Realistic or Modern 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 — at the end of the world

[Tool]

Northview
The Fence Line



Madison was idling away from the group when she heard Auguste's words, and she threw up a thumb's up over her shoulder. This wasn't her first rodeo. This wasn't even her tenth rodeo. This was a larger swarm than she'd ever dealt with, but Madison had waded through dead flesh for so long and in such numbers and frequency that fear no longer ruled her. On the contrary, it curdled in her gut into anger, fuel for an internal engine of hate and disgust.

Some hippy dippy music swelled from Fish's ride, and Madison couldn't help but flick on her own tunes. It was an honest-to-god cassette, and though the strip had gotten a little wobbly in places with time and heat, it still played, still worked. The thrumming base of Queen kicked up, a little more effective in getting Madison's blood pumping and in attracting the attention of hungry mouths. Not that Madison's temper needed any help.

As she rode, the woman roared her engines and headed towards the fray. If lost: go towards the cries of the innocent and the thunder of gunfire. A girl, someone young and fresh-faced and scared, lay perched atop the fence surrounding the school, waving frantically for attention and presumably screaming for help. Like a bad B-movie, Madison watched as that pale face became even more uncertain as teenage feet lost purchase and she fell, only to land on the side opposite.

Nope, nope, nope, not today.

Acting with swift, sure fingers, the cop holstered her gun, opened the throttle of her bike wide, and sped towards the ragged group of walking filth, reaching for fresh prey. Madison could feel fire in her spine spreading through her veins, and she flushed red. Brutality and hatred etched into her heart while retribution lodged in her throat and made her teeth clench. She unbuckled her pack by feel. She'd need that later, if she lived.

With all the confidence and bravery of someone with nothing to lose and everything to fight for, Madison banked hard, her knee scraping the asphalt of the high-school parking lot as the bike leaned nearly horizontal, before Madison simply ......let go. The bike slid across the blacktop without its rider or pack, sending up sparks and taking out a swath of dead-heads between Madison and her target. Honestly, it was a move she'd only ever pulled once before, and at the time it had very nearly snapped her ankle, but what the hell.

Desperate times.

The trust Madison had put in the layers upon layers of leather and sports padding and more leather and duct tape was trust well placed. It was hot as Satan's personal armpit, but still, trust well placed. Her protection held. Madison came out of the roll quicker than a hiccup before launching herself at the nearest zombie, an inarticulate howl of savagery audible even past the bolted-down plexiglass of her visor. The force landed her atop the creature, and she shoved a knife into the creature's soft palate from below, and as she yanked it free, it broke through both jawbone and teeth, giving the dead a grotesque, floppy, mandible-like appearance, though admittedly not for very long. Now that the lower jaw was out of her way, Madison re-stabbed her prey through its hard palate and hit gold.

Apocalypse or not, crazy got all the knives.

After two hard pulls, the girl's blade came free of the zombie's skull, and she got to her feet just in time to face two more, one lurching in from the front, and its mirror to her immediate left. Madison gave her arm to the zombie on her left, leaving it to eagerly scrape its teeth on her sports padding and layered leather. Dead or not, zombies only had as much force to put to use as an average PCP-addict on a rampage; formerly human mouths could only chomp through so much. While the mouth on her left was occupied, Madison pulled a gun from one of her holsters and blew away the abomination ahead, and only then did she bend her free elbow and put the barrel of her piece against a forehead that had gone soft and mottled, squeezing the trigger and sending a spray of blackish brains out the back of its skull, its bite going instantly slack and releasing her forearm.

The unrestrained brutality with which Madison fought spoke to the profound, personal insult these creatures presented. The briefest of pauses in the surge allowed Madison the luxury of handing the teen her recently fired gun, handle first.

"Get to the motorcycle bag," Madison ordered. "Ammo."

Indeed, the bag lay somewhere between the living pair and the downed bike, and it contained a dump truck of clips for the semi-autos and speed-loaders for the revolvers, even if it was distressingly close to all the zombies Madison's Harley had plowed into. The dead weren't terribly dexterous, especially after having been knocked into by speeding, stray Harley, but they were slowly groping to their feet or trying to crawl. Lord bless that motorcycle, it hadn't quit even if the engine was off, and Freddie Mercury was still loudly informing any zombie within earshot they had blood on their face. Big disgrace.

For hours prior, Madison had played putt-putt ahead of a horde, tension and simmering fury building beneath her skin, one hollow moan at a time. Hunger and the throbbing pain in the back of her head washed away in a tidal wave of adrenaline and white-hot contempt. She slid her knife back into its sheath and pulled her tactical hatchet from its place on her thigh, then hooked it on a dead-head. With an enthusiastic yank, Madison pulled the creature towards her, taking it off balance enough for her to loop a foot around its ankle and leg-sweep it to the pavement. Asphalt meant there was something nice and hard to hit against when she brought her boot down on the zombie's face with an incredibly satisfying, wet crunch. Stomp and twist. She started towards the bag, keeping herself between the teen and the walking dead as much as possible.

Suffer no evil. Overlook no suffering. Repay your debts. Keep your promises. Save who you can. Avenge who you can't.

The words beat in her mind in sync with her bright, pounding heart.


​

Miaow
​

​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

NORTHVIEW
Outside the front door, facing the hill.
​

"Boss, we have to go!"

Ignacio didn't miss the urgency in Frank's voice, wrestling with the rifle that kept misfeeding. The undead drew away from the main entrance. Following the girl. Fuck. He could no longer see her in the crowd. If they closed the doors now she was dead.

"Cabrera!"

He snapped his vision to Frank and tossed the man the rifle. "It's jammed!" The other caught it and faltered at the next order. "Block the door." The leader cut Frank's protests short. "I'll find a way. Now, get the fuck inside! Lock and clear the building! Do it!"

He didn't stick around for an answer. With Haewon holding biters' attention on the stack of boxes, Ignacio sprinted towards one of the previously besieged vehicles. Despite adrenaline and cortisol coursing in his system, it felt like something tore the muscle in his pierced leg each time his boot hit the ground. Blood seeped into the fabric wrapped around the wound. Soaking the blue pant leg dark red.

But he couldn't stop.

Not now.

Not when they fought for all those lives inside.

For the new day not to be the last.

He slammed at the closed tailgate with a thud and hauled his ass up, biting back the sound of pain. He halted for a heartbeat, noticing Haewon was no longer there. But the swarm of zombies pressing at the chain-link from the inside explained it. Christ, she was on the other side of the fence!

A burst of movement up the hill snapped his attention. A covered human on a motorcycle was pulling off a crazy stunt. About to get to the girl. Fucking relief. Cabrera hurried to get behind the makeshift mounting platform of the Browning, tossing a quick glance at the infected crowd. The biker and the girl teamed up, trying to get to the fallen machine. That was his cue.

The Samaritan jerked the barrel in their direction and opened fire at the creatures trying to approach them. Velocity and force of the overpowered rounds shredded their ranks. Snapping bodies in half. Beheading. Spraying a vile mist across the field.

Blare of the engines rolled across the hills, clashing with the deafening bark of the machine gun. Black shapes scattered across the pale sky before they raced down the slope. Goosebumps pricked down his body as a spark of hope singed in his chest. The strangers, whoever those bikers were, they could save them.

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon @Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[BeyondDandy]

On The Road

There he was, shattered yet whole. Casey got his eyes on Wess; the man was in no shape to be left unattended. Hidden and out of sight he watched as his man tumble to the floor forcibly. A woman appeared from the truck with malice intention. Casey lifted his gun and aimed it at her - a dead shot. The woman however was drawn to the roars of a Harley down the street - surely his back up. Casey’s finger slid onto the trigger as his hands clasped around the frame, preparing himself to squeeze and end the woman’s life. His shot became compromised when another man jolted out the backseat and comprehended the female. Casey acted quickly, using the moment as a distraction which would allow him to move without restraint.

He rushed through the forest towards the street, finding himself at the rear of the stalled vehicle. He knew there were people in the bed of the truck and more inside from the man that spoke earlier and took Wess’ comms back into the truck. Casey lifted his weapon, appearing into the view of the two poor souls at the end of the vehicle. The nozzle took aim at the man first when suddenly a shot rang from behind him.

Casey jumped to the right and dropped to the ground, the gunshot missing and hitting the edge of the truck. He rolled over and took aim, taking two shots at the figure that exposed itself through the noise. A man groaned and dropped to the floor knees first. His upper body crashed on the rest of himself before he collapsed to the side motionless. Casey recovered quickly, pushing off his elbow and back to his feet. Another soldier followed suit, rushing through the smoke to his partner's aid.

The biker took aim again and the man before him realized it too late. Casey squeezed and ‘click’ - empty. The soldier, who’d lifted his hands to stop the bullet, put them back down with a grin. “You're a dead man, bitch! Now drop it!” He insulted bitterly as his weapon rose to aim. His arrogant smile grew larger as he stepped over his friend and towards Casey who had tossed his weapon down. “I got the motherfucker!” He called out to the rest of his crew as a moving light behind him started to burn bright with every step he took.

Casey’s eyes widened and he took a step to pick up his gun again. The soldier lifted his rifle to center and was just about to pull the trigger when his arms were squeezed by flaming bone talons which caught his clothes on fire. The flaming being took the soldier to the ground and punctured his nape with flattened rot teeth. The soldier shrieked in pain as his flesh caught flame and started to melt from his bone. More screams grew from the surrounding smoke, all coming from the rest of the convoy. Bright lights flickered on in the distance, growing in numbers and escaping the woods towards the vehicles.

Casey released the magazine and dug in his vest for another, pulling the slide and reloading his gun. He watched the fire walker tear his other adversary to shreds as both beings began to die in a hell of ash. He had no remorse and let the man suffer the fate that was brought upon him. Facing the end of the truck he rushed towards Wess’ aid, weapon aimed at those in the truck. “Don’t,” he ordered the tattooed woman and her friend, crouching down to help Wess up as he kept aim. Though when Wesswas in position to stand, he noticed beaming lights reflecting off the truck he faced. Turning around he scattershot, taking five to six shots and dropping two of the burning dead that approached. He looked all around and was overwhelmed by all the lights that approached them from every angle - there was no way out.

He reached for his walkie as his gun turned back towards the tattooed woman and the man next to her. “I need back up now!” He called through, taking glimpses at the Harley that growled down the road, hoping there was enough time to escape the incoming slaughter.
​

Namazu
Tool
NanLia
Aegis
Safton
joshiebee
Fluffy-Kat
Good_Morels

 

[Aegis]

Indianapolis, Indiana
Three Weeks into Operation: Archangel​

A shower. Clothes sticking to skin with sweat as a damp, suffocating glue. God, he needed that shower. Connor hadn't had one in weeks, in truth; a fact the Soldier wasn't proud of, but none of the other guys in Crossroads had either. Utilities had gone out a couple days ago. Besides that, the Men of the platoon had duties almost non-stop in shifts as resources dwindled and supply priorities were made clear-- being them, yet that only meant more work for all of the guys. They operated in three shifts: Morning-Afternoon, Afternoon-Night, and Night-Morning. Fortunately, Connor found himself on the Afternoon-Night shift, the most agreeable one as far as he was concerned. The morning shift was too early to really consider rest with all the watch shifts overnight, and the night... well-- nobody wanted that one. Much like the shower situation, no power meant no hot water (not that the pipes worked) but also meant no artificial light. It was terrifying how the building could block out nearly all the natural light and leave the Soldiers swamped into a blackness so thick that blasted their eyes with green layers of static in the dark reducing the marred form of the dead to swaying, moaning shadows. Every night they went out, they came back with one or two less.

It wasn't like they shoved those duties off onto random people; they used a lottery, as fair as they could make it. Every dusk when those solemn faces went off, Connor thanked whatever chance had placed him in the afternoon shift that he didn't have to go with them-- no matter how much he loved those guys. Every dawn, Connor cursed himself for not going with them when they came back another man fewer and with the obvious toll of soul-sheering guilt puppeteering their weary eyes and broken faces-- because he loved those guys.

Regardless, it was time for his shift. Connor shifted from a steamy, swampy sleeping bag that was too exposed to the sun to be comfortable, but much like a child he found himself needing that extra layer of cloth between him and reality to separate himself from the monsters if only for a while. They had set up in the center of a park near where they were keeping most of the civilians for transport once they cleared a route. C-wire, HESCO, sandbags, foxholes, and more hasty defenses were erected to give them a sense of security and a fighting chance; they all knew that a horde a few thousand deep would leave them so buried in corpses they'd never see the sun again, and those flimsy fences and dirt-filled sacks didn't have what it took to prevent that ceiling from caving in on them. Plus, they were the ones who had to make those defenses-- time he was certain everyone would've much rather been asleep. Fortunately, some of the main units down south in the city were keeping the main hordes busy with nearly constant firefights, but who knew how long that would last? It was near impossible to get ahold of command these days.

Clambering to his feet, Connor saw Morales already taking the chock-block and drip-pan out from under the Humvee, "Awake, dude?"

The Specialist rubbed his eyes with the backs of the kevlar gloves he forgot to remove before bed last night-- along with everything else save his plate carrier. He wished he wasn't awake, "Yeah.. where to... today?"

It took him a moment to process through the beckoning call of sleep.

"We're gonna be heading over near the hospital. Some guys have been taking pot-shots at our trucks when they go by there, and command wants us to deal with them before next week."

"Right. Who all is coming?"

"Me, you, Gregory, and Torres. That's all they could spare."

The inadequacy of that team wasn't lost on either of them as Connor suddenly jolted fully awake with exasperation, "You're FUCKING kidding. Four guys against a guerilla force of unk--"

But he bit his tongue before he finished. He noticed the two other privates-- guys he didn't really know as they were new, stare at him from the back seat and driver's seat respectively. As their team leader, he couldn't afford to talk to THEM about how fucked this was because it was going to happen regardless, but Morales gave him a knowing stare. This was stupid. Could be suicide but they couldn't know; that was the problem: they didn't know.

"Alright, fuck it. We're good to go?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

Connor sauntered up to the TC side door of the Humvee and nearly climbed in before being stopped by Morales as he snagged the rank off of his chest, "Hey, what the--"

But then Morales slapped on a new one. It was three stripes, Sergeant. Connor stared at his friend in utter disbelief before the man spoke, "You were asleep when they came over to tell you, but congratulations on your field promotion, Sergeant. I know you'll do great things."

Connor? A Sergeant? He barely had a week of leadership experience and it was all impromptu. In any other scenario, he may have thought that it was nothing more than a sick joke, but it was just the kind of bullshit, desperate decision-making he had come to expect the last few weeks. Come on, MORALES had been the one awake and setting up the Humvee. How did HE deserve to have this on his chest and not him? Whatever. He'll talk to the Commander when they got back-- there had to be some kind of mistake.

"Haha-- thanks. Good for me, I guess."

 

[Namazu]

On the Road​

”That ain’t yours…you son of a bitch. Hand it over.”

Weston was damned glad he had LT in this truck with him. Weston didn’t let go of the small radio he’d just annexed from the debris, nor did he make any move to hand it over to the man that looked like he should have been dead. Thankfully the man would need to get through and past both Dutchess and LT to get to him and this radio - which now seemed a hell of a lot more important than it did only a few moments ago, before a voice came through it.

On a normal day, watching Dutchess kick the man away with both feet would have made him bust out laughing to a degree she’d want to give him shit for it later. She was a short-shit-nothin’ compared to him, but Weston knew well not to underestimate a woman that felt threatened. Especially an armed one that knew what she was doing. Maybe they’ll laugh about it later. If there was a later.

Truthfully, his first thought was that Connor should have just let her shoot the guy. Then they could call this just an unfortunate accident, wrap this up, and keep going. But as soon Connor got his arms around her, the flurry of motion and noise pulled all his thoughts out of musing about what-if’s and should-we’s, and Weston sprang into action. Grabbing the Samaritan radio from the console, Weston held down buttons on both radios, and spoke into both of them at once.

“Hold your goddamn fire! The next person that takes a shot at anything that ain’t a biter, I will put a hole in you myself!” Weston could already see the flaming undead coming out of the woods, and needed to resolve this quickly so they could get a move on. Hopefully if there were others that could hear this stranger’s radio, they’d take the hint. If they didn’t move now, they’d all be surrounded. There would be time to be pissed off later about the loss of two of their men, and time later to sort this all out - but what they had to do right now was make it possible for there to be a later at all.

Sliding over in the back seat of the truck that was now vacated by Connor, Weston yanked his handgun out of its holster and quickly lowered the window.

"I got no intention of shootin' you!" He called out, holding the stranger's radio out the window carefully, at first just enough so the two strangers could see what it was before holding it higher. He kept his handgun pointed at Casey with his other hand. It was a bit hard to see the men with all the smoke drifting, but he saw plenty enough to know where he was aiming.

“Neither of us got time to sort this out yet, and I think we can agree that things got all gummed up here.” Weston drawled out in his best attempt to calm down the situation - but quickly.

“We all need to get the fuck out of here. We’ll sort out the who- and what’s- later, and we’re glad your buddy made it. Now, I kindly suggest you stop aiming the fucking gun at the lady, because I’m going to give you this radio back. You’re going to take your buddy and get the hell out, and we’ll get the hell out, and we’ll call it a day. How’s about that?”

Weston waggled the radio at Casey, ready to toss it towards him if he complied. They really had bigger problems to deal with than two guys on bikes.

Or, three. He couldn’t ignore the sound of another bike approaching from a distance. Shit was only getting worse, and this was not looking good.

BeyondDandy NanLia Aegis Safton Good_Morels joshiebee Togy Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[joshiebee]

On the Road​

For the most part the ride was uneventful, and she was beyond thankful for that. Aside from the fact that riding in the back of a truck on a dirt road was sure to leave her bruised the next day, of course. She spent most of the ride gripped to the side of the truck bed, eyes closed aside from the few times she'd open them to make sure there wasn't some danger lurking close to her. The smoke, the fire, the zombies... in truth, she was just exhausted and somewhat relished the chance to rest just a bit.

All of that came to a crashing halt, though, when out of nowhere she was flung from the bed of the truck. Elizabeth, not paying attention at all, had no idea what they'd hit; by the time she was coherent again she was slammed into the ground on the edge of the road, landing just short of the tree line. For a few moments she just lay there, blinking her eyes as she glanced around to try and get a feel for what had just happened. In the smoke and dust from the vehicles she couldn't tell what exactly was going on, but there was at least one truck ahead of her, meaning she was a bit back from the first truck she'd been in.

Pushing herself to her feet, she felt some pain in her left leg and arm, but otherwise she felt okay. She could move, at least. Hobbling on her feet, she took a few steps back to rest her back against a nearby tree, raising her head towards the sky and just breathing. Was this better than being on her own?

Not but a minute or so later, voices from further up the road rang out, grabbing her attention. She recognized one voice as the man's that had talked to her before - Weston. She was far enough from them that she couldn't tell what exactly was going on, but it was causing quite a bit of commotion.

"Hey, girl!" A voice called out, causing Elizabeth to jump. Looking around, her eyes landed on a soldier who'd stepped out of the vehicle she was close to. "You alright?" The soldier asked her. She nodded slowly at first, then cleared her throat to speak. "Yea... yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," she spoke through a choked cough, taking a step away from the tree as she did so. Elizabeth looked down to her feet as she stepped away from the tree, placing her hands on her knees as she took in a few more deep breaths. Doing so, she noticed the ground was lit up behind her. As if there was something behind her, lighting up the earth from inside the tree line.

Eyes wide, she whipped around just in time to see a flame-covered zombie push past some underbrush. She took a step back, tripping over her own feet and falling backwards. Elizabeth scrambled backwards onto the road, pushing herself to her feet once more. Now standing closer to the trucks she could get a full view of the tree line next to them. It was almost entirely lit up; bright fire light deeper in the trees, with some scattered light closer to them. They had to be close to the bridge at that point, with the fire having reached this far. And the zombies... how could they still be on fire? How had they not burned up entirely by this point? She shook the thought from her head as she turned and started walking towards the front truck again, the one she'd been flung from. As she approached, though, she saw a zombie from the tree line take down another soldier on the opposite side of the trucks from her. She gasped and drew a hand to her mouth, knowing that keeping quiet was her best option when zombies were near.

The other man by the soldier, though - he made her stop. He didn't look like one of them. He looked different. Is that why they'd stopped; they'd come across another group?

She watched from beside the vehicle as the man who the soldier had been in a fight with took off towards the front of the convoy, leaving the dying soldier and flaming zombie behind. After the man moved out of view she turned her attention back to the soldier and zombie, and then to the weapon left behind on the ground. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching her, she took in a deep breath then moved over closer to the flaming pair, reaching down and grabbing the rifle. As she picked it up she turned it over in hand, checking it. She was no master with guns, and quite frankly wasn't even sure she could shoot it. But it was a weapon, and that was the important thing.

Now, weapon in hand, she moved to the back of the front truck in the convoy; the same one she'd been flung from before. Close enough to hear what was going on now, she just stood there and listened. So far she'd been able to move amongst the shadows - or at least out of sight from the fighting people in front - and she wanted to keep it that way. From what she could gather, Weston was back in the truck and dangling some sort of radio out of the window. It must've belonged to whoever these people were that they ran into, because he was saying he'd give it back if they left. Strange, she thought. But it wasn't for her to worry about.

All she worried about was throwing the gun in the back of the truck and climbing in before they could take off without her. But she waited - if she moved now, it could freak any of them out and cause more issue. So instead she kept one hand on the truck and the other wrapped around the rifle, ready to move as soon as it seemed like they were out of there.

BeyondDandy NanLia Aegis Safton Good_Morels Togy Fluffy-Kat Tool Namazu ​

 

[Fluffy-Kat]

It was hard for Kallie to hold an interest in anything growing up. Most people go with the flow, follow the crowd, agree with the group. Kallie however, was never shy to give her opinion and never went along with something she didn't like. Its curteous to abide by the "majority wins" rule, but not Kallie. Not until she at least spoke her mind and made it apparent that what ever was going down, she didn't like. This was no exception. Being asked to risk her own skin for a bunch of unknowns? The audacity. To come this far, pushing for survival, bearing the worst, suffering through this hell all to come down to one moment where she risks it all for...well, no one she really cares for. "Hello no," chanted the narcissist within, "No, no, no." She couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"Why?"

Why put the MC through this as a group. Kallie swore her allegiance to this club. It was her family. Her loyalty did not belong to any one member (except maybe Hank) but to the club as a whole. Her thoughts, ideas, and participation were soley for the survival of this club. So again, why risk it all? Kallie watched the school engulf in flames with the rest of the crew. It was sad, that much cant be denied, but it wasn't her problem. Less living mouths to feed, is how she saw it, more rations for everyone else who pushed through natural selection. But... if there was anyone that had Kallie's pity it was children. The thought of children in that school did cross her mind, but what were the chances? If Z-day struck while class was in session, would a school full of kids be able to keep themselves alive for this long? What about the teachers? Could they have protected each one, or themselves? Unlikely. The chances of that school being full of kids was slim to none, by now it probably would've been turned into a fortress for some lucky bastards who happened to come across it.

A brief flash of imagery crossed her mind. Zombie high-schoolers. Yikes. That would've been a sad sight.

The rumble of an engine tore her from her vivid imagination and she turned. One hand pulled down the bandana that covered half her face, revealing a seemingly blank look, with a shadow of concern behind her eyes at the sight of Madison pulling up...alone. Kallie remained stoic and quiet on the surface but could feel her insides begin to quiver. She listened closely as Connor updated the group and learned that something had happened to Wess. It felt like a hard punch to the gut. Here she was sitting here, when she should be out there looking for him, and for a split second she almost took off with out even thinking of the rest of the group. Fish glanced at Kallie and made her defenses break. She turned away from his gaze, feeling the hard lump in her throat slowly creep its way upward, and her vision blurred some as forming tears obstructed her view. Still, she remained motionless, right beside Fish, fighting every urge to say, "Fuck this," and leave. She'd be a hypocrite if she did.

Stick with the plan right?

So far the plan got derailed a long ass time ago, but she was assigned to a group with Fish and Auguste, she couldn't leave her post now, not after she sided with Jenkins earlier about sticking to the damn plan, as instructed. Ugh, the pickles pride puts you in. Kallie took a deep, audible breath and put Wess in the back of her mind for now, besides if Casey's with him, and Kit was going after them both, she had faith he'd be okay, "So then? What are we doing?"

"How does everyone feel about literally making some noise to pull them away?"

Really? We're still on this? Two patched members were on their own out there and this is what they want to do? Either everyone had a death wish or a massive hero complex, regardless it brought her blood to a boil. Gloved fists tightened around the handle bars to her bike and she bit her tongue so as to hold back what she really wanted to say. The brunette didn't answer the question, in fear she'd just explode and go off on Fish, a patched member, more than she should. In all honesty she just wanted to punch him.

Save who you can, avenge who you cant.

Apparently "our own" wasn't on the list of people to save. If Kallie loses her brother she knows exactly whos on the top of her revenge list. Engines roared back to life as the club voted to aid the school and who ever was within. Kallie peeled her hot gaze off Fish and raised the bandana over her nose again. She sped off like hell on wheels, waiting for no one and trailing after Connor.

Maybe bashing in some zombie brains was exactly what she needed right now.





Namazu Good_Morels BeyondDandy Tool smookie NanLia

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

FLASHBACK
Before Samaritans
​

Spoiler

Under the silver shine filtering through the bedroom window, Frank leaned over the crib. His rough fingers gently stroking his daughter's chubby cheek. The baby cooed softly, her innocent gaze locking onto his tired eyes.

His lips brushed against her forehead. "Try to give mamma and papa some sleep tonight, alright?"

"Just mamma."

He turned to find his wife, her warm smile radiating in the dim room as she added. "You can call for papa when you wake up."

They slipped side by side into their cozy bed. The soft rustle of fabric and wet kisses mingled with the faint hum of crickets in the distance. Until their bodies fell apart and they lay down. Half uncovered, cooling in the summer night.

"I had to visit Mrs Gordon again." Frank said with a weary chuckle. He told her about the next episode of the missing cat. "And eventually I had to climb that huge maple tree because she claimed she saw Ginger hiding in there."

It drew a muffled laughter from his wife. "Didn't Ginger have a bell on his collar? Wouldn't you hear him there?"

"That's what I told her. But she went on about how I'm saying she's blind so it was just easier to climb the damned thing."

His wife pictured his burly self climbing up and she burst out laughing, covering her mouth. "Sorry." She loudly whispered after the baby stirred. "Oh no."

They waited but the little one didn't wake up so they slowly relaxed back. The woman scooted over and draped her arm over Frank, rubbing his prominent stomach. The bedside oil lamp cast a soft golden glow over her skin. His fingers traced lazy circles on her arm. He hummed, lulling them to sleep. Eventually the room grew hushed except for their even breaths as together, they drifted off.

* * *​

A sharp jolt of consciousness ripped Frank from a dream. Was his daughter crying? A shiver raced down his spine when a blood curdling scream pierced the silence. Then another. Acrid smell of smoke sneaked through the open window and dug into his nostrils.

"Honey?" His wife sat up as he scrambled off the bed. The drowsiness in her voice mixed with alertness. "What's going on?"

"I don't know." He hurriedly pulled his pants and duty belt on. "But you stay here with Andy, you hear me?" He demanded, grabbing his uniform shirt. He glanced to meet her fearful gaze and reassured her. "I'll be back, just wait for me."

The cool wind slapped his face as he stormed onto the porch. It carried the notes of burning timber. The familiar street in the distance was now cloaked in a haze of chaos and smoke. He hesitated, holding his breath. Gaze fixed on the flames devouring the wooden structure by the fringes of their settlement. Dear Lord. The church was on fire.

Frank's tan shirt was only half buttoned as he broke into a run. He headed for the town square where most people seemed to gather. But the familiar faces began spilling off the nearby houses, their screams and guttural snarls seizing his attention.

"Frank!"

He snapped his gaze towards the desperate cry of Mrs Gordon. She stumbled out of her house and into the garden. The moonlight sifted through the broadleaf crown of the maple tree overlooking it. Dappling the grotesque grimace on the blood covered face of the husband, who staggered after the woman.

"Henry- He- I d-don't know how-" She cried and tripped, falling to her hands and knees.

Frank stood there, stunned. His hand curling around the grip of the revolver was nothing but instinct. The rifle gunshot sobered him up and his eyes widened as Mr. Gordon fell next to his wife. She put her hand up to shield herself, arm visibly torn, bitten. "Please!"

Another shot made him flinch but he couldn't peel his gaze away from the hole in the older woman's skull, dropped in the trimmed grass. The bullets were coming from the house across the street. Was he next?

Someone else shouted in the distance and he looked up ahead again. Setting on the figures that darted through the road and the contorted shapes that followed them with unnatural movements. The men and women that were Frank's neighbors once. Now mindless creatures that would do anything to feed. Christ. Some of them, children.

"Natalie." He gasped and pivoted, sprinting back home. "Natalie!!!" He yelled, running so fast he had to fight for breath. He didn't care for the danger in his path, pushing past, shoving the freshly turned undead stragglers.

"Nat-" He panted, whole body heaving as he froze in the doorframe of their bedroom. His wife was cradling the little one in her arms. But not with love. Red coated her mouth and teeth. She held their daughter like a motionless rag doll with a ripped-open belly.

Everything else was a blur.

How he screamed so loud that his throat burned. How he kept pushing her away but even after she fell and dislocated her shoulder, she kept getting up to get to him. How he locked himself in the bathroom and cowered in the corner. Shaking and crying his eyes out until unconsciousness took him.

* * *​

The screams were long gone. The incessant sound of nails scratching against the wooden bathroom door. The soft, inhuman groans. All the sounds his wife was making had faded into an almost surreal backdrop of white noise.

It was quiet in his head.

Hollow.

Locked in the windowless bathroom, the man lost any sense of time. The line of light bisecting the space below the door told him it was dawning, but he didn't listen.

It didn't matter.

Nothing did anymore.

The silence took him off guard. Then the muffled voices behind the door seemed out of place. He long lost any hope to hear them. The door creaked open and a muzzle peeked in. Frank narrowed his bloodshed eyes against the beam of light. He couldn't recognize the faces hiding in the shadows.

"Oh Jesus." One of the men recoiled, wrinkling his nose. "Did he piss himself?" Another poked Frank with a double barrel. "Hey. You bit?" The man curled on the cold tiles didn't budge, didn't try to find his voice. He just stared at them.

The steps knocking against the hardwood floor brought another figure that blocked the light. "Give the man some space, boys." Frank's gaze shifted to the dark silhouette of a tall stranger with little coherency. Detached from the scene like he wasn't even there.

The man with the baseball cap, which he wore backwards, cocked his head. "A Sheriff, huh. Deputy." He reached down, opening his palm in front of Frank's glazed eyes. "Deputy Diangelo? It's safe now." His lips curled into a soft smile. "Take my hand and come with me."

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
Northview High
​

Haewon wheezed as she doubled over, clutching onto her ribs. She felt blessed that these particular infected were especially sluggish, giving her time to catch her breath. She coughed, spitting up something gross she couldn't quite identify as she pulled her knife from her boot, straining to straighten her spine. God, it fucking hurt, but she wasn't exactly in the position to curl up and whine about it. She took a step forward, taking out an approaching infected before it could corner her. She sunk her blade into its eye socket, squelching into its eyeball and piercing its brain. She grabbed it by what hair was left, using its own head as leverage to yank her knife free. Taking an unsteady step backward, she let the infected collapse to the ground like a ragdoll, scanning the crowd of corpses around her for her next target.

The sound of snarling and bloody gargling was suddenly drowned out by the roaring of an engine and the screeching of tires. Before she could even register the scene before her, the bike was almost horizontal on the ground, leaving a trail of sparks behind it. The rider took a tumble, barrel rolling away from the bike. They were on their feet before Haewon could take another, albeit shallow, breath, and was on top of a nearby infected.
"Shit!" Haewon exclaimed. This wasn't exactly the time, but... goddamn, that was kinda cool...

She flinched as an infected lunged for her, growling in her ear as it stumbled over its own feet. She grabbed it by the shoulder, shoving the blade of her knife through its skull, pulling it out, and plunging it back in again, just for good measure. She could see the biker in the corner of her eye, picking off corpses one by one to get closer to her. Before she knew it, there was a gun brandished in her face... though handle first this time which was a nice change. She took it. Fuck, she didn't know how to use one of these things. Maybe it was one of those mother's adrenaline things, if she thought about Minnie hard enough, she'd magically figure it out.

As the biker made their demands, Haewon nodded. Haewon actually doing as she was told?! Unheard of, but there wasn't exactly much time to argue. She launched into the hoard towards the bike, using her blade and the butt of the gun against any infected that dared to get too close. Sure, she could aim and fire in the general direction of a walking corpse but reloading was beyond her and she didn't exactly have the time to fuck around and figure it out.

She waded through the corpses the biker had totaled with their Harley, kicking at the occasional hand that gripped onto her ankles and calves. Somewhere in this mess of body parts and guts was a bag. She used her feet to push through some of the bodies until finally uncovering what looked like the bag, though it was now covered in zombie chunks and other non-descript grossness. She grabbed it by the strap, quickly unzipping it. Yep... those were magazines... probably. All different sizes. Shit. How was she meant to know which ones were the right ones?

She quickly zipped the bag back up, slinging it over her shoulder and began her fight back towards the biker. She walked like a newborn deer, taking big steps to avoid tripping over the already downed infected. As she shoved her way through the ones who had managed to get to their feet, she saw the horde that had gotten inside turn their attention to the bike, attracted by the sweet, dulcet tones of Freddie Mercury. With only the two of them out there, they'd be quickly overwhelmed.

Shit, she was gonna have to figure out how guns worked.

She raised the weapon up to shoulder level and shut one eye, taking aim for an approaching infected. She held her breath and squeezed the trigger, causing the gun to jolt in her hands as the bullet flew from the chamber. She flinched, pain shooting up her arms. The infected dropped to the floor. Shit! Beginners luck really was real. She surged ahead, meet back up with the biker.

"I got it!" She yelled over the noise, her arms still vibrating from the recoil. She held the gun towards the floor, prepared for the next attack.

Safton Aegis Bullyboy Squad @Crono
​

 

[Fluffy-Kat]

Consciousness was fading in and out, like the dying light of a candle struggling to stay lit with what little wax and wick were left to keep it fueled. In all honesty Wess couldn't really comprehend what was going on after he demanded for his walkie back, there were voices, thats all he gathered. Until, another heavy force struck him square in the chest, above his ribs, at least. Wess stumbled backwards, blindly moving a hand about in an attempt to grab onto the open truck door to steady himself but unfortunately missed. Trying to keep his balance he staggered some, before falling onto his back and having the wind knocked out of him. He layed there for a moment and let out a painful yelp. His head was spinning.

After what felt like forever the pain surged again. The fall made him gasp and his lungs jolt simultaneously, which made his broken rib(s) burn angrily. He very slowly turned over onto his elbows, his right knee bent while the left remained straight with the shrapnel still lodged. Wess wheezed and gasped for air. He was so out of it he couldn't even cry from pain. He remained on the ground for a while, trying to collect himself, blood dripping onto grass from his busted lower lip.

Haunting screams made him turn his head sideways, watching an orange-red ball of flame, veiled behind a wall of smoke, latch onto what could only be another person, flailing as both entities collapsed to the ground. To his otherside more of these walking flame balls drew closer and Wess didn't even have the strength to move. He readjusted himself, falling back to a seated position, his left leg straight and his right folded underneath him. The dizzy cowboy held his head with one hand, if he was going to be turned into lunch he atleast didnt want to know about it, or see it coming with his back turned toward the tree line.

A hand suddenly reached out from behind him and pulled Wess from underneath his arm. Involuntary reaction caused him to jump and push the hand off him, "No," he called out, assuming he was being claimed for zombie breakfast.

"Don't!"

He knew that voice.

Wess looked up, squinting one eye that stung from the smoke all around him. "Casey?" his voice reflected disbelief. Wincing in pain, he made his way to stand again, no longer feeling so defeated with the sliver of hope that was bestowed onto him. He patted Casey's shoulder when he finally got his footing, silently thanking him for coming to his rescue, but the day wasn't over yet. The cowboy eyeballed the barrel of a pistol from under pinched brows. His breathing was hard and heavy, half from the pain and the other half from searing anger. He followed the pistol up to the woman that held it, the one responsible for putting his unarmed, injured ass back down on the ground again. When Wess was angry he was a whole other person, but still, he followed a code, morals. One being that women are off limits to physical violence. Lucky her. His jaw clenched tight and ticked to the side, eyes darting to another male that asked how many people were with them. Wess gathered and spat out some blood that seeped from his lip before speaking up, "That ain't your damn concern. I just want whats mine--"

The sudden sound of shots being fired at close range made Wess flinch, thinking for a moment it was the woman that let a few rounds loose on him, but instead it was Casey, keeping some of the flaming-hot biters at bay. Mason looked over his shoulder, he didn't take into consideration that all the ruckus would be drawing these things from out of the wood work...literally. But who could blame him when hes got bigger problems present....like bleeding out.

The driver, suddenly being concerned for Wess' and Casey's wellbeing caught him off guard. Maybe this was his way of breaking even after almost commiting vehicular manslaughter. Honestly, Wess would gladly take the gesture if it meant getting out of there and getting help. Wess glanced at his VP, searching for any sign of what he was thinking. He gave a small shrug and a cocked eyebrow, perfectly okay with taking the ride. The distant rumble of an engine caught his ear and demanded his attention at once. The cowboy looked to side -- at last, the cavalry of one had arrived.




BeyondDandy Good_Morels NanLia smookie joshiebee Aegis Safton
(If i forgot someone i apologize :'o )

 

[Safton]

​

On the Road to Northview...
The Convoy​

It had been a close thing on Wesley's end: resisting the urge to fire on the armed & rugged man who appeared at the side of their truck, seemingly to collect his injured comrade. He had brought the pistol to bear, aligned the sights -- all that remained was to take up the slack in the trigger and squeeze. It wasn't the warning tone in his voice or the gun pointed vaguely in his direction that threw him off, either. No, he was fairly certain that -- push come to shove -- he could get at least a round or two off before this guy (whoever he was) knew what hit him. Especially with the way he kept glancing or even firing over his shoulder at the encroaching biters. So what held Wes back?

Maybe it was the fact that Connor was standing there, nearly in his line of fire after trying to defuse things. Maybe it was the fact that Weston was in his ear, yelling commands trying to do thing: ordering everyone to stand down and hold their fire. Maybe it was the fact that Dutchess was out there, too... just feet away, and a big part of him didn't particularly care for the idea of having bullets passing near her... not that he particularly cared to admit as much.

Wesley heard the rumbling of an approaching bike, glancing sideways through the windshield to spot the headlight's illumination giving an eerie glow to the surrounding smoke. Weston seemed to have reached an understanding with their Roadkill -- or at least something resembling an understanding -- so he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding through teeth that he didn't realize were clenched tighter than the gates back at the prison. The sound came out something like a hiss as Emmett lowered the pistol resignedly, but he didn't dare holster it -- instead turning his attention to their other problems. The fire. The smoke.

The horde.

"What's the plan?" he asked tersely, fidgeting in his seat and taking a deep breath as the radios squawked even now -- theirs and the strangers' -- overlapping with sounds of utter chaos. It sounded like the world was ending around him while they were stuck on this godforsaken strip of road... and hell, for all he knew, maybe that was just the case. It was hard not to miss the sounds of gunfire periodically cutting through the air as one of the enforcers in the convoy presumably cut down a ghoul -- or group of ghouls -- who strayed too close. But they couldn't stay here, not with the smoke getting thicker by the minute and the horde continuing to grow. Not that the truck was going anywhere with it being parked on a motorcycle now...

NanLia Namazu Aegis Togy joshiebee Bullyboy Squad Fluffy-Kat BeyondDandy Good_Morels​

 

[Tool]

Northview
The Great Escape​

Madison had anticipated a lot of things when she'd told the teenage z-snack to get to the pack on account of the pew-pew makers it contained. Fear, confusion, even terrified obedience would have been well within the realm of likely outcomes. What Madison did not expect was for the kid to pluck the offered gun from outstretched fingers and take to flight like a fucking gazelle, highballing toe to toe with zombies all by her lonesome while leaving Madison herself in the dust. The young woman was a slyph, dodging reaching fingers and weaving with seemingly effortless grace between the hungry dead. Connor made to follow at once, but the zombies directly ahead of her became aerosolized spaghetti sauce, limbs and guts torn to little more than teaspoon-fulls of gooey bits, one of their heads flying off like a goddamn champagne cork. A frankly surprised "WOAH!" accompanied an entirely involuntary jump backwards that nearly made her lose her balance. After everything Madison had seen, the cop wasn't willing to believe that she'd suddenly acquired the power to kill with her mind, and if rotten chunks were going that way, then that would put the arc......

There. Some guy on a mounted machine gun, firing bullets made to punch through tanks that proved more than sufficient for decrepit corpses, gnashing teeth or not.

The bullets stopped when Madison held up a clenched fist, then started up again when the woman pointed with a flattened, karate-chop-hand towards an approaching group of dead. Well. Somebody actually had their back. That was..... kind of nice, actually. The appreciation came as she ran forwards to meet the teenager once more, pack slung across young shoulders and gun in hand. Damn but the teen was fast. Madison missed some of the fancier footwork thanks to the spaghetti-sauce sprinkler, but one didn't get from here to there and back again so quick without some serious hustle.

Chestnut eyes glanced around and took in their chances. Her stunt with the bike had cleared a nice, wide swath of parking lot, but the opening wouldn't last forever and the grumble-tumble of bodies trying to lurch over one another to get over and around the bike wouldn't last for long, either. There were too many zombies coming in from too many directions; fighting a horde was done from the outside, preferably on open ground where there was plenty of space to run and corral the dead. Being the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop was not a place of advantage, especially with a random teenager who didn't have a stitch of protective anything on her.

Alright. Alright. Madison had thrown her lot in with the teen. Now what? As her gaze fell on what might very well count as salvation, she looked past the man with the gun, across the killing fields, squinting against the blood and the gore and the rising sun...... until Madison found what she sought.

Her smile was a brief slash of white behind plexiglass.

Bingo boingo. Jack-fucking-pot.

"Move." Connor directed, gesturing with her hand to follow and holding out her fingers for her bag, even as the pair broke into a jog. Assuming the teen did as directed and forked over the supplies and fell in step, Madison led them across a very short bit of parking lot and onto a chunk of sidewalk-curb that was tangled with weeds. It had a slotted manhole cover emblazoned with the words GIBSON COUNTY up at the top, and then towards the middleish NO DUMPING and then in a sweeping curve along the very bottom AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

When Madison had been scanning inside the fenced-in area, she'd had spotted this manhole's twin on the other side of the fence, dead center between two buildings. Everybody seemed to be ignoring it, mostly because they were too busy screaming or causing the screams. Judging from the look on the teen's face, Madison didn't think storm drains had really been considered as an option for motion (though these weren't exactly ideal conditions to judge facial expressions).

Still, if Madison was right and the storm drains were unremarked and taken for granted, they were unlikely to be booby trapped.

"Cover me." Connor ordered once more, before hooking the back end of her hatchet into the notched lip and heaving upwards and sideways with everything she was worth. The grating of metal against concrete heralded the sound of success, and after a quick look around to confirm that yes indeedy, the teen was doing fine, Madison reached into her bag and pulled out a flashlight. The view down there wasn't exactly inviting, and they'd have to hunch way over to fit through the tunnels ..... but no milky-white cataract-eyes gazed balefully back, no clawed and broken fingers reached for her ankles. Not an awesome place to fight, but in a rural-ish, small-towny area like this, the likelihood for a large transient population taking shelter in the end-culverts was low, and with all the woods it was likely the endcaps of these tunnels would have bolted grates in place to keep the wildlife from wandering in at the river. Maybe a zombie or two, if one of them had gotten sight of something running into a drain and decided to squeeze-squeeze-squeeze..... but they'd be just as inconvenienced by the low clearance if not more so, likely crawling along instead of playing dead-man-limbo.

"Down you go. Whatever you do, don't fire the gun; a spark is a bad idea, even if these aren't sewers. Stick to the blade. I'm right behind you. Need to close up behind us. Here. Take this."

The woman handed the flashlight over to the willowy teen and gestured downwards. As soon as they were in, if the teen did as she was bade (a biiiiiiiig if), Madison would slide the cover back behind them, and they could move from there. Zombies weren't exactly big on teamwork, and there wasn't any way for them to fit where the water flowed in and down. Not unless there were little-kid zed-heads in that mob, looking to pull a reverse Pennywise.

Miaow Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[NanLia]

On the Road...



Alejandra stood at the hood of her truck, teeth clenched around the handle of a thin flashlight, one hand holding down the edge of a local roads and highways map as it flapped in the wind, her other hand marked x's over roads they'd pass that were now impassable, either by wandering horde or spreading fire in the woods and fields.

They'd long since lost sight of the various groups of bikers as they dragged their hordes in all directions. Something had gone wrong, in several places, leaving smaller hordes meandering aimlessly back and forth, led by sight or noise or who the fuck knew. She and Cris had to backtrack often, sometimes even leading a small group away from where they needed to travel to get around them.

Over the past several hours they'd only received snippets of radio chatter, it becoming more and more evident that there was another group out there, experiencing the horde as well but where they'd come from she didn't know. She knew this wasn't the original plan, and she didn't doubt for a second that this had something to do with where that final horde had been headed. While she hadn't been privy to the decision-making, but she'd been privy to private conversations with Casey and knew that there were other settlements around, none that they'd encountered directly but close enough the club was aware of them.

Bullet grumbled a warning, she'd been poised between her feet the entire time, keeping watch on Ally's back as she looked over the map and for good reason. Ally turned to see a single walker slowly meander out of the rolling smog toward her, nearly silently. The dead's throat had been torn out, likely the cause of its human death and making it a silent killer on a night like this. Ally swiftly folded up the map and stuffed it into her jacket, pulling free her combat knife and stepping in to slide the blade up under the biter's jaw as it grappled with her free hand.

It slumped onto the ground and she leaned down to wipe her blade clean on its clothing before turning back to Cris. He had paused, first surprised then concerned, the empty gas canister in his hand. "All good," She waved him off and after a moment he relented, heading to drop the canister in the bed.

She sighed heavily, almost regretting the instinct as she inhaled smoke despite her facial cover. She was resigned to return to the truck and continue to drive around until they could pick up any sign of the club.

“Ally? Do you copy? Casey, Wess, and the new gal ran into a problem. A bunch of trucks on the road, there was an accident. New gal’s okay, Casey’s bike is wrecked but he’s alive. Wess might not be so lucky. Kit’s gonna go meet them to help. We made it to that community across the river… ain’t lookin’ good. It’s a school. Totally surrounded by the horde. There are people inside, still trying to fight ‘em off - we can see the muzzle flashes from here. We’re gonna go try and help peel some layers of shit off it. I’ll understand if you want to go to Casey’s location instead of ours, but we can always use the help.”

“Fish I could fucking kiss you.” Ally jogged around the side of the truck and flung open the door, surprising Cris as he was getting in the passenger side. “We got a lead, buckle up.” Bullet jumped in and took up her seat between them as Ally turned the truck on and headed out to where Fish said Casey and Wess may be.


​

smookie Namazu Safton Good_Morels Aegis Fluffy-Kat ​

 

[NanLia]

On the Road...
​

Dutchess learned long ago not to scream, not to utter a word when a man came after you. No begging, not simpering, no crying. They liked weakness. They liked to see you cry, to see you hurt to hear you ask for mercy. She snarled at the beaten man as he gasped for breath beneath her. Fucker thought he’d have it easy trying to take her and he’d fucking learn the hard way.

To her surprise and rage, she felt hands on her from behind and a voice she recognized as someone from her own team. The big fucker, the fighter. She stiffened, reflectively trying to pull herself free from his big mitts but keep an eye on the downed man, proving that she couldn’t do both and she’d much rather not be manhandled by the fighter. She twisted free from his hands with an aggravated growl, giving him a shove - which did nothing but make her feel better - before turning her focus back on the man she’d dropped.

Gunshots rang out in the darkness, fire exchanged between parties that she couldn’t even see when suddenly there was another stepping from the woods with his own gun pointed at her and the fighter. She cursed him, inwardly, suddenly far more annoyed that Weston was on his big hero speech. You can go! We don’t want a fight! These fuckers tried to ambush them, so far as she was concerned, then tried to haul her out of the truck and their fearless leader was going to let them walk.

Dutchess made no moves to counter whatever Weston was saying, keeping her eyes pinned on the pair as they shuffled around, looking for an escape.

Safton Namazu Aegis Togy joshiebee @Fluffy-Kat BeyondDandy Good_Morels ​

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
Northview High​

"Your wife?" Pandora asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. Harry had a wife? Well, emphasis on had. She was sure she would've known if his wife was still at the school.
"Take a breath. What's her name?" She pressed, maneuvering herself into his view.

She watched his vision shift to focus behind her, then widen with terror. Her head whipped around as he screamed, meeting with the milky gaze of the infected in the doorway. She positioned herself between it and Harry, her hands behind her back to hold onto Harry's knees to make sure he was still there. Then... what the hell was she meant to do? This was the closest she'd been to one of these things in months. That was the agreement: She kept everyone healthy and she never had to kill one of those things ever again.

She clapped her hands over her ears as Mac commanded them to do so, watching as the skull of the infected practically exploded, painting the walls in the hallway behind it. It was a good thing she was a surgeon in her past or she may have vomited. She'd seen far grosser things within the insides of a patient.

She nodded at Mac's instruction but before she could say a word, she felt Harry shifting from behind her. She spun around, barely managing to catch him before he could concuss himself. She tried to soften the blow of him hitting the floor, kneeling by his side. She rested her hands on his arms, looking him dead in the eye.
"Harry. I know you're scared but I need you to stay calm. We're going somewhere safe, but we can't help you if you're panicking," She told him with the same sternness in her voice she'd learned from helping patients having a bad trip in the ER.
"We're going to the gym, that's where everyone else is, okay?"

Bullyboy Squad @Crono​

 

[Good_Morels]

NORTHVIEW - outskirts​

On The Road

An approaching light and the smell of burnt flesh made Kit's stomach drop and his hands shake as a human silhouette limped towards him from behind. "Wes? Stay still bud, you're gonna be ok" he said gently as the figure grew closer. Kit could make out exposed bone, bits of flesh melting off of it.

The figure started making a guttural groan, the empty sockets of the dead staring through him.

He had never been more grateful to see a zombie in his life. The only issue now was the fact that he was a terrible shot. Unfortunately, he'd left his machete at his bike, so the pistol was going to have to do. He lined up a headshot only to hit the walker in the throat, a wet gurgling coming from the wound as the dead continued to growl through the only black fluid. He muttered a quiet "fuck me" and closed the distance between them and kicked it hard and fast in the middle of the chest, knocking it to the ground and giving him the chance to stomp it's decrepit head in and jerk away before his clothes could catch fire.

Voices caught his attention nearby and he rushed over, Wes sitting on the ground immediately taking his attention from the wreckage and voices. He buried his emotions and knelt beside him, keeping a hand on his pistol and his ears pricked for more of the dead.

"Goddamn, they really made beef out of you huh Wes?" He commented as he looked Wes over. It was.. bad, but Wes didn't need to know. "I'll get you patched up, stay awake for me, alright? What're you feeling?" He asked perhaps just a little too quickly. He cracked open his kit and started cutting off his shirt with a somewhat sterile pair of scissors before finally looking up at the truck. Casey needed looking at, man in the backseat had his face smashed, probably everyone needed a doctor, just not as urgently as Wes. Ally was on her way, but camp was miles away. Wes needed stabilizing now, no doubt he had broken bones. Club rules said he had to listen to whatever Casey said, but he had to make a judgment call here for his patient or Wes would die. He didn't have time for Casey to fill him in on what they were chit chatting about.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kit like medkit. I'm a doctor" he introduced to the strangers before continuing. "I'll cut you a deal, you've all just been in a car accident and you need medical attention to make sure you're ok. My guys are already out at that school helping with your zombie problem. Let me use your building as a medical tent and I'll take care of all your injured 'til Wes here can move, then we'll be out of your hair." He offered, glancing at Casey but not waiting for permission. He'd take the scolding later, and gladly, as long as Wes survived.



[/B]

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon @Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[Aegis]

On the Road...
​

The hatred that flashed in the woman's eyes as she wrenched around like a feral cat as a strangers hand came near was enough to cause Connor momentary pause. He didn't know her story, or even really know her for that matter so he didn't have any particular feeling on the matter except a tinge of guilt and surprise that bled from his heart. it was clear she regarded him-- for one reason or another, with a malice he couldn't quite comprehend but he left it at that; there was no point in speculating on something you didn't know the first thing about. The Soldier rose his hands in mock surrender to show he meant her no harm. In reality, this had just been an act carried out to prevent her from starting a war with some random people when they had bigger priorities elsewhere, "Hey, I'm not trying to hurt you. I just don't think it's a good idea to waste somebody we barely--"

Then, a shot echoed from the smoke. A scream-- that familiar gurgle ripping out of someone's throat. Connor ducked down behind the engine block of the truck on pure instinct. The flash of the muzzle had been just enough to illuminate the clusterfuck of figures that had begun to gather around: Samaritans, the infected, and somewhere in the mix this new shooter. Of course. Of FUCKING course! Fate has a funny sense of humor; just when he steps in to stop the beef before it happens-- someone has got to come out shooting with no fucking brain. Connor clicked his tongue in annoyance as he swung around white-knuckling his pistol, but soon they were surrounded by guards as the man came into view.

Now that blood had been spilt this would never end well for them. It would never end easy. Even if it was a misunderstanding, someone had died and this wasn't going to just disappear. Connor felt bad for these people, but there was nothing he could do for them-- not now. It seems that no matter where the Samaritans went they brought only death and conflict.

For now, there were too many people trying to take control and get involved in this complex matter, so he opted to apply his skills elsewhere. Connor walked over to the bike crunched under the front of the truck and inspected the damage. The truck was definitely leaking a few fluids that were better off staying inside the vehicle and it was clear that the engine had been damaged beyond operable condition at the moment. This certainly posed a problem, but they had other modes of transport; hopefully, they wouldn't be too full.

Then, making matters more complicated, another biker emerged from the smoke and how he wasn't shot on sight is anyone's guess. He was a doctor-- apparently, and he seemed to pause on Connor for a moment prompting him to wipe the blood from his face using his sleeve a bit.

The dead drew in closer, closer still. They had been in one place for too long and they were in the middle of a horde whether they could see it or not. They needed to move. Connor's point was only further proven by the emergence of an infected just behind the newly arrived medic; it's body charred free of both skin and clothes-- the snatching white teeth was the only color visible in its camouflage of black. The Soldier shot out his arms to brace the handgun and squeezed off a pop that caught the ambushing creature in the upper right corner of its forehead, a shot that flowered skull, flesh, and ash, "We need to get moving, soon! I don't care how we have this discussion, but it needs to be mobile or we are ALL going to die!"

NanLia Safton Namazu Togy joshiebee Fluffy-Kat BeyondDandy Good_Morels ​

 

[BeyondDandy]

On The Road

From the corner of his eye, Casey caught Kit approaching through the smoke. He kept his gun fixed on the woman before him - seemingly the only reason he and Wess were still alive. Outnumbered and outgunned, the club members were running out of options. The man in the window presented them with a peace offering Casey could not refuse - a momentary truce until they got out of their situation. As Kit took Wess onto his shoulders, Casey nodded to the stranger in agreement - slowly dropping his gun as he watched the people before him do the same. In the background he could hear the moans of the dead, screams of the living and gunshots to match. The things were surrounding them and it would become almost impossible to escape if they didn’t act soon.

Casey stepped towards the vehicle and took the walkie from the Samaritan, eyes fixed on the tatted woman next to him and her irritable facial expression - she looked familiar but Casey couldn’t put a hand on why. Turning, he tossed the device back to Wess and signaled Kit to start moving towards the other vehicles - there were two more trucks, surely one would help them escape. Shadows wobbled out of the forest and into view right after, some on fire, others dry as bark. Casey lifted his weapon into both hands, aimed and took fire. He got a hit, but it didn’t stop the things just slowed them down. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see through the smoke - the dead had done a number on the forest and the wildfire had spread rapidly. Problem number one was the dead, two the lack of oxygen.

“We can take your other trucks past the bridge. We’ll go our separate ways then,” Casey suggested to the others, starting his trot towards the second of three vehicles. As he led his brethren towards the rest of the convoy, he took a couple of more shots to stop the dead in their tracks - keeping them at bay long enough to reach their destination. “Keep up gentlemen,” he told his crew, slowing down as he reached the second truck. Casey scanned the area - there wasn’t a single living soul around, but the dead crawled out the woodworks. He tried to listen for signs of life and realized the screams and gunshots had gone silent. Bullet casings flooded the dirt road under his boots and then a bright light burst into view a few yards away.

Casey squinted as he looked up at it, a large flame weaving through the air like a fluid. He fixed his eyes on it, noticing the silhouette of what was once a functioning vehicle now completely aflame. From it emerged a body, limping towards Casey at incredible speeds. Quickly the biker lifted his gun and prepared to fire until the figure suddenly dropped in its tracks before reaching him. He could hear it speak, “kill me” it pleaded but Casey simply watched as the it’s life melted away. “Let’s hurry!” He called out to everyone that followed behind, opening the truck’s rear door for Kit and Wess. Though the door closed as quickly as it was opened as Casey was shoved forcibly into it by a dashing walker.

His pistol fell out of his hand from the impact. Where it went, unknown. He cursed at the damned as he felt a sharp pain in his knee. With stretched arms, Casey dug his thumbs into the monster's shoulders as it clapped his teeth at him like a rabid dog. Swiftly, he shifted his hand towards the thing’s neck and guided its head into the driver’s window. The glass didn’t shatter, but the monster’s head caved into itself. The body continued to move, so Casey took position behind it, grabbed the back of its head and took another forceful push into the window. And then another, and another until the monster's face caved so far in there was nothing else to smash. Blood and bile drooled down the window and door as the walker fell limp next to the truck.

Scanning the area again he noticed they were getting surrounded. “Fuck,” he cursed as he kicked the dead Walker out of the way to open the truck door. Throwing himself into the front seat he searched for the key. The ignition was empty and there was nothing hidden in the sunshade. He opened all the compartments searching, nothing. Casey punched the steering wheel in frustration as another “Fuck!” escaped him. He looked out the window as walkers drew nearer. “There’s no keys!” He called out to the Samaritans, hopping back out of the truck and drawing the kabar from the back of his belt. “We’re gonna have to fight.”
​

Namazu
Tool
NanLia
Aegis
Safton
joshiebee
Fluffy-Kat
Good_Morels

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

NORTHVIEW
Outside
​

The air was crisp and yet his shirt was drenched with sweat. Snug to his back with the bulletproof vest clinging to his upper body. His frame buzzed in unison with the powerful weapon in his hands. Firing into the groups of undead behind the fence that drew near the two humans by the motorcycle.

Next time he looked over, his heart skipped a beat. They were not there. Cabrera swung his gaze left and right until he caught a small crowd of biters forming around one spot. Crawling around it as if they were- Ignacio felt a sick twist in his gut. The image of the girl. Haewon. Down on the asphalt. Writhing against the filthy hands pawing her body and rotten jaws tearing her flesh. His blood ran cold. Then it began to boil. The wet glint in his eyes matched the rage warping his mouth. Baring teeth.

The Samaritan snapped his vision to the High School grounds filled with infected. They came from behind the buildings. Coaxed towards the Northview gates by the roaring machines circling around the area. Drawing them outside, away from the compound.

The man could just watch them walk. Watch and wait until it's clear. But he didn't. He jerked the machine gun and zeroed in at the roamers. His sped up heartbeat pumped the mix of chemicals through his body. He opened fire with a guttural growl. The gun spat the last few rounds that wrecked the rows of the traveling creatures before it shut up. Cabrera's arms were knotted. Veins throbbed in his neck as he glared at some of them separating from the rest. Turning towards the closest target. Towards him.

"Come and get some you toxic bastards!!!" Cabrera snarled and shoved himself off the mount. Ignoring the splitting pain in his thigh, he jumped over the side of the truck and his boots hit the shells-stewn ground. Burning from another injection of adrenaline, he hollered. "Come on!!!" Face covered in dirt and sweat. He didn't wait for them. He strutted up to meet them, yanking his knife off the sheath.

The closest biter staggered towards him, hands first. It tried to grab him but Cabrera sidestepped and shattered its knee with a quick side kick. He spun around to meet its falling head with a reverse one. Nails dragged against his forearm from behind as he heard an ungodly crack. He whipped around to face the second infected that tried to snap its jaws at his exposed skin. He parried the outstretched arms to his outside, following with a stab to its temple. The blade went in like butter and he pulled it out by kicking the creature's thigh. Making it fall into another and stumble it too.

"Fucking take it!"

Ignacio didn't stop, attacking the next one. And another. He couldn't stop himself nor the images racing through his brain. The thoughts clawing at the back of it. It was blood loss messing with his head. But he didn't realize. In that moment, everything was gone. His mission. His community. His purpose. There was nothing left. Other than killing every one of them unless they'd get to him first.

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon @Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
Northview High
​

As the biker met her halfway, she handed the bag over, taking a minute to catch her breath. Sure, she was fast, but she was a sprinter, not a long-distance runner.
"Now what?!" She called out over the noise, watching the biker carefully scan their surroundings. She clutched onto the bag, making sure no prying hands could get a hold of it. As the biker shot off in front of her, demanding she move, she huffed and followed in tow, shoving the strap of the bag into her hands. It's not like a bag of ammo was any use to her anyway. She'd have to sit and figure out which magazine fit her gun and by the time she'd done that, she'd be lunch meat.

As the two reached the storm drain, Haewon's heart sank.
"Oh, for fucks sake," She exclaimed at the realization they'd be crawling through the sewers in a matter of seconds. She turned, facing the hoard and bringing the gun up to shoulder level. She'd never shot a gun before but she'd watched plenty of Samaritans do it, and most of those guys were idiots... in her eyes, anyway. If they could do it, so could she. She scanned the crowd, aiming and squeezing the trigger at each shambling infected that got a little too close for comfort. Maybe she was good at this whole shooting thing!

She remained close to the biker, occasionally glancing down to check on their progress.
"How do you reload this thing?!" She called down to her, edging slightly closer to the opening as the biker worked on uncovering it. She glanced down, finding herself stood by a decent drop into the murky depths, lowering her gun. As she attempted to tuck it into her belt, she winced.
"Ah! This thing's hot," She complained, keeping it in hand as she clambered down into the sewers.

Her feet hit the ground with a squelch, crouching down to fit into the small space and beginning to shuffle her way through. This place seemed relatively secure, she couldn't hear any echoing growls from further down, only the muffled growls coming from above them. She shined the flashlight further down the thin passageway, checking for anything other than rats living down there.
"Looks pretty quiet down here... Guess none of the infected fell in, yet." She murmured, her voice bouncing off of the walls.

As the two reached a ladder, Haewon clutched the flashlight in her teeth, grabbing onto a higher rung and beginning her ascent. She peered down, making sure the biker was following behind her, before reaching up and pushing the manhole up. She slid it to the side with a grunt, fresh air hitting her lungs as she peeked out of the sewers, ensuring the coast was clear. There were a few shambling corpses but they were a good enough distance away to make getting out safe. She clambered onto dry land, keeping her gun drawn. Now, where the hell was Cabrera?

Safton Aegis Bullyboy Squad @Crono
​

 

[Aegis]

Indianapolis, Indiana
Three Weeks into Operation: Archangel​

The city streets were a quiet, eerie maze of blowing papers, shattered glass, and abandoned vehicles. Connor's stomach splashed and spun with each crank of the Humvee as Torres, the driver, maneuvered them through blocks on blocks of wrecks, failed police barricades choked with bodies and cruisers, and past the occasional infected. Often, the armor of the Humvee would scrape against a wreck with a piercing squeal that would pull everyone's eyes to their surroundings-- littered alleys and boarded commercial buildings, with the same anxious tension as someone awaiting their dinner date, but nothing ever came in response; it seemed as though the firefights in the southern downtown area really were keeping them out of their part of Indianapolis. Regardless, Morales continued to dance around in the gun swinging the 240 in every direction when such mistakes happened.

Torres pulled the Humvee around a corner and over a carpet of bodies that had been obscured by the edge of the storefront. There was no particular panic present in the crew, but a deep sense of dread took root in the throats of every man beneath the crunch and pop of bone underneath-- their tires sinking deep into the corpses with the slick shriek of rubber against flesh. That was one of the worst parts, all the dead. Streets-- buildings, pregnant with those who never got back up, or got put down a second time by people doing everything they could to lash out against the madness they represented in this world. It was horrible to imagine that these infected were all people at one point, but now they had been reduced to animals-- hostiles; they were something to be feared and eradicated. Yet, Connor knew that it was hard to turn off that part of your brain where that monster was wearing the skinsuit of someone you loved, someone you cared for, someone you would die for without question.

"Hospital, dead ahead."

Morales gave a quick report from the turret and Connor's focus retreated from melodramatic ponderances and seated itself in the tactical mindset he was going to need in the here and now. The dozen story building easily peeked over the top of its counterparts and revealed itself to be a dark, empty husk of a medical institution. Contrary to what one might think, the hospital was one of the clearest places to be in the city these days-- the infected having cleared it out and moved on in the early stages when people were flooding it still thinking this was a bad case of the flu or maybe even some new COVID symptom. Connor almost felt it right to scoff at their stupidity, but he couldn't blame them for seeking help when NOBODY knew what that would mean for them in the end. Regardless, the place's relative safety made the old building the perfect place for survivors or wannabe highwaymen.

"Pull us up just before the intersection in front of the building. Morales, keep that turret looking above us for anyone in the windows-- don't want them getting the high ground on us for too long."

Torres obliged and before long the Humvee was idling in the designated place as ordered. Connor kicked open his door and signaled to Gregory to get out with him, "Alright, we're gonna head up on foot and see what we can see."

"Roger, Sergeant."

Connor's blood froze as he stepped from the 'safety' of the vehicle into the open of the sidewalk; he was vulnerable, exposed. Suddenly, it was as though eyes were stabbing into him from every direction and the sensation sent The Sergeant to a knee behind the Humvee as Gregory stepped out and joined him. The duo then crossed over against the wall of the building-- leaving a foot or so for any bullets that may come skating their way, and skulked their way up the lifeless street. They arrived at the intersection and crouched behind a pickup with a tarp over the bed in order to get a better look at the building; the grey sky bathed the structure with a cold, oppressive aura that leant an impenetrable darkness to the shaded windows. Nothing. The building was still and quiet but the howl of wind through broken windows.

Yet, they waited. Connor and Gregory waited behind the pickup, watched. Fifteen minutes passed in stillness with the duo afraid of being caught and the building seemingly devoid of all life. Then, a figure moved on the third floor; it was there, but only for a second-- nowhere near long enough to identify if it was just an infected, "Hey, third floor, Sergeant."

"Yeah, I see them."

"Think that's them?"

"Dunno..."

"I'm going to get a closer look!"

Gregory stood from behind the pickup and raced forward toward an overturned ambulance that would've made for good cover. It was too dark-- too dark for a scope to glint in the sun, as a crack sounded from one of the floors of the building. There was the familiar sound of ceramic shattering and the 'oumph' of air being knocked from someone's lungs as the Private was thrown from his feet and onto his back by the shot of a sniper; Gregory letting out a cry of pain as he turned over and low-crawled his way behind the ambulance.

Suddenly, things popped off.

The building flooded with movement as Gregory screamed out to Connor, "MY FUCKING PLATES CAUGHT IT! HAHA, MY FUCKING PLATES!"

Connor slammed the barrel of his M4 onto the hood of the pickup to steady his aim, and stared through his ACOG at the swarm of movement on the third floor, "FUCKIN'-- SHOOT BACK!"

The Sergeant was glad he was okay but they needed to FOCUS! Connor squeezed trig and let the M4 bark out rounds into the dark of the floors of the hospital that responded with flashes as the Bandits fired back. A fifteen foot length of road before The Soldier crackling to life with sparks and thrown asphalt from the impact of rounds. A cacophony of shots--at least a dozen different guns, sounded through the hospital's courtyard, and it would be any minute now that it would attract a decent sized horde; maybe not the lone scrape of metal, but a full-on firefight would surely do it. Gregory kicked his knee out from behind the ambulance and began to fire wildly at the building eliciting a waterfall of glass and concrete from near the third floor. Connor's M4 popped rounds-- the recoil a mere dull push against his shoulder, into the same floor and through his optics he thought he might've even seen a figure drop-- it was too far to tell. A round slapped into the hood of the pickup too close for comfort accompanied by the scream of metal as it pierced the latch and sent the entire hood flying upward.

An engine roared from around the corner as Morales sped up in the Humvee-- the turret swinging to face the muzzle flashes on the third floor of the hospital, "GET IN!"

The machinegun began to eat rounds from the belt as it spat them in groups of five to seven across the entire length of of the hospital causing the returning fire to drop to zero. Connor lurched around the front of the pickup-- his boots knocking through the pile of shell casings that had collected, and ran up to TC door; a stray round from one of the bandits sparked off of the top of the doorframe close enough to cause The Sergeant to flinch, "FUCK! GREGORY, GET IN! GET! IN!"

Connor launched himself into the seat and slammed the door next to him shut with the ferocity afforded to him by the adrenaline in his veins before slapping a fresh mag into his carbine. He was heaving deep breathes as his body pumped him up for the fight to come, his ears were drowned in the clink of spent casings and links from the 240 Morales was firing in the turret, and his eyes scanned their surroundings for the nearest exit. When the back door open and Gregory climbed in, Connor screamed out to Torres, "DRIVE, RIGHT! FUCKING RIGHT!"

The Humvee shot forward as it gained speed rapidly, but as they went to hit their turn the vehicle whipped left toward the hospital in a drift so hard that the tires squealed and the entire frame of the vehicle sank to the right for a moment, "NO! I SAID RIGHT!"

Connor looked to Torres, but all he saw was fear and panic in the boy's eyes. This had been a very grievous error. Some of the bandits spilled into the road ahead of the them that went alongside the Hospital and began to fire on their vehicle; the windshield immediately cracking from the force of rounds while sparks flew from the hits on their armor, "TURN US AROUND! ACROSS THE COURTYARD! FUCKING LEFT!"

The Humvee ripped into the courtyard causing Morales to flop around in the turret causing him to fire wildly to the right of the people in the street and take out the glass of a convenience store. A 'ka-chunk' sounded from the turret as Morales ran out of ammo, "BOX! HAND ME ANOTHER BOX!"

Connor leaned back from the TC seat and snagged the last box of 7.62 sitting on the ammo tray, yet-- at the same time, a trio of bandits emerged from the front of the hospital as they drew closer, and one chucked something that Connor couldn't quite make out in the chaos. A lucky throw saw Morales let out a horrified scream before a pipe bomb sunk into the turret landing just inches from Connor's chest.

"FUCKIN'-- FUCKIN," Connor's brain short circuited, "IED!"

The fuse was lit and sinking toward the center of the cylinder with so little time left that all anyone in the truck could do was squeeze their eyes and let out a prayer.

Nothing happened. The fuse burned down to the canister but was not followed by the expected fiery pop. Nothing.

Connor let out a whoop of surprise, but Torres's attention had been away from the road as they bound down the curb from the sidewalk to the road causing the Humvee to swerve into the back of the pickup; the force of impact causing the tarp to fly free of the back. Beneath, a bundle of propane tanks had been laid surrounded by gasoline canisters and Tannerite in a clear trap. Connor shot up in his seat and starred into the deadly cargo of the vehicle he had been using for cover just earlier, "FUCKING BACK UP!"

One of the pursing bandits let off a fateful shot and the back of the pickup ignited in an explosion that engulfed the Humvee in flames and death. A shockwave crashed through the cab, the windows buckled and shattered, metal creaked and bent, and Connor's vision faded to black as his stomach reeled from the feeling of the vehicle overturning.

​

 

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW HIGH
Under/Outside - A Collaboration with Miaow ​

Though Madison heard the teenager's question on how, exactly, to reload the gun, it didn't rightly register; moving the grate back into place and doing a bend-over-squat combo took all her attention. The zombies overhead pressed their faces against mercifully small holes, too dim to understand the magic of levers. Their fingers didn't seem able to fit through the drain-holes, a fact Madison dimly assumed was thanks to their collective proximity to Northview. High School Admin wouldn't give students the opportunity to get into easy trouble, and conveniently accessible stormwater drains definitely counted as easy trouble.

The woman had planned to speak to her fleet-footed companion, but the flashlight's beam of illumination was already wobbling forwards, in the direction the school. Alrighty, then. Lightning Feet over there seemed dedicated to going towards danger instead of away. Okay, fine. Madison would have personally preferred pointing the kid further from danger, but if this was the girl's home, it made sense why she'd want to remain near. Their path through the echoing dark was without conversation, the haunting sounds of roaring engines and gurgling screams melting together and warping against the concrete and shallow, stagnant pools. Occasionally, Madison would scrape her helmet against the roof of the tunnel, though she didn't bother taking it off. The trip was too short for Madison to care.

The protestations of her knees and hunched shoulders inspired some very creative, muttered cursing, but Madison did her best to hold her tongue and keep her ears open for any company they might attract. By no small miracle, the pair reached the next drain in the system, and all at once the barrier to the Upside World was up and away and they made their way out.

Connor heaved herself up and onto the Ground Above, relieved beyond measure to be able to stretch out both her legs and her back, even if her hand landed on the kid's shoulder. If the girl was inexperienced enough to be surprised at the heat of a barrel, then dollars to doughnuts she wasn't a regular on the gun range. The teen looked like she was getting ready to take off again. "Hang on."

There was a .22 in Madison's bag with a laser sight snapped on the underside, a surefire way to get headshots without nearly the recoil of the gun Casey had donated to the cause. Practiced fingers thumbed on the sight and a telltale red dot appeared on the side of the nearest building. After she gestured to the teen to switch out guns, Madison's mahogany eyes looked upwards. Yeah, some of these roofs were low enough that Madison was confident she could heave-ho the kid up and out of danger (and getting quality overwatch if the girl could point-and-shoot). That was, if the teen didn't have anybody she was looking to find or save.

"If I get you onto the roof, can you shoot?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


Haewon paused as she took her by the shoulder, impatience in her eyes. There wasn't exactly time for standing around and hanging on.

She watched her fidget with her weapon, tentatively handing over the one she was getting far too used to having on her. She paused at her question.

"Uhh... probably," She responded. She'd taken at least a couple infected out with the handgun Connor had given her, and this one had a cool laser pointer on it, so maybe that'd be even easier.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Good." Madison responded. If she could get the teen up and out of the reach of hungry mouths, that would be one fewer person to worry about.

The woman caught the teen's gaze and took out a second .22 (it was apparently her preferred weapon and there were several in this bag). With the teen hopefully watching and paying attention, she slid the magazine out in demonstration, then snapped it back into place and chambered a round before pointing the laser at the nearest zombie forehead and squeezing out a swift, easy shot.

"Stick to the roof, don't help anybody up unless you're positive you can haul their weight. Crowbar's in the bag. If I live, I'll get it back later." She holstered the gun and glanced around before lacing her fingers and putting them at stepping height.

"Comeon. Ally-oop." Please oh please, Saints of Rust and Dust, Gods of Valor and Vengeance in the name of the wronged, let this work. Let this slyph of a girl fly above danger and death to live another day.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Haewon watched closely as she demonstrated how to use this new weapon, squinting a little at the different mechanisms, then looking at the one in her own hands. Alright, looked easy enough... She replicated her movements, chambering a round of her own. This probably wasn't the best display of gun safety her new biker friend had ever seen, but the rules of the range didn't really apply here.

As the biker prepared to get her up on the roof, Haewon looked over her shoulder, scanning the crowd for Cabrera. Why did she care where Cabrera had gone? He was a grown ass man... but a spot on a roof could be a good vantage point to get a better look, for him and her sister. She placed her shoe in the palm of Connor's hands, using it to bounce a couple times. She built momentum, counting to three in her mind, before launching herself with the help of the biker. She scrambled up onto the roof, tucking her legs up behind her before she could slip back off.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

As soon as the rubbery tread of the kid's shoes hit her palm, Madison let the memories of the last year and a half flood her mind and fan the fire in her veins, making her heart pound and ferocious determination lock her jaw.

Whoever the teen had been in the time before, Madison was pretty sure the girl had been an athlete of some variety. One didn't get this kind of loose-limbed surety without some serious practice, and the cop was pretty sure gymnast-style antics weren't in high demand in the apocalypse. It would explain the runner's stride and confidence in roof-vaulting now.

Good on her.

Bounce-bounce-bounce and Madison lifted with everything she had at the top of the teen's leap, adding whatever she could possibly manage in terms of distance and, most importantly, height. It was a scramble of arms and elbows that made the cop's stomach twist, but then those beautiful sneakers disappeared beyond the lip of the roofline and Madison's flame-heart nearly burst out of her chest. Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Go! Fly! Stay low, move fast, shoot first, die last.

As a punctuation mark on this whole affair, Madison zipped up the bag with a yank and threw it up and beyond her ability to reach. The cop hoped the teen would make good use of its treasures..... but the sound of shouting drew Connor's attention and the woman was moving again, bold as brass and as hyper-aware of her prey as any amber-eyed predator in faraway, high grass.

The stormdrain had led the pair here, which meant the mounted gun was that way. There was a rather conspicuous absence of automatic fire in the air, but if the gunman had fallen, she might be able to take his place. Conversely, if the gun itself had failed..... well, there had been someone alive that-a-way, and where there was food, there was foul.

On some level, the cop noticed at least some of the freshest dead wore the trappings of war, vests and tactical gear, even sporting a knife or two. Madison's onslaught against the dead was relentless as her fury, and that last seemed endless.

Madison might not have the speed and agility of a teenager, but zombies set that bar low. With a minimum of fancy footwork, Madison ended up behind a deadhead trailing its intestines and wearing a helmet that nearly matched her own. Twinsies! Her knife blade met little resistance as she shoved it up above the collar and below the helmet, severing the spinal column and giving her a handle by which she could push the (more) dead corpse into the nearest less-dead one, the helmet of her new buddy smashing into the face of the other and wrenching her knife out of her hand as they both fell.

Glass crunched underfoot as she stepped forward and took ahold of the second zombie's head, now at crotch-level thanks to the help of her buddy. One hand grabbed onto the left side of its lower jaw while the other gripped the rear-right of its skull. The cop wrenched sideways like she was spinning the hatch on a submarine door, putting her weight into her hips and shoulders both, while lifting as hard as she could. The soft pop of the creature's neck against her hands meant she could let go.

As the corpse crumpled, the woman lifted her hatchet from its place on her thigh and kept right on trucking in the direction of gun and gunner that had ensured her and Swiftie's escape.

Bullyboy Squad Miaow ​

 

[NanLia]

Nari
Days after arriving at the prison...​

Nari sighed as she looked up at the generic white clock hanging high above her workstation desk. Days of the same routine were already starting to grate on her psyche but she knew that most of that had to do with not knowing what happened back home. Were her girls okay? Was Xander? She requested daily to speak with Westion, she hoped that maybe he could find out for her, though that edge was a very unsafe line she’d crossed before and wound up here.

She jumped as the door swung open suddenly, earlier than the usual routine and she turned to see the same escort enforcer standing in the doorway. “Let’s go.” He grumbled, stepping out of the frame.

Nari didn’t wait, not wanting to know the consequences of disobedience. She slipped off the stool and removed the heavy mechanic apron. She hastily folded it as neatly as she could with her hands shaking before hurrying to the door and outside. She waited as the enforcer closed and locked the door behind her and turned to walk away … the wrong way.

She paused, frowning at the man's back, glancing at the direction they typically took to the cafeteria before falling in step behind him. She ached to ask him where they were going but feared reprisals for speaking - not that she’d received any since talking with Cabrera - but the idea of making her terrible situation worse kept her silent.

Soon enough she started to recognize just where they were headed, back towards the place she’d been brought in through. Her heart leapt as the wild thought that she might be heading home started to tease her. As they arrived at the intake area, she looked almost beaming as she waited for instructions and was severely disappointed as her escort headed across the room to a door. He opened it and turned to face her. “Weston wants you to see this.”

Nari felt what little hope of returning home die in her heart and a cold iron bar of fear settled in her stomach. She stepped into the small room, which she could only guess was a security office and sat on the stool she was told to, facing a one-way glass that overlooked the intake area.

Nari & Buster
Days later...​

The blow of the arid wind grazed his face with the desert grit. Sun blazed overhead, scalding his dehydrated body into submission. Sand caked his cheek, and stung his cracked lips. Once sharp gaze now veiled by the haze of exhaustion.

The jagged sound of unlocked metal brought him back to the tight cell they left him in. Days. Maybe weeks. No food. No water. Forgotten. Punished. Like a caged dog bred to fight, abandoned by its master.

His lashes lifted just enough, hooded gaze trying to cling to the ethereal glow of the familiar face. He saw it before. His voice like rust grinding on a smooth surface. "I know you…"

Nari wasn't entirely sure who she was looking at at first, as the cell door was opened and she stepped inside. Once more she had been pulled from her job and led through the prison, handed a bottle of water and a blanket and told "You take care of this mess."

"Buster," She whispered, horrified. She'd seen him a few days before but he hadn't looked like this. Roughed up on intake but … "What did they do to you?" She didn't expect an answer, instead stepped in to try and help him any way she could.

Greg's naked skin was dirty and covered in old bruises. Any open cuts long closed. Thick growth on his face obscuring the angular features. Bloodshot eyes glazed by little coherency.

"I saw you…" His body did little to insulate from the hard ground. Curled and shivering. His harsh whisper spilling from parched lips. “You can't have it.”

Typically Nari would have been wary, possibly even frightened of Greg but in this state, in this cell, her heart broken at seeing someone from her home, here like this. She dropped down to kneel alongside him, draping the blanket over his exposed form. She opened the bottle of water and brought it to his lips. "Shut up and drink." She whispered.

The angel spoke and draped feather wings around him. Warm and soft. Dragging a rough breath of surprise into Greg's lungs. That's not what he remembered. Last time. When the creature came to steal his mind. Now it spilled life onto his lips instead.

Greg sucked on the bottle, choking on the water. His heavy paw trembled, searching. It mindlessly rested against Nari's hand.

Nari did her best to temper Greg’s intake of fluid after he’d nearly choked at the start. She was out of her depths here; she knew next to nothing about first aid and had spent all this time relying on Xander and then Pandora to help heal any wounds she’d inflicted on herself whilst working in the safety of the high school. Hells bells, even Haewon had stitched her back together more than once.

She did her best to clean his wounds, tearing the hem of her cotton shirt off to wrap any that continued to seep blood and truthfully it was the best she could do. This, and pray that he’d get better.

Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[smookie]

On the road
​

Cris's heart sank like lead as the words hit him. They hung in the air that thickened with new layers of worry and apprehension. His jaw clenched with fresh anger but Ally's call was right. They couldn't ditch the others. That ain't how it rolled, not on the streets or in his head.

Santina was going to be okay back at the clubhouse. They could handle a few stragglers. And he was going to prove to his crew that he was worthy of the patch. Yeah, damn straight, he could do it. Even if watching the back of the horde through the van's windshield didn't boost much confidence.

As the night turned from dangerous to straight up wild, he was glad he was there. The idea of their Road Captain and VP in trouble, and with no transport, successfully shoved the worries away. Helped him focus on the job.

"I see something!" Cris squinted, smoke clouding the view. The headlights of a car far ahead illuminated the medic on a Harley with a fuzzy halo.

"Shit-" Cris jumped from his window as a burning zed stumbled into it. "Woah, Ally!" His eyes popped as a bunch of those fiery freaks spilled from the trees, right into their road. And she didn't hit brakes, she gunned it.

The van lurched forth and smashed into the rotting mass of scorched flesh. Cris clung to the dash and door as they bounced in their seats. His heart pounded in his chest and the crunch and grind turned his stomach. And the stench, man. It couldn't get worse.

The van halted before the convoy. Cris snatched a shotgun from the makeshift rack and leaped out. No gun barrels on Kit or the van, so he swung on another undead bastard and jerked that trigger.

"Boss?!" He couldn't see Casey in all the comotion. "What the fuck's goin' on?!" Was Wess okay? And what the hell was the deal with these people?!

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon @Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[smookie]

NORTHVIEW
On the hill overlooking the school
​

There were no marks of the gray-cloud night as the blue open sky brightened with every minute. Jenkins sat on his humming machine on the top of the windswept hilltop among waving grass. The rushing air tousled his greased strands left and right. His hazel brown eyes, usually twinkling with cocksure attitude now held a trace of annoyance and uncertainty as he watched his fellows roar down the slope.

"Losers risking necks for strangers while VP's in some deep shit…" He muttered to himself, nervously running a hand through his messed up hairdo. He wondered what the consequences would be. If they survived and had to tell Pres about this. Someone was going to hang by the balls if VP died out here. Jenkins would make sure it wasn't him.

Save who you can. Avenge who you can't. What a bullshit saying was that. Who the fuck were they now? Some fucking good samaritans??

Connor sliding her bike like it was another box office hit, some dude slamming .50s into the horde, Fish blasting fucking flower power nonsense. The world gone crazy and finally Jenkins put his helmet back on, revved his sexy redhead and joined that madness.

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon @Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​