Post by Soldier 76 on Aug 11, 2016 18:42:50 GMT
He'd been used to long road travels, he would go 15 to 20 miles a day, hunting and scavenging never staying put. He had multiple camps to hide here whereabouts, but with the stalkers he now felt uncomfortable. He needed to move on, the outback wasn't safe. Where else could he go? He needed to go. He lingered at his old home for a few hours, planning his route considering where he would go. Sydney, he'd need to get to Sydney to get out of the country. There was a pause, he'd never gone so far before. How would he hop a plane? Where the hell would he go?
Austria.
He'd go to Austria, he spoke the language, his family was from there; maybe he still had family there? His parents had moved to Australia but his aunts, uncles and Grandparents were still in Austria. He looked at his robotic hands, and his face in a shard of mirror, would they even recognize this battered wild creature as their family? He dug around in his bags, locating old identification, his military id, passport even a damned drivers licence useless things that he held onto. These were all that was left of his old face. He tilted his head running a fingers over the paper and laminates...he couldn't even feel what paper was. This man made thing, diverse from anything he's cobbled together out here.
Even if he never found any of them, Austria was the only other home he knew of. He put his visor back in place, though the re-breather attachment no longer had filters, it was all a part of the assembly, and he'd left it in place. He took a deep breath, standing up. Time to make the journey. He knew how to travel and hunt and keep himself moving.
From here it was at least 100 miles, maybe more. He set it in his visor and it blipped with a waypoint ages away. He started on his trek.
It'd be a week before he'd make it, each day traveling 20 miles, then sleeping or resting for 12 hours, and moving on again. He'd mastered the rhythm of this lifestyle, quick naps, small activities and eating when it was available, drinking as much as he could. He wasn't sure how he'd function in Austria, an industrialized nation, where life was...distant. He slowed pace and became even more hyper aware as he saw Sydney's opera house rising in the distance. What a strange building, from a bygone era. He slipped into town, cradling his rifle, people moved away from him...no one wanted to be near the crazy man with the gun. He prickled at the amount of people here.
Civilization made him nervous, maybe he should just go back and disappear. No, just keep going Ansell. He dug around in his bags, seeking out credit sticks; he'd sold off every last bit of scrap to the Junkers, anything he could to get together the funds. Now he fumbled with them shaking with anticipation. Someone was going to get him, he swallowed and continued to march for the airport, his tactical visor blipping louder the closer he got.
He stepped into the terminal building and everyone immediately turned to him, security descending upon the man with the rifle. He moved back, snarling a bit, looking like the wild animal he'd become. No get away from me, he was pushed out of the building and slunk away from the fancy remant of real people. A different place, less people. A smaller airstrip was available, one that flew bush planes and small cargo planes.
Ansell took a quick step to escape the main city panting and on edge. People continued to avoid getting in his way, all of them staring at him. Did they think he was a Junker? Or just crazy? He didn't care he had to get out of here. The smaller strip had a single small terminal, it was brimming with activity, people looking to escape in any means possible. He joined the line. These people looked a bit more like he did, in tattered clothing.
As he got to the terminal he shakily dropped the credit sticks on the counter. "Austria." they gave him a funny looked. "Go to Austria, wollen nach Österreich zu gehen;" he repeated, in English and German. They nodded.
"we need a passport, and other id to verify your identity and that you're allowed to travel abroad with that...uh weapon," she said slowly and he struggled to find his things again. "You'll also have to take the mask off so we can verify it's you." He shook his head as he dropped the information on the counter, fidgeting rather badly. "If we can't see your face I'll have to deny your ticket, mister Wolff." She read it off his passport, right his name. Ansell Wolff.
"I...I don't look like the pictures, what if I don't?" he asked and she looked a bit concerned.
"Well we can use a facial scanner to ensure your features would match up; if you're in the system, but...well you have to be in the system officially, are you?" she inquired. "This is a military id, were you in the Australian military?"
"Yes, yes I am, was, I uhm;" he stopped, talking was hard and he cleared his throat. "Please don't. afraid." He disengaged the visor and pulled his hood off, removing the mask. She gaped a bit, one side of his face was practically melted away scar tissue holding it together in places. "Ticket?" The half that wasn't so ruined looked like his identification more or less. She blinked a few times.
"Y-yeah, uhm..." she looked to his identification again, and other information in her system. Ansell Wolff had been part of the military policing the protests at the omnium, he was declared missing in action, presumed dead. Well he seemed to be alive more or less. She gave him an uncomfortable smile. "Well you...you were declared missing in action...uhm, but if I just go ahead and issue you a civilian ticket that should pop up on their end and declare you found. I need to double check you're licenced to have that weapon on a plane. Is that an AR-15, Electric Accelerator fire, long barrel rifle?" He nodded after a few moments. "I'll need you to declare anything else you have with you. Uhm just type it in here." She turned a projected screen to him.
He stared at it for a long while, type? He hovered his fingers near the device. Letters, uh, he had trouble reading and writing these days. He used his two forefingers to pick out each symbol, building the words with painful slowness what he had on him. It wasn't much, he'd cleared out most things of value so he had some munitions and that was about it. "Good?" he asked after. She gave another smile nodding.
"Okay Mister Wolff, it's not exactly first class, but these are just re-purposed cargo planes after all. I've set you up with Refugee status, they will set you up with somewhere to stay in Austria," she said how kind of her. He supposed he was a refugee from a crisis, even all these years later. "Good luck."
He put his mask back on and stepped away with his things and the ticket heading for the only gate to check in and get aboard. Leaving australia, he felt sick at the thought. He felt itchy about the idea of being surrounded by people again. He'd need to learn all these new skills, or rather relearn all taht had been forgotten. He looked around, none of these people were as filthy and wild as he was. They were just poor souls, he was practically feral by comparison. They shuffled everyone along and he sat in the cramped space, trying to calm his breathing.
Planes, planes were awful, take off was awful, just 10 hours and they'd be landing again. In some foreign land. Where would he go, what would he do? Vanish into the faces, washed away. He'd find family...he'd...he didn't know. Good bye Australia...good bye Mom, Dad. He closed his eyes, panting and stressed.
Austria.
He'd go to Austria, he spoke the language, his family was from there; maybe he still had family there? His parents had moved to Australia but his aunts, uncles and Grandparents were still in Austria. He looked at his robotic hands, and his face in a shard of mirror, would they even recognize this battered wild creature as their family? He dug around in his bags, locating old identification, his military id, passport even a damned drivers licence useless things that he held onto. These were all that was left of his old face. He tilted his head running a fingers over the paper and laminates...he couldn't even feel what paper was. This man made thing, diverse from anything he's cobbled together out here.
Even if he never found any of them, Austria was the only other home he knew of. He put his visor back in place, though the re-breather attachment no longer had filters, it was all a part of the assembly, and he'd left it in place. He took a deep breath, standing up. Time to make the journey. He knew how to travel and hunt and keep himself moving.
From here it was at least 100 miles, maybe more. He set it in his visor and it blipped with a waypoint ages away. He started on his trek.
It'd be a week before he'd make it, each day traveling 20 miles, then sleeping or resting for 12 hours, and moving on again. He'd mastered the rhythm of this lifestyle, quick naps, small activities and eating when it was available, drinking as much as he could. He wasn't sure how he'd function in Austria, an industrialized nation, where life was...distant. He slowed pace and became even more hyper aware as he saw Sydney's opera house rising in the distance. What a strange building, from a bygone era. He slipped into town, cradling his rifle, people moved away from him...no one wanted to be near the crazy man with the gun. He prickled at the amount of people here.
Civilization made him nervous, maybe he should just go back and disappear. No, just keep going Ansell. He dug around in his bags, seeking out credit sticks; he'd sold off every last bit of scrap to the Junkers, anything he could to get together the funds. Now he fumbled with them shaking with anticipation. Someone was going to get him, he swallowed and continued to march for the airport, his tactical visor blipping louder the closer he got.
He stepped into the terminal building and everyone immediately turned to him, security descending upon the man with the rifle. He moved back, snarling a bit, looking like the wild animal he'd become. No get away from me, he was pushed out of the building and slunk away from the fancy remant of real people. A different place, less people. A smaller airstrip was available, one that flew bush planes and small cargo planes.
Ansell took a quick step to escape the main city panting and on edge. People continued to avoid getting in his way, all of them staring at him. Did they think he was a Junker? Or just crazy? He didn't care he had to get out of here. The smaller strip had a single small terminal, it was brimming with activity, people looking to escape in any means possible. He joined the line. These people looked a bit more like he did, in tattered clothing.
As he got to the terminal he shakily dropped the credit sticks on the counter. "Austria." they gave him a funny looked. "Go to Austria, wollen nach Österreich zu gehen;" he repeated, in English and German. They nodded.
"we need a passport, and other id to verify your identity and that you're allowed to travel abroad with that...uh weapon," she said slowly and he struggled to find his things again. "You'll also have to take the mask off so we can verify it's you." He shook his head as he dropped the information on the counter, fidgeting rather badly. "If we can't see your face I'll have to deny your ticket, mister Wolff." She read it off his passport, right his name. Ansell Wolff.
"I...I don't look like the pictures, what if I don't?" he asked and she looked a bit concerned.
"Well we can use a facial scanner to ensure your features would match up; if you're in the system, but...well you have to be in the system officially, are you?" she inquired. "This is a military id, were you in the Australian military?"
"Yes, yes I am, was, I uhm;" he stopped, talking was hard and he cleared his throat. "Please don't. afraid." He disengaged the visor and pulled his hood off, removing the mask. She gaped a bit, one side of his face was practically melted away scar tissue holding it together in places. "Ticket?" The half that wasn't so ruined looked like his identification more or less. She blinked a few times.
"Y-yeah, uhm..." she looked to his identification again, and other information in her system. Ansell Wolff had been part of the military policing the protests at the omnium, he was declared missing in action, presumed dead. Well he seemed to be alive more or less. She gave him an uncomfortable smile. "Well you...you were declared missing in action...uhm, but if I just go ahead and issue you a civilian ticket that should pop up on their end and declare you found. I need to double check you're licenced to have that weapon on a plane. Is that an AR-15, Electric Accelerator fire, long barrel rifle?" He nodded after a few moments. "I'll need you to declare anything else you have with you. Uhm just type it in here." She turned a projected screen to him.
He stared at it for a long while, type? He hovered his fingers near the device. Letters, uh, he had trouble reading and writing these days. He used his two forefingers to pick out each symbol, building the words with painful slowness what he had on him. It wasn't much, he'd cleared out most things of value so he had some munitions and that was about it. "Good?" he asked after. She gave another smile nodding.
"Okay Mister Wolff, it's not exactly first class, but these are just re-purposed cargo planes after all. I've set you up with Refugee status, they will set you up with somewhere to stay in Austria," she said how kind of her. He supposed he was a refugee from a crisis, even all these years later. "Good luck."
He put his mask back on and stepped away with his things and the ticket heading for the only gate to check in and get aboard. Leaving australia, he felt sick at the thought. He felt itchy about the idea of being surrounded by people again. He'd need to learn all these new skills, or rather relearn all taht had been forgotten. He looked around, none of these people were as filthy and wild as he was. They were just poor souls, he was practically feral by comparison. They shuffled everyone along and he sat in the cramped space, trying to calm his breathing.
Planes, planes were awful, take off was awful, just 10 hours and they'd be landing again. In some foreign land. Where would he go, what would he do? Vanish into the faces, washed away. He'd find family...he'd...he didn't know. Good bye Australia...good bye Mom, Dad. He closed his eyes, panting and stressed.
