entranceway | #Mission 007 [Video] [Action] Apocalypse Anonymous

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#Mission 007 [Video] [Action] Apocalypse Anonymous

[Well, that was horrible. He'd managed to avoid the worst of it, but it still left him on edge and, well, opening old wounds doesn't usually end well. But it's over now, he can think clearly without rage blinding him. That's good right?

He needs a pick up. Needs people who kind of get what he does, and they've been meaning to do it for a while so...]

Hey so... first I'm sorry. For stuff I said or did or anything while everyone was going crazy. I am not normally an angry person but... but yeah.

Anyway.

I know there's people here who've lived through things. Like, apocalypse things. The end of the world. Occasionally with the massing hordes of the undead being a major feature. And I thought... some of us wherever we'd go back to, it sucks. A lot. Worse than here. So....

I'm gonna be in the bar and we can have a sort of... meeting. Apocalypse Anonymous? No, that's terrible.

Apocalypse Survivor's Drinking and Commiseration Club?

Uh... the name needs some work.

But if you're interested, let me know, or I'll just be in the bar getting slowly drunk this afternoon and it's more fun with other people.

[OOC: Feel free to mingle, apocalypsers.]

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Maxine doesn't immediately reply. Rather, she immediately puts up a notice on the door of the clinic and goes right to the bar, where Sam can find her when he arrives. Her left hand is tending a beer - the right picking over a list in progress of possible club name ideas.

"Hey, Sam," she greets when he comes in, lifting her eyes and giving a quirk of a half-smile. "Say, how important is it to be able to say the name of this club when you're completely plastered? A lot of the best words for this kind of event are really a mouthful."

He pauses when he sees her there, and then grins and heads right over. "Should have known I'd find you here as soon as the message went up." He hops onto the stood next to her and peers over her shoulder. "Uh... I don't know. Hadn't really thought about it. As long as people know what they're getting into."

"We could always name it like we're in New Canton." Her grin turns sardonic as she taps her pencil on the page. "Bimonthly Post-Cataclysm Microcrisis Review and Action Committee?"

That makes him snicker. "Well, it sounds good, but just remember, the name will have to pass a majority vote at the monthly 'Committee for the Discussions and Approval of Nomenclature of Proposed Citizen Groups and Gatherings."

"Oh- no, do you think we can have the name ready for submission by the next session?" She pulls an appropriately worried face, though the corner of her mouth is still struggling disobediently. "You know we need to get all the documentation from the registrars, and they haven't gotten back to me yet with the Groups and Gatherings Planning Approval Forms."

Sam couldn't help it. He burst out into helpless giggles. "Stop! That's uncanny. Oh my god... the upside of living in a military dictatorship. Never thought that's a thing I'd be saying but... thank god for Janine, y'know?"

She grinned, gratified by the response. "It is a lot easier to appeal to the 'how hard does Janine scowl at the idea' committee, I'll give it that."

"God, definitely. At least she'll give you an actual opinion rather than saying they'll take a vote on it three weeks from Tuesday."

"If there's one thing Janine's not lacking for, it's opinions." Maxine shook her head, flipping the notepad closed to look at him consideringly for a few moments, a different sort of pleased smile flitting about her features.

"Yeah. She knows her mind." His expression softens. "Wouldn't have her any other way," he added. Knowing your own mind was something which hadn't been guaranteed at home lately, had it?

He catches Maxine's look and shifts uncomfortably. "What?"

"It's just nice to see you like this. Pulling together this little . . . club. Support group?" She reaches for her beer, taking a sip. "Sam Yao, voice of the community."

Sam smiles at her, turning his own glass around in his hands. "It's nice to be doing that sort of thing when people aren't maybe going to die."

"More of a hobby, less of a life or death calling? Yeah." She huffs a bemused noise. "I don't think I've ever done this much teaching before."

"Yeah. Forgot how to do stuff that's not life or death I think." He leans back, looking thoughtful. "How's it going? Teaching, I mean."

Not so sure about the talking part, but I don't mind joinin' in on the drinking part.

[Drinking was always better with company, he thinks as he drops into a seat beside Sam shortly following the message. He had been nearby anyway, and though he didn't have anything else to compare it to he supposed he could call where he lived 'apocalyptic'.

Feral ghouls sort of counted as 'undead'.]

Apocalypse survivors, huh. Guess I fall into that category.

[Sam smiles at the newcomer, and holds out a hand towards him in greeting.]

Well, it's the drinking that's the important bit, right?

Sorry to hear it. But you're in good company.

Yeah, don't be sorry about it. I'm not. Happened a long time ago.

[He frowns across to the other side of the bar, shaking his head.]

No one left to blame for it, if they ever knew whose fault it was.

Longer than mine then. Ours started... oooh, a couple of years ago.

[Sam shrugs.]

That's hard. At least we know who was to blame.

Could say 'government', that's probably 'bout right, but... [He shrugs.]

It's just life now. Harder for you, yeah? You know different.

Government is usually a good bet. Otherwise evil scientists.

I guess. It's hard when you know things used to be different and all you can see are the ruins.

[Evil scientists.

He has to snort slightly. That just tickles him in a way that would require a very long story to properly explain.]

Yeah. [Pausing, he sips his drink.] Never known anything but ruins, m'self. What happened to your place?

Uh... zombies. Well, a disease that turns people into zombies. Spread too quickly for it to be contained.

You?

Worldwide nuclear war. [He shrugs.] Over two hundred years ago. Left a hell of a mess.

Wow. Yeah, that's got to suck.

Still a mess, I take it?

You got it. No way for shit to go back to the way it was after that.

Humans survive. In some fucked up ways, sometimes, but the race survives.

Humans are particularly tenacious in that regard, even if some of them are complete arseholes.

[Snort.]

Damn right they are. Sometimes that's the only way you survive.

Maybe. Mainly I've survived because I'm part of a good community. Good people.

And none of 'em tried to shoot you even once? Lucky you. I get by well as I do 'cause of people like you.

[He takes a small sip of his drink.]

Or, I did, I guess.

Why would they try to shoot me? Janine'd have them court martialled and kicked out of the settlement.

Well, you do get to enjoy the wonders of hot showers and mostly unlimited food.

Sounds like you got it easy in comparison. Give it two hundred years. [A small shake of his head.]

Never really seen hot water comin' out of a faucet before. Maybe one time.

In two-hundred years, we'll have cities again, probably. Already got the Ministry of Recovery settling everything down. Rebuilding.

Well, it's worth trying. It's nice.

It's comfortable. Comfortable don't sit right with me. Can't complain about not feelin' like I'm carrying half the Mojave around in my clothes, though.

Nah, you have to take your comforts where you can. You seize it with both hands when you get the chance.

And folks where I'm from use that kind of thinkin' to lay traps. [He flashes an uneasy smile.] But I see your point.

That's because some people are arseholes. A few people. But where I'm from, the best way to survive is by being part of a community.

Reckon that's where we'll have to agree t' disagree. Seen it work sometimes, some places, but most times it's an accident waiting to happen.

[A small shrug.] Humanity really went to shit over two hundred years.

[That is really really depressing.]

Apparently. Settlements are working pretty well for us. All over the country. Communication and trade and... yeah. Two hundred years might change a lot of stuff.

You still got communications. Must be helpful. Sometimes I'll find an old radio that still works, but most folks just use a courier service to get messages around. Dangerous line of work.

Radio's what we mostly use. Modified headsets and stuff. But we still use couriers. Runners. They do a lot of stuff. Luring zombies away, carrying messages, picking up supplies.

Using rocket launchers to blow up evil scientists.

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#Mission 007 [Video] [Action] Apocalypse Anonymous

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