Battered Notepad (Delilah's log)

[Delilah A. Black]

Sept. ??/11

It is The End.

Two nights ago (was it two? Three? I'm finding it hard to keep track of time), Long Beach was bombed out by Barker. I remember looking up at the sky as the missiles started to fall. They looked like meteors. No, more like stars. There were that many.

I can't even fathom the amount of life lost in the last few days(?). How many lives were extinguished in the initial attack? As many as the uncountable number of missiles? More? How many more died in the last few hours? Minutes? How many committed suicide or were killed for their possessions? How many more will die in the coming days? Were any places other than Los Angeles struck? How many other states? Countries?

And all I could do was watch as the missiles fell and killed them all.

Never have I felt so helpless. I am sad to admit that I was forced to end a few lives to keep my son and I alive long enough to make it to the Crows' base. Normally, this wouldn't bother me, but I can't help but feel that I contributed to the madness that Barker instigated. I feel like – just to survive- that I had to play his game.

When I can get him to sleep at all, Oliver has been having bad dreams, which isn't surprising. He witnessed a great deal. I was worried at first that this might break his young mind, but he recovered. He is doing better, but he is still afraid of going outside of the barracks. Of the dreams, he describes floating on a raft of decaying bodies in a river of blood. The bodies talk to him, but he says he doesn't remember what they say. He is lying, but I'll let it go. I'm sure it will come up eventually. In the meantime, I will keep an eye on him.

My volunteer shift for hospice detail is starting. I'll see if I can pry Dora away from her needle and thread long enough to sleep.

Sleep would be nice.

If I survive the next few days, perhaps I will write again. My head feels more clear than when I started.

—Delilah.

[Delilah A. Black]

Dec. 25/11

Since I began keeping track of the days again, I have unconsciously been counting down the days to Christmas. For the last couple of weeks, I've been catching myself trying to decide what sort of present to get Oliver this year, only to remember that there are no toy or book stores to purchase from. Then I think I could always salvage something from the ruins, but that thought is depressing unto itself.

It's funny. Before I had Oliver, I felt Christmas was a purely commercial holiday that catered to the whims of our first-world selfishness. Whatever meaning it had has been lost to the generations of those who put wants above needs. Not that I ever believed in that sort of thing to begin with. I still believed whatever was good about the holiday was long gone, but I went along with it anyway: the look on his face when Oliver opened up the first present he could really remember is what I keep going back to these days. Unrepressed joy, blue eyes glittering under the light of the (fake) Christmas tree, happier than I think I've ever seen him. He is so pure. Like snow.

It never snows in California, not down here anyway. It's a rarity. So is he.

Anyway, now that civilization has collapsed and society is starting to decay, we have been reduced to our basic roots. The old adage goes “You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone”, and that has never been more true. Before all this, I felt that Christmas was cheap and meaningless, like the gifts exchanged. Now...now I think a visit from Santa might bring some normalcy back into what's left of the world. A reminder that even in all the chaos and destruction, that good still exists.

I think I'll make him something...but that will take time and resources I don't have as of yet. For now...perhaps he'd like something more fun. But I'll let him choose what it is. We'll see how it goes.

I miss you, Stu. I wish you were here to watch our son grow up. I hope you're still alive and safe. I love you.

—Delilah.

[Delilah A. Black]

Jan. 2012

Emily De Santos is dead by my hand.

I got a tip from our recon agents that a white haired Filipina woman was sighted near the school ruins. I took my chances and went. She was already dying, but it had to be by my hand. IT HAD TO.

But why? Why did I have to kill her? She didn't wrong ME all those years ago, and the one she did hurt could have dealt with it himself and then some.

No. No, it had to be me. Someone else might've gotten it wrong. And I have owed him much. I wasn't there when he was shot and I couldn't help him when she took him and tried to...

I put my sword through her eye. She was grateful for death.

—Delilah.

[Delilah A. Black]

Feb. 2/12

Nothin' like the end of the world to get you back in peak condition.

Now, I wasn't exactly slacking all this time, especially not after Oliver had his accident. That really lit a fire under me, and I knew I had to get my anger in check. That was when I found out that my sensei from when I was a kid died a couple years before and that his son had taken over. He put me through the wringer, as much as “Unfettered” and “Teal” had after Oliver was born. They were a little too enthused to help me 'get back in shape', as I recall. But I digress...

I enrolled in basic training with the other grunts the Crows enlisted, something I insisted upon until I was absolutely needed for my trade. As far as getting adjusted to the regime went, I did better than most, I figure. Tai, Dora and “Green” did NOT make it easy, though: I had my fair share of nights where I fell asleep in the mess hall after only a few bites of food. Just thinking about it makes my muscles ache.

It wasn't long before I was needed elsewhere, but I still managed to get some more time in with the troops before they were sorted into specialty platoons. I mostly just observed during these...but a few people have been standing out. I know I'm not the only one who has noticed them: most of them don't stand out for the right reasons. Actually, none of them do. From what I've seen, they are belligerent, problematic, racist, sexist, have authority/drug/alcohol/gambling issues, and have collectively been in forty three fights since enlisting with Crows.

Something tells me there's more than what meets the eye here. I'm off to do a little recon.

—Delilah.

-------------.

Feb. 13/12

I have results pertaining to my last entry.

There are seven individuals I have been seeking out for the last week and a half. I have interacted with them all, and I have an...idea. I'll have to discuss this with “Unfettered” before I move ahead with it, but I have a good feeling. One thing that is good about them all is that they're really dedicated to the idea of Crows and to Kiyoshi. I think I can work with that.

Dossier of Problematic Recruits:

Heather Bonnin : 20/5'4”/120-135lbs
Inept would be a good way to describe this girl. The fact that she passed basic training is more of a miracle than anything else. She is your classic California Beach Babe, blonde hair, super tan, gorgeous and dumb as a post. The funny thing is, she KNOWS she's a dumb post. She plays it up to the point where she avoids chores and other monotonous tasks by way of her sheer ineptitude, and when playing dumb doesn't work, she either flirts with her superiors shamelessly or presses her boobs up against them. Doesn't matter if it's a guy or a girl, at least not that I've seen, just anything to make them uncomfortable (or too comfortable). My initial thoughts were that she was smarter than she appeared, that she had gone to college and was just playing up the pretty-blonde-dumb thing as a free pass as pretty girls are wont to do.
I was perhaps too optimistic. I did a little digging, and it turns out that she barely passed high school (and that she only did because she slept with her calculus teacher). Before Barker launched his missiles, she was a bar skank waitress downtown at a club. She made it to the Crows territory with a group of other survivors as they migrated here.
Even writing all that, I'm still failing to put my finger on what makes her stand out. Other than the fact she's been in five fights since she got here – all with other girls- she's nothing special. I had a chat with her in the mess hall and this only confirmed what I've gathered about her lack of intelligence. But she seemed honest enough, and surprisingly curious. She certainly isn't naïve and she's rather good at detecting lies (I had to side step a few far-too-poignant questions during our talk and she definitely noticed). When I told her about my martial arts background, she seemed eager to learn. I'm fairly certain that just stems from a temporary glamour that surrounds people with those abilities, but I sense real earnestness in her. We'll have to see if that's enough.


Nicolas Bailey : 39/5'8”/170-175lbs
Outwardly, this man is quiet, calm and collected. He is practical, good at following orders and generally a pleasant man. This man is also openly racist to anyone except full blooded white people. And Kiyoshi, though what his distinction is, I cannot fathom...
This came to light early on when he challenged a superior (who was black) for his right to be an officer because he “might not have had the right kind of education, since there's no carjacking colleges outside of Detroit”. A few more choice comments followed, a fight ensued (he lost) and he was ousted from that group. He is currently flitting about the base doing odd jobs until we can decide what to do with him. Since the original bout, he has since been in thirteen more fist fights with people of varying ethnicity.
Our intelligence states that he was part of the Californian branch of the white supremacist group “Blood and Honour” from a young age, indoctrinated early by his parents who were enthusiastic members. The Bailey family moved here from Kentucky after they were run out of the state by various rights groups in 1989 and they've been here ever since.
I had a conversation with him as he was cleaning out the armory. He was initially quite suspicious, but warmed to me quickly, mostly because we were the only ones in the room and didn't feel pressured. We eventually got onto the topic of racism and I...encouraged him to think otherwise. I didn't hit him or bully him, I just talked him into logic circles to make him rethink his stance. I caught a glimpse of him a few days ago talking to one of our cooks, a Palestinian man. The conversation was less heated than I would have expected prior to our talk. I think he still has issues, but we'll work on it.

Sergei Filatyev : 45/5'6”/150-160lbs
Sergei is one of the few who adjusted faster than I did during basic training. This man is a born and bred solider. He was born in Russia, dropped out of high school to serve in the Military, made it to Corporal, was honorably discharged when he took a grenade to the face when he was thirty and emigrated to America shortly thereafter. Since then, he has been involved in various security work around the country, most of it legit, some not to much. He was here protecting a pop-star from her psycho fans when the bomb hit. She was killed while onstage. He was guarding the back door when the chaos ensued and went for cover. He eventually made it to the Crows.
He is an interesting fellow to talk to in that he doesn't really have much to say. He's blunt and to-the-point, very no nonsense. He doesn't do small talk. It's because he's so unpersonable that people don't like him and that's why he's kind of stagnating. His superiors love him, but he's been a lone wolf for so long that he can't commit or blend into a team environment. So, he's been bouncing from group to group while he tries to find his niche.
A professional solider is too good to pass up.


Cain Howard: 27/6'2”/175-180lbs
Despite being a former drug dealer, addict, loan shark, smuggler, thief, one-time pimp, and general low-life, I like Cain more just off of a first impression than anyone I've met so far on the list. He's been on the streets since he was twelve and then LA ate him up and spit him back out, meaner and tougher than ever. No schooling, still learned to read and write and do basic math (somehow), and he's sharp as a tack. But his selling point is how tough the man is. He's dedicated to whatever is thrown his way and gives it his all, which he has proven in basic training and out in the field. He is exactly what the Crows and Militia need.
The problem is that he has major authority issues. He still does as he's told (unless he thinks the order is stupid or under explained, in which case he blatantly ignores it), but the main issue is that he argues the pants off of anyone who tries to take him to task. The only exceptions to this rule seems to be people he actually likes (Tai and Kiyoshi, for example). Talking to him was productive: I think I could earn his trust if I kept at it. Trust seems to be his currency, which makes sense given his past. He just needs time.


Nigel Wright : 25/6'7”/260-270lbs
The reason he is so hated around the base was obvious when I met this man. One night when I was walking back to my apartment from the mess hall, he followed me to 'return something ' I supposedly dropped. It wasn't long before he started propositioning me, which – knowing who he was and how much of a dick he was – I promptly shot down. He didn't take too kindly to this and I have to admit that I more than antagonized him. We fought (I won. He's bigger and stronger than I am by a lot, but he underestimated me and that was his undoing) because he believes that women serve no other purpose than cooking and screwing and that by lipping him off, he reserved the right for a swing or two.
As for our fight, even though I won, he certainly gave me a run for my money. He's not skilled, but his will is indomitable and was hard for me to overcome (easier once I beat him down).
Not much is known about his past other than he was in school to be a butcher. Since his arrival, he has been disagreeable to say the least. There have been dozens of complaints from women about him, and has been involved in a total of twenty-three fights that were instigated by him or because of him.
He's an ass and he'll be the hardest to get on my side. But I need him. He has something that the others don't, a certain steel and instinct that he carries with him. It's the air about him. I could make something of him if it weren't for my awesome boobs.


Birch Valiant : 28/5'10/170-180lbs
Birch is a former small-time actor with a PhD in drama. He's a glutton for punishment and probably a masochist to some extent (he would purposefully fuck up a drill to ensure the repercussions were felt). He also has the biggest mouth in the world.
He came up to me at the mess hall one night, drunk as hell, and promptly started throwing his charms at me. I'm embarrassed to say that I was very flattered by the attention and his eloquence. Apparently, so was another young lady who came up to us as he was wooing me: she slapped him hard across the face, called him a pig and stormed off. He took it in stride, but it was clear the man had chased his fair amount of tail. I steered the conversation away from my underwear and, after listening to him blather for an hour and a half, I managed to work out the fact that he is the craziest mother fucker in the world.
I can respect a man who doesn't care if he lives or dies, so long as he respects the fact that life is precious. Birch clearly doesn't see it that way and enjoys throwing himself blind into whatever so happens to be in his path and damn the collateral damage. This explains why he's been in eight fights in the last two months (mostly because he hit on/slept with someone's girlfriend and then proceeded to insult them in a manner most humorous).
Still, he seems to be a jack of all trades; if anyone could stand to be around him longer than few hours at any given time, they could probably make something of him. Unfortunately, he's been bounced around so many groups that he's almost right back where he started. He doesn't seem to mind, but I'm sure he could be much more than what he is. At least he's always looking for a challenge (to be truthful, that's probably why he went after me so quickly after my fight with Nigel). He is also a huge ham with a gorgeous singing voice. If I can get him to shut up long enough, maybe I'll learn a little more about him.


Talon McCagherty : 27/6'2”/280lbs
This one is a man I actually know; he works with me as a mechanic in the garage bay. He is a good man and we get along nicely. He went into basic training as a pudge muffin and came out...slightly less a pudge muffin, but in great shape nonetheless. He's just a really big guy, built like a brick shit-house if you kennit. He's good with his hands, funny as hell and he's much smarter than he looks. Upon first inspection, you know he's a brawler, but if you talk to him, he quotes Hemingway and Dante, recites Poe from memory and speaks latin. He also sews.
I need someone I can trust going into this, someone who knows me well enough to lead by example to keep them in line. I'm not saying he's perfect, but he more than fits the bill. I threw a wrench at his head once. He now knows what 'duck' means. Here's hoping he can pass that on to the others.

—Delilah.

----------------------.

Feb. 26/12

I have all the necessary permissions. It begins.

—Delilah.