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Realistic or Modern Remnants of Man [Zombie Apocalypse Rp]

Donnee was still at the door, and as the two got closer he started shooting crazies behind them, looking over slightly and smirking as the guy on the roof continued. Next thing Donnee hears, someone's behind him talking about a plan, and he wanted in, "I'll follow soon behind you, just give the word" he shouted, reloading his gun and looking back.


(Short replies, sorry)


@Gui, @Eternal-Weekend, @Haus Of Alaska, @Reaper 1-1, and @ziggy455 are in the area, sorry for missing people.
 

KAMAR MAURICIO REYES


There was an entourage of ballistic clamour that furnished the air with tragic tension. Whatever it was, Kamar discern his heart palpitate and his blood pulsate with a wicked ferocity as he beheld the ferocious carnage in his immediate vicinity. His brow furrowed with perturbation, a baffled expression of perplexity and confusion. His eyes wandered over the scarlet massacre. In his observation, he descry sceptical yet iron-willed individuals, a scatter of them straddled to patent the focus of the undead cadavers, others huddled through one specific doorway - the entrance to his old garage? Kamar distinguished its structure, and the recognizable detail to edifice. The general aesthetic of the garage had since depleted, merely a dull, monotonous shroud of frame and boarded windows - pleasing the aspect of every other building. Anyway, Kamar perambulate the unnecessary debris and littered jamble that was disposed since his abode was established, and staggered toward the window, clutching the M14 rifle in both hands. Then appropriate his stance, posing his hands in their correctly designated areas as to yield the rifle. Amidst the already tumultuous uproar of gunfire, that momentarily fissured the ghastly droning of the undead, Kamar stationed his rifle upon a tripod, appropriating a firm and rigid bearing.


Kamar flickered his gaze over the optics, monitoring the survey and destination that was most concentrated, and littered, with undead. He noticed a man (@ziggy455intentionally straying from a coalition of survivors - depending on his steel bollocks to soothe the stress of the undead. Then another man (@Reaper 1-1hasten his way toward the garage, he himself sacrifice assured survival as he enticed the walking dead's attraction, though Kamar knew these brave men were hearty fuckers. Either way, Kamar inhaled steadily, focusing his stern glower through the scope, victimising a zombie in his crosshairs, then gradually tugging the trigger. It caught him by surprise. The rifle discharged a wail of molten lead, it shrieked through the air before ricocheting from the concrete with a stupendous, twirling holler, before clipping an undead by the knee. It growled and staggered, unsteadily limping as others began to clamber over it. They crashed upon one another, at least five had been bestride, allowing the anonymous man (Richie) some alleviation.


"Diez... (ten...)" Kamar mumbled, registering each shot from his currently chambered eleven. An individual piece of hot brass smoldered upon the ground.


Kamar cocked the operating rod to chamber another round from the magazine. He inhaled once more, exhaling thereafter the trigger was pulled. Another deafening shot caterwauled through the street, leaving his nest at whining speeds. This time, it was a direct hit, yet did not incapacitate the dead man walking. Instead, it staggered forth and revolved around, groaning into the dull sky.


"Nueve..." Kamar sighed, sloping the bolt to engage another round. His aim steadied, then he fired a third shot. It chipped some concrete from the pavement.


"Mierda!" he cursed, gritting his teeth and grating them in annoyance.


Kamar repeat the process. Another shot blared and streaked past the garage, narrowly missing a zombie who was imminent on their location.


"Ocho!" he growled. Angrily fastening the bolt once more and re-steadying his aim. His finger enveloped the trigger, he lightly drummed it. The hollowed cartridge zipped and tore through the air, striking an undead straight through the skull. Its frontal lobe detached and a vile cruor whipped from it's cranium, lashing upon the wall and pavement as it instantly settled upon the ground.


Kamar leaned back from the rifle, gazing in disturbed shock at what he had just done. (if this was a tv show, that shit would've been fucking iconic).


His lips stammered the words, "... S-Siete," he mouthed.


A mass of the thirty-strong horde divert their attention to the building Kamar was firing from.


Kamar awaited till they came within range.


INTERACTIONS; 


first shot was near Richie Nicoletti, helping relieve his encounter with the undead


the second, by now, should have been noticed by @CabalAnomicPotato, @Gui, @Haus Of Alaska, @HumansArentReal, @Clairvoyance, @Eternal-Weekend or at least heard depending on their position


helping everyone mentioned^ <3


PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT;


short-term trauma from that fuckin ace shot goddam
 
Maddison Clarke



Maddison looked across the rooftops at Mac, watching as he nimbly moved and jumped from place to place. She forgot how good he had been during their mission, she was entirely impressed. "Nah," she responded to Kira, "He'll probably make it back before we do anyway. Come on." She began hopping back the way she came, hearing the booming gunshots and moaning creatures on the ground below her. Out of nowhere, she heard the unmistakable whistling of a sniper's bullet. She immediately froze mid stride, crouching low just in case. "Keep going, Kira, there's a hatch on top of the garage you can get in through," she said, turning just as a shot chipped the pavement on the ground below them. With each successive shot, she pinpointed the whistling and angle to the upper levels of a tall building. Faintly hearing Boyd's voice in the background, Maddison made a mental note to find the building's radio sequence later. She landed silently on the roof of the garage, leaning into the hatch. "I've got a decent amount of ammo, Boyd, where do you want me?"


@Reaper 1-1 @Gui @Haus Of Alaska @/سربرنيتشا\
 

ARCHIE MURDOCH McKEEGAN


In his attempt not to draw any newer biters toward them, he slung the shotgun over his shoulder and drew the axe. If anything, there was a highland rebel in his eyes. Archie brought down the metallic edge upon the brain-dead, raining blows that wedged into the flesh with gurgles and screeches. Aiming for the head, skulls caved inwards with blood spraying high in the air as he forcefully jolted the weapon out of the horrifying bodily cavities that now leaked brain matter and a stench of sickness. Red splatters decorated his broad figure, across his cheek and over roughed up jeans.


 


It was only through the corner of his eye, he spotted Carley vanishing through the gathering of the undead that caused his features to contort in concern. The damn girl was apparently making death wishes. Unsure whether to risk following, McKeegan kept his ground for a moment or two till calling out, his worry becoming a dark frown. “Hey! - Lass! - Baby Jesus n’ Mary this was a bad idea.” His voice rose above the clamour of the rasps and yowls, beating back their discoloured, bruised hands with sharp elbows and a swing of his current blade. Then the smothered gunshot. Afraid for both himself, and his current living companion, he began to barge his way toward her. A flood of relief only making him more fatigued, as she returned without a scratch. Biting his lip to avoid saying what couldn’t be taken back, Archie exhaled and nodded slightly. “Aye. Well, we can say our prayers when we get safe. But do that again, and I’ll kill ye myself.” 


 


Pushing them both toward the garage, he inclined his head to the man keeping the door open in thanks, grasping Carley by the arm. Not painfully, but certainly evident he wasn’t about to have her bitten, only to shoot her in the back of the head and mourn the loss of his humanity. “Cheers, worth the trouble, eh? Ain’t we a pair o’ beauties?” He forced a grin, sickened to his stomach at the oddly tribal appearance of his blood splattered features and clothing. At last falling into the safety of walls and no oddly sweet smell of skin and organs beginning to rot.


 



@Gui







(+Anyone I missed :'))
 
Boyd Killman


It was a fucking warzone out, the sounds were bringing memories back that Boyd tried hard to suppress. Hearings Madison's voice he snapped out of it just as new companions walked in. Good, some large fellow and another lady. OK this was good. 


"Madison can you hot wire?" Boud shouted as he began to fashion home made weapons. 


The plan was simple, if possible get a car to turn on and slowly drive blaring the horn or loud music. That should bring everything to them. They can afterwards ditch the car ,make it pop and double back. Boyd needed back up however at least 2 guns. 


If Madison couldn't do it, it wasn't a problem. Plan b was finding a car, putting it in neutral and pushing it while doing the same thing. Alot more dangerous ofcourse but it was back up. 


As he awaited a response he manage to get a large wrench as a weapon. Inside his shirts sleeved he placed 2 sheets of sandpaper. In hopes if he ever needed to he could use one forearm as a shield and it would withstand a bite. 


"Hey beard guy, if we do go, I need you to wait here while everybody else regroups. We can introduce later" Boyd shouted again as the sound of the undead was beginning to raise in volume. 


@CabalAnomicPotato


@Haus Of Alaska


@Eternal-Weekend


@HumansArentReal


@Clairvoyance
 
Lights-Valerie-Anne-Poxleitner-Tattoos-8.jpg


Maddison Clarke



Maddison dropped down on to the rafter, and then dismounted gratefully to the floor. She looked at Boyd, and realized there were far more people in this room than she remembered. Maddison shrugged and said, "Of course. Grand theft auto is my specialty." Ok, so anything involving stealing was her specialty. But it was to provide some sarcastic comedy relief, not be 100% accurate. She moved to the tool boxes, finding a pair of wire cutters and a flathead screwdriver. Maddison looked up at Boyd and said, "I'll go find a car outside. I don't want to draw anymore of those things here by starting an engine inside." With that, she slipped underneath the bay doors and shut them behind her.


Maddison pressed her back against the wall, glancing both ways. The mob of zombies was slowly advancing, and Maddison decided she'd rather get a car the other way. Across the street was a perfectly decent Nissan sedan, primed and ready for the taking. Maddison kneeled at the driver's side door, pulling a lockpicking kit from her back pocket. In 31 seconds, the lock was picked and she was leaning underneath the steering wheel. Just as she had finished hotwiring the car and was about to shove the screw driver into the ignition, Maddison was roughly dragged from the car and pinned by two zombies. She easily drew a knife and stabbed one in the headed, shoving it off her. The other was a large hefty man, and it took all her strength to keep his snapping jaws from biting her. "Shit!"


@Gui @Reaper 1-1 
 
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Donnee smiled as the two came in, firing another couple shots and closing the door, leaning. As one of the other folk spoke to him, asking him to stay put, Donnee smiled, "well, whatever you say, although introductions would be nice, there are more important things at hand" he finished, reloading his gun and looking at no one in particular. Finally, he turned towards the newcomers, one a simple looking woman, one a build looking man, and he spoke with his cliche grin and smooth voice, "so, you guys look like youve been through hell, mind telling me who you guys are"he finished, thinking that at least being social could smooth the edge, even if by a little.


@HumansArentReal, speaking to you


@Gui, @Haus Of Alaska, @Eternal-Weekend, @Clairvoyance, and the other dude, who's name is too hard to tag XD


@_Misguided Neko_, your in the garage too btw.
 
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Boyd Killman


Just like that Madison was gone. Ofcoursr she was mysterious as she was and apparently cunning. The point was to have several people go together to watch each others backs. Boyd gritted his teeth as he couldn't let it slide.


"You guy come with me." Boyd commanded as he opened a bay door. 


"Stick close to the walla and try not to go gun ho yet." Boyd whispered as loud as he could. 


Trying to find Madison was the hard part, neither knew which way she went until a faint 'Shit' was heard over the sounds of the dead. Pin pointing the location Boyd began to sprint leading one of the new guys with him. Approaching Madison Boyd grabbed the heavy set man with his wrench across the neck. Boyd proceeded to stomp the undead several times. Crunching and gurgling sounds filling the area as Boyd continued. 


"Keep going, this guy and I will have you back. Afterwards well climb in and roll out to the edge of town. " Boyd banged on the roof as to symbolize a 'hurry up'


@CabalAnomicPotato


@Haus Of Alaska


@Eternal-Weekend


@HumansArentReal


@Clairvoyance
 

RICHIE NICOLETTI


image.jpeg


He’d only been moving for a while but the undead gathering behind him had stayed consistent. His breath was labouring by now and he realised he didn’t stand a chance at making it much further. Behind him the moans grew louder. With each passing second he had visions of one of them grabbing him, and finally bringing his stumbling, stupid life to an end with teeth sinking into any fleshy part it could reach. A sudden moan by his left arm took him off guard and he turned to fire. A blood-stained, gaping jaw opened wide and white eyes that were intent on the desire of flesh; his flesh stared at him. Oh Jesu—


 


Something pierced the air and as one of its outstretched hands reached for him, a noise flew by him. The monster’s kneecap exploded suddenly and it hit the concrete with a “Gluk!” before falling backwards. Somebody had shot it from up ahead. Don’t question it, just fucking move. He took a second and pushed forward, firing off two final rounds out of his gun. Whoever was taking pot-shots over his head, he didn’t care—they were all aiming for the undead hordes now.


To his left, a small house gave way to a dishevelled lawn; overturned lawn-chairs and a lawnmower welcomed him. He quickly slammed through the wooden gate and through the door that swung wildly as his frame collided with it. His good arm gripped the door and he slammed it. “Oh shit!”


The wooden frame was splintered from a previous assault. Wood chips fell onto the carpet as he turned and heard the door burst open with infected gnawing and screeching for him. He ran through the hallway; a bony hand reaching out for him from an open-door to his left but he slipped past it and ran for the stairs. He’d made it up them and into the first room he could see ahead. This door shut, and he slammed himself against it as he began to shake from the adrenaline.


@/سربرنيتشا\ Your shot saved me and I've ran into a house to hide from the army of infected.
 
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Donnee stood waiting for a reply, when another of the people spoke to him, asking him to help. "Well as fun as this is now, I think helping you wouldn't be half bad" he finished, heading towards the man. As Donnee walked, he could hear the moans and deafening steps of the crazies, and It made him hold his pipe closer, "could really use a beer right now" he said aloud, self concious as to not speak too loud, he would follow this man and help as best he could, "because if I scratch his back he'll scratch mine" Donnee thought, thinking back to the supplies he had yet to gather, "those would be useful" he thought, as he continued to follow.


@Gui, following you


@Eternal-Weekend, plus everyone else
 
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Madge Beth Valeran


"You're a dog person? Ah, makes sense... guess you'll be gettin' to hell faster than me then!"





Being a seventy-four year old with the body of a daring ninety year old, Madge stood in the sidelines and took a continuous drag of her cigarette. Of course, the idea of using her trusty knitting needles against the infected that seemed to wash over the streets was rather exciting, but they needed to be sharpened. The damned things could barely go all the way through Gale Hibbins's face and that right there was a downer. She'd rather not be involved in anymore of those. Plus, she did want to return home soon to check on her twenty-two cats. Bunch of asshats were likely tearing her kitchen apart in search of food. There was always the chance that they may be dead now, but she didn't dare think of that. The universe would surely rue the day when that happened.


Getting to stand in the sidelines was cool and all, but damn was it boring. Madge stood in silence as she watched Tall Glass of Whiskey Two be agile and sexy. Truth be told, it made her jealous. Only she, Madge Beth Valeran, a single cat lady, could be sexy. In addition, there was the fact that all she had was an option to either be a sacrifice or smack zombies with her purse. Yes, she did carry a gun, but she'd never fired the damn thing. If she had, she couldn't remember.


After engulfing the last big of lung cancer, shortening two months of her life, she flicked the cigarette to he floor. Just in time too as more people shuffled in, making the garage reek of death's perfume. However, it didn't bother her in the slightest. Usually blood did, but with the next wee group of survivors that flocked in... it didn't. "Oooooh," she giggled, grinning wide as a descendant of the Scottish line rushed in with a young girl in tow. Oh yes, she'd definitely tap that Tall Glass of Sexy ( @HumansArentReal ). Why, compared to her waste of a dead husband, he was an Adonis. Where had he been all her life?


She would've physically, quit literally, drooled and lost her denchers to the floor over the Scotsman if it wasn't for the incessant groaning and moaning of the dead drunkards. "Poor little shits," Madge muttered. They were definitely close and by the sound of it there were probably a shit load of the suckers. Just in case, she dug through her purse and took out your wee handgun. Today wasn't necessarily a good day to die, but it was a good day to be prepared. In addition, she grabbed a mint from the bottom of her purse and stretched over to the new girl that had come with the Scotsman dressed in gore. "Here, girlie, you look like you might be needin' it. Mint calms the nerves y'know, kind of like weed." 


Dropped Used Cigarette 


Used Mint


@Clairvoyance @Haus Of Alaska +everyone


((For that user, it is easier to tag them with the slash... @/ and then their username comes up. You don't have to copy and paste it to tag them :)   Sorry for the sudden silence on my end!))
 

Jackson "Mac" MacMilllan


Jackson felt as if he was having fun doing this. He kept yelling things at the zombies, getting them further and further down the street with this new guy. Seeing him fire more shots off, he saw this guy didn't have many regrets. Then he heard a shot that did not come from the guy on the street. No, it was much louder. He ducked for a moment and watched the man under him jump into a nearby building. "Fuck, gotta pull them off him." he said. Jackson made his way to the roof access door. Then, as he was about to open it, it was broken down by a group of zeds that found their way up. "Shit!" he exclaimed as he ran in the other direction. He was met by the 3 story drop into the zombie horde if he kept going. "Fuck!" he said. He looked around for another way down. Mac found a light pole he could slide down. He jumped for it and grabbed on. Once he was close to the ground he jumped off and started to put distance between him and the horde. He looked back and saw them. The massive amount of them walking for him. "YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. IM BACK MOTHERFUCKERS. COME GET SOME!" he yelled out. Then he started down the street some more. Further and further away from the garage.


 


 


 


 
Carley Judge


- - -


Car simply nodded as Archie chastised her in the gentlest way possible, letting him lead her into the garage as he grabbed her arm.


Inside, there were a few other survivors. An old woman - which mildly surprised her, even her numb state - tottered over, eyeing her Scottish friend with lustful eyes before shifting her ancient gaze to Carley. She rummaged through her purse, pulling out a small handgun and a mint. She extended her hand, giving Car a withered grin. "Here, girlie, you look like you might be needin' it." The mint fell into her open palm. "Mint calms the nerves y'know, kind of like weed." The woman was certainly a character, Carley thought as she mindlessly tossed the mint into her mouth. Given her personality, she would probably end up outlasting all of the people currently present. "Thank you," she mumbled, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. She was beginning to wonder if it would've been easier to simply die instead of having to try and live through the current hell on Earth.


@HumansArentReal


@WolfSol
 
Kira


Kira just shrugged and followed Madison, going along with the plan. Things were looking like they would be action packed for a while.


Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, she re-loaded her gun while following Madison.


She remained oddly silent while Boyd shouted out a plan.


She kept her gear in check, she just needed to be told where to point and attack and she would do her thing.


She opted to follow Boyd, since he was more or less drawing the undeads attention while madison worked on the car.


Pulling out her baseball bat, she swung with her typical accuracy, sending a head flying like a football.


With a grin and crack of her neck she turned to boyd and gave a wink


"Can't let you have all of the fun puddin'"


She held her bat tight as she covered Boyd, she had no clue what the end game plan was but she would follow along regardless


@Eternal-Weekend


@WolfSol


@Gui


@Reaper 1-1


@HumansArentReal


@CabalAnomicPotato


@Clairvoyance
 
Maddison Clarke



Maddison lay there for a second in shock, zombie blood splatter across her upper body. Memories flashed back to her in rapid succession. Each of her previous kills, before the apocalypse, flashed before her eyes. The people she had to kill in order to complete her missions. Some had been innocent, she regretted those the most. Others were not so innocent, and the world was probably better without them. Each memory flew by in reverse chonological order until finally she remembered the first one. It had been an accident, she was new to the streets and just starting out. She didn't meam to kill him. Maddison immediately shook her head, pushing the memory away. Her normal stoic expression returned and she quickly rolled back over, holstering the knife. In seconds, she was back in the driver's seat of the car. With a simple turn of the screwdriver, the car started with a purr. Maddison turned to look at the others, while sliding into the passenger seat. "Ready to go. Boyd, you drive and I'll cover."





@Gui @Haus Of Alaska @CabalAnomicPotato
 

Boyd Killman


Boyd slid into the drivers seat and set it in drive. He began to drive slowly just past the hordes reach. Honking the horn Boyd banged in the roof. 


 


"Everyone jump on the car were gonna lead them away for a bit. If any show up in front or the sides pop'em. " Boyd shouted as he controlled his speed. 


 


As he kept an eye our for other hordes crossing the street. The vehicle they were driving was an older model Nissan sentra. Inside the car, Boyd quickly checked the compartments looking for anything useful. To his surprise the only thing he found was a cassette tape labeled "Mix". With nothing else to loose Boyd put it on and cranked the volume up. 


 








 


 


1996_nissan_sentra_sedan_gle_fq_oem_1_500.jpg


 



 
Kira


Kira didn't have to be told twice, diving into the back seat.


Listening to Boyd and Madison in the front, she stuck her pistol out the back window.


She began to shoot any of the undead that came near the door on her side.


Things had been non stop since she had gotten in that truck,


but hey she had something to shoot so she was not going to complain too hard.


When elvis started playing, Kira rolled her eyes and blew a raspberry


"Ugh this sucks lemme change it"


She pulled out her own mix tape and changed the song over too....


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfqlHmTQggg


@Gui


@Eternal-Weekend
 
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Donnee nodded at the man he followed, hopping into the back drivers seat, pulling out his pistol as he started shooting. As they drove, and he unloaded on the crazy nearest towards his side of the car, he added his take on things, comming up with an idea, "right now we're on the lower east side, so pulling these crazies towards the south would be better, as there are probably more up north" he finished, remembering that up north was where his stash was, and he didn't need an extra horde blocking the way.


@Gui, @Eternal-Weekend, @Haus Of Alaska
 
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Maddison Clarke



Maddison pulled out her Glock and a knife, rolling down the window entirely. She knew the two in the back had the sides of the car. So she pulled herself through the window and sat on the door, upper half outside the car. Every time one came close to her or the front of the car, she either stabbed it through the eye or shot it through the skull. "Boyd, if we take this to the main street out of town, we could set it on cruise control and tuck and roll out," she said, leaning down to peer through the window. She sat up to shoot another creature.  The town around them was in total disarray. Buildings burning, cars totaled, people undead. It was starting to appear as though surviving wasn't going to be as easy as Maddison originally thought.





@Gui @Haus Of Alaska @CabalAnomicPotato
 

KAMAR MAURICIO REYES


Kamar was drenched in a clammy sweat, moistening his brow with a chilling vapour. As if he had been shot with a freeze ray during a heat wave. Kamar would eventually cave, the inner machinations and suppressed thoughts and feelings, expressed solely in seclusion, would boil over. It was a writhing within him, an intangible itch desperately awaiting its relieving scratch.


"Hijo de puta, (son of a bitch)," he hissed as another round misfired, fracturing the distilled vibrancy of the air with a seething wail. That sixth round desert his rifle's chamber, worrying him with five. Kamar possessed five, precious rounds of ammunition, which had depleted considerably since the sudden encounter. With the approaching diversion looming within an imminent confrontation, Kamar sprang back from the nest he perched himself at, retrieving the rifle in his grasp also. Kamar slung his frayed backpack over his right shoulder and yanked the strings of his hood to shroud his countenance. Yet before sagaciously suspending the supports that barricaded the door, Kamar harshly thrust an aching boot into the table, subsequently dismantling the nest. This caused it to topple over, catching the locker adjacent toward it to come crashing down from the building. It slammed with a resonant clatter upon the concrete, the grumbling yowl of any undead who happened to get crushed by it was also mashed into the mangled corpses, smouldering with a fragmented whine. Kamar set down his M14, demolishing the barricade that confined his abode since the outbreak. Inching from his comfort zone, Kamar ultimately tore down the obstruction and bounded from the room with the M14, scurrying down the hallway toward the elevator (for the staircase was revealed to be huddled with deadheads).


Terror possessed him then. They lumbered with floundering staggers toward him as he frantically punched in to call the elevator. Nothing. Kamar flinched with each moan that ventured nearer. Adrenaline pulsated through his body, enticed with fear and not wanting to fucking die. With that, Kamar bore his fingers between the slit of the elevator's dysfunctional doors. The pressure forced upon his fingertips was immense, they became numb and ached with each pulse of strength channeled through his arms. He grit his teeth, bearing them with a grating rasp as his face twitched with pain. Then finally, the doors budged. Kamar slipped himself amidst the hefty doors, struggling his weight against their enclosing force. They wouldn't lock. Yet his pipe wrench would prove useful, thank fuck. It was wedged between the doors after being scrambled from his rucksack. His M14 was a stride away. Once the doors were spread apart, this relieved a considerable amount of pressure both physically and mentally. Yet his head throbbed with stress, coupled with the moaning beguiles of the undead. Kamar kept the pipe wrench firm in its position. Then he threw himself prostrate upon the bleak tiles, snatching the M14 in his quivering hands and thrashing himself over to get back up. Now, the deceased crowd shuffled further toward him, there was only a split-second chance to slip through the doors and even that would prove impossible - their approach destined to ruin that hope.


Kamar shook his head and spat a gob of saliva, clenching his eyes shut momentarily, he then darted toward the doors. With the lingering outreach of vile, rotten arms of the undead, Kamar brace the stock of his M14. In accordance he gyrate his hips, acclaiming vast momentum as the hilt of his rifle clobbered and snapped the jaw of a dead-man-walking. It squealed and rocked back, Kamar hunched over once the melee was connected, his legs cringing from cramp. Fuck! Not now! His foot slipped from the edge of the shaft and a piercing thunder splintered through his body. The descent caught him in a state of aghast and bewilderment. Yet mercifully the elevator was only stationed on the floor below. Any further, he would have run the risk of breaking something - even worse, dead.


Kamar lay there in astonishment, a searing discomfort inflamed his hip and afflicted an incredible sore. His stupefied gape wandered to where he had fell. The pipe wrench was lost. Or at least, he couldn't retrieve it now. What else was there to do? Kamar's panic cozen him in this situation. He was trapped, undoubtedly the service hatch would be ideal, yet the undead obviously roamed the halls of that floor too - he could only assume.


Then with a sudden slam, a hunk of metal sailed from the crevice of where he had fell, smashing with a marvellous blatter beside him. The shaft made it echo. Then a subtle splatter of crimson drops rained on his physiognomy. Kamar glanced up, it left him with a nauseous ailment.


The undead had been pushing against the pipe wrench in order to drop into the shaft after Kamar, because of this, the wrench was spat from the doors due to the strain and tension they were forcing upon it. Just as it pitched out and bowled down the shaft, the shaft doors of that floor slam shut, macerating an unfortunate zed that had slipped after the wrench. It was mangled between the doors, blood trickling down the shaft.


Rested there, Kamar detached the scope from his M14 and stuffed it into his bag, along with the rifle itself. His hands embraced the chilling steel of the pipe wrench. Kamar sat there, despondent, awaiting any salvation.


 ACTIONS: equipped pipe wrench as personal weapon, M14 containing only five (5) rounds, situated in his rucksack


abandoned radio at sniper's nest


recovering from shock and trauma, huddled on top of an elevator within the shaft


recovering from slight pain


LOCATION: just above the eighth floor of a building, top of an elevator, in the elevator shaft

(fuck me that was long-winded).
 

RICHIE NICOLETTI


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He looked around as the room for an exit. An open window beckoned him then.  He felt the thuds of zombies pattering on the door. He sighed, rolled his eyes and ran for the window. The door behind him opened with a slam and a chorus of moans as bodies funnelled into the room. “Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—“ he ran for the window and climbed out onto the edge of the porch roof. Close-by he heard gunshots and a car was cruising down the road with an emanating song. He tried to flag it down until he felt two hands on his legs, gripping him tightly.


He turned. One of the larger ones had torn through the windowsill and slipped out. He kicked at it and its head lunged back for a second. It was persistent. It crawled up and stumbled towards Richie with a ferocious roar. Its blood-stained hands reached for him again and he clenched his good hand and punched it in the gut. “Why the gut? You can’t feel tha—“ It gripped onto his shoulders and snapped at him. He gripped it at the throat and smashed the butt of the Magnum into its face, knocking teeth and flesh away. “Fuck off!” He kicked it away and it fell backwards.


He turned around to flag to the car again. This time, the groaning was controlled. He slowly looked back and the monster was breathing heavily, angry. Richies eyes widened and he looked at it again. “I just want a damn break!” He lunged for it and smashed it in the face again. The beast let out half a moan and then slipped backwards off the porch onto the wooden fence before with a deafening crack. More infected stumbled out of the windowsill. Richie looked over to where the car was; it’d take a second to get to him. He slipped out his Beretta and stuck his Magnum back into his holster. He aimed as good as he could, firing into the heads of only two before they caught up with him.


Across the way was another porch. Fuck this. Fuck it all. He wanted a beer. He wanted to breathe, and most of all he wanted to live in these moments. It was too much to think. He had to move. He kicked back the head of the slowly-building infected and ran for the other porch. His feet took off and floated for a moment before slamming and rolling onto the other side. The infected behind fell off the porch and he climbed back to his feet. He could hear the music closer and waved his good arm.


“I need a ride! I need a ride!”


@CabalAnomicPotato


@Gui


@Eternal-Weekend


@Haus Of Alaska


 

Boyd Killman


The other cutie with an attitude seemed to be a little off her hinges. In this day and age Boyd couldn't really get choosy. She changed cassettes and blaired her music. She didn't have bad taste either. The music blared as Boyd slowly maneuvered past cars on the roadway. 


 


"Were doing grate gang, Well keep going south then cruise it and get off. " Boyd shouted and patted Madison's knee, trying to symbolise it was her idea. 


 


Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Double checking, Boyd was happy he did. Another surviver, he was saying something but the loud music wasn't helping. Boyd waved him to the car, the car still not stopping. Its speed was faster than the undead but just slightly. Normal person could jog up to the vehicle. 


 


"The car is full but hop in the back, were not stopping ,quick!!" Boyd yelled hoping the survivor heard. 


 


As they drove along Boyd kept an eye on the horde and the gas. It was a shame care had a quarter tank, could've used that. The song slowly ended , Boyd was curious about the other cassette. 


 


"Sorry sweetheart I wanna check this mix out, my car my rules. " Boyd laughed as he switched cassettes. In the apocalypse comedy was always welcomed. 


 








 




 
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Jackson "Mac" MacMillan


Jackson kept moving down the street with a horde behind him. He wanted to get these things as far away from the garage as possible. About a few hundred yards down the street, Mac decided that he lead them enough. He ran for a fire escape and climbed to the roof. "That's done. Fuck. Now what should I do? Check that sniper out or head home? Fuck it, might as well help another bastard out." Mac said before starting off to the building where he thought this guy was at. He made it to the doors of the tall building he believed the sniper was in. The glass doors were shattered and broken. "Hey! Anyone in here? Don't worry, I'm not bitten." Mac yelled out lightly. He was soon met by a few infected. "Ah, some more of you fuckers. Well, time to have some more fun." Jackson said as he readied his knife. He then started stabbing them. Taking them down quick he awaited a response. If the guy was in there.


 



 
 

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