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Glabbit wrote:*slaps "MONKEYZ RULE" across the room*
Remove that sin from your tongue with soap, lest I remove your tongue from your mouth with a machete! >=O

Endorgan wrote:He predicted the JFK assassination.

That must be a joke. Nostradamus was alive in the 16th century, JFK was alive in the 20th century. Did he say "A man will be assassinated" or something? Oh, what a visionary.

Roshu and I walked through the bleak morning fog. The dreary air was cold and unfriendly. A dark metal shape loomed out of the fog ahead of us. As unwelcoming as it looked, sitting there in the morning light, shrouded in the wispy fog, I knew that it was one of the few bastions of shelter that we would happen upon for miles.
Roshu approached the door. It would open to reveal a staircase that would descend deep underground; a storehouse of sorts, or a safehouse. There was a heavy bolt-lock, and an electrical lock as well. Roshu heaved the bolt-lock free then slowly tapped at a small keypad. The door remained closed.
“Quinn?” Roshu’s voice was soft, but steady and deep.
I stepped up to the door, placing my hand on the door, and positioning it to be right about where the electronic lock’s bolt would be. I moved my hand up an inch, then across the door about four inches. There was a click, and then the door slid open with a short “whoosh”. Roshu warily walked in and flipped the light switches, illuminating a metal grate floor, and a spiraling staircase leading downward.
I stepped in, slowly following Roshu. A large rat scurried by, pausing for a moment to look at us with yellowed eyes, and then jumping down the staircase.
“Close the door, and lock it again, the sun will be up soon.” Roshu said.
I nodded then closed the door, repeating in opposite the motion I had used earlier. There was another click then I pulled the bolt-lock down. Roshu had his hand on the hilt of his Katana, and the other on the handle of his Desert Eagle. We slowly descended the stairs, careful not to make much noise.
We reached the bottom, turned a corner, and walked through a small corridor to a large room filled with supplies of all kinds. Roshu opened a box of dried meats and handed it to me.
“You haven’t eaten in two days, slowly.” He told me as I began munching on some.
He took a small piece and tucked it into his lip, then began searching through the supplies. He found a small crate labeled “.50 AE” and cracked it open. He took the magazine out of his Desert Eagle, and took the other four from his belt. He loaded all of them with the .50 AE’s then replaced the magazines at his belt, and loaded one into his pistol.
I didn’t have an eye for such things, but the bullets looked large and dangerous enough. Roshu packed about two dozen boxes of the ammunition into his backpack, and then closed the crate.
“How’s your Colt?” Roshu asked.
“Fine, haven’t fired it for a while.” I replied.
“Let’s find it some extra ammunition.”
Roshu began searching nearby, and found a crate marked “.45 ACP”. Roshu cracked it open, and tossed me 5 boxes. I put them all in my backpack, as both my clips were already full.
I heard a small noise, like water dropping into a puddle. Roshu’s eyes shot toward the corner of the room where there was a small faucet dripping slowly into a cup. I began to walk over to it, but Roshu held out his arm and stopped me.
“Where’d the cup come from?” His question was rhetorical, but it made me think: If there was a cup placed to catch the water, someone must have put it there.
“Stay here.” Roshu said, as he began walking toward the faucet, hands on his weapons.
He picked up the cup, and then twisted the faucet’s handle hard. The dripping stopped. He took a small sip of the water; it tasted alright, so he downed the rest of the cup, and then beckoned for me to come over. When I reached him, there was a small shuffling noise, and Roshu had the Desert Eagle pointed at it before the sound stopped.
“Hello?” Roshu called.
His answer was more shuffling noises, and then a small man peaked out from behind a crate.
“Hello?” The man’s voice was shaky.
Roshu put the gun away, and then hailed the man.
“We’re only looking for supplies, and shelter for the day.”
“I thought you were robbers, or worse, with how you snuck in like that.” The man’s voice was stern now. “You should’ve knocked; I would’ve let you in!”
“We thought this place was deserted.” I spoke up.
“Most of these deep stores have a caretaker.” The man said.
“All of the ones we’ve found were deserted.” Roshu said.
“Well you’re welcome here, but how did you get in? The door’s locked by password.”
Roshu nodded to me.
“She doesn’t know why, but she can do things…” Roshu said.
“Like what?” The man asked. “My name’s John, by the way.”
I looked around, and saw a sack of rice. As I looked at it, some of the grains began rising and floating toward us.
“It’s nice to meet you John.” I said, and the rice fell to the floor.

nutcracker wrote:BC...Below christ?