CSS v1 Advent Children

[Seraphim]

[This is a government document. Tampering with it may result in imprisonment or a fine up to one hundred thousand dollars.] [Attributed to Serenity Kamaru, Seraphim Ashadar, Reason Harrison, Matthew Peterson, Daisuke Velmaras & John Hagen (in order of appearance), only known authors listed.]
[Clearance level: 7]
[Marked to date: 1/10/2135, ESY]

Black Plague (Being the account of the spread of the Black Plague 2.5)
White Plague (Being the account of the cleansing of the Plague)
Children of the Sandstorm > Advent Children (Being the account of the first Children of the Sandstorm)
Children of the Sandstorm (Being the account of the settling of Los Angeles and New York by the Children)
Reason (Being the account relating to the first contact of Advent Children with the outside world)
Brands (Being the account relating to the markings of the Advent Children's tribes)
Gargoyle Tower (Being the account of the Children of the Sandstorm > Vampires' Headquarters and modes of transport within)
Mutant Savant (Being the account relating to the bizarre actions and abilities of the Children of the Sandstorm)
Rats on the Wharf (Being the account pertaining to the Children of the Sandstorm > Wharf Rats' headquarters and modes of transport around the city)
Central Park's Wildcats (Being the account relating to the inhabitance of Central Park by the Children of the Sandstorm > Wildcats)
Innocents Lost (Being the account relating to the murder of the leaders of the Children of the Sandstorm > Wildcats & Children of the Sandstorm > Wharf Rats)
Broadcast (Being the account relating to a mutation on one of the Advent Children of Children of the Sandstorm > Cigarettes)

[Seraphim]

[Folder Name: Black Plague]
[Number of Files: 2]

[Filename: Black Plague 2.5]

The black plague was released on the major American cities New York and Los Angeles by terrorists – the first bio-weapons used in the anti-American war of 2056. Those two bombs containing bacteria ‘Black Plague 2.5’ were also the most deadly. The two cities were totally lifeless within a week, although the government managed to contain the spread of the disease, and only eleven people outside of New York or Los Angeles were diagnosed with the plague.

It was major attack on America and it hurt the American pride. The government could save nobody – no one who contracted the Black Plague could be saved. This new version of the plague that had terrorized the medieval world was a dangerous disease that killed quickly – usually within twenty-four hours. The bacteria entered the body through direct contact or even sharing the same space with an infected person. No one was immune – everybody got sick from that one innocent-looking green shell that landed in the middle of the cities.

As soon as the shell landed, the highways in and out of the cities were shut down and roadblocks were set up. No-one got out – the first of the three razorwire fences were erected and constant guard patrolled the perimeter. Airports closed, private helicopters and planes were grounded. Every measure was taken to stop the spread of the bacteria.

The first deaths started the next day; children and elderly. The death toll climbed and climbed. Hysteria ran rife. People locked themselves away from the rest of the world, but when the two cities realized they weren’t going to be rescued, crime started and anywhere you hid, you’d be found.

The police force in New York combined with the doctors and surgeons in a 24th-hour-samatran attempt to contain the disease but to little or no effect. In Los Angeles, the bacteria began targeting birds and animals – they were shot down as soon as they came near the fences.

Three separate terrorist organizations claimed the attacks as there own – but everybody expected the one cult that didn’t claim to have launched the attacks.

Final Human Deathtoll: 1 Billion. [18.5.2133 ESY]


[Filename: Generation X]

I was fourteen when the sickness hit – just old enough to travel on my own. I was in Australia with my grandparents when the Black Plague hit New York. Everybody I knew and loved was there, and I had to sit in my Grandparent’s flat in Sydney while my father died of the horrible disease. My mother was in Heaven already anyway, so I needn’t worry about her, but dad and all the people I knew were dying.

I think that I slept about four hours that one week, watching the deathtoll climb, sitting on my futon bed watching CNN on a TV that barely worked. My grandparents couldn’t get into my room, because I’d locked the door and jammed a chair under the handle, so they put packages of sandwiches, or a packet of fish’n’chips, through the window. I didn’t eat much more than three chips; a slice of bread with the spread removed.

When they announced that the special forces had gone through the wreckage and couldn’t find a single survivor, I considered jumping off a bridge somewhere. I didn’t do it, of course, because that would have been futile. I just slept, for almost three days. I unlocked the door and ran into my grandmother’s arms and sobbed there for a while. Then, I opened my laptop and used my false ID to order a ticket back home – or as close as I could get.

I wasn’t the only one flying home. There were a few kids like me – Generation X, as we began to call ourselves as the lot of us huddled together in the taxi stand. There were ten of us, from all over the world. Two Japanese boys who had lost both parents and a Norwegian girl of twelve who had flown here with her four-year-old brother to see the grave of her parents. They had died on vacation in New York. Seraphim, who was a native like me – returning more for his younger sister than for his father. Sophie, who was going to be a doctor but was coming just to see her parents graves – she was an exchange student to New Zealand. Alexander, who was Russian and was coming to see the place where his father had seen his last days, and Matvy, his step-sister, who was coming to see her dead Father-in-law and mother. Then there was Axel, and then there was me.

We banded together. That is to say, pooled what we had. The two japs turned out to be geniuses – a laptop each, and able to hack anything. Seraphim was an arsonist, Alexander and Matvy were rich. My only worth was as Leader, and I was voted into the position fairly quickly. Alexander was the oldest of us and the only one with a driver’s license – but it was Axel, our pick-pocket slash thief, who stole and hotwired our car for us.

So we started towards New York before the Cleansing even started.

Daisuke & Kazuko Velmaras.
Gwen & Bjorn Svenson
Seraphim Ashadar
Sophie Hadley
Alexander & Matvy Rasputin
Axel Dowman

Serenity Kamaru

[Seraphim]

[Folder Name: White Plague]
[Number of Files: 2]

[Filename: White Plague 2.6]

The government had the entire cities of New York and Los Angeles put to the torch to purge the place of the plague. Bodies and buildings went up in flames, and by the time the fires had died down, there was little left of the once-great city. But, it seemed, this wouldn’t be enough – two chimpanzees loosed into the burnt-out remains of the cities both returned infected and had to be killed and cremated. Animal Rights activists didn’t even stir an eyebrow.

Lab tests were preformed on the bacteria, but nothing seemed able to kill it. The only things that seemed to be deadly to the bacteria and not too expensive to use in huge quantities were a chemical called Zygone, and a radioactive substance that caused bizarre mutations in anyone who came to close to a concentrated dosages. Both were deadly not only to the Bacteria, but everything else, too.

But the Government had no choice. The president, [Blank], gave the order, and teams in bulky bio-suits went into Los Angeles and New York, spraying the chemicals over the entire cities. Inside and outside, everywhere they could get the thick iron nozzles of their spraying machines.

White Plague, the cure to the Black Plague, coated both cities with chemicals. Two extra Razorwire fences went up.

[Filename: The Cleaning]

I’m Seraph, ages thirteen. Serenity is making me write my name and age here so that she can tell that I wrote it and not her – of course, she hasn’t realized my spelling and grammar is about three times as bad as hers. Arrogant bitch.

We’ve been driving for hours. Axel’s stolen a collection of credit cards and sold them, just in case we run out of money. Like that’s going to fucking happen, those two Russian snobs are loaded and they brought a global credit card that only they can cancel – they aren’t going to run out soon.

Have you ever tried to fit ten kids – teenagers, really – into a seven-seater? Neither have we, not for long anyway. We tried for about two hours, but people sitting on the floor or on each other just doesn’t work on these highways, and the police didn’t like it either. They needed all our passports and travel visas. Gwen had already forged us some visas, so that was all good, but it took us about an hour before we were on the road again. I have no idea how they forgot to check that the car was ours.

After about five hours, we ditched the Volvo and hijacked a bus. Well, not really – we piled into a bus and drove off while the driver was taking a piss behind a bus stop. We can only drive at night, now, but the buss is better than the minivan by way too much for it to be fucking normal.

The Japanese geeks have been downloading the news of the cleansing and we’re all hyper as hell. Gwen and Axel want to go into the city and find their houses now that the Plague’s gone, and it’s taking all our ‘supreme leader’ has in patience and shouting to tell them they have to get through a veritable army base before they can get into the city, and even then they don’t know what the chemicals will do.

They aren’t fucking listening, naturally, so I’ll go and scare the little snots shitless so they listen to Serenity. I don’t know why I do it – she annoys me more than they do. If they want to fry their asses on radioactive gunk, that’s their problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t have to wipe their butts for them.

[Seraphim]

[Filename: Children of the Sandstorm > Advent Children]
[Number of files: 1]

[Filename: Children of the Sandstorm > Advent Children ]

Seraphim. Serenity’s too lazy to report.

Okay, this is just fucking great. We’re going into New York through the Razorwire. We purchased some pruning shears on the way and here we are, cutting a hole in the fence and hoping that the bus won’t be spotted and traced to some runaway kids who bought shears and all lost relatives in the attacks. I wanted to set it on fire – Serenity didn’t. So I threw a stick at her and she smiled. Fucking idiot, that one.

We’re on the last of five fences. I’ve done my part so am typing this on one of the geek’s laptops. I’m also supposed to be looking after Bjorn – the four-year-old kid. Stupid kid, where did he go to? Oh, there he is. Gwen’s not cutting, she should be looking after the retarded thing.

Aha. We’ve cut through the wire – here we go. Into the gates of fucking hell. If I was Christian, I’d pray. I’m not, so I won’t. How does this thing go off?

[Later]
Serenity. 14.

It is so freaky walking through here. It’s ghost town with a clinical smell. Actually, we’ve been here for a few weeks now. Apparently the hole in the fence has been sealed again and the bus was found. So the CNN site says. We’re presumed dead or missing. Luckily, we still have food and water. Batteries, torches, matches, lighters, blankets and clothing. Everything we could carry. Seraphim and Axel have already visited their houses and gone scavenging. Any food sealed and everything we’ve brought back, but there’ little power here. Daisuke and Kazuko have already hooked their Laptops to a wind generator, which now powers the flat we’ve made our home for now.

Matvy and Alexander are out now, but Gwen and Bjorn have been away for days now. I don’t think we’ll see them again – they probably got crushed under a falling building. They do that, sometimes, just crumble. As it is, none of us miss Gwen or the kid. Less mouths to feed, and we don’t have to look after the kid, which is a plus. I think Seraph was ready to strangle him.

We’ve decided to stay here. There’s food and everything we need. It’s better than juvie – we’re charged with Gwen’s abduction and numerous thefts. Seraph, apparently, is supposed to be under house arrest anyway and he’s been in prison before. He doesn’t want to go back, and neither does Axel. They’re staying.

Our gang is the Cigarettes. I lead it, and we’ve already developed our tribe colour and facepants. We’re not alone, you see? Other kids have come. The Wharf Rats in the harbor, and the Wildcats near the remains of Central Park. The Vampires are everywhere. They’re only four of them, but they know what they’re doing. Seraphim and Axel are already teaching us street-fighting. We’re going to need to learn.

[Seraphim]

[Folder Name: Children of the Sandstorm]
[Number of Files: 2]

[Filename: Presidential Address]

A state of hysteria hit the government when it was discovered that hordes of children were moving into the remains of New York and Los Angeles. CNN follows the story as President [Blank] comments on the situation.

“These children are all too young to understand what they’re doing and we can’t hold them responsible, but they are breaking the law in entering Los Angeles and New York. We can’t leave them there, but we can’t risk anyone’s lives in getting them out. Although they all seem to be doing fine, all we can do is keep sealing the holes in our razorwire fences and add more security to the cities.

We understand that a crude culture is already arising among the children. They have dubbed themselves the ‘Children of the Sandstorm’, and the first few of children in the cities have named themselves Advent children. Their nature becomes evident when we realize they are forming tribes and playing at war. There are children and young adults in these cities that shouldn’t be there and shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing, but we are powerless. The United States government has no further comment.”

This is CNN, with the latest on the Children of the Sandstorm.

[Filename: Lost Angels & New Pork]

Hah. We weren’t so fucking original, it seems. We were just the first. More kids are coming to this shit-heap that was New York and joining the Tribes. We’re not the biggest anymore, but we aren’t the smallest, either. Some black girl called Jade something is leading the Wharf Rats, and she’s doing a good job of it. Chloe something-else is leading the Wildcats, but the Vampires are still mysterious and dark and spooky. Show-offs.

The joke around the campfire is that as, apparently, the Black Plague is a mutation of a pig disease, that New York in now New Pork. And Los Angeles is Lost Angels. The joke there is that the angels thought the place was full of sinners and went all old-testament on them. Yeah, you heard me. Lost Angels has some kids, too. Less then here, but enough for them to form into tribes, too. Normal human behavior, really. Not band together and live in peace, but form teams, give yourselves fucking stupid names and fight over food even if there’s enough for twice as many kids.

But fuck, yeah, this is actually good. I mean, some of us want to go back to their old lives, but most of us are hear ‘cause we haven’t got anywhere to go and a lot of us would rather stay here than at home. It’s a fucking rap song, I swear, the collective past of a lot of these kids.

And yeah, we have some stupid ranking level now, and most people figure its pretty crap, but a lot of us think its stink but will help. We’ve also lost of our geeks – he got himself stabbed by a Vampire. His brother, Daisuke, isn’t surprised. We’ve grown a lot harder these few weeks – months, really – and we sure as hell are a lot harder on each other and ourselves.

[Seraphim]

[Folder Name: Reason]
[Number of Files: 1]

[Filename: Reason with Savages.]


I paused outside the razorwire. My heart was pounding like crazy, but my hands were still as they cut through the thick wire of the fences. I was on the second to last fence, and my clothing was covered in mud from slithering through the holes I’d cut already. I was nervous as hell. My dad was sure to find me and send me back to France. I didn’t want to go to France. I wanted to stay here, with the Children of the Sandstorm. New York – I’d always wanted to go there. I was born there, but we moved to Ireland when I was very young.

The fence fell away and I crawled through. My shirt caught on the wire but I pulled loose and dragged myself into the thin space between the two last fences. I clutched my garden shears to my heart and moved towards the last fence. There were white cloths hanging from this part of the fence – I didn’t know what it meant, but white was a colour of peace, so I continued my way into the city.

It took me twenty minutes to get through the last fence, and then I sat in the mud for a few minutes, trying to calm my beating heart. I then stood up and shook myself. I needed to find food and someplace to stay. Would one of the tribes take me in? The newspapers said that they were feral but fair. I didn’t like the idea, but I wanted to do this. I’d decided.

I could already hear dad yelling and cussing, his drunken slur carrying. If he found out what I’d done, I’d be dead as Jesus. As it was, I got up and started towards the buildings at a trot. My feet were sore, but the sight of New Pork was a balm. I could see more of the white fabric and I presumed that it must be a tribe marking. I followed the strips of cloth through the burnt-out remains of the city. There were footsteps on the ground already.

Something creaked. I thought it was just a building, but a few moment later something hit me from behind. We both went down, rolling in the ashes. Whoever had attacked me was much stronger than I and had me pinned on my back within minutes. I looked up, startled, into the face of a boy not much younger than myself. White triangles were painted on his face; one under his left eye and another reaching up from his chin to touch tips with the other triangle. A smaller one sat above his eye.

He looked as surprised as I did. His black hair tickled my face, hanging loose and messy. He cocked his head to one side, looking confused. He was sitting on my chest with his knees in my elbows, and it hurt. I asked him politely to please get of me.

He pressed down with his knees. If you think that doesn’t hurt, you should go get sat on by some random tribesman. I grunted.

“Name?” He snapped. His voice was rough with disuse, and it was hard like a metal pole that’s been put in a freezer for a week or so.

“Reason Harrison,” I replied. I’m very good at copying people’s voices. He looked startled. I mean, I know that Reason is a silly name and everything, but I think maybe I shouldn’t have done the whole mimic thing. I don’t think he liked it much.

“Tribe?”

“I’m new.”

“Tribe.”

“Uhm, yours?”

“Cigarettes.”

“I don’t have any.”

“No, the tribe. Cigarettes is the tribe.”

I blinked. You could tell that the kids naming these tribes weren’t very old. To my surprise, he stood up and held out one hand to help me up. I got to my feet and brushed the ash from my clothing. He watched me, wary, like a wild animal. I felt suddenly very nervous. The Children of the Sandstorm were worse than then BBC said they were.

“Seraph, what’ve you found?” Someone called. The boy twitched and growled something back. I didn’t catch what he said, but it made the voice laugh. I twirled to face it. A young girl, perhaps fifteen or so, stepped out of a gutted building nearby. Her clothing was all white, and she had similar paint on her face.

“Oh, a girl?” She said. I glanced at the boy. He was pointedly not looking at either of us. “You a Vampire?” She asked me. I startled and shook my head. I had no idea what a vampire was – I suspected it was one of the other tribes.

“I’m new,” I said. I held up the punning shears I hadn’t actually dropped yet. The girl in white looked at me with an apprising gaze. “You’re leader of Cigarettes?” I asked, in her voice. She stared at me. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. She had more complex paint on her face, and her clothing was all white – impractical, but a sign of status. And, of course, she was arrogant as hell.

“Indeed. Seraphim, bring her in.” She turned and disappeared. The boy at my shoulder grabbed hold of my wrist and began to run. I tried to keep up, but he was fast – and I was tired. He jumped from broken beam to broken beam, over car wreaks and the remains of busses. And he wouldn’t let me go.

[Seraphim]

[Folder Name: Brands]
[Number of Files: 3]

[Filename: Elite? Sucks to Elite]

Seraphim. 14. Nine months in New Pork.

I crouched in the shadow of a fallen beam where it was supported by the remains of what looked like a flash Cadillac. We were just outside Castle Smoke, and there was a fire burning. Serenity, in all her glory, is going to pass judgment on our new catch – some girl called Reason. Who gives their kid a name like that? No wonder she ran from home. f**king insulting.

I don’t think they knew I was there. They usually don’t – I’m getting unusually good at being places where I’m not supposed to be without getting caught. Serenity hates it when I forget to tell her that I watched her kill some random Vampire in revenge for Matvy’s murder three weeks ago.

Anyway. This Reason kid – she was on her knees in the mud with a knife at her throat. It was raining. Serenity lives for all this drama – the girl watches too many movies, I swear. She has a flare for the dramatic – and useless. There wasn’t much chance that Reason was going to be killed or sent away. We needed all the people we can get – f**king vampires were (and still are) picking on us. I figure they want our wind turbines.

Serenity pulled the knife away and the rest of the tribe cheered. Reason Harrison had been accepted into the tribe – all our elite, the hunters, had decided it is so. I don’t think my position as Beta is really much better than these elite bastards – I’m just the guy Serenity uses to freak the f**king hell out of people because I like to set stuff on fire.

Not that I give a nuts. Beta or f**king Omega, being part of Cigarettes is better than being part of any other tribe, so far. We have power and some running water, thanks to Daisuke Velmaras. The man’s a genius – and of course, a Hunter. But I think he wants to go home. Poor kid – if he leaves, he’s a wanted man and he probably won’t get out of quarantine for the rest of his life.

Hey, here comes Serenity. Maybe she has more enlightening news for you.

[File Name: Markings]

Serenity. 15. Nine months in New Pork.

Gods. I hate Seraphim. I need the man like I need the rest of the tribe – but that doesn’t mean I have to love his fucking ass. But I suppose I must play the benevolent leader and pretend I don’t notice the fact he can’t stand me either. He’s one of the idiots who doesn’t like the idea of ranks within the tribe. Everybody agrees that we need a leader, possibly a deputy. But the idea of nobles, commoners and omegas repels them. Why? Because they’re soft.

Let me explain. The other tribes have more or less the same structure as us. There’ the Alpha, who leads the Tribe. Then there’s the Beta, who’s like a second in command. Then we have the Hunters – our elite. They’re the ones who are useful in some way to the tribe. Daisuke, because he’s a genius. Axel, because he can steal anything he can carry. Alexander, because he’s our oldest guy and has been studying as a builder. He helped build the wind turbines and showers.

Omegas – new guys, guys who’re useless or in disgrace – let’s say they’re bottom of the food chain. Commoners are everybody else. We all have our white face paint to mark us as Cigarettes, but our rank dictates the design on our faces. I, for example, have claws-shaped triangles running down the side of my face. Seraph, as beta, has a triangle above and below his eye, pointing outward. It suits him.

We accepted Reason into the Tribe yesterday. She has the makings of an Elite, or maybe a beta even. If we loose Seraph, that is.

[Mina Crow]

[Folder Name: The Tower]
[Number of Files: 1]

[Filename: Gargoyle Tower]

My name? I'm sorry, I can't tell you. Mina would kill me - well, she might kill me anyway. She's just a freaked-off blood hunter. Anyway, I won't tell you. Nhanhanhanhanha.

The Vampires' Headquarters sit on Rhymes Square, where West 43rd Street crosses it. Those kids always wanted to live in the Times Square. Who doesn't? Me, for one.

They call it the Gargoyle Tower. Creepy, spooky - Vampiric. It's just a f**king building, for heaven's sake. Once, it had sixteen floors - not that it matters anymore. The upper three floors are completely ruined, they crumpled down on themselves. Oh, great, now we have thirteen floors! Band of devilish witches.

You can't go in. In fact, you can, but only the first floor - that's the same as nothing, as they leave no trace behind. On the ground floor, the Tower looks like any other abandoned building. The stairways are blocked, the lifts don't work anymore, and an endless sea of footprints covers the dusty floor. You can't go beyond it - unless you are a child of the night.

They hacked the elevators' system. The cabins are locked on the thirteenth floor, but they can open the doors on each floor. Inside the shafts, they have rope ladders and a big box, if you can make them out in the dark. That's another of Mina's rules, no light on the shafts. She doesn't want to disturb the f**king bats living there. Her own kind. Bah. This is useless ramble, why do I keep trying? She'll kill me. Painfully. I don't care anymore.

They use the box to transport big stuff - or prisoners. A rope goes through its top and a pulley up there in the darkness, so they can lift and lower it. The ladders scare me s**tless, I confess. How can you go up twelve floors in the dark, with nothing to hold on but a rope, and not wonder what happens if you fall? No surprise they are all crazy. I tell you, no one is sane after going up and down those shafts. And only them can open the lift doors. If you work for them, yet you aren't part of their group, you must wait they open the doors. While you are inside. In the dark.

But there's more. You didn't expect Mina to live on the twelve floors, did you? No, her quarters are on the thirteenth floor. There is no way to access it from inside the building. Stairs blocked, lifts on the very floor - so the shafts are not the way. The only path to her floor is outside the Tower. Scary enough? You try climbing a rope - not a ladder, just a freaking rope - at 120ft from the ground, and knowing they are down here, waiting, while the very Crow hovers above you. And when she is done with you, you must go down again.

[Seraphim]

[FolderName: Mutant Savant]
[Number of Files: 3]

[Filename: Death of Serenity]

She’s dead she’s dead she’s dead. I can’t believe it – someone tell me she’s just knock-out. God please, she can’t be dead. Serenity can’t be dead – she can’t be. Oh, god damnit! I’m going to personally rip Mina Crow’s head of for this. I swear to god, I’m going to kill whoever did this. F.uck. She can’t be dead. A hoax… god.

[Later]

Reason Harrison. 16. 1 Month in New Pork.

Serenity Kamaru, Alpha of the Cigarettes, is dead. She was found stabbed in one of our outposts, blood covering her chest. On the wall in plain sight, a bloody hand – Vampire work, unless someone wanted to pin the job on the Vampires. I doubt it, though. The Wharf Rats would want to claim the kill for themselves and the Wildcats would never frame someone else for their own dirty work. They want to be known as feral shits.

Seraph – Seraphim, I should say – is distraught. I don’t think he loved her, but as close to as one such as him could get to love, maybe. Going through something like the first few weeks of living in New Pork can awake the strangest feelings in people who would usually made stupid jokes about each other behind their backs. But gods – I’ve never seen someone to twitchy, so nervous and so angry as Seraphim is right now. He’s already threatened to do a kamikaze attack on the Gargoyle Tower with a collection of matches and the bomb that Daisuke built. He’s also lashed out at people – physically, I mean. It hurts, trust me. The kid has knuckles of steel or something.

We’ve burnt Serenity’s body already. Her ashes are floating away to mingle with the ashes of New York. Seraphim set her body alight so carefully you’d think he was doing brain surgery. Yeah – I think he was in love. They knew each other for nine months, and they thought they hated each other – but I might have forgotten to mention that Serenity had one of Seraph’s lighters in her pocket. She loved him too. Would it have been different if they’d known?

Seraphim has taken on the Alpha role with a solemn dignity, but I don’t think he wants the job very much. He hates responsibility. It kills him that anything that happens to the tribe now is his fault. Any Vampire attacks, any accidents, leaks, prisoners, deaths, illnesses. I’ve been promoted to Beta, and I think he wants to swap places. But the rest of the Tribe doesn’t know me well enough – maybe in a few months time, when they know me, Seraphim can step down. Until then, this is his job. Poor guy.

[Filename: Marvel or DC?]

Seraphim Ashadar. 14. Eleven Months in New Pork.

I’m going to sound crazy. Maybe I am crazy – maybe Serenity dying did that to me. But I swear to God and Allah and Buddha – we’re mutants. The chemicals on the buildings – they’re doing something to us, I know it. Daisuke’s getting more intelligent as the weeks progress. Alexander says he can feel emotion, vaguely – see them as colors in front of his eyes, a wash over his vision. It’s so f**king not right. We’ll be the next spider-men and effing Flash or something else corny like that.

Reason – god, Reason, I f**king admire her. She’s taken up all the stuff I’m supposed to be doing and helping me on this. I’ve been here ten months or something, but she knows better than I when the Wildcats will attack, or when I have to look out for Vampires on the Grid. Anyway – Reason thinks that it might be a long-term effect of the chemicals and radioactive stuff on the buildings. She and the rest of the newbies aren’t showing any signs of X-men style mutations. So us old hands are stuck being freaks – brilliant. I don’t know if any of the other tribes have these effing mutations, but I figure they have to, unless the radioactive s**t was concentrated on Castle Smoke.

And I, thank god, have no mutations yet. Sophie - remember her? She's kind of been in the background - is just finding out that she has heightened senses. She found this out as we were standing on the roof of Castle Smoke. She could see a Vampire on a roof someplace, and all I could see was a faint outline. She could see what it was wearing. She freaked.

[File Name: Mutant Savant or Psychic?]

Scientists all over the world are currently working on a strange case – the savant mutations in select children of the Sandstorm in Old New York. We’ve been getting reports on this for a few weeks, but recent tests on a child who escaped Old New York show that the rumor is now a reality. The girl, Sophie Hadley, is currently in quarantine and we hope that her parents or relatives will come forward. We don’t yet know if the same is happing in Old Los Angeles, and we await confirmation.

These mutations seem to be taking the shape of heightened senses, mental clarity and the ability to smell or see pheromones released by certain emotions. This last mutation, or ‘empathy’ as the psychic community calls it, seems to be very rare. However, the other two mutations are taking hold of the long-term residents of Old New York slowly, among other strange Savants.

However, the Government laboratories urge the public to remain calm. There will be no Pyros, Magnetos, Green Lanterns or other super-powered humans. The mutations taking place in Old New York are fairly simple – merely a new susceptibility to select stimulus or a more developed neural network. As it is, the ratio of mutants versus ‘mortals’ is 1 mutant to seven to ten humans. Also, only the children who have lived in Old New York for over five months or more seem to be affected. This suggests the prolonged exposure to the chemicals used to cleanse the city causes mutations of the genetic code and neural processes.

More on this story tomorrow, when the President will be making a world-wide address.

[Jade]

[Folder Name: The Sewers]
[Number of Files: 1]

[Filename: Rats in the Wharf]

I suppose I might gain something if I tell you these things. Maybe I'll call upon your favor later, if you can remember our Tribe. Not that I'm insulting your intelligence, dear.

Where do I live? Oh, I live with the others of my kind. We are in the sewers- far underground- and there we hear all the echos and sometimes- if it is planned. Well, we can hear what the others are planning. Isn't that charming?

I can hear the wheels turning in your head. You need them oiled. Please, don't take to much offense at that. No, you can't simply lift a random sewer hole and come attacking us. You see, only we know the layout of the sewers and only we have perfected the art of walking without being heard. It's wonderful really. We aren't as good as the history textbooks we found said the Indians where. But Jade thinks we're getting pretty close.

Anyways- we all know exactly where the other person dwells. Except maybe Jade. We only know where she works and where she holds meetings. Anyways- we live where the sewer used to poor into the harbor. Oh, no, dearest, it isn't dirty. We wouldn't be living in the slime that was there when we first arrived. Oh no. We all cleaned that out within the days we arrived.

We don't all live in the sewers- you see between the old harbor supports we've strung old pieces of cloth. Only we can navigate them- and in the days I was learning how to, can you believe I fell in about twenty times? It was horrible, but it's a quick way to learn never to do it again. Anyways- we keep our prisoners there. Poor things, they don't know how to navigate the thickest ropes! It's like the other clan's don't even know our turf. Actually, we do know the basics of their turf. Expect for those awful Vampires. I've heard they stay near the sky! How awfully stupid- you could be seen anywhere.

Of course we're planning to live off the River as soon as thing's start to clear up- and we've even cultivated some not so poisonous moss. This type only makes you nauseous for a few hours- where as the other type had you throwing up!

I guess our masterpiece would be where we moot. The old sewage plant. It's impossible to get into- we spent our entire time barricading it from the outside. I don't think those horrid Wildcat's could barge their way in- or those Cigarettes burn into it. But, it's where we eat and talk and plan. It's far from the city- it takes at least a good fifteen minute sprint from the harbor to it- and unaccessible by air. It's wonderful. When we've finally succeed in our own little plot's we'll all just retire to the place and soak in the sun from the roof.

I must leave, dearest, I have an arrangement to meet someone in the West Sewers. I have my own plots to care for!

[Chloe']

[Folder Name: Central Park]
[Number of Files: 1]

[File Name: Cats of the Park]

No one know That I have been working on this If anyone found out, 'specially Chloe, Id be skinned alive, giving even the basic information of my tribe out. We are the Wildcats. Born killers with no mercy for the weak and respect for the strong. We've been known to attack everything that moves, and well... its kinda true. With food that is running out, we've been known to kill rats and well.... eat them... It may sound Gross to you, but they're actually quite good if you roast them on an open fire... with just a bit of salt... Damn it... Got my mouth watering again...

We've taken claim to Central Park, or what seems to remain of it... We've build traps and small shacks, and many other things that come in handy. Caught with out a knife or weapon, you don't live up to our name. We're all brutes and we see killing as one less mouth to feed or less competition. We're actually craftier then most give us credit for. Look at the traps we've built and these torture weapons! Fear us you should. This is a warning I hope you know.

Our attacks are more common then Vampires', and we're brutal. After we've made a kill, we distort our victim's face with a three curved diagonal line marking thing. If we have time, we get those cuts nice and deep into the bone.. But if rushed, the cuts are shallower, but still ugly.. Its funny realy... One day the Wildcats shall rule New Pork, but that day is not today, our plots have yet to be formed and weapons made deadlier.

We travel in packs I hope you know, so if your traveling alone, keep your eyes open, keep your ears pricked, keep looking behind you, because one day, we'll find you. And then you'll be dead... Venture into our lands and fear our traps and Chloe's minions. We have eyes everywhere, sentries, walkers, and never forget our packs. If you see one of us, there will more likely be more of us hiding in the shadows. And we have no mercy...

The Restaurant is another matter. Certain rooms are strictly for Chloe and her closest members. The deadliest. Food stores are here, and the foods pretty good, but we'll run out sooner or later, so we constantly add to the stocks. How you ask? Scavenging. We steal, its as simple as that. Steal and pick through trash. Like the cats used to do here.. God I miss them... They were so loud at night, keeping everyone up... Awsome... Now I'm getting off topic again...

We throw our prisoners into giant pits called... Pits.. Real original, I know. Anyone is allowed to torture them in anyway... Its quiet fun for most, but I don't really enjoy it that much... There are small guard houses roughly made from the sturdier trees that are fun to hand out it and watch the prisoners. Now the Pits got there from the Black Plague, its not to clear, but they did. NO more questions.

Now, theres also the Fountain. One of those really huge old ones... Our blood binding ceremonies take place there. Chloe decided that there was less of a chance of tribe members turning if they shared the same blood. Heres how it works; if a new member passes the test, they are bound by blood. A member of the tribe is chosen to bind his blood with the new member's. The backs of the wrists are slit on the right hand of the donner and the right of the receiver. The hands are tied together, allowing the blood to run freely into each other's veins. It stings for a bit, but its oaky after a while. The hands are to be kept like that for about 5 or so minutes... Thats about it.

Remember my warnings, and fear the shadows of where we stalk. I'm risking a lot by just warning you. You may never see me again, I will be found... I know it... If you turn on the tribe, the tribe turns on you...

[Seraphim]

[Folder Name: Innocents Lost]
[Number of Files: 1]

[Filename: N/A ]

QWERTY / C-DRIVE / JOURNAL / 14 MONTHS

Three down, one to go. Due to the unexplained phenomenon called ‘greed’, two more eminent leaders have been murdered. Or, so much is suspected. Mary Blackwater, the leader of the Wharf Rats, has disappeared off the face of the known world and seems to be gone for good. The Cigarettes are at odds over the character of her replacement. The Berserker is more like Chloe was than we entertain a healthy view of. Slowly, the only civilized tribe in the city seems to be becoming more and more alive.

But Jade didn’t leave on her own. Chloe something-or-other seems to have been murdered by an unknown individual who has taken her position in the Wildcats. In turn, that individual was killed and replaced by a new one. Azrael, he calls himself. This makes four leaders disposed of, and leaves Mina Crow in a position of power. She makes the rest of us looks like fools, just because she survives. She’s cheating, I think, but we’ll never know.

Although it seems highly unlikely that there will be more murders or disappearances in the next few months, there is still every chance that the truce activated by the current turmoil in the Wildcats will only make this war of the minds worse. Every day it gets worse – people die or are killed. Buildings fall in on themselves or are made to fall by enemy arsonists, fires spring up in places Seraphim wasn’t even in at the time, and bloody handprints cover the walls of the few surviving food stores.

Jade was the most intelligent of the four leaders, of course. She planned for when this would happen – when the food would start running out. The Cigarettes have planted a garden in the ashes of the building that stood next to what is now Castle Smoke, but it provides little food and is as impermanent as the rest of the food stockpiles. We can only eat non-perishables, or foods that have been well persevered. Although cats, dogs and rats are returning to the city, it seems unlikely they will be able to support the four tribes as a food source for some time yet.

The Wharf Rats were the Cigarettes’ closest allies and best bet for survival, but the Berserker is a much more daunting figure to approach with a truce, much less if Seraphim is still holding the white flag. He wants to step down, but now Reason doesn’t seem so sure she can take up Serenity’s mantle – the position of powers was always the position of pain.

The army has been moving closer these past weeks, apparently planning a coup into our territory to catch a runaway. Seraphim and Reason are prepared to join forces with the Wharf Rats or even Wildcats to get rid of these intruders, should it come to that, but they haven’t the willpower or the patience to try anything concerning the Vampires, although they would be the best bet against well-armed, well-trained adults.

Endfile-removedate-convertbinary-store

[Mina Crow]

[Folder Name: Broadcast]
[Number of Files: 1]

[Filename: Silent Confession]

Great. Just great. This is so stupid; I had to ask Daisuke to leave the room before I started broadcasting again. I would prefer if my thoughts and emotions were kept to myself, thank you.

It started about ten days ago. Exactly with Dai. I was thinking, wondering about something, and he answered me on the subject. The question is, I never said a thing. Last time I looked, Alexander was the Empath, not Qwerty.

Then it started to happen more often, kids casting me those incredulous looks, amazed I was talking. But I was not. That is the problem.

So it seems I have joined the happy group of mutant weirdos, for my thoughts seem to wander to other people, and they perceive them as if I was speaking. Half the time they wonder why the hell the mute has suddenly decided to speak, the other half they have strange insights on my emotions.

I have been avoiding Alexander. It is quite enough he senses what I'm feeling, I do not want him incidentally meddling with my own thoughts. After all, he has no control over his Empathy, and the clash might be overwhelming. Freaking mutants, that's what we are. He senses emotion, I broadcast it.

It might be something useful, if only I could control or focus it. Remember all the stories and such, where the hero focused his mind on his big toe and no one could trespass into his mind? He grabbed a token, shut his eyes and instantly communicated with someone on the other side of the world? Forget it. I have tried to direct emotion or thought, but it seems to radiate from me in a circle, affecting all those in range as if I was talking out loud. With luck, they thought I was training some kind of spooky ventriloquism.

This scares the sh.it out of me, I confess. I'll never forget those captured children on the camp, and those studies the scientists started on their mutations. There was a girl named Sophie, I saw her once. She was terrified, and so am I. And, of course, my fear lingers on the air, waiting for someone to come close.

Rumors are starting to spread. Imagine approaching a member of your tribe and have your mind flooded by uncertainty and frustration? The thing is, I know exactly how they feel, for those are my emotions.

I should tell Reason. Vox cannot help me on this, and I don't want to scare her, she already has too many duties on her back. Reason will know what to do, won't she?

You know what? Telepathy sucks.

John Hagen