Surviving: The End (IC)

[Thekettleison]

Antony Hooper lay under the blanket on his simple bed, his mouth hanging open and his large, barrel chest rising and falling in time with the loud, rattling snoring. As he rolled on to his side, the bed springs protesting under his bulk, his dark eyes snapped open as a loud 'CLICK' startled him out of his slumber.

Slowly, quietly, careful not to give any sign he was awake, the large man began to stretch out his muscles. It wouldn't be a proper warm up, but it would have to be enough. He'd been expecting this, in his years he'd been in enough bloody cells to know what to expect if your room was unlocked in the middle of the night. Well, when the guards did burst in, they'd be in for a surprise. They'd be in for a fight.

Tony was only really surprised that it'd taken them this long. His best guess was that he'd been held captive for a little over two and a half months. But he couldn't be sure. He'd trashed his room when he was first tossed in there, hurling the TV against the door in an attempt to escape. The door hadn't budged, but the TV had almost exploded in a shower of glass and broken plastic. For the first few days he'd kept this behavior up, breaking everything he could before retiring to the tiny isolation room while his room was cleaned and the damaged items replaced, then emerging and starting all over again. After the first few days however, Antony's captors seemed to tire of this game and the replacements stopped coming. His food was still brought to him and his dirty laundry was still taken away and returned, cleaned and pressed. But without a TV, computer or even a calender, the days and nights had began to run together and he'd lost track of time in there.

When the door didn't open, the large man stared at it for a long time, his brow furrowing a little in confusion. Where were the guards? Were they fucking with him? Trying to intimidate him and make him uneasy by not simply bursting in perhaps? Well that wasn't going to work.

“Fuck it.” He muttered, tossing aside the blanket and lumbering to his feet. If they weren't going to bring the fight to him, he'd bloody well take it to them. Moving surprisingly quickly for a man of his size Tony crossed the room and grasped the cool metal of the door handle. ”Alright you bastards!” He bellowed as he tore the door open and rushed outside. “Come and have a go if you think you're...” Antony paused and looked around in confusion. There were no guards, there was no beating. Just a corridor with a few open doors leading to what Tony assumed to be more cells like his own and a couple of people milling about, looking as confused as he himself felt. “You're not guards.” He muttered at the people. “What the fuck is going on here?”

[Lobo]

Dominick Young

Thoughts began to continually pace through Dominick's mind as he lied on his back staring up at the ceiling of his cell. His bed that he rested in was not of a bothering material or anything which might be the cause of his lack of sleep. Dominick was informed that he could receive just about anything he wanted while in custody but there was not much that he wanted or needed. The first few days of being held in captivity were some hard few days for Dominick and the staff for he was going through a phase where he was convinced that he had to fight for his life but soon he discovered that it was not the case and stopped with his failed assault attempts. The reason why he could not sleep was because of multiple reasons. The biggest current issue was that he had received no visitors in forever it seemed. It was not because of his lack of living supplies and necessities but just out of curiosity. It was abnormal for the staff to miss these many days in a row without checking in on Dom.

He continued to let his brain race while he remained motionless on his blue and white striped comforter. He lied there with both of his arms folded up behind his neck and head for support as if the pillow was not enough. His eyes peered down and over at his right arm. The artwork inscribed all over his arm was meaningless it seemed at the moment except the single word 'Jade'. It seemed to stick out to the tense man who was lounging in a relaxed position. He reached over with the opposite arm to touch the name surrounded by pointless ink scribbles giving him a brief and satisfying image from the past. A small child looking up at him with the most adorable smile that seemed to comfort the tattooed man. It seemed so real to Dominick. The quick flashback photograph reminded him of the old and faded picture he carried with him.

"I wonder how their doing out there on their own..." Dominick thought to himself calmly as he readjusted his arm behind his head restretching his bare torso. He was not referring to the fact that the world was going to shit outside of these walls but just in general. Dominick had always been there for Jade and her mother. He was like a father to the child even if he was only her uncle. "I'll be with you again," He spoke ever so softly under his breath. "One day..."

- CLICK -

Just as Dominick's eyes began to fall shut for once, a sound seemed to catch his attention. His eyes widened open. He knew not what the sound was but it came from the direction of his door. "I wonder.." Dom thought as he sat up and began to think about whether he should check the door since no one seemed to enter his room yet. He finally came to a decision moments later. Bringing himself to his feet, Dominick reached over for his black tank top and slid it over his body. It failed to cover his markings on his arms but he cared none. He began to pace his way over to the door. He already made up his mind that he was going to see what was going on out on the other side of the door. He reached out and grabbed the door handle without hesitation opening the door.

The bright light out in the hallway shined through into his dark room where he spent so many days it seemed. What he saw was a familiar sight. Exiting his door he heard many voices booming throughout the hallway, some louder and some softer. Then he seen Clay Griffin, easily his best friend he met back in service. He and Clay were abducted at the same time and he hadn't seen him since the day they pinned them up separately. Clay seemed to be rushing in a fast walk towards a couple of people consisting of a black male and a black haired female. Clay seemed to be urgently approaching them. Dom thought nothing of it and decided to break his attention in joy for reuniting with his partner. "The Destructo Duo reunites." Dominick spoke out in attempt to get the rather large mans attention with a smirk on his face.

[Azseth]

(Jeremy Sumner)

Jeremy gave Sofia a quick once over then turned his attention back to the hall. All was quiet over there, but he could hear some talking which led him to believe that there was no confrontation. He turned back to the woman and spoke in a hushed tone, “yeah, something isn’t right. When I signed up, they said straight isolation, no testing or games or any of that shit. They may be evacuating this facility. Shit, sorry. Jeremy by the way.”

He took a step into the hall and listened, hearing a few more signs of life. Then chaos ensued.

From behind him, a man ran towards a door and kicked it open. The fucking crazy thing is…that guy looked very familiar as he kicked a door open. “Fucking Boggs?” There was another individual inside, and even when the door burst open, that individual kept his eyes forward, but Jeremy couldn’t see inside.

THEN a woman went to the door and Jeremy heard the same name twice now, Jon. Mister fucking popular it seemed. Jon was looking at something as if he’d just won the lotto or seen a ghost when whatever the fuck it was had a book thrown at it?

Is this some kind of fucking dream, he asked himself mentally? It’s like a fucking circus in here.

To make things all the more interesting, there was the sound of a door and movement behind him and as he turned, he heard one guy threaten him as he advanced, then another voice address either him or Clay as he came at him.

Where were the fucking elephants?

In his best command voice, molded by 6 years of dealing with Marines, he squared up to the guy, not acting scared (simply because he wasn’t) and pointed a finger and snapped “I suggest you stand the fuck down before you get hurt. The fuck games are you talking about?”

The only distinguishing marks Jeremy had on him were 2 tattoos, “SEMPER” down his right arm, and “FIDELIS” on his left, the Marine Corps motto. As he pointed at Clay, only “SEMPER" on his other arm would be visible.

With one hand pointed at Clay, the other was in his pocket, where it rested on a butter knife that he had sharpened up in the event something like this ever happened, but he was assuming it would be some guard he’d have to potentially defend himself against, not some random guy he’d never seen in a hallway that ultimately seemed just as confused as he himself was.

[Kaonashi]

"Ahhhh, but who needs manners? The name's Jace. Jace Coldwell, computer hacker extroidinare."

*Of course you need manners I thought men were supposed to be gentle and all that shit. Computer hacker extraordinaire huh? Test it later.*

"One, do you know exactly what is going on. Two, do you know why we're even here... and three. How 'bout we go and get some coffee sometime, eh? Haha, well. How 'bout something a little simpler. What would your name be?"

Cateline thought of her responses for a minute then answered,"First, absolutely no idea. Second, no clue, haven't asked, probably to keep us from becoming part of the mindless flesh eating mass of zombies? . Third, Cateline Dionne, 23 years old. And I've had enough coffee for my lifetime. Usually I design technical kinds of poisons, venom, but lately I've been with different types of bullets. Does that answer?" She looked at him and observed, he was a bit handsome, not really but a little bit." Those drawings, they're only two of the many I have,"she pointed to other papers scattered vastly around the room," The OrgaEaters are especially my favorite, but I'll explain that to you later."

She got up from her bed, walking over to the desk where Jace was sitting,"Now time for me to ask some simple questions." She slammed her hand onto the desk, leaning close to him like an interrogation.
"One, why did you decide to come in this room?" she asked first. And slamming her other hand on the desk.
"Second, what made you decide to yell and wake me up?" she asked in a rude tone.
"Third, what do YOU know about all this stuff? 'Cause they haven't told me a damn thing." She still felt a little groggy and mad from waking up.
"And fourth,"she leaned in closer next to his ear and whispered,"If you're going to flirt can you do it better?" Then she pulled away,"So those are my questions. Maybe stupid questions, maybe not. Maybe so, maybe not."

She stood firmly in front of him, awaiting her answers, still feeling like sleeping. *Really seriously? This is just like those awesome interrogations on those crime shows!*

[Attalus]

Addicus decided now was the time to arise from his computer and explore the less interesting world. He had completed the last round of Mechs Vs Zombies: True Action! on the hardest difficulty. It was time for a break.

He rose from his seat and grabbed an iPod. Stuffing the headphones into his ears, he turned off the volume on his computer. In response, he raised the volume of his iPhone and returned to the open door.

Looking outside he saw several strange, large men pointing and moving throughout the hall. He slid through his door, shutting it behind him. Step by step he went down the hallway, avoiding people at all costs. He moved to the far end of the hall and saw his destination: a window.

He grabbed the pulley and raised the blinds. It was too dark to see anything, but it gave him a vague sense of relief. He sat down in a corner beside the window and nonchalantly raised the volume on his iPhone. It was amazing that he still had any hearing. He was in the perfect seat in the house to watch all of the action. He could spy others coming out of their rooms and stay in relative peace.

[Azseth]

(Jon Erikson)

Jon was focused on the thing in front of him when the door kicked in and a flurry of activity and sounds followed from outside the door. The door hit him as it swung open and he spun and hit the computer when the thing lunged at him. The Twos were lethargic and slow most of the times, but when they saw food, and that food was moving, they seemed to gain some undead sense of urgency. Then he heard his name twice and both voices he recognized immediately.

The book hit the thing full in the face and slowed it for a moment which was more than enough time for him to reach in grab the infected’s hand and with a quick twist, he pivoted and pulled the undead thing off balance and swung him forward and onto it’s face.

The thing was a lot stronger than it looked, but so was Jon, who immediately put a knee to the back of the reanimated corpse’s neck and jerked the arm out of it’s socket. The thing wouldn’t feel pain, but that made the arm useless for the most part, which allowed him to grab the other and put more weight on the things neck to keep it down.

Undead or human, take away their center of balance and most were easy pickings. Fuck yeah for Krav Maga, he thought to himself as the thing attempted to move or pick itself up.

“Austin, what the fuck. Don’t just stand there, get something to kill this fucker with!”

[j8cob]

The room Harold had been living in for the past few months was unlike the other rooms. It was the same size, and had the same furniture and appliances, but it was tidy and 'decorated'. All along the walls were sketches and drawings. Some were painted, others pen and ink. Some just pencil sketches. But all four walls were mostly covered in pictures of varying topics. They served as a good timeline. The evolution of Harold Montague. The earlier pictures he made were more colorful, and of basic subjects like trees, food items, and even a self-portrait sketch. As time passed in the room, one could see a difference in the drawings. The closer to the present the pictures became, the less hopeful they were. Darker colors, more realistic scenes. A lot of red. Without outside influence, Harold was just left to guess, but he knew somehow.

Over the months in isolation, Harold had become more pessimistic. He knew what was happening. It was a zombie invasion. He's seen the movies as a teenager. Only this time, it was real. These weren't characters on a screen of a scenario so implausible that people got a kick out of it. No, he was in the midst of the undead. At first he was hopeful. Surely there were ways of dealing with the menace. The government couldn't be as unprepared as they are in the movies. But as time passed, Harold knew in his gut things were only getting worse. The longer they would be in the CDC, the more of... them, would be out there. His pictures reflect this. He had tried keeping his mind clear, and to think positive, but he couldn't help it. Things would be bad. Horribly bad. These shells of what humans once were would be waiting outside. And quite possibly inside.

In the later days, Harold had noticed a lack of interaction. Despite the small staff (as per Harold could tell), visits became more sparse. Harold believed this was a bad sign. Things were getting worse for sure. This wasn't even a possibility, it was actually happening. He hasn't been able to sleep lately. Just an hour or so a night. In fact, because he only knew it was night by the clock, he even sleeps in the day. Time was irrelevant here. Right now, however, Harold was awake. To occupy his uneasy mind, he was sitting at a desk with a lamp on it. In front of him lay a sketch. He was drawing his idea of what a zombie looked like. It was certainly a zombie, but he didn't give it any distinguishing features. Or at least not yet. He was finishing some touches on the eyes when he heard it, clear as day.

*CLICK*

Harold slowly looked over to the door. It was the one thing on the walls he had no pictures on. They had 'advised' him not to place any pictures over it. The young man stared at it for a good moment. He expected it to open itself and reveal some staff members. Perhaps he was wrong this whole time. Maybe things have gotten better. But the door didn't open. He set his pencil down gently and got up. His room was tidy, and the position of his desk was perfect for a direct walk over to the door. He didn't stumble, or hardly lift his feet for that matter. His mind was racing. The possible reasons weren't limited, but he knew it was bad. He didn't want to, but he had to. As Harold approached the door, he carefully placed his hand on the handle, but still didn't open it. The click he heard surely must've been the lock, but he was still afraid to try. Harold closed his eyes for a moment to weigh the options. He could stay here and hope, or he could at least try to leave. The rest will work itself out. He opened his eyes and turned the knob.

The door handle turned, revealing his hunch was correct. The door was unlocked. The others must have been unlocked too. This was bittersweet. He wouldn't have to be cooped up and alone anymore. But his company wouldn't be so friendly. Harold opened the door calmly and looked down the hallway. Some other open doors, and certainly other people. To his relief, no zombies. He stepped out the door and into the hallway. His room was the far back, so he could see the events unfolding down the hall. He didn't feel like interacting with them just yet, so he stepped back inside, to grab things. As he stepped back into his room, it wasn't the room he had just left. He looked at it differently. Safety. With his regular pace, Harold stepped over to his desk and grabbed his pen. He'd need it later. With that in his pocket, he opened the fridge and grabbed a soda bottle. He may be feeling depressed, but he didn't want the others to know that. Interaction would be inevitable, and he wanted to be like he was before. Pretend this never happened.

With soda in hand, Harold stepped back out into the hallway and proceeded to walk down it toward the group of people at the end. He had just missed the yelling, so he couldn't tell it was a standoff. So he simply walked up to the crew from behind. With no words to introduce himself, he simply popped the tab over his beverage, making a hissing sound. They would undoubtedly hear it, but what caught his attention was behind the monitors down the hallway, a struggle was going on. It seemed almost nobody else noticed, but a guy sitting behind the computers suddenly got jumped by another guy. It was instinctual. Harold sped up and passed the others in the hallway over to this person. He just arrived to see the commotion when he said, "Austin, what the fuck. Don't just stand there, get something to kill this fucker with!"

Being the good samaritan he is, and his close proximity, Harold decided to intercept this Austin fellow and finish the zombie. Or, he assumed it was a zombie. One doesn't ask for help killing a fellow human being. Like his proper self, he set (more like slammed) his soda on the desk, causing some of it to spill, as he approached the two. That pen just came in handy. With the man holding the zombie down, and with Harold's momentum, it was easy. It was one of those good pens. Not a cheap little Bic. Harold practically slid as he went down on one knee and brought the pen down. The skull is a hard bone, but it breaks. Against the floor, the zombie's skull would stand no chance. The pen was thrust into it's head, making blood ooze from the wound. Harold thought it would spray, for some reason, but that's probably media influence. The zombie stopped moving after Harold pushed it in deeper, about three-quarters of the way up the pen. In the back of his head, the morbid part, it was amusing to kill a zombie. With a pen of all things. But the reality of the situation would hit him later.

With the deed done, Harold stood up slowly, not caring to retrieve the pen. Besides, it was probably stuck in there anyways. He had more pens back in his room. "That was one of them?" Harold asked the man, before realizing the stupidity of his own question. Of course it was. So he had a better question to follow up with. "Are there any more of those?" Simple, but it served it's purpose. Now wouldn't be the best time to introduce himself, so serious questions would suffice. Harold backed up and grabbed his soda again, putting his right hand on the desk for balance. Then he realized he got the blood from the zombie on his hand, so he lifted it, leaving a bloody handprint on the desk. He took a swig of his soda, before casually wiping his hand on his pants, though most of the blood was now on the desk. "There better not be."

[Xionist]

"First, absolutely no idea. Second, no clue, haven't asked, probably to keep us from becoming part of the mindless flesh eating mass of zombies? . Third, Cateline Dionne, 23 years old. And I've had enough coffee for my lifetime. Usually I design technical kinds of poisons, venom, but lately I've been with different types of bullets. Does that answer?"

"Those drawings, they're only two of the many I have," she pointed to other papers scattered vastly around the room, "The OrgaEaters are especially my favorite, but I'll explain that to you later."

Jace's eyes widened with gleeful surprise when she explained she had many other projects, and that just the name OrgaEater implied she had technology skills and hopefully equipment somewhere to work with.

Hmm... This 'Cateline Dionne' just has to have some serious tech knowledge... Maybe if I stick around, I could start a business with her. I need something to replace what was taken from me. Those damn men in suits!

Jace was about to respond when Cateline got up off her bed and slammed her hands on the desk and started to question Jace, her voice getting stronger and louder every sentence.

"One, why did you decide to come in this room? Second, what made you decide to yell and wake me up? Third, what do YOU know about all this stuff? 'Cause they haven't told me a damn thing." She then leaned in and whispered in Jace's ear, "And fourth, if you're going to flirt can you do it better?" She pulled away and looked back down on Jace, "So those are my questions. Maybe stupid questions, maybe not. Maybe so, maybe not."

Jace glanced up at Cateline, and for a minute he sat there in silence. Then, with a sigh, he got up from his chair and stuck his hands into his pockets while leaning back ever so slightly as countless hours from sitting in front of a computer screen has ruined his straight posture.

"Lets continue our number game, shall we?" He said with a tone that had a bit of laughter hiding behind it, "To answer your questions. One, because it was the closest one to mine that seemed interesting. Plus, why not? I just got this.. Vibe from the room, you know.. One that said 'Hey! You're going to have a lot of fun here!' Two, Why? Because how else are you going to wake someone up? By scaring the shit out of them! Hahaha!... Anyways. Three, What do I know? Well I wish I could tell you, but I was in the process of decrypting confidential government information when the suits decided to drag my ass out of my money-maker. I was really enjoying that little school.. Oh, corruption. How it pleases me. Jace coughed, as if to stop that topic, "Oh, and four." He walked forward and in one fluid motion, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and stepped over to her right side and said, "If you're going to be uninterested.. Try and act more so. Hmm?"

[Azseth]

(Jon Erikson)

One of the most difficult things they taught in the 5 years of non-stop training in East West 6 was switching personas. It had to be fluid and instinctual. They would test you in the middle of combat training, they would bust into your room and interrogate you randomly, so that you were never in a situation where either of your identities gets compromised. One of the easy things about a situation like this is that both of Jon’s personas were trained in hand to hand combat, and the Krav Maga was already second nature to him prior to him getting on board with EW6. So if there were any questions, he’d simply mention the countless years of training prior to signing a contract with the government.

He could have pretty easily handled the situation, and to be honest, has Austin not kicked in the door, he’d have locked the thing in there and went back into the hallway feigning hysteria and fright. But his card was pulled when the door was kicked in, oh well.

Now time to play the role of the computer guy, as the corpse stopped moving, he fell back on the floor, eyes wide with panic. “What the fuck, what the FUCK was that. That thing was dead when I came in here, I fucking swear it.” He gave a frustrated kick to the thing’s head for good measure.

He sat there, keeping the pace of his breathing rapid as he looked around. He WAS confused at Lea AND Austin being here. There were two servers on the premises, one that most of the hackers could get into, Jon included, but there was always a second one on a separate intraserver that even he was not able to get into since it wasn’t physically connected. That is most likely where the roster of names were kept, and until the moments before, he hadn’t known anyone’s name who was here.

He sat on the floor, back against the computer, digesting the few facts he seen prior to the fireworks going off. Acting overwhelmed was simple enough, you just stared and didn’t say much.

“Lea. You, you guys all ok?”

His eyes lingered on Lea when he spoke. Sure he'd seen her name a few moments before, but she was there now, standing there. Real as could be. As real as the mix of emotions from anger, to happiness, to bitterness at the way things ended...the way she ended them.

[101 Scout1]

Austin was about to step forward and force the monstrosity's face into the floor with the heel of his boot when he was knocked out of the way by an incoming man whom he didn't know. "What the fuck?!" He cried out in surprise as he fell against the wall, catching his arms on it just in time. The man stooped over and shoved a pen into the undead body's head. The Captain almost threw the other man to the ground in order to give back what he had received when he heard something else.

"Fucking Boggs?" The voice asked before it disappeared. The Air Force helicopter pilot whipped around, but the voice, which he knew, though it was impossible, he knew it was Sumners. However, he was kicked straight back to reality when his neighbor was on the ground, scooting from the zombie he'd just, in essence, apprehended before its death.

"What the fuck, what the FUCK was that. That thing was dead when I came in here, I fucking swear it." Austin looked at the body and, as much as he wanted to join in on the 'dafuq' moment, he shook off the bizarre feeling, bottling it away in an eerie, dark recess of his mind. He put a hand on Jon's shoulder, taking a knee beside him.

"Don't worry, Jon, I don't blame you, I saw your face when I came in and I know you didn't do anything to him..." Captain Boggs actually gave a chuckle and smiled at him, pretending to confide in him a fact that was no real secret to those who knew Jon, "Besides, you're too good a guy, you don't have the heart to kill a man, Erikson." The pilot stood up and offered a hand to Jon, "But if there are more like that thing... We should get something to fight with... Any ideas? Can you find us a safe place to hole up until we have provisions?" Austin, as a Captain in the military and seeing nobody else around, decided to take charge himself. He hadn't actually seen Sumners yet, but knew he had the most experience in leading a group like this and strategically finding a way to plan in safety and execute that plan with finesse.