(I owe the setting and initial ideas for this story to The Armageddon Virus RP forum.
And, I owe all of Strig's entries to my main RP partner. He has given consent to list his posts thus.)
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More than two centuries from now, in the year 2222, Earth has been ravaged by the biochemical agent now referred to as the Armageddon Virus. During the onslaught of WWIII in 2014, North Korea let loose the disease on America, and from there, it quickly spread all across the world. People infected with the Virus morphed into strange and fearsome creatures called Specters with incomprehensible abilities.
In 2019, the Sanctuary was built in Canada, and it is now said that it houses all human life on earth beneath its enormous rafters. Humans live a very different lifestyle now, breeding is only for the select few, the old are discreetly discarded, and the sick are humanely euthanized. The people placidly follow their government in all things and anxiously wait for the government's elite group of warriors, the Rubix, to exterminate all the Specter vermin left on Earth.
However, this is not the only human settlement. In the wastelands outside these protective walls, there are colonies scattered in the few remaining safe areas. There are nomadic tribes and gangs of outlaws traveling the cracked, barren desert.
We look now to the settlement of Yellowknife, where a young girl with hair the color of rusting brass has found refuge in the night. Her name, as she understands it, is Kuramidi.
By some fluke in the new, strange genetic pool, Kuramidi was born with turquoise hair. She wears dark clothes, and keeps favorite tools handy on various belts and garters. She will always be found wearing her complex goggles... and inexplicable cat-ear hat and feline tail. She is a scientist at heart, and prefers not to be violent if at all possible. The contraptions she builds from random parts do more for escape and camouflage than combat.
The A-Virus may mutate most, and has had a strange effect on the current human gene pool at large, but the only visible mutation is her hair color. Other than that, her intuitive eye for mechanics could be a result of human evolution, but she does not, nor will probably ever have, any supernatural abilities. She has read of these things extensively.
She remembers little of her childhood, and to her knowledge, has been living on her own since at least 10. Her first memory is of waking up in an abandoned library, doors and windows shuttered with metal and countless jugs of decontaminant littered everywhere. Upon further inspection of the facility, she discovered the library's archive to be stocked with military regulation MREs from a decade before. She spent her formative years around books, and learned just about everything she knows thusly.
Now, having left the library in search of better spare parts, she finds her supplies where she can, and has always had a wonderful knack at disappearing when danger approaches.
But... now that she has discovered the small community at Yellowknife, and has been welcomed into their midst... can she really expect to live a normal human life after being alienated for so long?
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Kuramidi had some adjustment to make- being around fellow humans after a lifetime of intentional solitude- but did not mind the abundance of sustenance. She did, however, tire of the simple functions of the mechanical mender, and struck out once more into the desolate waste to find more complex components for her intricate designs.
She left, of course, after sunset (as she was wont; her circadian rhythm hadn't changed quite yet). She stealthily sneaked from a handy window, taking care to make as little sound as a feline on the hunt (her cat-ears hat and tail unintentionally added to this illusion).
Kura knew the area somewhat, and had a small indentation in the nearby rock face which she had called her own for a fortnight prior to her induction into the colony at Yellowknife. There were still MREs, water jugs, several large containers of antiviral disinfectant solution, a portable chemist's kit, and all her best mechanical components tucked away there. She intended to collect them into her over sized backpack and return to the collective... but part of her was tempted to stay. It would take several trips as it was... why not make trips to the colony to procure more sustenance instead? It wasn't as if there was any promise in staying with the colony... all of her basic survival needs would be met, but there was always that primal drive to continue the species. She had found no intelligent, fit, or otherwise suitable donors with which to procreate. Might as well give up on all of them.
But... maybe she hadn't given them a proper chance to prove themselves?
She pondered this dilemma as she made her way quietly to the rocky overhang, glancing at the sickly yellow sickle of the moon hanging ominously on a starless and dirty brown-black horizon.
~~
Strig's eyes snapped open.
Blood, meat, food, blood, heartbeat on the breeze,
food!
"Be quiet!" He hissed at himself.
With effort, he forced the hunger to subside, and silenced the hunter's monologue that had once again disturbed his sleep.
"Not every warm body constitutes a meal" He quoted from his father's teachings. "Let them prove themself."
He repeated this twice more to himself, letting the familiar words encourage his brain to take the reigns, rather than his stomach.
Removing himself from his mothballed excuse for a bed, Strig sniffed the air. Someone was indeed approaching, alone, the wind at their back. They smelled... nicer? than usual, maybe? There on the one hand was the smell of meat, which prevailed always from the direction of the Yellowknife colony, but this was newer, closer, different, pleasantly different, unknown, approaching...
No, passing close by... maybe.
Strig dressed himself, feeling abruptly glad of this development. His food stocks were starting to deplete themselves, if this was another raider or general purpose meaty malefactor than he would slit their throat and sate himself upon them. If not, well then it would be nice to have someone to talk to for a while. He would bid them good morning, explain away his serrated teeth, assure them he meant them no harm and probably get a gun pointed at him for his trouble.
'I'll kill you if you come any closer!' was all he ever seemed to hear from most people, and they always seemed so surprised when he turned and walked away.
"A good start to the day." He muttered to himself. "One way or the other."
And thus he set out from the empty, ruined village that was his home, following his nose towards this nearby wayfarer.
~~
Once she reached her little alcove, she tore open an MRE for supper. Or, perhaps this was breakfast? Why put a name to meals? Such a strange custom.
It was something called "beef creole" which she had never cared for, but always had loved the cheese packets and large crackers it came with. Apparently, there was also a packet of berry cobbler, which was also a nice surprise. She settled into a dusty corner, her large night-vision goggles aiding her in search of that elusive "tear here" notch in the bag.
She paused for a moment, head snapping upward in alarm. She thought she heard the thump of footsteps. Large footsteps.
Shambling, almost.
The unmistakable gate of one contaminated.
Specters? Here? But she hadn't seen any contaminated humans for kilometers! And, they normally traveled in packs, didn't they?
