Back down the stairs he descended into the darkness which changed to light upon his arrival on each level. The armory gleamed bleakness but also gave a shine of uncanny professionalism. He grabbed his regular equipment, ensuring the weapons and items were prepared for any outcome that could possibly rise to challenge him. He was headed into mutant territory, and he made sure his life would be prolonged enough to survive.

Weapons check: acceptable. Ammo check: acceptable. Inventory: acceptable. ARC suit: ready. It was a routine drilled in his mind from years of military service. It also helped put his game face on. It made him focus on the objective. It helped uncloud his mind from the terror of his nightmare. It helped him survive.

Taking a deep breath, Roland made his way back up to the main level, ensuring the armory was secure before his departure. The front door unlocked and opened to allow his being to pass through, then closed and relocked to secure his home.

Out into the wasteland.... his mission: to survive.

A nightmare caused Roland to jolt from his slumber, sweat dripping down his forehead from the horrific imagery of his past, his chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline. He still remembered it like it was yesterday. The explosion that injured his knee. The terror still struck his heart at times. Trying to catch his breath, he looked around for his wife, Alexandra, who still hadn't returned home from her mission. This wasn't the first time she had been out for a long time, and he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last. Though they normally didn't operate seperately, it was not uncommon for them to do so.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, Jr stood and made his way to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of purified water. He guzzled the thirst-quencher, then placed the empty bottle upon the counter to be refilled later and made his way back into the living room to relax some more.

He was on edge and knew it. He tried his best to relax by reading a book, watching a movie, and even watching some old recorded news footage from before the day of oblivion. He wondered why the old society didn't see it coming and at least tried to prevent it. But such thoughts usually went nowhere. The outcome of their failure was now his reality. After his relaxation attempts failed, he figured it was worth a shot to go replenish a few supplies.

One flight of stairs he ascended to the presence of an office staged for two people. He set the bag onto a desk, opened it, and began to retrieve items from within, placing them upon the desk surface. A laptop, a small wrist computer, a first-aid kit, and a metal lockbox followed by a key. Setting the duffle bag down, the man fidgeted with his dogtags when they fell out from underneath his shirt. They identify him as Roland Jenners, II.

Roland took a seat in his office chair, and pulled the lockbox towards him to further inspect it. Carefully, the lid was opened, and a soft smile etched across Jr's lips once his gaze set upon the curious object contained within.

"Lithium-X. How many die daily for this?" he asked the walls. "Today, 3 more died. All because of greed. Fucking idiots."

Carefully, he shut the lid to the container since he cared nothing for this mineral or what it represented. He only took it to have a daily reminder of his ultimate objective: to bring about the downfall of LithiumQube by any means possible. This was a far-fetched goal, but as with any objective, it is possible. Careful planning and timing will be crucial if it is to be successful. That day will come. But not anytime soon.

Roland spent the next several hours on his laptop, programming his ARC wrist computer for his next mission. Such tedious tasks were necessary. If one's computer was not in immaculate condition and preperation, they ran the risk of compromising the mission at hand, something no one could afford to have happen in this day and age. Everything had to be as perfect as possible, though perfection was an astoundingly impossible achievement.

After performing the required maintenance on the computers, Roland placed the lockbox containing the Lithium-X into a safe, and locked it inside. A soft yawn echoed in the office, and Jr made his way downstairs to the kitchen area. He prepared a light meal and spent a few hours watching an old monster flick from the 1950's that he liked to watch over and over again. Fatigue soon set in and Roland eventually succumbed to it, slumping over to the armrest of the sofa and snored during his slumber. The motion-detecting lights soon didn't detect any movement and turned the lights off automatically, allowing Jr to sleep in darkness. The movie projector also went into power saving mode and shut off after a few hours, and the only noises heard from inside were the loud snores of a tired Roland Jenners.

The switch flipped to turn on the lights of the level, followed by footsteps decending. The basement cylinder served one purpose alone: storage. One could tell by the various items and objects stacked about the room. But this cylinder wasn't the destination of the male figure. A small hatch set underneath the stairs that lead upward marked the entrance to a location intended to be kept a secret. On this hatch sat a keypad, above it a red light. It was locked. Kneeling before the hatch, the man began to enter a series of numbers, in which the red light turned off and a green light lit up next to where the red one dissipated. With a soft groan, the figure lifted and opened the hatch, revealing another set of stairs, which he then descended into darkness.

This cylinder served on purpose: the storage and maintenence of weaponry and armor. One could call it an armory, though Variosafe® never intended this application. Still, its contents caused this area to be used in such a manner. Various weapons were set neatly upon hooks and shelves placed against the walls. A whole range of weapons were available for use: pistols, machine guns, rifles, a couple of grenade launchers, a few rocket launchers, grenades, mines, and even swords of various sizes and types. Quite a collection indeed. Upon the opposite side of the cylinder boasted the presence of armors. As with the weapons, there were various types of armor available for use. Radiations suits, bullet-proof vests, and kevlar armor marked most of the itenerary of the armor collection. Between the armors and weapons lay a 6 foot tall, 4 foot wide, 3 feet deep cabinet marked "Ammunition". Such a monstrous cabinet could lead an onlooker to suspect that it held an immense amount of ammo. And such suspicions would be 100% accurate. It was abundantly clear that the people who resided here were a force to be reckoned with.

A few items were not present in storage, but this was mostly remedied by the man replacing those items back in their appropriate places. The ones still missing were currently being used by his wife, who is currently on a scouting mission and should return shortly.

Now unmasked, the man was in his mid-30s, had short brown hair, green eyes, and was clearly handsome but weathered by time and stress. One could also tell he was military, or ex-military. He had that look about him. After ensuring the items were in their proper places, and securing the weapons so they didn't accidentally fire and cause injury (or worse), the time-aged man ascended the stairs and closed the hatch.

He reached the living area level once more, took hold of the duffle bag and made his way to the upper levels.

A pneumatic hiss and metallic clank broke the silence of the quieted shelter's interior. A soft hum of electricity soon followed as flourescent lights glowed softly to greet the entrance of a man. The entrance door closed as a single digit pressed a button, locking with the same pneumatic hiss and metallic clank. A sigh of relief escaped the figure's lips as security sank in and made his way to the interior of the shelter.

Inside, the decor was somewhat bland, as no extensive planning had gone into the original design by Variosafe®. Such shelters were designed to protect its inhabitants, not live up to society's latest fashion designs. Still, it served as a comfort seeing how desolate the wasteland was. Items found across the wasteland scattered shelves and various tables to bring a sense of personality and presence of home to the owners.

The suited and masked male stepped throughout the shelter, making his way into a cylindrical area that took the appearance of a living room, decorated with various items from the wasteland at times of his and his wife's travels. A stairwell nearby the entrance of the cylinder marked the possibility of ascending, or descending. In all intents and purposes, the shelter was designed to give the familiarity of a common townhome. Downwards he decended into the basement cylinder after placing a black duffle bag onto the floor right by the stairs.