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Realistic or Modern Life or Death (Sir Swigglesworth & KurtH6355)

Lord Bradorian

Lord Bradorian

Naughtius Maximus

  • The year is 2012, the date June 24th. You were sitting in your Boston suburban home, watching the third horror movie in tonight's marathon on Netflix when suddenly, it was stopped and an emergency broadcast came onto the TV -- “This is an emergency broadcast coordinated by the United States Armed Forces and United States Disease Control and Prevention Center, issued by the United States Government. This is not a drill. Outbreaks of a severe fungaloid contagion have spread out across the country, and those infected by the cordyceps fungus have been witnessed attacking, biting, scratching, and all around killing others, infecting them as well and turning them to this aggressive behavior in doing so. Repeat, this is not a drill. Hit hardest are the following states: Massachusetts, Texas, New York, California, Florida, North and South Carolina. Free of the infection are the following states: Rhode Island, Wyoming, Washington D.C., Montana, South Dakota. The United States Armed Forces have mobilized in response to infection outbreaks all across the country. Those not infected are advised to barricade your homes and remain indoors - assemble and acquire weaponry and do not let anyone into your home who is not a police officer or warranted United States soldier. Do not venture out of your home, and looting will be met with immediate detainment by any and all law enforcement in your area. Do not panic, do not go looking for family, do not flee your city - remain in your home. Expected period of this nation-wide lockdown is the next three days. Allow the United States Armed Forces to combat this epidemic - DO NOT INTERVENE. If you see an infected person, immediately call911, state your name, address, and location of spotting. The United States is, as of now, under Martial Law.”
 
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"Remain in our home....isn't that what they always say? Yep, it is...and it usually ends up badly." Were the few words Dominic would mutter to himself as they tried their best to maintain good composure, even after learning that shit was hitting the fan. The man let out a soft but drawn out breath as they turned to glance at the tv once again before leaving the room to get a bug out bag prepared for himself should they have to leave the house. With his bag ready, Dominic would carry his bag and all their extra things he would bring, out to the living room.
 
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You reflect upon what you had just learned from the emergency broadcast as goosebumps form on your skin from the initial shock of hearing such news. Over the past few weeks, there had been a few sporadic reports of there being some kind of new contagion; last you had heard, the government had contained it and even was working toward a vaccine -- this was, obviously, a very big change than what was the truth, if this broadcast wasn't some kind of hoax.

"What the fuck?" you hear your next door neighbor, an older Latino man named Tito, question aloud through the thin walls of your apartment. You could also hear the warning tone from the broadcast playing on his TV, there seemingly having been a delay between when it had played on your's and on his.

As you head upstairs, your stairs creak and you hear some thunder in the distance, rumbling off in the suburban south of Massachusetts, most likely. There were far more thunderstorms that took place out there than here, unfortunately torrential downpour was pretty common here in the city. You head into your room and head over toward your bug-out bag, which is sitting on your desk drawer over a bunch of paperwork from the hospital. Beside it lies your ballistic vest, and in the bottom desk drawer you remember you've stashed your handgun, chest holster, magazines, extra ammunition, combat knife, and hip sheath. Beside the drawer leans your baseball bat.

A bloodcurdling scream pierces the air only a few blocks away, followed by a flurry of loud, rapid shots.
 
Hearing the sudden scream and sporadic gunfire, Dominic's eyes widened in what could almost be thought of as fear and what little composition he had to remain calm, was replaced with the urge to suddenly get all his equipment ready to leave very soon compared to the government warning to stay home. He knew his bag was ill prepared as they had only got what he had in his room. The supplies that would make his bag truly bug out ready were in the garage, where he kept all of their outdoor equipment. But with that being said, Dominic first equipped his vest and then strapped on their chest holster beneath their blazer for a bit of concealment. After that they would do the same with their knife, setting up the holster recon style as they always did. Now it was time to make way towards the garage and get whatever they figured would prove useful, together. So with their bag and bat in tow, Dominic made way towards the garage.
 
Nerves frayed, you make a quick dash down the stairs as you start to hear a lot of horn honking and what sounds like some kind of guttural, aggressive battle cry coming from the street below you.

Once you have gotten back to your living room, your mind tunes in to some commotion going on out in the hallway. "Dude! Let me in! Stop being such a dick!" shouted a male voice from down the hall; this exclamation is followed by four loud bangs that you recognize as being knocks on one of the apartment doors. "No, man! Fuck off or I'll call the cops!" shouts a different, also male voice. "Both of you shut up or I will come out there and bust your fuckin' heads!" replies Tito, your latino next door neighbor.

Presumably ignoring the arguing between the different apartment complex residents, you move out of the back door leading into your garage; each room had it's own, It was small, but you were good at managing your space, and thus had managed to fit quite a lot of stuff into it. You heave your tent, sleeping bag, and a gallon jug of water into the bed of your truck, and and some cutlery and cooking supplies, and other miscellaneous yet useful items. At this point, albeit not very heavy, your backpack is starting to get on the fuller side.

Suddenly, there is a loud tire screech in the street outside, following by something slamming into your garage door. A huge dent is crushed into the metal, and a continuously honking horn begins to blare right outside of it.
 
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After getting all of his supplies organized and packed, his backpack now almost full but still rather light, Dominic was sitting and listening to the commotion outside before he was surprised with a car crashing into his garage door that urged a very loud and aggressive, "FUCK!" to come fourth from his mouth. At seeing the massive dent in his garage door, combined with a massive panic the sudden situation had brought, Dominic drew their handgun and exited out the side door to go investigate.
 
You produce your P226 and head out the side door of your garage, taking in the scenes you witness. There are some cars on the road; not enough to be bumper to bumper, but enough to have traffic going roughly at twenty miles per hour. As you survey the street, you watch as a white sports sedan runs over two individuals who had sprinted out into the road; one of the individuals jumps onto the hood and starts smashing in the windshield - the sedan just keeps on going, but not for long; eventually it pulls over, and the blast of what you guess to be a shotgun sends shockwaves of horror down your spine, despite barely hearing it over the sound of the car horn.

Looking to your right, you see the vehicle that ran into your garage - a minivan, with, from what you can see, one occupant. A woman in her middle-ages lies slumped onto the horn, with blood coming from her forehead. Her jaw looks out of place, and some hair seems to be ripped out; walking closer, you notice that her shirt had been torn at the shoulder, and a bloody scratch wound sits there, staring back at you.

Up ahead on your street, at an intersection, traffic is blocked by a police cruiser, sitting stationary with it's emergency lights on. You can vaguely see two figures get out of the car, and then they disappear behind it. Five seconds later, gunshots are ringing out from the same spot, and there are many screams.

As you watch that scene unfold to the best of your ability, your vision instructed by the distance as well as the number of cars in the road, a door busts open behind you - no, busts off of it's hinges. Tito, your neighbor, falls flat onto his back, having been propelled through the side door of his own garage by something. You can see blood pouring from his right eye.

A moment passes before a hooded figure bolts out the door after Tito, and the person begins to stomp him, before beginning to beat him with a tire iron. It seems that whoever Tito's assailant is has not even noticed you, despite facing your direction, due to how focused he was on kicking Tito's ass. Being only about fifteen feet away, you can clearly see blood splatter over the pavement as Tito slowly becomes unrecognizable.
 
Being a doctor and thankfully being well acclimated to blood and gore, Dominic could only watch how chaos unfolded around him. In front of him there was a woman dead in her minivan, seemingly lightly mutilated, police up ahead were engaged in something, cars were reasonably backed up, and suddenly Tito was being being beaten to death. The world around him was unraveling into a bloody, loud, and panic inducing mess. Now, prioritizing the importance of the situation, Dominic immediately turned to face Tito and his assailant before raising their handgun and letting a single shot ring out, aimed towards the persons center of mass.
 
You raise your weapon and quickly send a round down range toward the hood. He looks up at you immediately after, before turning tail and sprinting around the corner of the apartment building, and out of sight; whether or not you hit him is anyone's guess, since you can't really tell whether or not the blood coating the ground was from him or Tito.

After belting out a shot at his would-be killer, Tito fidgets on the ground before very, very slowly beginning to push himself up off of the concrete. Blood drips from his face, and it's at this moment that his arm is now in the sun, that you notice a huge chunk of it missing. Specifically, a section below the forearm.

That's when Tito looks at you, and snarls. Blood from his multiple head wounds drip into his mouth as he opens it wide, before he gets up onto his legs and throws himself at you, closing distance extremely quickly. Within another second, he will be upon you. His face, contorted into a grotesque pulp by the beating he had received; unfortunately it was now up to you to finish the man you'd shot's job.
 
"JESUS CHRIST TITO WHAT THE FU-," Dominic would exclaim as Tito threw themselves atop of the man and began trying to bite and claw at them. Astoundingly, despite the situation, Dominic grew calmer than before. With his right forearm pressed against Tito's neck to keep their snarling teeth away, Dominic would attempt to lock the mans left calf with their foot and lock the left arm with his own so they could buck the man up and roll over on top so he can eliminate the threat.
 
You do your best to prepare for Tito's charge, but the man's larger frame is too much for you to be able to manipulate in such a way that you can throw him over your shoulder, especially with your pistol in your hand still. You are knocked over and onto the ground as Tito charges you, and he follows suit, collapsing down onto you and sending a series of hammerfists down at you. With your back to the concrete, you have no way of getting to your blade, however you still have your gun in your hand. You curl up with your forearms guarding your face, and his heavy-handed blows beat them until they're numb, but you don't believe in the moment
that there will be anything other than bruising.

Tito continues to pound on your arms, before realizing that you still had the gun in your hand. Instead of reaching for it, he grabs your arm with both of his hands and bites down onto your bicep. A scream of pain is forced out of your mouth, as Tito's teeth cling onto your arm for dear life; however, his teeth is now full of your blazer jacket, instead of your arm. Your muscles in that arm spasm due to the sheer bite force, and you drop the handgun to the pavement.

Tito now is in full mount of you, with both his arms on your right arm and his jaws around it. Quickly analyzing what your possibilities are, you manage to buck Tito off of you, and onto your Sig Sauer, unfortunately. He continues to grip your arm, but his mouth has came off of it, along with a patch of the black cloth that once covered a portion of your arm. The skin is not broken, however. He now lies next to you on the ground.
 
With Tito now on the ground but his weapon now underneath the man, Dominic would do the next best thing they could think of. Shaking off the pain from their bicep being bitten with such a severe force, the adrenaline doings its job, Dominic would draw his knife from the small of their back and stab Tito in the temple, digging the blade to the hilt inside of Tito's skull.
 
With both his arms grabbed onto your other arm, Tito is defenseless as you draw your blade from it's scabbard and thrust it into his head. The already bludgeoned skin and bone is soft and mushy, and you apply way more force to the blow than necessary; thusly, your hand becomes covered in gore. As does your nice blazer jacket, and jeans.

The sound of the minivan's horn stops. You hear a car door being forced open behind you, metal screeching against metal.

You hear a loud male voice shout "someone help me kill these fuckers!" from across the street, as more shouts and growls are heard, along with more gunfire.

The lights on the police cruiser suddenly shift position, as the vehicle is thrown aside by a speeding semi truck, determined to get through. A cacaphony of horns retaliate to the aggressive trucker.
 
With Tito's gore over him now, Dominic had no intentions of risking his own life once again with the man to pleaded for help, especially after seeing a semi truck barreling through. With that said, the man hurried back into his apartment and locked the door her came through before going to strip his blazer jacket and clean his hands at the sink. After that was done, he would go to change his pants, wanting to get the gore off of him as quick as possible.
 
You force your knife out of Tito's skull and, covered in blood, you head back into your apartment. Slamming the side door of your garage closed, you immediately begin to hear banging on the door, rhythmic and unyielding, along with loud moans that echo throughout the garage as you flee.

Heading back into your apartment you immediately tear off your blazer, throwing it aside to the ground without a second thought. You rush over to your sink and do your best to wash away all of the blood; however, it stains underneath your fingernails and also the cuffs of your polo shirt. Looking down at your sink, you see in the periphery of your vision an empty chest holder - in your rush and panic, you had forgotten your pistol outside, underneath Tito.

Your jeans come off, and some of the blood smears onto your legs, but it's easy enough to wipe it away. You put on different jeans, and now instead of a blazer jacket, your leather jacket; a much thicker and durable material to be wearing, albeit pretty hot to have on in the summertime.
 
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Seeing that his pistol was gone hit Dominic like a wall. They had to get it back, somehow. With the leather jacket on for the time being, soon planning to take it off because of how hot it would be, Dominic would have some protection available to him when they went to retrieve his handgun from beneath Tito's corpse. But the other big issue was either disposing of the threat, and or luring them away. From the little bit that they were able to gather, it appears that these "infected" or whatever the fuck they are, are overall aggressive and erratic. Something loud enough to draw their attention might just do the trick, luckily they still had some firecrackers left over from the 4th of July that he gave most of to his neices and nephews. First off, Dominic went and grabbed his bugout bag to put on in case they did have to run, then he'd toss a stocked box of food that he usually takes camping, into his truck. Now it was time to find those damn firecrackers.
 
You begin to devise a plan to get that infected woman away from Tito's body so that you could retrieve your gun, and head back into the garage to put the food into the pickup truck while you continue to think about it. Outside, you continue to hear the woman banging on the door, but that's until three shots ring out nearby - at that point, the banging stops. You didn't hear any kind of death groan or a body slump against the door or anything of that nature, meaning that the woman who crashed into your garage is still alive, but it's likely that her attention has been diverted.

Whether you change your plans or not after listening to these audio cues, a new development takes place. There is a loud crash out in the hallway, and you hear a female and a male shouting, along with several more loud bangs that don't sound like gunshots, but more like the result of some kind of melee. "OH FUCK, FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" shrieks out a male voice. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" cries out one of your female neighbors; you recognize her voice as the pretty college girl from across the hall named Alyssa; she was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, soft spoken and normally kept to herself. You had helped her carry groceries up to her apartment once, and joined a sort of gang a few months ago that was formed out of the men in the building when Alyssa had a loud fight with her now ex-boyfriend that resulted in her getting punched in the head. You, along with Tito and several other male residents, had vowed to her that if he came around again, he was gonna get his shit kicked in. She was extremely grateful to all of you.
 
"Oh fuck, what the hell is going on out there now?" Dominic would ask himself quickly as they grabbed a box of his left over firecrackers, unsure as to how many he had left, and tossed it into their backpack. After that, he would close up and lock the bed cover. Quickly thinking on the process of the chaos unfolding around him, it struck him they will be needing to use his handgun more than they would like to. So in a quick rush up to their room, Dominic would both grab another random box of 9mm cartridges with no clue as to how many were in it and his cleaning kit. On their way back to the garage, he would just toss the kit and ammo box into the passenger seat and slam the door shut. Now, with probably the only opportunity to get his garage open, Dominic would lift up the garage door on its rails, the process of that being significantly difficult due to the massive dent in the door. But once that was open, the man would quickly rush outside with their bat in hand and bolt towards Tito's body and flip the corpse over to retrieve his pistol. His attention would then be brought towards Alyssa and his neighbor in a fight with these infected, what was he to do now?
 
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Listening to the commotion in the hallway and fearing for the lives of your neighbors, you decide that it would be in your interest to prepare further for combat, with infected or if you decide to take any more potshots at strangers. So, after collecting your box of firecrackers that had three left inside, and putting them into the bed of the pickup truck, pulling the top over it and locking it in place, you quickly head upstairs to retrieve another box of nine-millimeter that had been depleted since your last reupping of ammunition at the local gun store, along with a kit for cleaning the weapon.

As you head upstairs, you look out your window and see that the situation has changed drastically since you had last been out there. What had been traffic going at twenty-five has turned into a crawl, as numerous drivers have gotten out of their vehicles, either voluntarily or being pulled out of them. Since it is starting to get darker out, it being around 8:45 PM, you can only faintly see figures in the street that appear to be in some sort of struggle. A smaller figure sprints away from several larger ones, only to be caught and dragged into an alley. You see several muzzle flashes down in the street, accompanied a second after by loud booms and subsequent echo. A pair of headlights tries to get around traffic by driving on the sidewalk, but a flurry of shots ring out from someone standing on the sidewalk in front of it, and the flashes glow toward the rogue driver, and the car continues going, though getting slower, until it crashes into a light post.

You come back down the stairs, and now being in your living room heading toward your garage, you hear the sound of bones crushing in the hallway; there is no longer any vocalization from anyone, until a few moments later when you hear some whimpering from right outside your door.

You head back into the garage, and start to try and get the garage door up. However, it doesn't take long for you to realize that it was going to be a longer process than expected, so instead of trying to get it all done while without your handgun, you resolve to head out the side door of the garage instead and risk venturing outside once more on foot to retrieve the P226.

Looking to your right, there is nothing in your vicinity that could potentially be harmful. However, looking to your left, you see a figure crawling very slowly toward you; it's lower body is nowhere to be seen. By it's fingers, it is pulling itself along the sidewalk toward you, dragging it's entrails behind it. You waste no time in retrieving the gun from underneath Tito, and running back into your garage, and locking the door once more.

You try to shake off the sight of what you had just seen, and begin to work on the garage door once more. Five minutes into it, and the sounds of melee and the vocalizations int he hallway outside of your apartment stop completely; there is only scuffling footsteps. The sound of you forcing your garage door open is loud, but nothing compared to the gunfire, honking, and occasional loud crash outside, so you're not particularly worried about the presumed infected outside your apartment hearing you.

You lift your garage door off of the ground, finally, but only about a third of the way that is necessary to make a big enough gap to get your truck out. At that moment, a hand reaches from outside underneath your garage door, and grabs onto your foot.
 
"Gah! Mother fucker!" Dominic would scream as they felt a hand grab onto his foot. Immediately and instinctively kicking back and wrenching his foot from the assumingly infected's grasp. The man took a few steps back and simply waited for whatever it was to crawl through. Seeing as it was the upper half of a person, just crawling towards him with a determination only seen in predators going for prey, Dominic reeled his hand back, bat in hand, and sent a harsh blow into the infected's skull.
 
You back up and quickly draw your bat from your pack, readying it to swing on this dickface. It pulls itself in underneath your garage door, and looks up at you with hunger in it's eyes. However, before further approach, it musters the loudest noise it can make. It starts wailing and growling and yelling, and you decide to put an end to it to hopefully avoid detection from the infected outside. So, you walk up and bash it's head in a few times, and sure enough it quits freaking out.

However, you hear a loud shriek in the hallway, followed by several more, and there are quick footsteps heading toward your apartment door.
 
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" Dominic would scream to himself in a whispered tone as they quickly threw off his backpack and opened up the small box of firecrackers he had. Thankfully there were some inside, and a sporadic count would reveal that there we three packs in total. So taking one in hand along with the matchbox while holding his bat in the other hand after holstering their handgun, Dominic would quickly throw their backpack on and head towards his door. Looking out the peephole revealed several of these infected bastards banging at his door. "Ugh, I'm gonna need a fucking lighter and not just matches." Dominic would mutter to himself as they tried to think of a plan in order to get these bastards away. His door certainly was not going to hold up well for long. They could risk cracking the door and having them breach, or he could crack open his window and toss the firecracker out that way. Considering the options, Dominic would of course go for the window. Setting down his bat and cracking the window open, Dominic would light the firecracker pack and heft it out the window, a considerable distance behind the guests at his door. He would then grab his bat again and just wait for results as they headed back towards the garage.
 
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Your hands shake as you pull at the zipper of your bag; seconds feel like minutes as you get the thing open. You feel queasy in your stomach as you notice in the bottom of your eye, that there are several bits of brain matter on your running shoes.

You grunt and grab the firecrackers, pulling a pack from the three. You grab matches as well, and you light the thing and huck it out the window.
7.jpg

The sound is deafening, as the crackers let off in a series of huge explosions. You hear many frenzied screams and the door stops getting banged on. papa ka, kaPAH.

The crackers continue for another minute, until finally the only noise heard is the screams out on the street.

However, you do hear some more infected still at the door. You look through the peephole and it's an elderly man, and a younger, teenage woman. Both have severe head wounds, and the woman has a stab wound in her shoulder. The man has half of his throat slit, but a shoddy attempt had been made to stitch up the wound, which had miraculously saved his life.
 
Now with that diversion having worked in at least short term, Dominic would continue working on getting his garage door opened which wouldn't take him much longer. However now with that out of the way, Dominic was struck with another problem. Traffic was built up, going in the direction they more or less needed to go. Seeing as someone was just shot earlier for pushing through traffic, the man had quite the conundrum on his hands now.
 
You continue to work on your garage door as the two infected at the door make half-assed attempts to get in; the wooden door leading to your home was starting to look a bit beat up, but not so much that it was coming down anytime soon.

You keep on pulling at your garage door. Another ten minutes pass and now the only thing between your truck and the street is that minivan. You now have a clear view of the street - it is hell on Earth. Several vehicles are burning for unknown reasons, figures engage in grappling and fisticuffs all around you, and as you observe a pair of bodies topple off of the rooftops above and splat onto the sidewalk, about twenty five meters away from you.

Trying to decide what to do next, you hear a chopper overhead. Looking up, you are blinded by a spotlight shining down on you, however it quickly passes over yourself and then onto the turmoil in traffic, before finally settling up the road on the abandoned police vehicle. With the vehicle being illuminated, you can now spot a police officer who has scampered onto the top of his police cruiser, with an M4-pattern rifle in his hands, likely an AR-15 or M-16A2. Blood drenches the side of his uniform. The officer waves his hands high above his head at the chopper, doing his best to get it's attention.
 
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