[color=red][h3]Madison Ripley[/h3][/color][hr]With a scream of rage and pain, Madison pulled herself from the floor and threw herself at the wall outside the room that John had stumbled out from. Her thickly gloved fingers went to her cheek and she felt the rough texture of the rubber on her tongue. Its taste was metallic, and she could feel the cold air on her teeth. She shuddered, and whimpered as she pulled her hand away covered in bright red. She recalled the gunshot that floored her, she remembered seeing her cheek explode in a small cloud of red. Then the pain came. The burning, stinging pain that consumed the left side of her face like a flash-fire. 

She let loose a short scream, but cut it short as she felt her cheek tearing more. A small noise of panic emerged from her lips, her axe dropping to her side as she removed her gloves and rifled through the bag over her shoulder for the first-aid kit. Tape gauze, absorbent pads and disinfectant came out in shaky hands. The green chemical burned as she applied it to her skin via the folded bundle of cloth. Her skin and flesh screamed as she held it there, tears welling up in her eyes, before she taped it up. It would have to do. She had not prepared for something like this. She should have been prepared for something like this. With a whimper, she donned her mask.

The hallway was still slightly noisy, the dead shambling at the barricade and the gunshots serving to further excite them. There were too many problems to be dealt with. Too many variables to take into account. How was she going to survive, Madison thought as she picked her axe up again and listened into the room. John was in there. She could hear his breathing, labored and heavy. The man had always hated her, for doing the work that she did. She had always hated him in return, and his mother, for being so abrasive and volatile. Like a boil on the back of the country. How could he imply that she was beneath him? She was twice the man he'd ever be.

The barricade was under siege and she replied in kind, violently burying her axe in one Stage One's neck before wrenching it out and hopping back as it grabbed for her. The bone parted with some effort as she split another's skull in two, dropping it straight to the floor. Her arms were getting tired. They were beginning to burn. She hopped back once more, lashing out with a boot as one caught hold of her suit. Inside she screamed. Screamed and cried. On the exterior, she hacked away at the first Stage One, severing its spinal cord and leaving it to flop to the ground, head rolling on a flap of skin and strips of sinew. She gave the last one a boot to the chest, sending it back onto the barricade where it stayed, impaled on a broken chair leg. As her battle-fever subsided, her sense of mortality returned, and she gibbered to the marine, Mr. Grayeson, from the wall outside the room John had holed up in once again.

[color=red][b]"He shot at me. He shot at me and he hit me. How could he... how could he shoot another person?"[/b][/color] Madison mumbled and rambled, speech picking up speed as she took her axe to the side and picked out her stun-gun. [color=red][b]"A bad person. A bad person that needs to be set straight. Like a bad dog. Set him straight and he'll come right soon after. Just like Daddy taught."[/b][/color] The girl hyperventilated as she spared a look at the barricade. It was holding for now. The immediate problem had to be dealt with. Madison looked over the hallway, eyes trying to pass over the dead preacher. She talked carefully, feeling the searing pain still in her torn cheek as she spoke out loud, partially to herself, partially to those listening.

[color=red][b]"We need- we have to get... do you need help? I can help. I can help, I can help."[/b][/color]