View source for User:Prep/The Fortress/Back Story

''*A man, roughly 5' 8" with brown, poorly kept hair overflowing from underneath his baseball cap, sits with his back against the corner of a room in some ruddy tower apartment. His pistol lay out of it's holster on his torn pale blue jeans, with his right hand firmly grasping the handle. He wears brown leather boots with a white t-shirt and black flak jacket which can be seen peeking out from under his brown leather jacket. A shotgun in front of him leans onto the top of his shoulder and his head drapes down aside it. A backpack is thrown against the table that would normally be next to the bed. The bed however, along with an old bureau, is leaned against the door of the room, jamming it securely against the opposing wall.

The man's medium frame can be seen slowly rising and falling, with each breath he takes. It appears that he's sleeping.*''

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Feeding groans. The more distant echos are actually pretty relaxing. In fact, anything but the dead silence of the night helps me get to sleep. Yeah, that's me sleeping there in that dingy room. They call me 'Prep'. Conveniently enough, my last name starts with H, so it's evolved into the affectionate nickname - PrepH. It's hard to believe that it's been more than a year since I woke up in this sorry ass state of affairs.

Just three years ago, I was stationed in the US. Some small town USA on the east coast, the kind of place no one had ever heard of. After I had applied to become an officer there, the veterans asked me, "With your grades, you could have been anything. A doctor, a scientist. Why go to the academy? Why join the Police Force?"  Why? Well, I suppose ........ I suppose I was just curious. What would it be like to solve a murder, to investigate a crime ... to shoot a man. My brother, who they call Clint, had already joined the force, but for some small city in Europe.

When I heard that my brothers precinct in Malton, England had come under attack I quickly wondered whether he was asleep on the job. I was ready to give him hell during my visit the next day for letting his town run a muck. I admit, I was pretty excited for my independence day holiday to visit him; our first meeting in about 2 years. But the very next day, more serious news had hopped across the pond. "July 3rd, 2005 - Malton Quarantined Indefinitely" And only one day before my plane was scheduled to leave. They said the dead had risen and overpowered the city. What kind of shit is that? They're talking about zombies, the living dead? How ... interesting.

Well, needless to say, my flight was canceled. No one was going to get into or out of England while this kind of ruckus was going down. I knew my brother, he would be fine. And yet ... was I really going to sit over here and wait for good news. Ha! So, I joined the Military, because I knew that they were flying across to deliver aid to their allies. It took a year until I finally got myself stationed in England. All my time was not wasted though. I had been collecting information on the incident, the city, the people. Military reports, police reports, even intercepted some radio communications coming OUT OF THE CITY!

After a few months of talking to the right people, forging the right documents, and bribing the right officers, I managed to get myself stationed in one of the sentry towers right outside the quarantine zone, within earshot of Malton. Fall of 2007 was quickly approaching. The summer was winding down, the weather was chilling and the sounds of the leaves blowing in the wind ... The leaves ... it wasn't just the leaves that were traveling with the wind, the groans ... That was the first time I heard the groans of the infected. The deep and echoing sound of zombies. Real zombies ... well I'll be damned. I need to see inside these walls.

It was twilight when my second radio crackled (I had stolen a short wave from the barracks to comb the restricted frequency bands, which Malton's survivors are known to broadcast on) Most of the crap I've been hearing this week was about murderers, and nuts jamming the frequencies with jibberish, but after more than 2 years I finally heard from him. "Join The Fortress today!! We're currently recruiting! Tell them '''Clint''' sent you!" My brother was alive, there was no longer any doubt. The Fortress? I figured the survivors would need to band together, but who are The Fortress?

So I thought to myself - "This is a good of time as any." - then I pulled the handwritten note out of my jacket and[http://i296.photobucket.com/albums/mm163/Prep_H/Note.png ,] using my knife, pinned it to my sentry tower. As I looked toward the ruined city, the cold wind brought me the sounds of groans, a brief smattering of gunfire, followed by the horrific, suffering screams and death wails from a house of survivors being consumed by a horde of the undead. To my surprise, after a deep sigh, I felt a smile creep across my face and I heard myself say - "This ought to be interesting."

I stripped off all my extra gear. Saving just my pistol, radio, and flak jacket for the long run, I crawled down the ladder. Once I hit the ground, I ran, full sprint, towards the walls of Malton. Sure, I had planned out this entire scenario, but that didn't make the run any easier. Between the holes I had cut in the barbed wire fencing and the basement I had discovered which ran underneath the concrete wall surrounding the city, I had nearly half a mile of running before I even arrived outside Maltons' borders. Luckily, there would be no spotlights tonight. I had sabotaged the two towers on either side of me the previous night. By the time they found out I was gone, and read my note, I would be in Malton.

Just as I reached the condemned house right next to the concrete retaining wall, I heard a familiar whir. Helicopter rotors. Urgh, figures they would have a chopper flying on the night I escape .... Actually, thinking back it's kind of ironic I was thinking about escape. Escape INTO Malton. Most would laugh at something so ridiculous. I know I did. I laughed as I uncovered the basement door and hurried through the tunnel I had dug during every weekend of 'Shore Leave' I had for the last month. I knew that the second they noticed my little entrance they would set charges and demolish the whole building. Sure enough, I heard the blast from inside the walls the very next day.

Entering the city was the easy part, finding shelter, supplies, Clint, and the truth ... well, that was a bit more difficult. I spent the remainder of my first night in a Police Station of all places! I needed ammunition, and supplies, but at the same time, I couldn't help but look at the people who shared this safehouse with me. They had the place lit, and outside someone had spraypainted - VSB++ Only, EP. EP? Entry Point? It didn't matter, I climbed over the barricades and found myself a quiet corner to rest the night, nothing spectacular. That first night was quiet, save for the destruction of my only means of leaving the city.

The next several days I spent searching for supplies and for The Fortress, where I knew I could find my brother and maybe some answers about what the hell has been happening in this city. Surprisingly enough, I spent two days without seeing any zombies, sure there were bodies everywhere, but none of them appeared to be the living dead. On the third day, I entered what used to be the suburb of Shackleville. The broadcast I received had come from somewhere in central Malton, I was walking past a tall building when I saw the a young woman standing in the middle of Swaffield Plaza. I grabbed my gun and leveled it toward her head, as she swayed. Slowly I walked toward the woman clenching my pistol, when something caught me by the shoulder!

As I swung around, finger on trigger, a man grabbed my wrist! He looked at me, eye to eye, and I immediately knew he wasn't one of them. As he let go of my hand, I noticed him holding a needle between him fingers in his left hand. I asked him what it was for, but without saying a word he walked past me towards the wom-, no, the zombie. I yelled at him to stay back, that he would be infected and I again raised my gun. He paused, as the zombie turned towards him, I thought I heard it speak, a soft mumble, "Mrh?" I yelled again at him to move out of the way, so I could shoot it. Finally, he turned, smiled wryly and said to me, "I thought you wanted to know what ''this'' is for." I saw him hold up the syringe filled with a glittery, silver liquid, which I could only compare to the appearance of mercury. I lowered my gun slightly, and that's when he stabbed the zombie in the neck and pumped that poisonous looking fluid into its body.

I stood there, stunned. He had just walked up to a zombie, and it stared him right in the face, but didn't attack. He got close enough to kill it with a syringe of poison. As I watched him stand there staring at the body, I couldn't help but wonder what he was waiting for ... Then it hit me. There had been rumors of a formula to revive those who had died and been brought back by the infection. A way to revive zombies, and turn them back into living souls. Of course, this was no cure, they all still carried the infection, but was it possible that such a breakthrough had occurred within these walls? Have they also found a vaccine, the long awaited cure to the infection? I approached the man, and asked him what had just happened, then he explained to me what the syringes found in the NecroTech facilities were capable of. As he saw the look of understanding creep across my face, he pointed towards the north, where a tall edifice, marked only as 'Raymond Building' stood. There was a NecroTech facility. He looked back down at the body, which had already began to regain some of its color. The syringe worked! Curious. He looked back at me and said, "We're never sure how long they will be laying here, so let's head out, she'll find her way inside once she wakes up. What's your name by the way?" So, I told the mysterious man my alias as we walked over to the NT. I noticed that the lights were on, but there was no way I was going to be able to get inside. Not with barricades so strongly built.

The man told me we had to head south-east to the Attle Building if we were going to get inside. Here, we managed crawl through the barricades and into relative safety. As I looked around, I noticed the man was walking up the stairs, so I followed. He led me onto the roof of the building, at which point I put my hand to my pistol - Why else would someone lead you to a roof? Then he looked at me, saw I had my hand on my gun and said, "No worries, I just wanted to let you know that you'll be safe here. The Fortress regularly patrols this area. Oh, and Stay Vigilant!" With that, the man jumped towards the building on the north-east, then finally to the School next door. Carder Row School.

I wasn't sure what I should be more surprised from. The fact that I stumbled into an area where The Fortress patrols, or that a man just jumped off of the FUCKING ROOF! I sat on the roof, lost in my thoughts for what seemed like hours. Should I wait here, or should I continue searching for The Fortress, for my answers? Luckily, that was a decision I didn't need to make because the man returned, holding a set of dog tags. 

"Congratulations," he said, "You've been accepted into The Fortress! Your brother said you would want in."

I stood up quickly, "Where is he? Is he alright?"

"Who Clint? Are you joking? He's fine, he sends his regards. If I were you, I'd worry about myself right now. We need to teach you how to operate here in Malton." said the man.

I sighed, then smiled. "Well ok, I suppose it's time to get to work then." 

The man looked at me, with slight surprise in his eyes, then smiled and said, "Don't get too comfy here, tomorrow, you start training. I'm Bensonson by the way, I'll be one of your Drill Sergeants, Hogan will be the other. Your older brother said you would be in a hurry to get started when you arrived, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow." With that, Bensonson was off again, back to the school. As he made the final jump into Carder, I yelled, "Clint is full of shit!! I'm the older brother, he's just the bigger brother!!"

So I began with The Fortress. I quickly learned that death was only an inconvenience in this city, something which can be fought off with a jab from the NecroTech syringe. I came here because of my brother in a search for the truth, but now, I stay here out of curiosity. Only now am I starting to realize how important a role The Fortress and it's members have played and continue to play in this city. The infection, the cure, Lord Pitman, Jensonson. I'll discover the truth behind it all. After all, I became a cop because I wanted to know what it's like to solve a murder, investigate a crime, kill a man, even. Based on what I have learned so far, I may get the opportunity to do all those things here in The Fortress.

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'''*You hear a deep and echoing groan from somewhere nearby*''' ''*Prep snaps awake, gun in hand, pointing toward the door*'' "Oh shit, they're here already?" ''*smiles*'' "Clint, wake up!" ''*you see Clint step out of the opposite corner of the room, then Prep speaks again*'' "It's time to get to work."