful, however, but it was something to go off on. So as she slid her feet down the moist walkways, she would stay alert and keep her back to the wall.

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As the ex Assassin made her way through the sewers, the feint sound of footsteps and clampering could be heard from all around. Oh how she wished it was simply rats, but she was no fool. She knew what she was getting herself into the moment she slid into the manhole. These mutants were no joke. Picking up her pace, she'd keep her gun drawn and ready for an encounter. Little did she know she was about to deal with one right about now. As she went to turn the corner, she could hear the waters shift beside her. On instinct, she popped back, and a large crocodile like mutant would burst from the water, slamming into the wall where she currently stood. It was rather large, standing probably at the height of seven feet. She didn't waste time analyzing its entire body, seeing how it was charging towards her with long strides. She turned on her heels, taking off in a sprint, as the mutant chased after her. Lucky for her, it was much slower on land than it would have been in the water. Her all out sprint easily let her pull away. When she turned the opposite corner and turn her flashlight forward, there infront of her would be a number of mutants. Skidding to a stop, the woman's eyes would widen at the sheer amount of mutants who actually had taken residence in this underground system. "You're not mutant..You're on our property now, human." The mutant spoke with a rash tone as she began to back up, but bumped into the massive crocodile man standing behind her. Lowering her weapon, the clown would begin to formulate a lie off the top of her head. "Wait Wait, I'm no human. Look at me! I'm a mutant too! When I grew up they said I had some kind of clown X gene that would make me this way for the rest of my life." Lying through her teeth, but she kept her usually wide grinned smile towards the group. The crocodile man would lift her up by her collar and give a mighty sniff. "You smell like a human." "Well of course I smell like a human! I smell like a human to blend in with the other humans on the surface, as I plot our take over in the night! If I was a human, could I do this?" She pointed an arm towards the opposite wall and discreetly fired a string of webs. The mutants simply watched in silence, until one spoke. "What does that have to do being a mutated clown person?" "It has nothing to do with it, that's why it makes so much sense!" The mutants mumbled amongst themselves before the crocodile would finally drop her. "I'm sorry, sister. We figured you were one of them. Please, come with us. Let us show you the ways of the mutant kind." The group of mutants would part, as the crocodile man would lead the clown through the crowd, and she'd follow close behind him.

510 words - Aiming Dodge