And With These Hands We Will Build a Nation

[Ephraim Steele]

†

Fire and brimstone had rained down on this place.

Hell itself had burst forth from the mouth of the iron gates that had been built to keep this place safe. Demons, black of blood and cold of heart had ripped through the defenders of humanity here, within these very walls. Their screams still filled those halls; their blood still stank on the cold, concrete floor. Those men and women had given their lives in defense of what they had believed to be hope. A last stand, between the vampires and a cure.

They had given everything, and in the end… in the end, he wasn’t even sure that it had made a damn bit of difference.

A loud, angry sigh left the tall Pittsburgh man, his hands raking back through his hair as his bright gaze swept over what was one of the few floors they had been able to salvage, after the attack. He shook his head and let his fingers fall away, hands flopping at his sides as he tried to keep from clenching them into fists, to keep from shoving a mighty punch into the steel wall of what was left of the base. He needed that hand, and, more importantly, he needed that wall.

There had been an explosion, some levels below; whether it was during the attack or sometime shortly after, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that beneath them were several levels of water, still in dire need of pumping from the base’s lower levels. Flooded, floor to ceiling, until they reached the level they had stopped.

For now, this was as far as they went.

It didn’t leave them a lot of room, but it was more than what they had started with. It was a jumping off point. An origin. A place to begin.

It had taken months of work, just to get the stains of blood cleaned away. The bodies… the bodies, he didn’t even want to think about. They were fortunate enough to have been undisturbed, as they had done away with the evidence of what the vampires had done here. There was ample use for the documentation that they had made of the heinous things that had been left behind.

Now, though, was a time of rebirth. Of rebuilding. Now was a time of taking what was once a stronghold of death, and creating from that darkness a bastion of hope; a foothold in the world of the dead, where those that might wish to strike back at the undead monsters could regroup and feel safe.

Now was the time to begin the refortification of what would soon become the home of the Order.

With a slow exhale, Ephraim picked up his phone, tapping through his messages. The rest would be there soon, though this far beneath the surface, with the equipment on the ground floor damaged, he didn’t have any signal. He would have to get Tierney to fix that for him. He tucked the phone back into his pocket, sure that he had the right time, and stifled a yawn as he returned to the task he had been doing before he had distracted himself with his thoughts, laying out a chalk outline for the placement of his forge.

[Sawyer]

♦♦♦♦

It was hard to believe that there had once been a war within these walls.

If she hadn’t been in the thick of it, if her blood hadn’t spilled upon the cold stone beneath her feet, she never would have known. The building itself whispered nothing of the gruesome battle that had taken place within its heart, but the proof was there in spades. The blood that marred the stone wove a story that words couldn’t begin to piece together, as did the cracks within the foundation. Above the elevator, a bullet remained lodged within the rock. Beneath the controls, a small bloodied handprint remained forever stained against the stone, a reminder of those they had lost. The tale that was told by that one print was one that kept her in their cause strong.

The dead had risen that day, and they had ripped through humanity with a rabid violence that should have frightened the young paladin, but instead, it had lit a fire in her heart. Though they hadn’t ended up with the cure – and instead, it had gone into the hands of someone as useless as Gideon – they had ended up with something more. A place for their faction to begin, a place that harbored a thousand stories, and a place that offered them hope. It was within these bloodstained walls, that she had found her reason for being.

Pressing her fingers through her hair, she carefully made her way around the overturned furniture and the bits of debris, until she found herself behind their fearless leader – and the love of her life.

At first, she didn’t speak.

Instead, she watched the way his shoulders hunched and his muscles strained beneath his shirt as he drew the ragged outline across the cement. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he had already begun preparing a place for his forge – it was his life’s work. Something about the steel offered him comfort in ways she couldn’t. After a moment of silence, however, she took another step forward and curled her fingers around the nape of his neck and allowed her nails to gently bite into the soft skin, the chipped blue nail polish stark against the tanned skin.

“And, let me guess, you’re putting my crafting bench right across from this inferno just so you can keep an eye on me, bossman?”

[Samson Krahn]

W E A R I N G

Places had personality, just the way that people did. Some were serene, and calm. Some were sterile and cold. Ultimately, Samson liked to think that the quality of a building or location’s atmosphere and ‘mind’ was created by the people who lived there, by the things they had done. How then, did one describe a place so soaked in blood, so wrapped in death, so filled with moments of pain, that one could feel the oppressive weight of the human turmoil and chaos inside? Did the halls still echo with the phantom voices of the departed? The spirits there, did they scream? Insanity. If any place was well and truly mad, it had to be Longslade. The massacre there had been why Samson had made one of the most important choices in his life. It was why he had become a Paladin. Why he had joined the Order of Steel. At his core, he knew that the atrocities which had taken place there could not be allowed to happen again. A man of peace had sacrificed himself the day those tattoos had been put on his skin, burned into his very soul. He had been transformed into a beast of war. Did he regret his choice? At times, he looked at himself in the mirror and wondered if he was the same person he had always been, or if his hatred of vampires was twisting him into something darker than he wanted.

He had avoided the madness. Avoided the bedlam that was Longslade, save for on the rare occasion when it was required that he show up. He did not want to be in a place of darkness any longer than he absolutely necessary. Recently, Samson had been given a lot of free time. For him, this meant throwing himself into physical labors as much as possible. He had learned at a young age that idle hands were the devil’s workshop. Normally, for him, this meant working his land, or taking care of his animals. It had been winter, and even though it was moving towards spring, the thaws had not fully set in. To avoid having to look too much at himself, he’d thrown himself into patrols. Not looking out for vampires, but for other undead, who were equally desirous of human flesh. And there were ample of those to go around lately. It had been all over the news. Talk about how zombies were rising outside of the Quarantine. Discussion of what to do about it. Talk about how the world was going to hell in a handbasket. Sammy boy had no doubt in his mind it related to the vampires in some way.

The call to Longslade came with the low buzzing rumble of his phone, and it was frankly a miracle he got the message anyway. He almost never remembered to charge the damn thing. He was one of those people who insisted on all major conversations taking place in person. He’d actually only gotten better at using his cell because so much of the conversation to be had with the other paladins required it. Plus Sawyer had gotten him a wireless charging port. And after reading the request from Ephraim, he decided to pocket the device and be on his way. It seemed he was going to be returning to that cauldron of bubbling darkness and blood.

The fastest way to get there as to cut through Harper Rock proper, even though Samson’s property was in the forest. He was in his truck a moment later, and it was as he maneuvered his way through town, past multiple check points (at one point barrelling down a zombie that was crossing the street because why the **** not?) - he considered his own plight in regards to becoming a Paladin. Confidence came from knowing one’s self. From being sure of foot. He knew that he was a hunter for the right reasons. What he wanted, was a world in which people didn’t have to be afraid of monsters. There would always be injustice and calamity, and natural disasters. But vampires? Zombies? Abominations?

His transformation into a Paladin had not been a thing of shadows and secrecy. If anything, it had brought him closer to the light. And maybe that was just what Longslade needed. A rebirth. To be made new. To shuck off the shell of pain and hatred and rage and go from being this place of insanitty to one of order. They were all walking through the darkness. Perhaps what they needed was a beacon, or a lighthouse. Perhaps that could be what Longslade should become. Not what it had been. Not the depressing place of death.

He arrived a short time later, and took an elevator down to find Ephraim and Sawyer.

And of course, he arrived with fresh bought coffee, still steaming in its styrofoam confines.

[Tierney]

♣♣♣♣
(not pictured: jean jacket)

She had told Ephraim that she’d intended to get an early start on the security systems before they would all meet to begin rebuilding Longslade. There had been more than a few technical difficulties on her to do list. She wanted to wipe the elevator access key cards and replace them with fingerprint scans or pin codes, but it would be more than a days work. Instead, she’d busied herself with the security control panel. A list of names had been written down and wiped from the computer systems entirely - Tierney didn’t like the chances that someone could come sauntering into their new home. There had been some good news, however.

In her fiddling of the control room, the sorcerer had made a discovery to where the pumps were located. Damaged from the war within the walls, she’d need Sawyer’s hand in fixing the mechanical aspect before she’d be able to work on the technological aspect. It wasn’t much, but it was something in regards to giving them more room. That is, after the extensive repair that she suspected would have to be done. If she’d heard right from one of the lab techs whom had been there that night, someone had destroyed the majority of the equipment with an explosion. She had a significant temptation to rent some diving gear and go see the damage firsthand - it was an idea.

It would give the group a better idea of what repairs would be needed.

She’d mention it to the others.

For now… her flashlight, as it rest between her teeth, was focused on the wires in front of her with each precise motion of her hand. Above her, there was a whirling of a camera lens. The sound of static above her head and Tierney moved to back up just before her alarm went off and startled her. She smacked the underside of the table. The flashlight fell from her mouth as she cursed out, her hand flying to the top of her head. It was time to meet up with the others. “For christ sake.” She breathed out. The top of her head was rubbed once more as she scooted backwards. There was a steady throbbing that slowly eased off in the time that it took her to pick her flashlight backup and flip her knife back into its handle.

Her green eyes narrowed briefly as she took in the white noise. It was at least working to that extent, now. “**** it, it’s a change.” After she turned off the monitor, Tierney headed out to the meeting place. Already, she’d gathered some dirt and grime on her clothes; dark splotches that she wasn’t sure if it was dirt or a bruise marked her arms and face. It was obvious that she’d been crawling around on her knees. It didn’t surprise her that Ephraim and Sawyer were there. Spider, as Tierney tended to call her, had mentioned that the two had moved in. Tierney, too, had claimed enough of a stake on one of the other floors.
“Ephraim, I found the pump controls, but Spider and I are going to need to work together to get them back online. Although, until we know what’s going on with the structure, though, a pump ain’t gonna do nothing if the river is coming in on all three sides.” The words were said as she dusted off her shirt before her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her jeans. A quick smile was passed in Samson’s direction, spotting the styrofoam cup in hand, she said, “I’m starting to believe that we need to invest in a coffee maker that won’t break down after being used as much as it would in a week.”