In the year 2019, a plague ravaged the US, destroying most of the population of North and South America. As more people died, civilization fell apart, people began rioting, killing for food and water. Soon the government issued a mandatory “Civilian Registration” an event where people who were infected or exposed to the disease were made to attend to die. The government betrayed the people, they used the Civilian Registration Act to disguise their true intentions, all who attended the events were killed and their bodies were burned. The people soon lost all hope and trust in their governments, and anarchy reigned.
Bloody fighting erupted everywhere and eventually the cities were left devoid of any semblance of their previous glory, no peace keepers, no law makers, no bustling businesses, only abandoned buildings and small gangs of people just trying to survive in this new world without electricity, running water and supermarkets. Food and Clean Water became the primary reason for violence, and most of the city’s inhabitants turned a blind eye to the brutal killings of those who refused to pay into the “community shares” set up by gangs of thugs.
Soon they began recruiting and anyone brave, or foolish enough to say no was beaten to death, or made to watch as their entire family was raped and slaughtered. But as it was before the fall, so it was after. Fighting between gangs soon created war zones, and shattered cities into small sub-sections controlled by different gangs. Battles for territory, food and water, or just plain revenge soon began claiming lives on all sides, especially the civilian side, people were terrified of leaving their houses, too afraid of being caught in the crossfire between gangs.
Life under gang rule was no walk in the park, aside from the constant fear of death, whether from battles or executions, the people lived without heat in the winter, without running water or sewage systems, and with no one cleaning up the streets of garbage, soon mountains of garbage were common place and rats roamed the cities in droves, consuming food and the dead alike. Gas became so precious that the use of it was strictly forbidden except by gang captains and leaders. People froze in the winter and no one cared.
Then, along came self proclaimed “president” John Carpell, and his group, the NARRE, or National American Reorganization and Rebuilding Effort based out of New York. Citizens flocked to him and soon his small group of patriots was a militia capable of squaring off against the baddest of the bad. The Imperato, once a small mafia ran by Donatello Imperato, soon became the most prevalent gang in the United States and was renowned for its brutality and surprisingly enough its ability to create order and keep peace in its districts.
NARRE, or as the people affectionately called it Nair, was home to anyone and everyone who needed one, people from all walks of life, soldiers, scientists, doctors, and even the occasional police officer, all working together, trying to form a better tomorrow for those they would leave behind. The soldiers gave the populace a crash course in self defense, the doctors continued their profession unhindered since hospitals were relatively unscathed by the collapse, and police officers trained people to uphold the laws of the NARRE. But the best thing about Nair? The scientists, after fleeing the Imperato, two scientists created a new way to categorize daily life. A wrist contraption, like a watch, but bigger, that they named the Wireless Informative Projector, Wips were the beginning of our excursions into big cities like Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore. It allowed us to tap into previously government satellites and scan cities for information, anything from a map, to real time security video and sound, even a smart scan, which inventoried and categorized our equipment. It gave us an edge in everything that we did. And we did a lot.
My team comprised of my wife Kailin Branson, my best friend Aren Krey, and the drone of a tech savvy Scav we found on our first mission, his throat was horribly scarred and as a result his voice was rough and throaty, so we gave him the nickname Froggy, and it stuck. We’ve been in Baltimore for over a year, fighting to gain a foothold, to survive, and to protect our ideals. I am Cale Branson, and we are scouts for the NARRE.
