I Am Alive [IC]

[jimi]

OOC: http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...al-parkour-OOC

August 2015. One year and two months after The Event.

The number of survivors have dwindled to less than half of what they were when the chaos began. The streets are littered with rotting corpses, creating an eerie, graveyard kind of feeling. Supplies have run dangerously thin as those who are still alive scramble for survival. A single can of food or a bottle of medicine could mean all the difference between life and death. Bullets have become the new currency and I don't mean by simply handing them over.
The government had made feeble attempts to aid the citizens via the FEMA organization, but realized they didn't stand a chance.
They cut and run, escaping by private airplanes and helicopters to an unknown location.
The elements have really begun to take a turn for the worst as well. With toxic fires burning across the landscape, the atmosphere above has begun to wear thin, making oxygen slightly more difficult to breath and heat from the sun increased. This, mixed with a vast cloud of toxic dust hanging over the landscape, creates a deadly atmosphere that only the strongest will survive.

+++++

Today

Everything is quiet. Motionless. No slight breeze of wind. No chirping of crickets. Not even a single drop of water. Nothing. Only a hazy white cloud silently rolling through the air as the hot sun beats down on the weathered, jungle-like expanse of ruins that is Lower Manhattan. The streets below are littered with abandoned cars, chunks of concrete, and the retched corpses of those who weren't destined to survive. Everything is coated in a fine layer of dust.

The sound of heavy footsteps abruptly breaks the silence as a lone figure scampers through the shelled-out remains of a high rise office building. A trail of white dust kicks up behind him as he swiftly maneuvers through an obstacle course of overturned desks and chairs. The wheezing of his lungs, in a feeble attempt to rake in fresh oxygen, is barely audible through his gas mask. Dressed in a thick polar jacket and military-style cargo pants, his attire is merely unsuitable for the damnably hot temperatures of a mid-summer day such as this. A large Kalashnikov assault rifle hangs from his back via shoulder strap.
As he reaches the end of the building, the man slows his pace and frantically searches for his next destination. Across the way, he spots another shelled-out building. The faint sound of muffled voices approach from behind him as his focus shifts to the alleyway below. He estimates the drop to be roughly 70 feet in height. "I can do this," he says to himself. He makes one last calculation of distance before taking a few steps back, whirling around and racing back the way he had come.

Multiple heavy footsteps now approach from somewhere else in the building as the voices grow louder. The man stops near an open doorway, about 50 feet back, and takes a moment to catch his breath. "I can do this," he repeats himself. After a few deep breaths, he begins to jog towards the gap with a hint of uncertainty. Clearing his mind, he appoints his focus to maintaining an effective running technique. But the swiftly approaching footsteps provokes him into a full-on charge. He maneuvers through the obstacle course once again as he quickly closes the gap between himself and a likely plunge to his death.

With only a few feet to spare, he adjusts his speed appropriately to acquire proper footing. Taking his last step, he pushes off the edge of the building with his right foot and launches himself into the air. "OH SHIIIT!" Time and space seem to distort. To him, it feels like an eternity passes as he descends into the adjacent building, landing on his feet with a loud thud before collapsing into a shoulder-roll and ending up on his back. He takes another moment to catch his breath and make sure that he's still alive. Then, he clumsily rolls over and rises to his knees.

Four men peer down from the edge of the building he had just leaped from. Each of them are dressed in gas masks and various black clothing smudged with dust. They are visibly exhausted from the chase. One of them, a particularly tall fellow with a blonde mohawk, silently points his machete down at the lone man before pretending to cut his own throat with it; a gesture that he has obvious intentions to kill.
Then, the four pursuers disappear from view as they retreat back into the office building, footsteps fading into the distance.

The lone man rises to his feet. He dusts himself off and re-adjusts his gas mask. Finally, he turns around and continues on his way.

[MsKittyCatty]

A single woman stood in the midst of an abandoned mini mart within the city, whose windows had been smashed long ago. She wore jeans, filled with holes from wear rather than any sort of fashion choice, and a long sleeve vneck black shirt. Her boots were heavy and manly, kicking up dust on the ground as she walked through the store. Though the most catching thing she was wearing was the black gas mask protecting her tan face. Her bright green eyes shone out from the lenses as she inspected under every turned over shelf looking for canned goods. As she would bend over, her long black hair kept getting in the way, so she tied it up on top of her head and continued. There weren’t any footsteps in the dust leading in here, which to her meant it had possibly not been raided in a while and could have something inside. The longer she searched the more she realized she’d probably been wrong. She sighed heavily, the sound more menacing when filtered out of the gas mask.

Axelle was about to give up when she saw some turned over vending machines whose front glass had been broken out. Her eyes lit up when she saw a coke in the back of one and a few bags of sunchips in another. She jogged over to them, digging out the drink and food and checking the expiration dates. The coke wasn’t expired, but the sunchips had expired a year ago. She frowned heavily, but figured they couldn’t be too bad wrapped up in the foil bags. She pulled the back pack off her back, leaving her bow and quiver on and unzipped it. She stuffed the things she’d found inside and closed it, smiling to herself again as she put it back on. As she was standing back up and dusting herself off, she heard a crunch of a footstep, seemingly on glass. Her eyes widened and she glanced over to realize the noise was coming from outside the store she was in. She looked around, seeing a bathroom door open and raced to it as quietly as she could. She pressed her back against the inside wall, pulling her pistol out from the back of her jeans and holding it pointed towards the floor. Apparently, someone saw her fresh footsteps in the dust leading here. She looked down at the floor, and saw her trail leading right to the bathroom. She inwardly cursed at herself as her heart pounded and prayed whoever she’d heard was just passing by or stupid.

[Storyboy]

The pebbles of concrete roll off the roof top as a man stands on the edge of a building far above the dust cloud below. "You can almost see the sun from here." He says looking out into the horizon. "Be nice if I could just..." He holds out a hand towards the yellow sphere beyond the clouds. A sudden splash of crimson covers his arm. He chokes and tries to bring his arm back feeling the tip of a sharp blade. His sight goes black and he begins to fall.

"Not so fast." A voice says behind him as his decent is cut short by a sudden tug. Drake pulls on a string tied to the shaft of the arrow lodged into the man's throat. He is careful to pull hard enough t keep the man's body from falling but not to hard as to break the arrow and send the body over the edge. "You're not going anywhere with my arrow or my bullets." Moments later he is close enough to wrap an arm around the waist of the man and pull him s that he could lay his body against the fire escape of the building.

Drake slowly pulls the arrow from the now pale man's throat. After doing so he wipes off the arrowhead on the man's clothing that has yet to be soaked in the ivory liquid. "The head's a little loose but I can fix that." Drake says to himself. Then he pats the man down from top to bottom. He stops at the waist with an, "Ah hah." As he pulls a revolver from the mans waistline tucked at his back. Standing up he spins the chamber and pops it out. "Hmmm, died for just three bullets. What a shame." He emptied the gun and placed the rounds in his knapsack, then he tossed the gun over the edge. There was little value to it. He hardly used one and there were plenty around, it was the ammunition that was in demand.

He continued searching the body finding a poor excuse of a first aid kit and a broken gas mask. "Well no need lugging those around. Best travel light." When he finished with his use of the body he dragged it to the edge and kicked it over. More than likely the man was dead but there was no need risking a body getting back up to get you. He made that mistake once, never again.

[Sadko]

Daniel walks silently, across the small balcony, he hears commotion behind, but minds his own business, he has made a single plan; avoid anything living and get on the higher levels of Manhattan. As the thought flew across his head, he quickly emerged deeper inside the skyscraper, finding a way up.

Dan reluctantly admitted to himself, "Half of the stairs are broken, i don't wanna risk breaking my leg" he thought to himself, jumping on a small platform, stepping on the edge, pulling himself up. "The gas has literally FILLED the lower floors. No chance of coming down now." he admitted to himself, covering his mouth with cloth. Only 2 more floors till he can finally walk on the stairs safely, He rolled through the window, climbing on shelves of a once tidy cabinet.

Constant sound of water dripping somewhere sent a shivering feel towards Daniel, as he slowly walked the stairs. He sped up carefully, thinking about returning back to his hideout. But his thoughts are interrupted by someone other, adrenaline took over, Daniel quickly removed his backpack and took his fort 12, and his newly found pack of bullets in the office, he quickly brought himself to ready the pistol. In moments, he leaned on to the wall, slowly stepping closer.

He quickly grabbed a rock and threw it in the distance. With a Large noise, two nervous guys with crowbars ran towards the direction where he threw the rock, while Daniel, silently slipped deeper in to the hideout. "What was that?" one of them complained, the other answered with a tedious whimper. "Cowards.." Daniel thought, forcing a smile, carelessly forgetting about the stealth, he accidently hit an empty bottle of beer with his foot. "Oh shit!" cried one of them.

Daniel, without losing his mind showed them his pistol "YOU SEE THIS, BITCH?" Daniel shouted, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS?" Daniel continued, "No!" one of them yelled, drowning in tears. "THIS IS A FUCKING FORT-12, ONE SHOT AND YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD FOR SURE!" Daniel started exaggerating, putting the bandits into shock. Those pussies believed me, he thought, smirking at them. "DROP THE FUCKING CROWBARS" Daniel raged, nearly breaking his voice. In an instant, they threw their only weapons to the ground.

Suddenly, a man armed with the gun ran in as he heard the commotion, immediately screaming out of horror, Daniel quickly grabbed the less fortunate one by the neck and held a gun to his right temple, "Do you want to see him Die?" Daniel cried, sweating from adrenaline, put the armed guy didnt let go of his gun, and left Dan no choice, he pressed the trigger, letting go of the now lifeless body, making it fall slowly on pile of dust.

He twisted his head and took cover as the bullets whizzed, Daniel got the bitter feel, he felt guilty, but he had to, even for losing his humanity ; he had to survive.
He barely dodged as the bullets flew towards him, waiting for the chance to shoot. instantly, he shot 2 bullets at the armed man, causing him to fall suffering on the floor, the guy had no chance of surviving, he had 1 bullet in his neck and other in his stomach. Daniel, without looking in his face quickly searched him for bullets and found 7 more. Oh only if he didnt waste other bullets trying to get Daniel.

Daniel sped up, praying there was no more, but proved completely wrong, 6 Armed guys walked out confidently, Daniel knew if he'd fight them, he woudnt come out
Alive. He quickly darted towards the outer balcony, making his way through the empty beer bottles and chunks of dust, he quickly pushed himself off the edge, miraculously not getting hit by bullets, making it to the other skyscraper, taking cover behind a wall.

[Fovena]

Jackie heard an array of gunshots in the distance. For only a moment, she paused and listened. Soon the shots faded and all was silent once more. Jackie turned her attention back to the flock of birds she had been stalking for the last hour. Both her and the birds of the area had grown so use to the gun shots. They'd become so frequent Jackie was rarely worried by them, unless their proximity was obviously close. If she was any judge, she'd say whatever gunfight that broke out was at least three blocks away, a good half an hour trek over roof-tops. It was likely whoever won the fight would be busy looting for a while or tending to their wounds. Jackie had time.

Giving her air rifle another pump for good measure, she brought the gun up to her shoulder and took aim. The murder of crows had landed and were probably picking at a corpse, another uncommon situation of the area. Jackie, personally, hated the taste of crow meat, but crows were one of the biggest birds that came to the city and she didn't have the cans to waste. A particularly fat crow came into her sights and she squeezed the trigger. With a nearly inaudible pop, Jackie watched as the fat black bird flop on its side and twitch for several seconds before succumbing to its death. The other crows were unbothered by this event and continued to pick at their meal.

Taking no time to silently cheer her success, Jackie stood and shouldered her air rifle. Now, Jackie evaluated the gap between the building she was on and the one her prey had fallen. Stepping up to the edge of the building, Jackie couldn't find a suitable bridge all the way down. Nearly half the way up the build was blocked by the clouds of toxic gas the roamed the area. Cursing, Jackie scolded herself for not ensuring a way across before shooting the bird. Not entirely accepting defeat yet, Jackie made her way back to the stairwell to hopefully find something to help her across.

The stairwell was pretty empty aside from the accumulation of dust and dirt. The building appeared to hold offices of small businesses at one point, before the world ended as everyone knew it. Jackie perused one portion of the offices. Old sheets of paper filled the floor of the building. As same approachd the front desk of the section, a loud bang alerted her. Without thinking, Jackie dived over the desk and crouched down low. For several minutes there was nothing, but Jackie remained in her position. Finally, the shock left Jackie and she peaked around the desk. No movement. Suddenly, as she was about to pick herself up, voices came from the stairwell.

[Darkshadowmark]

"God damn...what day is it? Tuesday? Friday? I think I've actually lost track..."

He opened the door to his meager home near the top of an apartment building on west side and walked out into the hall. He took the smartphone he had rigged for solar power and browsed to the music player. The phone had no service, obviously, but it was still very viable as a music player. He had quite a few applications that saved battery life so he could keep it going for quite a fecking while. He went downstairs, popping in the pristine ear buds and went into a separate apartment. The apartment he went into was destroyed, walls knocked down, everything upturned, a huge hole on the far side across from the door, but it was still very useful. The balcony was still intact and he had a board duct taped to the rail to connect the balcony to another building. The entire bottom floor took in the debris from a building across the street and was completely blocked off, as was the first three floors of five. He had used debris and furniture from the other rooms to seal everything off so anybody wanting to get in had to go leaping across multiple buildings to access room 4D on the forth floor. He was in a literal safe zone as the ground floor was filled with "The Haze", which was a poisonous gas from other parts of the city. There were few buildings in the outer edge of manhattan, where he was stuck, as most were knocked down from the quake. The five or so buildings around were connected by dangerous jumps and duct taped boards of old wood. Harper's home was on the edge of the water on the far side of the haze, protected and safe from anybody stupid enough to try and get there.

Jumping across the roofs of the buildings were very common to him now, having barely any fear left to spare. He kept close to home, luring survivors into scope with cans of food that he had emptied and turned upside down. He often ate heartily and had enough ammo to last him a long while...He had found a poodle yesterday...a cockerspaniel-poodle mix to be exact. A "Cockapoo" if one felt jovial. Black in color with dark brown eyes poking out from it's long, unkempt hair. It whimpered from a splinter in it's hind leg, it's tail kept wagging, happy to finally find somebody to take care of it. It tasted like chicken when it was cooked over the fire. The sun seemed to be getting faster...every time he opened his eyes, he felt them closing yet again

Was he going insane?

Last couple weeks, he kept thinking he could hear somebody behind him, screaming. Yet there was never anybody there. Perhaps it was the ghosts of the dozens of skulls he had put a bullet through...he had sworn to protect them at one point. Put his life on the line trying to help them out of fires and rubble only to shoot them a few months later. He didn't care if it was a woman, man, retard, cripple, thug, or gang member. They were but extra food and ammo to him now...he figured that that was what he was to them as well. He was alone in his little world and he was happy with that.

He knelt down over the corpse of a little girl, a homemade spear through her heart. She had died maybe...half an hour before he got there. Somebody nearby had fallen lower than he had, gone feral. She was blonde with green eyes glazed over. She was pinned to the asphalt of the multi-story parking garage by the spear made out of sharpened wood and concrete. Blood still trickled out of her mouth...she had been reaching toward somebody when she choked and gargled on her own blood. It was a sight like this, a dead child, that made him realize that he wasn't insane...just surviving. He ran his hand over her face and closed her eyes. He took the spear out of her chest and lay her flat and put her hands together on her bloody chest. He snapped the spear into several pieces and threw it aside. He went to the top of the parking garage and pulled out his rifle, situating himself behind an old air conditioner for the former valets when they were on break. He did this so he could see over the city and be hidden at the same time. He saw several ants below him walking around, but one in particular on a neighboring roof had multiple spears on his back. A white adult, black war paint covering his naked body. He had pinned another little girl to the ground by spearing her legs...he had the black haired little girl bent over and he was releasing his tension into her most likely ripped, bloody, and destroyed genitalia, His brain exploded like any other man's skull would when hit by a .308 round. The fecker deserved to die for what he did to the little girls. He shot the base of the spears as close to the girl's skin as he could manage so she could slip out and be able to crawl away...but she didn't try to move. She got the spears out of her leg, grabbed one of the raper's spears and jabbed it through the bottom of her jaw and into her brain...committing suicide, not wanting to live with the apocalypse anymore.

Sighing and getting up, he continued on his journey to nowhere, reloading his rifle. Three bullets down, he would have to pick through the small stockpile at home to replenish his supply. He wasn't phased by the child's death as he had seen it dozens of times before from both adult and child alike. It was a sad action, but it was understandable. To live in hell or die to go to whatever purgatory may lie beyond is not a difficult choice to make. Often you had to choose the lesser of the two evils...and decide to take as many along with you as you can or to go alone. Harper? He chose to go alone when his time came.

[jimi]

Miguel wipes a fine layer of dust from the lenses of his gas mask as he cautiously wanders along an empty street. The toxic haze is particularly thick here. His range of visibility is reduced to roughly half of a city block. The sun doesn't provide much help either. Most of its light struggles to penetrate this deadly cloud of dust particles blanketing the city. The result is a dark and shadowy jungle of ruins promising of unseen dangers.

Miguel tightens his grip on the Kalashnikov AK47. He had retrieved it from his back after being chased through the high-rise office building, ten stories up. Initially, he would have just emptied a few rounds into his pursuers, but he didn't have the time, nor the distance, to fetch the assault rifle and engage. Running is an option Miguel rarely resorts to. The daytime temperatures are far too high for one to be exerting that much physical energy when fresh water is dangerously scarce. Exhaustion and dehydration are both harsh realities that he constantly fights to avoid. Either of them could mean certain death in this apocalyptic wasteland.

Approaching an overturned ambulance, Miguel slows his pace. He crouches down on one knee and takes a moment to check the surrounding area for footprints. Finding none, he rises to his feet and circles around to the rear of the vehicle. Both back doors have been crudely torn away from their hinges. Miguel peaks inside. The interior looks as though it has already been scavenged to all hell. Only a single medical kit remains - its contents strewn about. He reaches in with his right foot and kicks a couple of pill bottles, confirming that they're empty.
Suddenly, a series of faint gun shots ring out in the distance. Miguel shifts his focus toward the direction of the noise as his eyes strain to infiltrate the murky haze surrounding him. The finger of his right hand flirts with the trigger of the AK47. Only five shots remain in the clip.

[RainTheifAustin]

Evan sat atop an eletric pole that was connected to another about seventy-five yards away by a single, large, black cable that looked like it might be able to hold someone his size, if they were careful. He stared at the other pole while slipping into a crouch. He couldn't help but slide his tongue across his lips as a puffy pigeon sat on the wooden pole. He drew his flintlock silently and gripped his powder bag in the other hand. Quietly he poured the powder into the setting and then capped his pouch, then he gripped a round from his shirt pocket and pushed it just inside the barrel and then pulled the rod from under the barrel and tamped the ball into place. Once ready he placed the rod back into the gun and then raised it above his head and brought it down to his eye. He steadied his hand and aimed straight for the pigeon. He pressed his finger to the trigger and slowly squeezed it. The ball escaped the barrel and flew forward, but at and angle to the right, the round barely hit the pigeon, tearing it's back apart and bracking it's fragile spine. The plump pigeon fell inbetween the two planks that would normally be holding cables, and Evan carefully dropped into a hanging position on the cable and crawled his way across to the pigeon, he gripped it and then latched himself around the pole and used his hay hook as a point of control, he would sink it into the pole below him and crawl his way down, and then repeat this step. After a few minutes he had only made it down a quarter of the way, and the toxic haze below him made him cringe. He took a deep breath and began climbing down qucikly, dropping feet and then plunging the hook in to catch himself, he then rushed to the manhole a few feet away and jumped down into the sewers, he gasped for breath and then sat down, drawing a match from his pocket and gathering the nearby dry paper and trash. He started a small fire and began cleaning his next meal.

[MsKittyCatty]

Axelle heard heavy footsteps continue crunching out side the building. They were slow footsteps, someone much larger than herself. And the pace they were taking to come inside the building and look around told her they were tracking her, not just scavenging like she was. If they were a scavenger, they would be moving quickly, trying to get and out of the store without being noticed. This was someone hunting for those who were trying to survive. Axelle tried to calm her breathing, even trying not to breathe as the footsteps got closer, heading over to where the vending machine was. The person broke some of the glass on the half broken vending machine, as if replicating her actions. Suddenly the footsteps stopped however, and Axelle placed her finger on the trigger of her gun.

Just as she was about to turn and start firing, the footsteps started up again. This time they were headed out of the mini mart though and back towards the door. Axelle frowned heavily, blinking a few times in surprise. She glanced down at the ground, looking to see if she had indeed left foot prints to the back room she was in now, and there they were in the dust. Soon the heavy footsteps had faded, and she knew they were out of the immediate area. Still clutching her gun with its precious bullets, she slowly stepped out of the room. She glanced around, looking for what she assumed was a man who had followed her. But she saw nothing. The toxic fog was still around, but she looked at the ground, searching for the footsteps he’d left. They came into view, almost twice the size of her own. Her eyes widened and she looked around her once again. She slowly stood and began following the footsteps, retracing the man’s steps now out to the door of the mart. She looked around her and didn’t see anyone, but now she was intrigued as to whoever the person was and why they didn’t kill her. Then again, they could be counting on her tracking them and then catching her off guard before killing her. She chewed her lip, standing amongst the rubble debating on what to do.

[Storyboy]

A flash of movement. Steps clicked across the rooftops. A shadow jumps between the rooftops. Drake slides to a stop. Resting on one knee he takes a deep breath and draw his bow ready to shoot should anything come out the dust. A scarf was wrapped around his mouth but he still choked on the dust. There had been a gap between the rooftops on the buildings above too far to make in a single bound so he resulted to something he didn't want to do. Travel in the dust without a mask.

Even with a mask it was dangerous. His last one had been shot and he very well could have died if the attacker hadn't stood right in the open. He needed to get out of here. "Fuck." He whispered to himself. He hadn't been able to tell through the cloud of dust that the building along the path he had chosen was a good ten yards taller than the one he was currently on. Then to make things worse he heard something. Footsteps.

He looked around carefully, slowing his breath down to a minimum. If the city had been alive like it had been years ago something as quiet as a man's foot steps wouldn't have been audible, but with the city as empty as it was now, they echoed like drops of water in a bath tub.

Drake studied his surroundings. The building he was trying to reach was a Bowery Coffee shop as the broken sign marked. Across the street was a YMCA and next to that was a...A figure stood out in the fog amidst the parking lot of a whole foods market. He drew his arrow back all the way. Was that the source of the sound? No, there was again this time behind to the right down the street. Where was it?

"Fuck." He cursed his luck again. Then he did something he hated doing. He let the arrow go and it whizzed hitting the ground near the figure in the market's parking lot. "Hey you! I don't have time to explain myself so don't ask. There's somewhere down there and by the way your acting I doubt they're with you." He waved a hand to show himself but then he took cover by the edge of the building in case this person he was talking to decided to take a lucky shot. "If you want to make it out alive you're going to have to work with me."