Twenty Years Prior.
Things were normal. People went to work, or went through the day-to-day struggles. They lived without conflict, for the most part. The local police still handled the small-scaled crimes that happened. But other than that, it was peaceful. For sixty years, the country of New Alexandria thrived. But...
All good things must come to an end.
November 2nd, 2023.
Private Karzhov Sergey Dmitrievich, 1233 Hours.
Sergey groggily opened his eyes and sat up straight. He glanced around, and his vision focused partially. He was sitting in the security booth of the Olympia Military Base, where he was stationed. He had on a netted helmet that had a face mask built in, with a pair of goggles that served to help him see, as his vision was terrible. He had on a sage-colored uniform, with a Kevlar Vest, Shoulder-Pads, Knee-Pads, a pair of titanium vambraces, and Kevlar thigh-guards. The armor was heavy, but protective.
Sergey readied the firearm in his lap, an L85 Assault Rifle, modified to chamber 7.62x39mm rounds, instead of the normal 5.56mm rounds. He yawned and turned around to look at the Olympia Military Base.
The base itself, was walled off by fifteen-foot walls, electrified barbed wire fencing sitting at the top, along with Watchtowers, that were built into the corners of the walls, and were a good ten feet taller than them. From what Sergey knew, there apparently were snipers posted inside, but as far as he could see, there was nobody inside.
Inside, were several half-cylinder buildings made of corrugated metal, and three concrete buildings, all lined up with two concrete buildings at the end on either side of the line, with the corrugated metal barracks buildings taking up the rest of the space, with a large concrete building at the middle. That was their Command Center, and Communications Center. There was a Helicopter pad at the top, with a Bell UH-1 "Huey" Iroquois Helicopter sitting on top, alongside a long metal cylinder that held fuel.
Sergey yawned again and shifted in his seat, watching as several vehicles approached. Three Ural-4320 Trucks. The two trucks on either side of the one in the middle didn't have canopies, and were loaded with troopers, adorned in the same armor as Sergey, wielding KRISS Vectors, SKS Rifles, or L85s. The middle truck, had a canopy, that glowed a deep green.
Sergey scooted his chair over to the edge of the booth as the first truck pulled up to the blockade.
"Name and ID." Sergey stated.
"Sergeant Major Tim Sloan, TS-19405." the driver answered. Sergey scooted his chair over to the computer next to the window and typed in the name. The information was valid, so Sergey clicked on the switch that opened the blockade. The trucks rolled in, and the gate closed behind them.
Sergey tuned into the proper radio channel.
"This is Private Karzhov Dmitrievich, three Ural Trucks just rolled in, around maybe sixty-seventy troops, with something glowing in the second truck. Their IDs checked out, so I let them in. Acknowledged?" Sergey slid the magazine out of his rifle. It was empty. He groaned and turned to the table the computer rested on. There, laid a crate, filled to the brim with 7.62 rounds. Sergey began picking out rounds, then proceeded to slide them into the empty ammunition cartridge.
"Roger that, private. It was just a supply team, there's been some tension with the Eastern Militia, so an escort was deemed necessary." his response came over Comms.
"Acknowledged." Sergey answered, then continued sliding the 7.62x39mm rounds into the ammunition cartridge of his L85.
Forty Minutes Later.
Sergey snored as he napped at his post, until he was woken up by a blaring siren, along with the red spinning light sitting above the doorway to his booth activated.
Sergey shot awake and looked out the window.
There were several MPs, carrying water hoses or fire-extinguishers sprinting towards the main Research Compound that was built into the back wall, which was built into the cliff that the base rested against. The base went down into the mountain for miles. A thick gray smoke was rising up a bit from the air filters in the walls, and dissipating before reaching around ten feet in the air.
Sergey grabbed his L85 and smashed through the door, sprinting towards the base. He grabbed the gas-mask clipped to his waist, and clicked a button on the side of his helmet, causing the face mask to slide into the sides of the helmet. Sergey pulled off his goggles and helmet, then slid the mask on, and put the helmet and goggles back on, then went back to running.
Sergey hurdled a Jersey Barrier, and brushed past an MP. The smoke was now leaking out onto the ground, spreading across the courtyard, staying close to the ground, kinda like fire. Sergey watched the soldiers unfortunate enough to not be wearing masks, gasp for air, or fall to the ground, sputtering and coughing blood.
Sergey watched one of them stand back up, twitching and snarling. Their pupils were white, and dilated, while their iris was black, and consumed the rest of their eye. Their pupils were... sizzling, almost. The soldier spun around and lunged at Sergey.
Sergey quickly rolled out of the way, and laid on his back. He sat up and blindfired his rifle. Fortunately, he struck the soldier in the head several times, splattering the precious contents inside onto the pavement. Sergey scrambled to his feet and spun around, running towards the Research Compound.
CRUNCH.
Sergey screamed as someone buried their teeth into his neck, then violently ripped out a chunk of flesh. Sergey collapsed face-first into the floor, his head turned to face the gate.
He watched, helplessly, as hundreds upon hundreds of those... things, just walked away. He weakly stated something garbled into his radio, then gurgled blood, finally going silent.
New Alexandria Survival Guide
Subject: The Island of Syrerk.
The Syrerk Isles appeared in early 2019, after a series of seismic events and whatnot happened, causing the land form to appear. It was found off the coast of Brooklyn, and a bridge was built that connected them. The outer rim of the island is mostly swamp, and small towns and villages. Then, there's New Alexandria.
New Alexandria is in the middle of a huge super-city called "The Developed World." picture a diamond, then cut out a square in the middle, and put lines that led out of the diamond on the edges. New Alexandria is the small city in the middle, with cities and smaller settlements covering most of the roads that link to the city. On those other sections, are the Frontiers, known for their own things.
The Northern and Eastern Frontiers were known for their technological development, the Western Frontier was known as the place you'd go if you needed to hide, because the cops were very easily persuaded, if you catch my drift. Criminal Organizations normally were stationed there. On the Southern Frontier, their military presence, though shared with the Eastern Militia, is the strongest. Their homelands are mostly factories and military installations, which, sadly, were likely all destroyed.
The Southern Frontier carpet-bombed themselves when the infection hit, and no questions were asked.
Twenty Years Later...
Vivien Boudreaux
Vivien groggily opened his eyes and sat up. An alarm was going off, to which he promptly unholstered his silenced M1911 pistol and fired blindly towards the sound. He probably hit it, because the annoying whine stopped.
"Fuck..." he muttered, then holstered the pistol. Vivien stood up and did his morning stretches, then looked out of the window.
He, was in the terminal, which, he had single-handedly barricaded, and still protected it. Across from him, were the destroyed or partially buried husks of planes, covered in bright green. The airfield was submerged in a foot-or-so deep water, as always, and shrubbery was still growing over everything. He stumbled over to his dresser and got out his outfit for the day.
Vivien slid on a pair of gray jeans, a T-shirt that had a rainbow with a cloud on the front, then slid on a winter jacket. It was light gray, almost white in color, and had several pockets, and a few smaller ones that he used for carrying extra clips for his weapons. He put on his combat boots along with a beanie and an old American-Made Gas Mask from WWII. He pulled up his hood, and swiveled on the filter.
Vivien walked over to his desk and sat down. He picked up a toolbox that was resting underneath the desk and placed it on top of the desk, and got to work repairing his weapon, a KRISS Vector. Vivien yawned and finished up, then turned to the left.
Sitting there, was a military-grade Alice-pack, leaning against the old wooden desk. Vivien pushed his chair back and stood up, stretching his arms. He walked over to the backpack, then picked it up slung it over his shoulders and strapped it to a set of buckles on his jacket, so it didn't get lost.
He picked up his Vector and pulled back the charging bolt. He slid out the magazine and stashed it into one of his jacket pockets, in exchange for another magazine, of similar size, except, it was containing 7.62x39mm Armor Piercing Magnum Rounds.
Vivien carefully planted the magazine into the rifle, then clicked the bolt forward into place. He clipped on a strap, then slung the rifle onto his back. He grabbed the silenced M1911 pistol from the desk and pulled out the empty magazine, then stored it in one of his pockets in exchange for a fresh magazine.
Vivien slid the pistol into a holster clipped to his right thigh, and slid on a pair of leather gloves that fit tightly over his hands. Vivien tightened them further and walked over to a shattered eight foot tall window, then carefully stepped out and hopped down from the window.
He landed in a knee-deep stream, and promptly rolled, then stood up quickly to prevent his mask from being damaged. Vivien shouldered his Vector and began trudging through the muddy water.
The shattered husks of old-world planes were scattered about, providing a platform when the water was too deep, or cover, were Vivien to engage an enemy on his front.
Vivien climbed up into one of the husks, shaking some stray water from his boots, then pulled out a flannel cloth from his jacket, and swiped it across his mask's screen. Vivien stashed the cloth and began tip-toeing through the rusted and weakened shell of a plane's storage deck. Vivien walked into the entryway hull door, and stared in awe at the sight before him.
Water was flowing freely from the compartments beneath him, while he stood over the edge of a newly formed cliff, caused by something similar to the ODIN Orbital Weapon.
He stared at lush green fields, with roads and red-brick buildings dotting the area, along with the long rusted and destroyed husks of cars and trucks. The lowered areas were flooded with a few deer lapping up water from the area, while birds flew overhead, migrating to the north. Winter was coming soon enough, and with winter, came snow, and with snow, came a famine, as most game would be hidden deep within the caves of the New World, seeking shelter from the Infected.
Vivien slung his rifle and climbed onto the lip of the door, and grabbed a handle resting above him, then pulled himself up and began carefully moving to the right, being careful to avoid the occasional patches of rust amongst the chipped paint and thin steel sheeting that covered the large steel bird.
The young soldier slowly lowered himself down once he reached the the back end of the plane, where the ground was raised enough that the water hadn't flooded his pathway. Giving him the leeway to move downhill towards the ruins. He, evidently, had picked a spot at the edge of New Alexandria to settle down. The Airport was built close to the beach, which was littered with tank traps, the destroyed husks of M1 Abrams tanks, humvees, and ruined concrete structures built into the hills, allowing minimal protection, as time hadn't been good to any of the ruins of this sector.
Vivien climbed down a few hills, then reached a separation in the ground. In between, was a faded orange hatchback, rusted and nearly destroyed, acting as a bridge. Vivien carefully climbed onto the destroyed vehicle. It let out a groan of protest for a moment, then settled a bit. Vivien didn't hesitate and closed the gap between him and the end of the vehicle, and was at the other side of the separation moments before the Hatchback fell down into the crevice beneath it. The young survivor shouldered his Vector and began carefully moving towards the ruined town. He glanced up at the sky, and almost swore he saw a cyan blur that appeared for only a split second, then disappeared just as quickly.
Vivien shook it off, and kept moving.
Meanwhile.
Rainbow Dash let out a sigh of relief and began flying back to the old brick structure. The human had almost spotted her, which likely wouldn't bode well, according to the stories Princess Celestia had told them before they had entered this world.
"Humans are carnivorous, lying, deceitful creatures, that will try and harm or trick you every chance they get, but this specific human, may not be, so I would like you to try and approach him first. If that is unsuccessful, follow the provided map. It will lead you in the right direction." Celestia's words rang out in her head.
The cyan pegasus began her descent as the old apartment complex came into view. Applejack, was sitting on the roof, while Fluttershy was outside on one of the untouched areas of land, helping a family of what appeared to be foxes, into the husk of an old motor vehicle. There were a few trees on the front lawn, which now had grown into the complex's third floor.
Rainbow Dash landed on the roof and sat down next to Applejack.
"So? What'd ya find out?" the orange earth pony asked.
"The human almost spotted me, but, I managed to avoid him... barely." Rainbow Dash said.
"Anythin' important? No offense." Applejack repeated.
"Oh! The human looked to be moving towards that old town that loops around and connects to this street." Rainbow Dash stated. Applejack nodded and sighed.
"Let's just hope he's not like the others..." she said to nopony in particular, then trotted back inside...
