# Interlude ## Wrath Victor Cran smiled as the rebels were hung. Six today, two dozen the day before. He led the northern demigods, camp Mythborn. Well, the creature did now. He did his best though, to instill respect in his people. They had until the ancient one showed up. The Umbrir, Vekka, it called itself, stood nearby. Victor tried not to shiver when he glanced at the thing. “You should have crushed them before now. Fool boy.” “It is better to wait. Let them think they escaped.” Victor countered. “That is the way of wrath. People wouldn't leave if they were crushed before then. Your showmanship will be your downfall.” The creature flexed his wings, making himself known by all around, as if they didn’t already. Vekka’s presence did much to instill fear, which seemed to he his preferred way of things. “You want to conquer a planet. You’re the greater fool, creature.” The ancient being turned on Victor, getting uncomfortably close. “I could have picked any group. I could do it all myself. I am here, because you serve me. If I had all my way, you and everyone else who dared to speak that way to me, would be killed.” The things eyes felt like white-hot daggers, the point where they almost felt cold again. Victor did his best not to shrink in terror, but it was a hard task. “You will move south. Do not disappoint me further. Crush the rebels before they leave.” The Umbrir vanished. ___ ## Memo 6741037 DDCC Memorandum 6741037 Alias: Undead 0.8 Chestnut, Ida The new life forms are paradoxical. The people who get infected get sick, and change. The dead are rising. They seemingly dont have to be bitten or anything to turn. It doesnt appear to be genetic, viral, or parasitic. As of now, results are inconclusive. The only method of euthanization is Transorbital Penetration, or crushing the skull. The dead appear to slowly rot, needing to consume a lot of matter In order to continue to, for lack of a better term, live. The living who are infected get feverish, avoid darkness and water, and eventually they are overtaken. The living do not need to feed so regularly as compared to the dead. The Hollow seem to grow stronger as they feed, not actively rotting as the Turned counterparts. They will eat animals, but the best creature for consumption seems to be living humans, with the next best being human corpses. The other lab techs have begun calling these creatures “Slackjaws” But medically we are calling them the Hollow, and the Turned. As of now, the DDCC guidelines remain as isolation from the feverish and corpses. Do not get in contact with them. ___ ## USCDC PLAN OF ACTION USCDC PLAN OF ACTION Version 3.3a Pattinson, Earl Security clearance level 6 General directives 1. Do not attempt contact 2. Do not perform rescues on bitten individuals 3. In the event of reanimation in a controlled zone, initiate code black 4. All non essential witnesses must be executed. 5. The infected living must be quarantined permanently for the observation of the infection. Field elimination protocol - Destroy brain or sever spinal cord above the c-4 vertebrae - Incinerate the remains, reanimated or infected. - Avoid Melee contact. - Avoid firearm usage near any other reanimated. Emotional or physical compromise will result in immediate suspension or termination. A final reminder. [[EO 26,393-M32A]] grants the USCDC, FBI, and, CDC, nigh exemption from ethical and moral guidelines. The sites must be zoned 17-20 or higher, however they will not have any oversight. ___ ## Southern News 1 Slackjaw 27 Script, 4:55 pm “Welcome back fellow rebels. You're joined today for the 5pm segment by Majorie, and myself.” SMILE AND CHUCKLE WARMLY. “Thanks Mark. As we all know now, the Slackjaw epidemic has reached a fever pitch. The Dixie Disease Control Center has issued a shelter in place warning.” CUT TO SHELTER IN PLACE GRAPHIC. “They have said that the virus is in fact containable. But will take time.” “That’s right Majorie. And the USCDC has come out with some shocking news in a leaked memo. Executive Order 26,393-M32A has given the FBI, CIA, and CDC full exemption from the Virginia ethics pact. This allows their facilities to kidnap people, experiment, and seize property and businesses at will.” “Mark, that sounds a lot like fascism to me.” SOUND LIGHTLY PUZZLED. “You are sure right. It sounds exactly like how they caused the secession war.” CUT TO [[Leah Feldman|LEAH FELDMAN]] STILL. “There are leaked files alleging that president Leah Feldman will soon declare martial law.” “Now at 5 on the dot, here's your 5pm weather update with Emily Carson.” SOUND ENERGETIC. CUT TO EMILY CARSON WEATHER TRANSITIONAL CLIP. ___ ## Speed Elliot Scott cherished the adrenaline running through his veins, antebellum corvette, running 90 around the Athens perimeter. He’d finally gotten off work, 3 hours late. *Freaking idiots.* Had they sold the crawl space properly, it wouldn't have taken so long to finish. But that was only one hour of the three. The other two were spent waiting on the maintenance guys to finish the gate. *If corporate had done their job and told us we couldn't use the lot today, it would have made a lot more sense.* Elliot worked for a small pest control company, 3 routes, maybe 30 hours of work each week, 9-6. A good gig. Each day he drove to the office, then went to a job with the other guys, who brought him back to the office. It was now 10pm, the perfect time to drive 90 on a highway without cops or people around. The roads were mostly clear, with the occasional semi or minivan. With three lanes, Elliot could pass with ease. *Why drive 45. It’s a 55 zone. Probably a woman, or an old man.* His adrenaline hit a fever pitch when he felt an object hit his front bumper. “Shit!” He slowed, still going 90, then threw the car into reverse for the 600 or so feet it had taken to stop. *What the hell have i done…* The corpse had been split into several large chunks, and several dozen smaller ones. The body parts reeked to high hell, brown, red and black blood sprayed about like a dropped can of paint. This was worse to Elliot than any rat, roach, or bedbug infestation he had ever seen. Worse even than the time he found a dry corpse under a house. “What on earth?” He said aloud as the severed head began to breath. It flexed its jaw, clacking its teeth together. He felt a searing pain in his left shoulder, then felt hands wrap tightly around the left ankle. Elliot shouted, whirling around, but he was too slow to evade the situation. More corpses were on him in an instant, sinking their teeth into his flesh, tearing him apart. # Vekka “I’m sorry, Karthas, he did what?” Kal asked again. He tried to keep his tone respectful, after all it wasn’t Karthas’s fault, it was all on Vekka. Karthas flexed her wings slightly, then folded them back behind her. The younger Umbrir repeated herself. “Vekka has betrayed us. We aren’t supposed to storming step in like that. He’s influencing the northern demigods to go south.” “Origins,” Kal swore. He met Karthas’s eyes, this would spell disaster for the humans of Earth. Karthas herself had a beautiful figure, lithe, pale scaled, with deep purple-black wings. Her green eyes glowed in the light of the moon. *Shards. I need to keep my mind off that. There’s much better things to think about than the primal urges.* She wore Dixie Jeans and a shirt, which exposed the scaly pale skin at her middle. Kal himself preferred the robes of Oryndal, on Terradine. Karthas was the younger of the two, by a half century. But they were both in their fourth century. Kal chalked up Karthas’s age as the reason she preferred stranger foreign styles of dress, but they had both spent the majority of their lives on Xav, a melting pot of a trade planet. Time didn’t really matter, they were both older than Kraia. Kal had heard their situation described as passive immortality, where time felt as it did to mortal humans, but they were unable to die naturally. *Vekka broke the oaths. He betrayed his kind.* Intervening with the southern mortals would be close to the line within the Umbrir, but Kal would be able to persuade the elder ones. “By overmorrow, seek out them, find a suitable person to tell. Watch over them.” Karthas smiled, nodding. She touched his shoulder, where the dark scales of his back met his pale scales. “I will not let you down. We do have time at the least.” *Ever earnest.* Karthas was correct in that assessment. The northerners would be several states away, and with a group of their size, it wouldn’t be a fast journey to the south. *Origins, if i’m not right. They are all better off dead.* [[08 Silence]]