Dark Ninja
08-16-2011, 07:16 PM
Before you start, this is unfinished and I'm kind of working on it as a side-project. It's just an idea that formed in my head and I had to follow it up. So let me know what you think and all criticism is welcomed!
Two-hundred years after the fires of the ancients, the battered earth still lives, though nothing like the former image of Eden. The new World is a broken, scarred and twisted realm. Ruins litter the horizon, where once great cities stood, now the skeletal remains of blackend steel and concrete stand as a testement to a different age, a reminder of the past. The people of this Earth know nothing of the old times, long forgotten is the knowledge of before. Only those few who seek answers truely learn what happened. From this world a different breed of people has come about, dedicated to one objective. The people of this Earth, this twisted Earth, are survivors one and all.
Under the blazing heat of the midday Sun, a small group made their way along a mountain path. The old goat trial was littered with rocks and dirt. To either side long, steep cliff-faces rose out of the ground, funneling the group along. They walked with a steady pace, rifles held in hand and Eye’s constantly alert, watching all around them. The man at the front looked young, his crisp Blue eye’s were nearly covered by a dirty blonde mop of hair. His face retained the look of youth, barely older than eight-teen. His lean body was covered in a tattered suit of leather armour and dirty worn jeans, resting on an old pair of hiking boots. His rifle was held at the waist, an old battered looking M1 Carbine, rust was creeping along the butt. One of the men from behind approached him, this man looked much older, in his late twenties. A light dusting of stubble etched across his jaw. He crouched next to the young man. “You see anythin’ kid? It’s gettin’ close to dark, we don’t wana be here after then.” The older man said with a whisper. “I ain’t seen nothing all the way up, sir. It’s quiet, like there’s nothing livin’ ‘ere. Y’know? It just feels ****in’ wrong, sir.” The kid responded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
The older man nodded. “Alright kid, let’s get moving. I can see the entrance from here.”
The group stalked towards the open door. A huge miltary grade vault door was built into the cliff. The Heavy metal door stood slightly ajar. Inside, the darkness was total. The men stared into it. A sudden change in the air sent shivers down their spines. The men at the back began to look about, as if expecting to be jumped at any moment. The older man from before stepped to the front, shinning a tourch into the darkness of the vault. “We didn’t come all this way to **** off back like whimpering children.” He took a step forwards and entered the vault. He stood in a large square room as he shone the tourch around the entrance room, he could see desks and computers littered across the floor. Obviously other people had been rooting around in here over the decades.
The rest of the group slowly walked in. “Oh **** man, this doesn’t feel right fuuuck...Damon man, C’mon this is just ****in’ bad man.” One of the men whispered.
Damon, the older man turned and shone the tourch in the mans face. “Kurt Shut up you ****in’...if there is anything down here, it’s gunna hear your ****in’ whining before anything else” Damon hissed. The young man moved around the room, tourch held above shoulder, rifle held ready at the hip. “**** sir, this stuff hasen’t been touched in years. You seen the dust?” He whispered.
Damon nodded, scanning the tourch over the floor and desks. The air tasted stale, no noise piereced the door way, even the mens steps were silent. Damon waved his hand and slung his rifle from his back, cocking the old M4 with a ‘clack’. There was no echo. Placing his hand on a door, he felt the cold, lifeless steel peeling with rust. He pushed lightly as the door creaked open.
Damon stepped out into a long corridor, it veered off like a U. He frowned for a second, he thought he heard something. Listening intently for a few seconds, he shook his head. Can’t let ‘em see me getting spooked...He thought. “Tom, get up here kid. Take a look down tha’ corridor lemme know what you see eh?”
The young man, called Tom, came forwards. He looked scared, but hid his fear and creeped to the corner. He peered around it and saw nothing but more darkness. Taking his tourch, he shone it across the walls scanning the length of this passage. “Nothin’ sir, just more darkness, you think there’d be a power supply somewhere in here?”
Damon nodded. Looking back into the room, He hissed at Kurt to look for a switch. Sure enough after a few seconds of fumbling about in the darkness, a sudden ‘Psssh’ rang out from the roof, a bright white light shone for a moment, before dying again and then reviving in a dark red glow. “Emergency power, main generator must be fried, sir.” Kurt said looking at the ceiling, tipping his old cowboy hat back. Damon cursed, his face slowly starting to sweat from the humid air. “We’ll be fine, keep your tourchs on and get some flares just in case.” Damon whispered.
Secretly, he wished he was a hundred miles away from this place, but if the local folk were to be believed then this vault was filled with ancient technology. In the back of his head Damon wondered if it was still here for a reason.
Tom was still waiting at the corner, tourch pointed at the far wall. The corridor held two doors, one slightly open, half-rasied towards the cieliling. For a second, Tom thought he heard his mothers voice. He shook his head, he could still hear it. Loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to not be understandable. Tom got to his feet and shone the torch at the partly open door. He squinted, trying to make out anything on the otherside, but the darkness was complete. As he stood up, he lent closer, starting to slowly walk towards the door.
“Tom! Wha’ you doing kid?” Yelled Damon. The sudden shout brought Tom to his senses, he took one look at the door and turned back to the group. “I thought...I thought I heard something? Sir, this place is ****in’ weird man, maybe we should just bug out?” Tom pleaded. “No kid, we’re finding whats in here, hell it could get us some new gear, food even! It’s just the dark playing tricks with your mind. Now C’mon.” Damon said, waving him to follow.
Tom followed, glancing over his shoulder once before he reached the door. The dim red glow cast strange shadows through the complex. Shuddering, he tightend the grip on his rifle.
Damon spoke to the group. “We ain’t goin’ in without someone left up here. Robert,Carlos, you two are gunna stay here right. Watch the door way and make sure our exits open. Just in case.” Carlos, a large man with a strong build and dark skin nodded and Robert, a small but well aged man grunted a ‘yes’. They both unlsung their rifles, old bolt action’s with worn woodwork and stood guard over the massive vault door. “The rest o’ you are coming down there with me, see what we can dig up from this place. We’ll crack glowsticks on every corner so we know where we’ve come from. Don’t wanna get lost in here.” He smiled, though there was a hint of seriousness to it.
Two-hundred years after the fires of the ancients, the battered earth still lives, though nothing like the former image of Eden. The new World is a broken, scarred and twisted realm. Ruins litter the horizon, where once great cities stood, now the skeletal remains of blackend steel and concrete stand as a testement to a different age, a reminder of the past. The people of this Earth know nothing of the old times, long forgotten is the knowledge of before. Only those few who seek answers truely learn what happened. From this world a different breed of people has come about, dedicated to one objective. The people of this Earth, this twisted Earth, are survivors one and all.
Under the blazing heat of the midday Sun, a small group made their way along a mountain path. The old goat trial was littered with rocks and dirt. To either side long, steep cliff-faces rose out of the ground, funneling the group along. They walked with a steady pace, rifles held in hand and Eye’s constantly alert, watching all around them. The man at the front looked young, his crisp Blue eye’s were nearly covered by a dirty blonde mop of hair. His face retained the look of youth, barely older than eight-teen. His lean body was covered in a tattered suit of leather armour and dirty worn jeans, resting on an old pair of hiking boots. His rifle was held at the waist, an old battered looking M1 Carbine, rust was creeping along the butt. One of the men from behind approached him, this man looked much older, in his late twenties. A light dusting of stubble etched across his jaw. He crouched next to the young man. “You see anythin’ kid? It’s gettin’ close to dark, we don’t wana be here after then.” The older man said with a whisper. “I ain’t seen nothing all the way up, sir. It’s quiet, like there’s nothing livin’ ‘ere. Y’know? It just feels ****in’ wrong, sir.” The kid responded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
The older man nodded. “Alright kid, let’s get moving. I can see the entrance from here.”
The group stalked towards the open door. A huge miltary grade vault door was built into the cliff. The Heavy metal door stood slightly ajar. Inside, the darkness was total. The men stared into it. A sudden change in the air sent shivers down their spines. The men at the back began to look about, as if expecting to be jumped at any moment. The older man from before stepped to the front, shinning a tourch into the darkness of the vault. “We didn’t come all this way to **** off back like whimpering children.” He took a step forwards and entered the vault. He stood in a large square room as he shone the tourch around the entrance room, he could see desks and computers littered across the floor. Obviously other people had been rooting around in here over the decades.
The rest of the group slowly walked in. “Oh **** man, this doesn’t feel right fuuuck...Damon man, C’mon this is just ****in’ bad man.” One of the men whispered.
Damon, the older man turned and shone the tourch in the mans face. “Kurt Shut up you ****in’...if there is anything down here, it’s gunna hear your ****in’ whining before anything else” Damon hissed. The young man moved around the room, tourch held above shoulder, rifle held ready at the hip. “**** sir, this stuff hasen’t been touched in years. You seen the dust?” He whispered.
Damon nodded, scanning the tourch over the floor and desks. The air tasted stale, no noise piereced the door way, even the mens steps were silent. Damon waved his hand and slung his rifle from his back, cocking the old M4 with a ‘clack’. There was no echo. Placing his hand on a door, he felt the cold, lifeless steel peeling with rust. He pushed lightly as the door creaked open.
Damon stepped out into a long corridor, it veered off like a U. He frowned for a second, he thought he heard something. Listening intently for a few seconds, he shook his head. Can’t let ‘em see me getting spooked...He thought. “Tom, get up here kid. Take a look down tha’ corridor lemme know what you see eh?”
The young man, called Tom, came forwards. He looked scared, but hid his fear and creeped to the corner. He peered around it and saw nothing but more darkness. Taking his tourch, he shone it across the walls scanning the length of this passage. “Nothin’ sir, just more darkness, you think there’d be a power supply somewhere in here?”
Damon nodded. Looking back into the room, He hissed at Kurt to look for a switch. Sure enough after a few seconds of fumbling about in the darkness, a sudden ‘Psssh’ rang out from the roof, a bright white light shone for a moment, before dying again and then reviving in a dark red glow. “Emergency power, main generator must be fried, sir.” Kurt said looking at the ceiling, tipping his old cowboy hat back. Damon cursed, his face slowly starting to sweat from the humid air. “We’ll be fine, keep your tourchs on and get some flares just in case.” Damon whispered.
Secretly, he wished he was a hundred miles away from this place, but if the local folk were to be believed then this vault was filled with ancient technology. In the back of his head Damon wondered if it was still here for a reason.
Tom was still waiting at the corner, tourch pointed at the far wall. The corridor held two doors, one slightly open, half-rasied towards the cieliling. For a second, Tom thought he heard his mothers voice. He shook his head, he could still hear it. Loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to not be understandable. Tom got to his feet and shone the torch at the partly open door. He squinted, trying to make out anything on the otherside, but the darkness was complete. As he stood up, he lent closer, starting to slowly walk towards the door.
“Tom! Wha’ you doing kid?” Yelled Damon. The sudden shout brought Tom to his senses, he took one look at the door and turned back to the group. “I thought...I thought I heard something? Sir, this place is ****in’ weird man, maybe we should just bug out?” Tom pleaded. “No kid, we’re finding whats in here, hell it could get us some new gear, food even! It’s just the dark playing tricks with your mind. Now C’mon.” Damon said, waving him to follow.
Tom followed, glancing over his shoulder once before he reached the door. The dim red glow cast strange shadows through the complex. Shuddering, he tightend the grip on his rifle.
Damon spoke to the group. “We ain’t goin’ in without someone left up here. Robert,Carlos, you two are gunna stay here right. Watch the door way and make sure our exits open. Just in case.” Carlos, a large man with a strong build and dark skin nodded and Robert, a small but well aged man grunted a ‘yes’. They both unlsung their rifles, old bolt action’s with worn woodwork and stood guard over the massive vault door. “The rest o’ you are coming down there with me, see what we can dig up from this place. We’ll crack glowsticks on every corner so we know where we’ve come from. Don’t wanna get lost in here.” He smiled, though there was a hint of seriousness to it.