50 years after the fall of the heroes, will there be anyone to answer the call? Are these them?
Keith – Young teenage white male, approximately 5’10” and 165 pounds. Longish blonde hair and hazel eyes. Has a scar on his left forearm.
Place of Birth – New Carpathia (formerly Chicago)
Vignette: You know some people would think that growing up in the lap of luxury as the son of one of the bad ass rulers of post apocalypse America might be a teenage boy’s fantasy. Money, cars, girls, music, drugs, booze, you name it and it is yours for the asking. No one fuc** with you. Not if they value their life. You are the heir apparent. The prodigal son who never left with the feast laid out before you and all you have to do is take a bite of that bright shiny apple.
Just like Eve did according to the old book.
But since the eve of mankind, sons have never wanted to walk the same paths as their fathers and while many times that is just youthful rebellion, in some cases it is the salvation of a soul. Keith didn’t want to be like his dad. A vain, strutting and cruel man full of his own importance and one who kept his people under his thumb with an iron fist. While Keith enjoys the perks of the life, he is coming to understand that it is paid for with the blood, sweat and sacrifice of the very people that are under his father’s rule. He is part of the ruling family and thus is hated because of the blood that runs through his veins. The veiled glances, the mutters, the girls that he thought wanted him for himself and not to find favor with his father’s son. Daughters whored out to curry favors. Money to burn while children starve and die from the lack of simple medicines.
Is this the way that life is supposed to be? Can’t there be a better way? Why did the people have to be driven into the ground so hard, stripped of wealth, of comfort, of dignity. Of hope?
Or maybe there is still some shred of hope left in the world. Perhaps a tattered fragment of it can be found in the heart of a boy. A son with questions that have no good answers.
Wren
Wren was seventeen near as they could tell. Seventeen going on thirty-four. The wasteland has always been her home. She doesn’t remember ever living anyplace else. Of course, the wasteland’s pretty big, and they were always on the move, surviving as best they could. Someone once told her “the wasteland either kills you or makes you stronger”. Well, she wasn’t dead yet.
DOSSIER: TEST SUBJECT ZERO FOUR-TEN
Results of latest tests unsatisfactory.
Subject exhibits undesirable traits which may outweigh potential benefits.
Suggest rendering into a stock resource, neutralisation or termination.
Prepare test subject zero four-eleven.
Tosh
sixteen years old, 5’9″, resident of New Babylon.
Dusk had fallen. The façade of the Black Rain was still sleeping, its neon signs resting dark, but that would soon change. The night always started out clean and quiet and then slowly descended, along with its patrons, into a haze of smoke, alcohol, sweat, and other substances.
Tonight Tosh had decided to remain a boy, though he often got better tips when he was a girl. He did not mind it when the patrons flirted with him and propositioned him. He appeared the way he did to elicit such attention, after all. It meant better tips for him, and then he could whisper in the ears of the girls and boys who did more than sing and send them to the patrons who would pay them for their attentions. It was a good deal all-around. But he was not on that menu; even if the advances of some intrigued him (and how could they not? He was sixteen, after all), his mother had made that policy perfectly clear – her son was only to be admired.
Patrons began to descend the stairs soon after the Black Rain’s red neon lights switched on and the doors were unlocked, ready for the first show and the decadence and escape that it promised. Tosh poured drinks for two of his regulars, a couple that preferred to flirt with him at the bar than sit at one of the tables. Both of them put their hands on his when he slid their drinks to him, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“You must let us rescue you from this place,” the woman said, her green eyes twinkling even in the dim lighting. Her husband smiled and stroked Tosh’s fingers as they slipped away. “We’ve a lovely house. Come see it.”
“How many times will you ask, and how many times must I say no?” Tosh replied with a smile and a wink. “I have all I want here.”
“But here you have to work,” the woman protested mildly, as if the very thought was an affront. “With us you would be pampered, cossetted.”
“Like a little lap dog?” Tosh grinned at her. “Will you dress me in outfits that match yours and take me for walks?”
“Tempting,” the man said, eliciting another laugh from Tosh. “You do look good in a collar.”
He shook his head and started pouring another drink. “I am in no need of rescue, no matter how often you ask,” he replied gently. “But…”
He looked around conspiratorially and then leaned close to them. “Watch the dancer, second from the left, when the show starts. I’m rather sure you’ll find him interesting, and he just might want to be your lap-dog for a while.”
Tosh leaned back before the woman could kiss him, gave them both a conspiratorial wink, and then moved on to the next customer. Even as he moved those two feet away the lights went down, the music went up, and the curtains rose to expose a dazzling array of dancers in their Dark Cabaret finest….
Kelsey
16 years old, dirty blonde hair, strong nose and dark eyes. She isn’t showy or loud in appearance or in manner. Quietly strong, determined, stubbornly optimistic.
“A million and one chance is still a chance”
Her parents had gotten caught in a war between rival factions. They had chosen the wrong side. And so, when the town they lived in was burnt down, Kelsey fled with her brother Jay into the wilderness. By pure chance, she found an abandoned farming village, and somehow the two survived the winter. Then one child joined them. Then another, and another, until there were more than fifty orphans, runaways and homeless living in the nameless village with them.
Kelsey is the impromptu, unofficial mayor. She is the strong one, the determined one, and the one who gives the others something to hope for.
Is anybody out there? 