The Red Velvet Incident
- Prologue
Earth has, the cold planet as it is known now, decayed. Trudging the ground below are hollowed vessels of life, once to be a thriving group of civilizations. But not now, not since The Red Velvet Incident, Earth has not been the same. See, Red Velvet was an atomic tanker, floating across space stowing away the United Nations’ nuclear weapons. A tiny piece of space debris, the size of about Memphis, Tennessee, struck the side of the Red Velvet, causing it to become a speeding metal hulk towards Earth. Finally, about 6 hours from imminent impact, news hit home. Various states went on lockdown, others into mass turmoil. Shots from scantily made anti-aircraft guns knocked off of the space metal, some into space, some into bystanders’, houses and vehicles and people, some even didn’t fire, backfiring on their operators in a spray of metal, fire and limbs. Then the impact came, lodging itself into a massive crater in the heart of the Midwest area, destroying many neighboring states. The impact was subtle, except for whatever was under that massive bulk of metal, but the ensuing pre-mature detonation of the precious nuclear cargo was catastrophic, rapidly spreading across the United States, towards Canada, traversing down to Mexico, contamination of the seas, spreading all through Europe and Asia, down to Africa, speeding its course to Australia. It hit everywhere, it was totally unexpected and totally devastating wiping out a lot of life everywhere. But, for some people who lived through the event, life was harder yet easier. No law, you, your gun and your willingness to kill anything that would kill you, and willingness to pull the trigger in dire situations and under severe pressure. Some groups of people started towns, some cities and some have even started new states. Some still even traverse the world, either doing justice or bringing death and violence. There are two major factions on this broken world, the first is The Retribution Assembly, a whole congregation spread across many continents. Founded by Germany’s best Autobahn Officer, Karl Von Finkinstien, these men and women come to bring justice upon this devastated earth. These are the police, the judge, jury and executioners of this new world, preserving what has happened and it people left. They are based mostly in Europe, mainly Normandy, France. The second faction is the murderous brigade named The Impact Social Club, less trained and formal than the Retribution Assembly but with much more firepower and numbers. They roam around the dead lands picking the meat of the bones off anything. They are best known for their swift in and out procedures. These men and women are centralized in the United States and Russia. The Russian chapter of The Impact Social Club was discovered by a deranged Russian scientist proclaiming purity to those who join him. The American branch was started by a fraternity located in Central Florida who were all about fun and games, as said by some, their fraternity was suspected of mass murdering many students in the rush class of their last year in a field with garden weasels, duct tape, and blow torches. These are some fucked up people. This is the story of before the impact, after the impact, during the after affects, and anything after. Welcome to the United States of Wasteland.
1
Year - 2012
Philadelphia
Thursday 12:00 Am
6 Hours before Impact
Anrui Beltovin
Male – American
27 years of age
US Army
Infantryman
Standing at the podium in a room full with important military personnel was Commander Britag of the United States army. He spoke calmly as if nothing was going to happen; he made false promises of which I knew was not true. Nothings going to happen, he repeated over and over, nothing bad will happen. Three hours passed and we were allowed to leave.
Walking outside the hot air rushed to people faces making them look to the blood red sky, cloudy with what looked like a star in the distance. We knew that that space hulk was headed towards us, Philadelphia was in mass turmoil. We, the military, swooped in to action, taking civilians to fallout shelters conveniently located 80 miles away. I was dropped off with a squad of newbies to quell the riots on the street, we were told to use any force necessary to calm the people down. Of course I was left three trigger happy fuck heads with no remorse, dark angels of destruction using the tools of warfare to suit their blood lust. I saw as a man rushed one of my squad, I reached for my taser, but before I could shoot the electric strings at my target, the man was lying on the ground face up with half of torso missing. The crowd grew angrier, civilians shot at us. We had to use necessary force to defend ourselves, the civilians measly snub nosed revolvers were no match for the raw firepower that out FN2000’s pumped out, tearing them to shreds, collapsing the streets, crying in pain, dying a martyrs death. A loud noise overcame the streets, the anti-aircraft guns began to fire. We had minutes left. I ran and cowered in the basement of a house warmly greeted by a woman strung to the ceiling fan with a belt and her husband was slanted in the corner with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head, brain matter dripping from the fresh open wound in his skull. Upstairs I could hear the booming of the cannons and the house being torn to shreds, I thought it was impact. It was not, it was the futile shots of the anti-air cannons shells deflecting off of the Red Velvets side panels. Then all had seemed to come to a stop, it was impact. I threw myself in a small closet and waited. Five hours I stayed there, trapped in the closet, debris clouding the exit. Until finally, some people removed the rubble. They escorted me outside… It was a disaster, green clouds fumed the sky, and then a second explosion came, and I blacked out.
Year – 2015
I finally awoke from the blast; I was in a tube, next to many other tubes. Connected to me were syringes. A machine scanned over me, and released the valves. I stepped swiftly on my feet and started to run. In this place, it was a steel jungle, a myriad of machines moving the tubes to other areas of this place. It was cold and it wasn’t helping that I was completely nude covered in a weird tasteless goop. A hangar door flung open and three men with assault rifles swooped in, yelling incoherently at me. “Get down on the fucking floor now!” the one yelled at me. I got on my knees, put my hands behind my head, and lied on the floor. Then I heard a recognizable voice, “Sergeant Beltovin, get up.” I got up and looked at the scruffy figure, wiping away the goo from my eyes I saw that it was Commander Britag. “Commander,” I yelled, “How great it is to see you, I was beginning to believe I was imprisoned. Ha.” He replied, “You sergeant, are a new member of this family, welcome to the Impact Social Club.” I was wondering whether or not this was an upgrade to my current status. I turned towards the Commander, “Sir, what year is it?” He looked at me puzzled, “It is 2059, Sergeant. You better suit up for a raid.”
I was confused; the year that I was stationed in Philadelphia was 2012. The year is 2059; I was in a coma for forty seven years? What the fuck! How am I still looking the same way I looked when I was twenty one? I am sixty seven years old, I am fit as can be, and I look young. This shit is unreal.
I suited in the gear that was next to my bed. The armor was heavy and the gun was light. I walked toward the elevator, and then bam! It went pitch black and red alarm lights went off. Over the speaker was Commander Britag, “Get the fuck up everybody, Retributioners have commenced an attack and have breached the outer wall. A man yelled behind me, “Aye, you. Fuckin idiot! Stop standin around, get over here!” I ran over and four men stood around, the large black man with the heavy machine gun over his shoulder said, “Ok, see that elevator? Yea, well fuckin Retributioners will be scattering out of that shit any moment get ready.”
The elevator began to open,
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