Long ago, the world was full of people. In 2025, the governments of America and Russia signed into a partnership on the space program, promising to work together to find a way to colonize other worlds before the world's over population became a threat. They established colonies on Mars and began a journey to Saturn's Titan. It was all for not. The corporations wanted money, and the militaries wanted priority, and soon the Global Space Exploration Company came crashing down on a blaze of bullets and politics. And that was where it truly began. First the world's food supply began to run short. Famine came even to countries who had once been great. With the famine came disease. People were living crowded and hungry and dirty. After the disease set in, the economy that relied on global trade tanked and then crashed. Governments went to war just to cut populations down, but when the armies and navy's and air forces found out the intent they warred on their own governments. The entire world entered one war after another in utter pandemonium until one day GSEC re-emerged. They promised to get humanity into space again with the aid of the world's money. They established a global government run by GSEC's leadership. Those who could not contribute would be left behind. And for that reason, the wars didn't stop. They just had a new common enemy. Rebellion burned for a hundred years, all the while, GSEC was developing a secret weapon. With it, they destroyed the rebellion and launched their global evacuation. The three main craft that carried the main GSEC personnel, leadership, and guests who paid the financial price to attend, entered orbit of earth as the other nine-hundred ships went in all directions to separate destinations. The earth was left with one-tenth the population which was still a mess. Soon, it seemed like actual people were few and very, very far between. You met more ferals, people crazed by hyperrabies, than normal human beings. The world is barren and you must survive.

[okay so as long as you've got a decent backstory, just about anything goes here (character wise). I'll need a skelly following the format below. This thread is meant for the attendance of but if we get one or two more, that's cool too. Normal basic rules, and no foul language. Also I want to stay in the realistic, science fiction-ish realm but if you want you can dip a toe into fantasy. But just a toe. Minimum ONE paragraph per post and at least one update per day. Drop-off are hard to make up for so please be committed. Most important have fun! If you read these rules please include your favorite movie line at the end of your skelly.]

Name: Cain 00259 Age: 28 Appearance: Cain is mostly Caucasian with a hint of Japanese in him. Naturally he has almond-shaped eyes that are not natural any more. There are surgical scars on the inside corners of his eyes that run about an inch in parallel with his nose. These scars are the evidence of his surgically altered eyes. The sclera of his eyes are black and help with night vision. His iris's are red, allowing him to see a much larger spectrum of light than normal. He has shaggy, jet black, unruly hair and pale skin. He wears a high tech respirator mask painted flat black to match the scheme of his whole outfit. He wears a black and grey hooded jacket over a dark grey wife-beater and a bullet-proof, knife-resistant, self healing nano armor vest. He wears black joggers and suede combat boots that are, you guessed it, black. This is his outfit every day. He cleans and maintains it as is needed. Short bio: Cain was part of GSEC when he was only twenty years old. He was a promising security officer with a thick book of credentials. When he was selected for a secret project, he didn't hesitate. It wasn't until after all the surgeries and augmentations that he realized just how much of a monster he was. They unleashed him and many other varieties of super soldiers on the rebellion as a "secret weapon". They succeeded, but were mostly left behind on account of their unpredictable nature. Burdened by sin, he made it his mission to kill the other supers that still wreaked havoc on what little humanity was left on the planet.

"I got better" -Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Name: Michael Far Age: 17

Appearance: Shaggy and dirty, his chestnut brown hair falls over his ears. His face is the unshaven face of an adolescent, not quite peach fuzz but also not the full grown thickness of a mans beard. His eyes, giving off a faint glow, are a bioluminescent green that define him as a "super". He is Caucasian, but his skin is tanned from his long hours under the sun. He often wears a worn black jacket with green pinstripes along the seam. Underneath that he wears a dirty white t-shirt with the logo of a long forgot video game. He wears frayed and washed out blue jeans and a pair of worn black shoes. Not the picture of style, but of poverty and survival. He keeps with him a small black military style back pack that he managed to scavenge which he uses to store anything else he manages to scavenge. Most notably of which is a combat knife that has a very dull edge, but has been the one thing that has made it any easier for him to hunt rats for food.

Bio: Michaels parents both worked for GSEC for years, but after becoming disillusioned with the company, ran away with Michael who was still a child of only 5 years old. Taking secret documents with them so that GSEC couldn't use them, they were hunted down by the augmented humans produced by the company. His parents being killed in front of him left a scar on his heart, but without time for grieving, was abducted by GSEC to be experimented on and trained for the next 8 years of his life. Pumped full of hormones and filled with not only combat training but also intensive scholastic training, he became the smartest and strongest among his group of candidates for the next group of GSEC "supers". Before the end selection process where the candidates are surgically altered, he managed to conduct an escape with a group of candidates that held similar memories of being abducted. Unfortunately, he was the only one to make it out alive. As such, for the last 4 years, he has survived on the bare necessities, instincts, and increased abilities. Abilities wise, he is stronger in just about every area then a normal human and has enhanced senses. For his moderate sized frame, he would be a little stronger than an Olympic athlete who trained their whole life and his senses are on par with an animals(I.e. a dogs sense of smell or a cats night vision and perception).

The air was dry. Just like the rest of the once great San Diego. There were no more irrigation pipelines, or water trucks. They had already been sucked dry or destroyed in the final war. The sun was hot but it didn't bother Cain. He was accustom to discomfort. For the moment he was in shade, sitting on an old desk in a run-down gas station. Streams of light spilled in through the blinds that had been pulled down over the windows and glass doors. It was getting close to sunset, the perfect time for him to move, so he began to check his weapons. Holstered on his right thigh was his favorite weapon. He had owned it since his academy days before GSEC. He pulled the black, powder-coated, modified Springfield M1911 from its place pulling the slide back enough to be sure there was a round in the chamber. Next he checked the magazine, ensuring it was loaded with eight "golden saber" rounds. They were designed to fan out before mushrooming to help stick, thus increasing the impact. One of those would put even a Feral on its back. He slapped the magazine back in and reholstered the gun. It was his last resort weapon. Forty-five caliber bullets, especially sabers, were scarce. He only had three magazines worth. His main gun was the ever-reliable Beretta 92. He had blued the steel of that nine- millimeter pistol himself. It had a GSEC-tech silencer attached to the muzzle. The silencer was not traditional. GSEC had designed it to function more efficiently but with a third the length. He checked the weapon's ammo just as he had for his 1911, and returned it to its holster under his arm and beneath his jacket. Finally, he took out his six inch tactical knife, his weapon of choice. He pulled out one of his hairs and carefully sliced it in half, then sheathed the blade.

The sky was turning orange. Time to move. Cain stepped up quietly to the glass door, peering through the ragged blinds at the world outside. It was void of life, as usual. The vacant cars were caked in dust and dirt. Weeds had pushed their way between cracks in the pavement. The grass patches along the freeway were long dead and shriveled up. The once beautiful city was gradually becoming a desert. With a soft crunch of the glass particles under his boot from previously broken glass, Cain pushed open the door and stepped out into the world. He listened for anything and everything, his eyes swept back and forth, searching for any ultraviolet or infrared light that living things always gave off. He was the only one to receive those eyes without going totally blind. He had expert control of them. His respirator kicked on, having been charged as he slept through the day. It filtered out the dust and impurities from the air with a quiet, but audible woosh in and out. He could feel it. A super was close. His respirator didn't hinder his sense of smell, and the air was charged with ions. It's was as subtle a hint as one could imagine, but his intuition never failed. Still, something about this feeling was off. It felt incomplete. A reject?

He searched harder, focusing his mind totally on his senses. He didn't move a millimeter, didn't make a sound (apart from breathing), didn't falter in vigilance.

Everyday was invested in survival. And just like any other day, Michael was focused on nothing but. Scavenging through an abandoned apartment complex was the only way to find food anymore, other then hunting of course. Thanks to technological advances, food preservation had become nearly perfect. Food lasted for hundreds of years rather then only a few. Thanks to this, worrying about expiration dates was unnecessary and only finding leftovers was the issue. Most supermarkets and warehouses were picked clean over the years and homes and apartments seemed to be the only places left with a potential to find any. The complex that Michael was searching was particularly good for finding food. It was tucked away in the center of the city where few scavengers dared to travel. The density of ferals was much more significant in this part of the city and few could handle a feral alone. Luckily for Michael, he never had much trouble with them, but it was lone ferals that he was worried about. It was the feral packs. A feral pack was a nightmare, because there were to many to deal with alone and they would give chase to the ends of the earth if they could. Keeping ever vigilant for signs of danger, Michael kept up his search for food till noon.

Stepping into the second floor hallway, bag filled with aluminum packages of preserved food, Michael was ready to head back to "home base". In retrospect, it wasn't much of a base more so than a small yacht in the marina north of San Diego. It was however, functioning and could be cast out to sea in the event of an emergency. Taking a look up and down the hallway, one could see trash strewn about across the floor, leftovers from the rush to leave the planet combined with the work or numerous scavengers left the grisly seen before him. The tan wallpaper was slowly starting to peel away from the wall and the lack of Windows in the long hallway made the place seem like a horror film, and much like a horror film it was. At any moment, a feral could sprint down the hall and splatter the hallway in blood. Thinking of such things, Michael shakes his head as if to clear cobwebs from his brain. Thinking like that in the ruins of San Diego, or anywhere for that matter, could get you seriously injured or killed. Carefully walking down the hallway, step by step, he made his way towards the stairs. Stopping suddenly, he picked up his ears and listened. Someone was coming up the stairs the exited into the alleyway. And it was more then one person.

Busting through the door a man and three ferals came running toward him. There wasn't much time to take note of the man as the ferals had just caught him, tumbling into the wall as they dragged him down and ripped apart his body. The mans scream was cut short by the gash that had severed his trachea. The man was holding a pistol in hand, but lost it upon being caught, it slid several feet until stopping 2 feet from Michael. Kicking his thoughts into high gear he immediately made a grab for the pistol and began sprinting towards the opposite set of stairs. Two of the ferals quickly began to pursue him, blood and drool trailing from their gapping mouths. Sprinting into the stairway, he immediately ran up the stairs, already knowing that the stairs had been blocked by a crashed semi at the bottom. Finally making it to the roof 14 floors up, he made his way into the beaming afternoon sunlight. Quickly closing the door behind him, he silently hoped that ferals didn't suddenly learn how to open doors. With he stairs being the only set to the top, he took a look at his last way out. Taking a look at the weapon in his hand, he saw that it wasn't a pistol he was carrying, but a revolver and it only had one round in the cylinder. With an exasperated look that could only be interpreted as saying "Now what.", he steeled himself to think of anyway to survive his current situation. By the time he could come up with anything, due to the noise, the ferals at the door had already increased to five.

With a deeper breath, Cain smelled the air. "Ferals." He deduced out loud, his voice a deep, rugged tone that was coupled with the slight metallic muffle of his respirator. He turned to look over his shoulder, directing both his sight and his hearing to the source of the feral stench. There was a pounding. They were behind a door, up high. The charge in the air was stronger there and there was UV and IR light up there too. Some one was up on top of that building. It was quite a ways off so the light was faint, but that was why Cain moved in the evening and night. He threw his leg over the Harley he had been riding since Mexico and kicked it to life. The engine ripped and roared as he got on the ramp and tore down the freeway toward the building. As he got closer, he realized the charge was definitely a super, but unlike any other. He couldn't recognize it. Usually, he could sense what kind of super it was if he was within a half-mile, but not this one.

He parked at the base of the building and went inside, his knife drawn. Quickly and quietly he scaled the stairs all the way up to the top floor. He kicked the door to the main hall open, acquiring their attention. They had grown in numbers. There were eight now. "Come on." He taunted. The first three were easy. He buried his knife in the front feral's forehead, simultaneously punching the left one in the face and drawing the Beretta with his right. He put one round through its skull. Only five left and nineteen rounds to kill them with, but he didn't want to waist bullets on ferals. He flipped the safety on and retrieved his knife, ready to fight, ready to kill.

Hours passed, the sun began to set low on the horizon spreading red and orange streaks across the low clouds. Night was coming and Michael estimated that he had about thirty minutes of sunlight left. Seeing the sun set behind the towering structures of the city took him back to a time when his parents were still alive. One of his only remaining memories of them.

"Daddy, look a sunset!", exclaimed a young Michael, only four years old. Michael's father, John, walked over a picked the boy up. His father smelled like a combination of cologne and cigarettes, a sign of his father hard work and dedication to his job. With a hearty laugh, he sets the boy on the office window sill, "Yes son, yes it is." As the sun began to creep behind the horizon, the sky set on fire as if the world was burning, with a now more grim look on his face, an omen for things to come, John speaks to his son. "Promise me one thing Michael, when the Sun sets it will become night and with it bring fear and solitude, but I want you to not fear the night. For even though the Sun sets, it will always rise in the morning, and with the Sun's rise into the sky, it's warmth will bring hope and joy. And that hope and joy is what will drive you to survive through every night that comes your way."

Bringing his mind back to the present, Michael could hear a gunshot from the stairwell. With the absence of the continuous banging that had haunted him for the last few hours, he could tell that the ferals had left the doorway. Taking the opportunity to escape, he crept as silently as he could. Peaking around the doorway one level below the roof, he saw a man and a pile of feral corpses. Not one of the ferals was left. The man was alone, leaving only one explanation for who he was. A "super". "He must be from GSEC, I can't believe they're still hunting me down after all these years." He played many scenarios in his head, but none of them had him sneaking out of here quietly. Certainly he already knew where he was, why else would he be here? Stand and fight, or run away. Examining the man's physical features, he noticed nothing about the man particularly threatening outside of his two pistols and combat knife, but his presence screamed danger inside of Michaels head. Keeping to his training, he calmed his mind. Running was the best option right now, fighting would come if necessary. Jumping into the gap between the stairs, he feel three stories before catching the stair rail and nimbly lifting himself over the side. Sprinting down the 10th floor hallway making every effort to escape from the potential threat.

[ , said that it would be a good idea to ping you, please feel free to join in, the more the merrier!]

(( thank you for the invitation, buit while I'm sorta interested, I don't know how well I'll fit in. I know you don't want people dropping, so let's start by asking. How would you feel about a pair of skilled mercenaries, both products of a failed GSEC experiment?))

After killing all the ferals with only his knife and the butt of his pistol, he stood there, waiting for the other one to reveal himself. When he did, it took Cain by surprise. He was only a child. He couldn't have been more than sixteen. They were locked in eye contact for a split second before the boy dropped down the stairwell. Cain followed him, konging over the rail of floor ten just as the other had, and sprinting down the hall. The boy was a super, but he was incomplete. He didn't have the same level of physical ability as Cain. The gap between them was closing quickly, until a feral appeared from nowhere. It tackled Cain from the right, slamming him through the drywall and into an apartment. This one was big. It had enough strength to contest with Cain. It looked like a gorilla, but bigger. It pounded around in a territorial manner, grunting and chuffing. Cain rested his hand on his m1911. He loved that gun, even having named it, but before he could draw it, the feral tackled him again. This time, they smashed through the window.

Everything slowed down. Cain's perception augmentation was kicking in. He torqued his momentum, starting to flip so that he could grab the windowsill. As he reached out, he realized he was too far out. He made eye contact with the boy as he began the ten-story fall.

He had to react. He completed his flip, but took it further clamping his left hand on the feral's throat. With his main hand he simultaneously drew Rose, that was the name he had given his m1911. Three stories had passed and they were picking up speed. He jammed the muzzle into its mouth and squeezed three saber rounds into its skull, blowing a gaping meat hole out the back side. Three more stories had passed, only six to go. The beast was limp and made of thick muscle. It wasn't great for cushion, but it was enough for him to survive the fall. He torqued his momentum again, aiming for an old car. The car would cushion even more.

Those last six stories passed faster than the first three had. Cain gripped tight to the beast beneath him, and braced for impact.

With a crash and metallic hum, he slammed hard into the dead meat, sliding off before the fall was complete. The last thing he heard before being knocked out was the sickening sound of his own skull smacking the pavement.

[im not sure how much you'll like this theme, but yeah I'm game. Lemme guess, Amuné and Jareth?]

(( Nope!

Name: Anna-Gilyan "Angie" Hightower Age: 30 Appearance: Angie is short and sturdily built, with fiery orange hair she usually keeps pulled back in a ponytail and a face covered in freckles. Her green eyes have strange concentric circles in them, spinning one way and another as she adjusts her focus. She wears rugged clothing, suited for her environment, and handles herself in the manner of one always ready for a fight. She carries several guns on her person, including two handguns in shoulder holsters and a sniper rifle slung over her back.

Name: Alexandra "Lexie" Swift Age: 32 Appearance: A tall and athletic woman, Lexie keeps her long brown hair braided tightly so it stays out of her way. Her blue eyes hold a friendly expression, and her tanned face has laugh lines. Her clothing, while sturdy, is tighter-fitting than her friend's, and clearly designed for ease of movement as well as protection. Five knives hang on a belt at her waist, three on her left and two on her right.

Joint history: The product of a failed GSEC experiment designed to bioengineer supersoldiers, the pair were lucky enough to come across the mercenary Travis soon after the disaster that marked the end of that particular venture. While it was difficult, he took the two kids in and raised them, teaching them the finer points of mercenary work. The pair are still in touch with their mentor, and have since made names for themselves as an excellent, if pricey, team of soldiers for hire. Angie is the gunman, her eyes engineered for precision sight even at great distances and in poor conditions. Lexie is a melee fighter, preferring her collection of knifes to take out an enemy at close range. Lexie's speed and agility are enhanced so she can rapidly close the distance between herself and a target, as well as excellent spatial awareness so she knows precisely where objects around her are. Both have improved reflexes and lowered reaction times, as well as the standard boost to strength and durability.))

[ohhh, I like this! That's my larah-chan!

(( It's usually Shy, but I suppose if you want to call me Larah, I'll make an exception.))

[ but im special .-. Right? Lol]

((Very ))

"Oi Lexie, 'e still breathin'?" The woman's voice was chirrupy and quick, with a strong accent. "Think so," came the reply, accompanied by strong hands checking Cain over. "Mutt isn't, though. That was quite a fall. Lucky for him he landed on your kill, huh?"

"Eyah, seems so." From the window above the two women could be seen discussing the injured man casually, as if this was an everyday occurrence. "I'mma go get th' medkit. Y' wanna clear ou' tha' buildin', see if'n any more mutts 're inside?" The redhead jerked one thumb at the building where Michael still hid, her other hand loosely gripping a suppressed pistol.

"Nah, I'd better stick with our falling friend here. Make sure nobody decides to eat him." With that the woman with the close-fitting garb and long brown braid flipped a knife into her hand and settled in to stand guard as her companion headed off. Before long the second woman returned, medkit in hand, and the one she'd called Lexie set to trying to patch the fallen man as best she could, all things considered. "Not supposed to move someone that messed themselves up like you just did, but it's not safe staying out here without cover. We'd best get you inside. Angie, you find a board or anything?"

"Sure did," the redhead chirped, lugging over a piece that had once covered a window. "I'll take th' 'ead, yew take th' feet, eyah?" "Right." With teamwork that bore testament to long familiarity, the pair moved Cain to the makeshift stretched and started carrying him into the building.

It took a split second to take in the sight of the large fiend in the hallway that intersected perpendicularly to the hall he was running down. It's hulking form was towering over a mass of blood and meat that just might have once been a person. It was a "Behemoth". Michael took to naming it that because of its pure size and strength and it's not like he knew of any other name to call it. Behemoths were particularly dangerous. The dull combat knife at his waist wasn't going to be of much help and one bullet in the revolver in his left hand would probably only serve to piss it off if he missed the head. Not to mention, stopping to aim would only get him caught by the man only a few paces behind him. All Michael could hope for is that somehow they managed to distract each other so he could get away from both.

Sure enough, the brutish feral crashed into the man, blowing through the wall of the hallway leaving dust a debris in their wake. Seconds later the sound of shattering glass meant that they had fallen out of the building. Slowing his pace, he turns around to take a look at the damage. It was nearly impossible to survive a ten story fall, even for a super human like the man clearly was. Of coarse, it wouldn't hurt to be sure. Peering through the hole that used to be a window, he saw that the man had landed on on top of the feral as well as a car and had rolled on to the pavement. He didn't move an inch so it was safe to assume he was dead or badly injured. Only way to be sure was to finish the job himself.

Having arrived in the lobby at the bottom floor, he made his way to the front door. Hearing the sounds of conversation about 40 meters outside and to the right of the door, he hid behind a pillar. The voices were getting close and he had no time to hid else were. Prepping the revolver in his left hand, he made certain that the only round left was in the proper chamber. Maybe he could use it to bluff his way out. Certainly it wasn't going to be of any use in a fire fight so what choice did he have?

[Thanks for joining us!]

((^.^))

Lexie heard the sound of the gun and jerked her head at her partner. The pair all but dropped the stretcher, taking up combat positions, the redhead with her two pistols, the taller woman with a pair of knives. "'Oo's there?" Angie demanded, her accent no longer quite so chirpy. "If'n y'ain't an enemy, come ou' where we c'n see ya."

The two split up, circling around opposite directions and clearing each place someone might be hiding as they went. They were used to unfriendly supers, experiments that had failed and gone insane, or who just plain hated other people. Friendlies were few and far between. "You'll have to pardon the reception," Lexie added, as she approached Michael's hiding spot, looking around carefully as she did. "Can't be too cautious. I'm sure you understand, if you're living out here like everyone else."

The knife fighter came around Michael's pillar and, seeing the gun ready in his hand, dodged back out of sight. "Not going to make many friends like that, kid," she told him, as Angie closed in from the other side at the sound of her partner's voice. "I'm not interested in hurting you if you're not interested in hurting us, but if you want a fight I won't hold back."

Whoever they were, they were experienced. He could here their study steps creeping in close to his hiding spot. If they were working with the other one then there was no doubt that they too were supers. Reaching behind his right ear, he felt along the small surgical scar there. The only remaining evidence of the tracker placed under his skin years ago at "The Academy". It's been eighteen months since that last time they bothered hunting him down. After killing so many agents, he figured they were down chasing after him, but with the encounter of three super-humans just today, he wasn't so sure anymore.

"You think I could trust you so easily", he breathed in a scratchy voice. It had been ages since he last spoke. Pretty easy to do when you've lived alone amongst the desolation for years. "You won't be able to capture me alive. It's best if you leave now. That way you'll atleast be able to keep your life." He cocked the hammer back on the revolver, making an obvious display of aggression. He was confident he could slip past the two, but why take the chance if he could solve it this way? Readying himself for the reply, he tightly gripped the revolver with his left hand and slowly slid the knife from his belt with the right.

"Capture you?" Lexie laughed. "Ah, kid, you're funny. Why would we bother with that unless we're being paid, hm~? I suppose we could leave, but then that guy that fell out the window would die for sure. Maybe the world has ended, but I'd like to think there's still a little good left in it, if you look hard enough. So I tell you what. You're afraid, fair enough. My partner and I, we're going to go over there, by the stairwell. That gives you free access to the door. You want to leave, you can go ahead. We're not going to stop you." She could see Angie shaking her head and making a face, but she continued anyhow. "So now you have three choices. You can put down your weapon, and introduce yourself like a nice young man. You can leave. Or you can attack either us or Mr. Falling over there, in which case you /will/ have a fight on your hands -- and I'm afraid you're outclassed here, kid. So pick one of the first two, okay?"

Angie was making her way around to the stairwell, to join up with her partner. "Yer too soft," she scolded softly when the pair were close enough for a private conversation. "'Elpin' God-knows-'oo, offering some jumped-up kid tha' wants a figh' a way out...." "Maybe," was the reply. "But like I said, I'd like to think there's still /some/ good left in the world. Besides, it's not like we're on a job. And since jobs aren't /that/ hard to find, we're not even really wasting supplies."

Listening to the two's conversation, he was surprised. "It doesn't seem like they know I can hear them, so if what there saying is true, then they aren't here for me." Thinking to himself, he slowly lowered the hammer on the revolver. He clears his throat with a hearty cough and voices an agreement to option number one, "Alright alright, I'm coming out, it doesn't seem like you are the people that I thought you were." Sliding the revolver into the gap between his belt and back, he gently slid from cover, one hand in front of him to show that he was now unarmed. "But before any introductions, I have some business with that man over there." throwing a thumb up and gesturing to the man still laying on the ground. "You see, I don't take kindly to people chasing me around. And tying up loose ends is all too important nowadays. You don't seem to be much of friends either, judging by your attire atleast." Wiping sweat and dirt from his forehead, he looks expectantly at the two women in front of him. "So how 'bout it? If you want to keep him alive, I'd atleast like to question him a little."

"Eyah, if'n 'e was aft'r ya, yer entitled t' ask 'im questions. We might e'en 'elp," the redhead replied, her green eyes going to the man on the makeshift stretcher. "'E jus' fell in front o' us, not like we know 'im."

"I'm Lexie, this is Angie," the woman with the braid added, sliding her knives back into their sheathes. Next to her, Angie had already holstered her sidearms. "And yes, if he was chasing you down, disposing of him might be for the best. It's your call." She looked at Cain thoughtfully. He was awfully young for a child out on his own. Chances were he was augmented in one way or another. Not that it mattered. Most survivors were auggies, nowadays. And GSEC never stopped trying to make more of them. "Angie, you wanna stay with the kid while I fetch us some grub? If we're going to stay, might as well make a night of it."

Angie nodded, and with that Lexie headed out, leaving the medkit by Falling Man. It was a few minutes before she returned, with a camp stove and three MREs.

With his usual nervous tick of rubbing the scar behind his right ear, he introduced himself to Lexie and Angie. Taking a look over at Cain, he saw that he was most likely still out of it. "Well, can't do much until he wakes up and I'm not much of a medical expert, so.... Well actually, you could say I'm more than passable at emergency treatment, but given that he's definitely not a normal human and the fact that he's not dead already, I'm willing to bet that he's fine. And in any case, the more injured he is, the easier he will be to handle." Taking a seat against the pillar he had originally hid behind he lifts up the hood of his jacket and closes his eyes. "I'm just going to wait until he wakes up. After I take care of him, I'm leaving." Closing his eyes allowed him to focus on his other senses more easily. Taking in every sound and smell around him while the two women ate their MREs, he waited for the man to wake up.