Etzer had two choices, the rope, or the weaponry. Even if it meant running into a few infected, more weapons would be nice to have. He didn't know where they were being taken, and didn't know if he would need to be armed, so he took the long way through. He was just about to pass through the door when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a little girl. It reminded him of his sister. The sweet fsce, the long brown hair, it was all coming back to him. He walked over to the bloodied girl kneeling down next to her. He as unsure what to do. He had only spent months with his sister who was a little older than how this girl appeared to look, which meant she was easier to approach. He cleared his throat.

"Do you need help? Getting through. I'd be more than willing to help you."

The more he looked at the girl, the more he seemed to feel like he knew her. The silence between them was broken by screams, and rumbling through the door. It was loud, but it sounded distant. They still had time to get weapons if he and the girl hurried. The screams and rumbling continued, louder, but still distant. It didn't sound like they had reached the weapons yet, which was good, and which meant he and the girl could make it there first. There was no reply from the girl. She looked to scared to talk. He didn't want to leave her, but he needed an answer, and soon.

@XxLyraxX

Jamie smiled at Kahleen, briefly caught in a passing memory of a better time. Then her smile hardened to a tight line; being cute and cudly, nostalgic and loving, was a good way to get distracted, and being distracted was a good way to get killed or worse. "You wont ever be alone, Kal, now stick to me like toffee... I'll get us out of this, one way or the other," she said, not dwelling too much on what she meant by 'the other'.

Stepping through the door, she immediately came across the body of another soldier; his weapon wasn't on his person, but by his body was a blood stained combat knife. It took her three seconds to piece together what had happened - he'd ambushed his comrade, who had in turn shot him dead, but then who had himself became infected. It was this fallen soldier's victim that had opened fire on the survivors in the room beyond.

Holding the knife up, she felt a little safer, but not by much. She'd gut any son of a bitch that offered a chance, but then she knew aforementioned son of a bitch would be armed with something that could take her out from half a mile away. It'd do, but she'd need something more. A brief thought passed by her; she should take Kahleen's gun. Jamie had what it took to kill people, not that she'd ever done it, but the pure adrenaline rushing through her had convinced her that she was more than capable. Kahleen was a sunflower by comparison, she'd never do it unless pressed, and by then it might be too late - for both of them.

No.

Kahleen should be afforded every bit of protection that Jamie could offer, and the pistol was by far the greatest bit of kit she had. It would do for now.

With a deep breath, she started moving down the corridor, whereby she came across a four-way intersection. No signs attempted to avail her, so she went right on a hunch. Blood stains and spent shell casings littered the grated metal flooring, but no bodies presented themselves, and she became eerily suspicious. By now the battle for the Rig had died down, no gun fire echoed through the structure, and so she could only guess that a battle had been won... though there was no guessing the victor.

Passing through what appeared to be a prison block, her foot kicked something; an assault rifle, the same model that all the soldiers had been using. It was coverd in blood, and she did her best to wipe the sickly substance from the rail and handle. She knew some stuff about guns; her father was a keen enthusiast, and was able to eject the magazine. Seven bullets remained; it'd been fired almost to depletion, but where was the body?

"Babe, where are ya?" Jamie said, offering a glimpse behind her. "Stay with me."

The corridor ended with a large hydraulic door, and a sign above it read 'Armory'. Perhaps her luck was about to rapidly change?







"You chose wisely John," Iroquois said, offering his best smile. "Looks like your friends are more inclined towards dying."

He pocketed the two magazines the survivor had passed to him, not bothering to mention anything about it.

"Colonel," he said, speaking into his headset. "How many of these boso's do you need?"

"One will do," came the distorted reply of Dr. Morgan. "But the more, the better our chances."

Iroquois sighed, and looked back down at the survivors. A blonde haired amazon-wannabe had lost the plot, and gone for the belly of the beast. Another had followed her. The rest of the survivors were busy counting their stars and being all compassionate with those who'd been less fortunate. A quick bit of metal arithmetic told him that this John fellow was going to be all that he could salvage.

And right on cue, the Colonel's voice blared through his headset. "Pliskin! You've got inbound; six hostiles. They're closing on Survivor Processing, from the de-contamination area."

"Damn," the grizzled marine Captain managed, flicking his cigar away. His rifle came up. "Alright," he called out over the survivors, "six crazies heading you way. Climb the rope, or fight them off. Either way, this guy here is the only one bright enough to have seen sense." A strand of guilt hit the Captain's iron-clad mind, and he decided to do what he could. He flung his M4A1 over the side of the railing, and it clattered noisily on the metal floor below. He chucked his spare magazines too. "God speed."

Turning to John, Iroquois nodded, "time to go, follow me."

The Captain moved through the door, back onto the Rig's exterior walkway, and started making his way back up the structure. He'd drawn his Colt 1911, but wasn't expecting too much trouble. He and John came to another door, and got themselves back inside the Rig.

"Helipad is straight ahead; take a left at the end of the corridor," he said. "It's bes-"

The bright flash of an assault rifle's rage lit up from what looked like a fallen soldier a few yards away; the Crazy was laying on the floor at an odd angle, his one working arm poised towards John and Iroquois. The bullets tore into the marine Captain's chest, throwing him against the wall.

John fumbled for a response as time slowed itself down; his life rushing before his eyes. Somewhere in the distance, the humming sound of a helicopter's rotor blades could be heard.

The girl wouldn't answer. She was to afraid to move. Etzer didn't want to do it, but he had to leave her if he wanted to survive. He was running to the door when he heard the soldier from above tell them that there were six of the infected coming their way, and he dropped his rifle on the ground. Etzer rushed over to pick it up, and the moment he did, the roar of a rifle sounded through the cell, and he saw the captain be thrown away from his position up above.

Etzer ran through the open door. On the floor, another soldier lay on the floor with a bloodstain on his chest. Etzer kept running, his gun pointed down. He nearly fired it off when he came across two women standing in front of the hydraulic door, labeled, 'Armory'

"So are we gonna go in? We can't be waiting out here all day." That's when Etzer heard the sounds coming from behind the door, the awful screams and yelling, and the clanking of metal that came from the guns being loaded, the infected would come out that door at any moment. Etzer stood next to the door, out of sight if they came out, ready to shoot the infected that would be progressing to Survivor Processing. He took a nervous shaky breath, and waited.

"Helipad is straight ahead; take a left at the end of the corridor," he said. "It's bes-"

In a split second John was thrown back into the chaos, all of his hope washed away in a single second. Iroquis fell onto the wall unable to complete his sentence, crimson liquid flowed out of the holes in his chest, and his body slowly slid to the floor. John knew he didn't have time panic. The thunderous gunshots had left him to dazed however, so he had only a moment to think. With the rifle at his hip he pulled the trigger, blindly returning fire spraying six bullets into the hallway, before dashing back out the door, and planting himself firmly against the wall. "Fuck," he exhaled, realizing that he had been holding his breath. There was groaning in the hallway, followed by a soft chuckle, and something that sounded like it was being shuffled around. John managed to build up the courage he needed to peek around the corner. The sight chilled him to the bone.

The infected soldier was crawling towards him, pulling himself inch-by-inch, fingernails finding traction on the floor. One hand pulled his body, whilst the other dragged his rifle behind him. "Come here, boy. I've got a present for you!” His voice alternated between high and low notes, he was singing to John. “Aaaand it’s LEAD!” John ducked back behind the wall. Three bullets zipped past him, narrowly missing his head. Still singing, “Don’t be so shy now!”

John, without looking, fired around the corner. Four shots blasted out of his rifle, two hit the infected. One tore his ear to shreds, and the other ripped his shoulder apart. The soldier only briefly stopped his advance before continuing, seemingly unaffected by the damage. John could hear him giggle, and he soon realized why. His finger was still squeezing the trigger tightly, but the gun only responded with harmless clicking. “Out of ammo?” He voice filled desperation. His fingers fumbled over the gun, looking for the switch that would eject the clip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Don’t worry, I have plenty of bullets for you. Just stick that pretty little face out for me, let me see them pretty lips!” The infected continued taunting him, John did his best to tune him out. The shuffling was getting louder, the infected was nearly at the door.

“Fuck you, I found it!” John ejected the clip, snatched up his last remaining magazine, and fed it into the rifle. With a little hesitation, he peeked the rifle around the corner and pulled the trigger once more. The rifle kicked in his arms, and the bullets rocketed out of the gun. Eight bullets shot around the room, most ricocheted off the walls and embedded in them, but two found their marks. John slowly peeked his head around the corner. The infected was slumped over, blood spilling out of his body. Two new holes had appeared, one in the chest and the other in his forehead. “Fucking piece of shit military, was safer on my own…” his voice trailed off, as his eyes wandered over to the captain.

Iroquis had curled up into the fetal position, and bled out during the gunfight. It was a sad sight for the once intimidating man. John had only known for a few minutes, but he still felt a pang of guilt at his death. The man had risked his life for him, granted he had been under orders to do so. The guilt, however, did not stop John from stripping him of his vest and relieving him of his handgun. “Sorry,” John offered as he took the headband from the dead soldier. It might not have looked as good on John, but it did help to keep his shaggy hair from poking him in the eye. “Rest in peace.” John decided that he would mourn later, not only for Iroquis, but for all the people that had died that day. “Gotta keep moving,” He told himself over and over. He placed the handgun inside the vest and cautiously moved forward through the corridor. “Straight and then a left.” The helicopter was getting louder and louder, as John moved past the dead soldier that he had killed. Eventually he made it to the turn. He rounded it slowly, cautious of danger, but still hopeful that his rescue was imminent.

The sound of guns being loaded, and the bleats and cheers of crazed soldiers could be heard clearly through the door to the armory. Jamie had gambled, almost gotten her share, but had lost everything in a single second; the armory was occupied, there would be no Hollywood-style montage concerning the three survivors arming themselves to the teeth.

A voice, high on the bloodlust of a crazed mind, echoed down the corridor. "WOOP! WOOP! LET'S BRING ON THE PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

Jamie looked back the way they had come; she knew the crazies had come for those who were still in Survivor Processing, though they were out of sight, beyond the T-section. If the three of them headed back, and took a left, then no doubt they'd run into them and get gunned down. Further more, trying to dodge them by traversing the t-section might result in them being spotted and chased down. Then again, what else was there? Who knew how many were in the armory?

"Awww fuck," Jamie said, throwing her rifle down in resignation. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The door suddenly hissed, its hydraulic mechanisms pushing and grinding. A red light above the door frame turned green.

Jamie picked up her rifle quicker than she'd thrown it, and as the armory door started to open, she screamed in primal fury. Her rifle rattled briefly, seven bullets sent into the armory and beyond.





Jeremy laughed hysterically as a rifle bullet suddenly tore off his cheek, shattering his jaw and splintering teeth. The pain was hilarious! It felt so right! REALLLLY RIGHT! He hopped back, away from the door, and threw himself behind a sterile metal counter - on which were place several rifle magazines and hand grenades.

Ted wasn't so lucky, because he'd been standing right in front of the door as it opened. He fell backwards, giggling as blood frothed from his mouth.

Former USMC Captain Dawson didn't even flinch as a rifle shot ricocheted off the weapon cabinet, narrowly missing his head. Instead, he snickered, but barely offered a reaction beyond that. Instead, he patiently reached for a LAW (one-shot bazooka, basically) that he'd just dug out of its reinforced casing and started flicking up the sights.

Jeremy, his face a ruin of blood and bone, aimed his rifle at Jamie, Kahleen and Etzer. It appeared the blonde femme-fatal was out of bullets, judging by the funny way she was cursing and reaching for a knife.

It seemed the three had but a moment to kill Jeremy, before he tore them all to shreds. And then of course, there was the matter of Captain Dawson prepping an anti-tank weapon in the background.





"WOOP! WOOP! LET'S BRING ON THE PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

This was the last thing the civilians in Survivor Processing heard before a group of soldiers appeared at the door, their faces all smiles and madness. They didn't immediately open fire, instead they eyed each of their victims, as if assessing the situation - a rare display of restraint from the infected, who were never known for their hesitation.

"Well, what have we here?" asked one of the soldiers, stepping forwards. He was a muscled warrior, made grey through long years - perhaps a physically fit 60, or a mundane 50. "Looks like we got some people who don't wanna join the fun."

"Let's FUCKING KILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL them?" barked one of the other soldiers, a large black male with biceps the size of an average man's head.

"Naw man," the first soldier butted in. "Let's have some fun," he said, smiling crazily, and eyeing a a short blonde haired woman. She was armed, a pistol in her hand, but she had frozen like a hare caught in the head lights - or maybe she was waiting for them to make a move? Oh no, wait, she seemed to be shielding a little girl behind her. "I'm gonna fuck you in the ass, bitch!"

His last remark seemed to snap the woman back into reality, and her pistol flicked up in a move reminiscent of John Wayne's western flicks... for all the good it did her. The group of crazed marines opened fire, their assault rifles reducing the woman into a pile of minced meat in seconds. The rest of the civilians panicked, and the soldiers turned on them, unleashing an indiscriminate barrage into the mass of bodies. Man and women fell, perforated and bloody from bullet wounds, until none remained standing.

"Aww, that wasn't as nearly as fun as I thought it'd be," the first soldier snickered. "Ah well."

A woman screamed, though not from inside Survivor Processing, but from beyond - in the direction of the armory.

"Huh, looks like we got some rats outside. One of ya stay here!"

And with that, five of the marines exited the room as quickly as they had come, hollering bloody murder. The last marine shrugged, and started pacing among the corpses. His rifle was held lazily at his side, and every now and then he would stop to laugh randomly. Trouble was the last thing he was expecting.

So in measured breaths, Nataliya Arnikova plotted her next move from between two still-warm bodies of her former cell mates. The rope still hung from the walkway, and it suddenly seemed like a great idea... but that marine would have to go first. She could either pounce him as he neared her, or cause some kind of distraction.

And what of the young girl? Had she survived? Did her welfare even enter the Russian woman's mind at this particularly stressful time?







The Blackhawk veered left, and then right; two stinger missiles narrowly missing its sleek exterior. Inside, a team of twelve U.S Navy Seals hunched together in grizzled quiet as their pilot fought a war of evasive maneuvers with the Rig's new residents.

Pulling up the rear, was an Apache Gunship, sent from God to unleash divine justice upon those who would threaten its unarmed sister. A rocket pod screeched in short order, and a cannon thudded, as the hovering death machine coated the northern side of the Rig in fire and shrapnel. No more stingers came after that.

The Blackhawk touched town on the helipad; its contents already jumping onto the concrete before it had touched down. The Navy Seals were a relic of a world long lost - humanity's best, and for all that the members of the team knew, they were the last of the last.

Their mission? Extract an immune survivor... the first such reporting since the crisis had started.

The Seals were met with resistance the moment they'd disembarked; Crazies rained down fire on them from the various platforms that dotted the structure. Humanity's best fired back in short order, their training and discipline quickly dropping hostiles left and right.

Meanwhile, the Apache continued to prowl, firing at anything that showed itself on its heat sensors. There was little regard for blue-on-blue incidents at this stage of the War. The Rig had been consigned to its fate; anything that wasn't a civilian was getting a good pounding, regardless of what it had to say about matters.

But the crazies kept coming; the virus somehow knew collectively that it faced its first serious threat, and the Seals were having a hard time getting away from the helipad. They fired, cursed and grunted as the mother of all gun battles erupted.

The Apache made a pass, unleashing cannon fire, and blasting several of the infected to kingdom come before withdrawing to avoid a stinger missile shot from the Rig's interior.

If the survivors wanted off the structure, then they were going to have to run the gauntlet of besieged Seals and enraged Crazies. It was a war zone out there.

Etzer was ready, the door hissed, and a green light turned red, signaling the door would open soon. It slid open, revealing infected soldiers. The woman next to him fired fury into the armory, taking out one of them, and ripping one's fsce to shreds, but he still stood.

Etzer heard screams and gunshots behind him. The infected have gotten to survivor processing, and would no doubt be coming for them next. They needed to get into the armory and lock themselves in it. One of them was reaching for a LAW, while the other dove behind a counter, with magezines and grenades. Grenades. Etzer pointed his rifle in the direction of the grenades and fired. As soon as the bullets made contact with the grenades, the room filled with bangs and explosions. After a few seconds, the explosions had stopped, and the results were the crazed soldiers reduced to a bloody pulp. Their remains were splattered across the room like red paint, and the trio was free to walk inside.

Etzer searched for the control panel, but when he found it, it too was a victim of the explosion. Their only way of escape was a door at the end of the armory. There were still guns in the reinforced sections of the armory. When Etzer was done with a short rummage through the armory, he found himself armed with a new M4A4 with eight magazines clipped to a strap, a Colt M1911 pistol, a flare gun, and strapped to his belt, a combat knife. There was rather loud talking coming from survivor processing, but Etzer couldn't quite make out what they were saying. All he knew was they had to get out of here. On the door there was a red button. Etzer pressed it, and the door slid open, revealing a dark corridor. He turned to the two women.

"Are you coming or not? The rest of the infected will be here any moment." He turned back to the dark hallway. He fired a flare down the hallway, it's light revealing no doors except at the very end, and that it was clear of infected. Etzer started walking down the hallway, towards the dim light of the flared that would soon fizzle out.

Kahleen was in a state of shock. As soon as the grenades exploded she snapped back to reality. It was time for her to get strong. For her sake and for Jamie's too.
The brunette woman held onto her gun, it was ready to shoot whoever might endanger them. She nodded to Etzer. "Let's go." With a look to her lover she shoved a bunch of ammunition into her hands. She herself grabbed some magazines for her gun too.

Kahleen walled into the dark corridor. It was the only way to go and hesitation wouldn't bring them any good right now. For all they knew the crazies could be on their way to them already.

"Stay together, guys." She put on a brave face as the adrenaline rushed through her veins.

Was there even a safe place on earth anymore? Or would they need to run and fight for the rest of their scared lives?

The squad of crazed soldiers didn't slow their pace, nor did they give a thought to tactical doctrine. They had rushed down the corridors, their broken minds still possessing intimate knowledge of the Rig's layout. They knew they had survivors in the armoury, and judging by the explosion that just rocked through the structure, they knew they were missing out on the fun!

The squad reached the T-Section, and bounded right; the armory was ahead, smoke billowing from the open door. They cheered and laughed, and started running forwards, firing their rifles sporadically. Bullets pinged off the metal work, ricocheting from the walls.

---

Jamie had finished loading her rifle, and securing a bunch of magazines to the equipment belt of her body armor. She'd also found herself some grenades, and hooked them to her chest. There were plenty of other guns and awesome looking hardware in the armory, but she had no idea how any of it worked, so she decided to stick with the one that had served her well so far.

Then sound of boots on metal startled her, and she threw herself behind the counter, grabbing Kahleen. "I'm not going anywhere until we've killed these sons of bitches, I'm sick of running," she hissed, poising her rifle over the top of the counter and looking down its sights. "Kal, shoot anything that moves."

A group of marines turned the corner ahead, and started running and firing. Jamie depressed the trigger of her rifle, sending bullets towards the direction of their attackers. Two of the marines fell, their bodies protecting those behind from Jamie's shooting.

Rifles clattered, and Jamie was forced to duck for cover as bullets tore into the metal counter.

"WOOP! WOOP! LET'S BRING ON THE PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

Nat froze. Her knees bent, her breathing rapid but quiet. Thank goodness she wasn’t in the front of the line, between the huddled bodies she could just barely make out the crazed soldiers from the crowd. They were talking amongst themselves for a moment, making jokes and laughing. Nataliya made eye contact with one of the infected, and it made her blood run cold. Her body tensed, and she prepared for the inevitable. Everyone with a weapon had left already, and in her distraction to find a weapon of her own, had left her far behind. Her own stupidity had gotten her in trouble. No, not in just trouble. In dead trouble. Nataliya swallowed hard. Out of the crowd she could just make out the blonde hair of the girl she had spoken to earlier. Unfortunately for her, that girl was front and center of the crowd.

"I'm gonna fuck you in the ass, bitch!"

In seconds the girl snapped out of her shock and open fired on the crowd of crazies. That was a mistake. In seconds the girl was gone, blown into a pulp by the infected soldiers. Nataliya slapped a hand over her mouth, both to keep her from screaming and to keep her from throwing up. The crowd panicked, they started pushing, shouting, trying to make a run for it but to no avail. After they were done with the blonde, the infected opened fire on the crowd.

Nataliya had no time to think, she didn’t spare a breath, her knees gave out and she dropped like a rock to the ground. Laying on her stomach, she closed her eyes tightly and felt bodies drop around her. She thought of the girl that had hidden beneath a fallen body earlier and held her breath, hoping the same tactic would work. Something warm and wet dripped down her back. Nataliya closed her eyes and came face to face with a woman, maybe in her late 30s, her eyes still wide open, her face blow off just below her left nostril. Nataliya whimpered and tried to look away without making too much noise. Peering over the dead woman, she noticed a small glint of metal not too far off. In the commotion, the pistol had been kicked about 10 feet from her. Nat watched the marine with one eye as he paced between the bodies, after his other infected pals left. Every time he would near her, Nat would hold her breath and lay perfectly still until he walked away. For minutes he circled the room until she came up with a plan.

Nataliya waited patiently until the marine had circled past her and to the other end of the room. As his back was turned, she wasted no time in shimmying into a fetal position and sliding the shoe off of her right foot. The gunshots in the distance masked any sounds of her moving, and also distracted the marine enough to not notice her movements. It was obvious the infected soldier was getting restless in the room, and wanted to join in on the fun. Nat waited for him to walk by again, gripping the shoe under her so he wouldn’t suspect anything had happened. As soon as his back was turned, Nataliya whipped the shoe as far as she could through the door. It ricochet off the wall and landed out of sight in the hall.

“What the FUCKING SHIT was that?”

The marine took the bait and followed the noise to the door. Nataliya sprung from her position, and lunged for the pistol. The feeling of the cold metal against her palm almost made Nat break out in tears. She let out a nervous laugh before the stomping of feet suddenly brought her back to attention.

“I KNEW YOU BITCHES WERE STILL ALIVEEEEE!”

The marine screamed as he rounded the corner. Nat wasted no time firing almost all of the remaining ammo into the infected marine.

“Jesus...fucking christ!” John fell to the ground as the rig shook, the heavy artillery was taking it’s toll. “How the hell…” His escape to safety was right in front of him, and yet getting there seemed like an impossible task. There were infected, explosions, and a hailstorm of bullets. John remained on the ground, clinging to the relatively safe spot; the floor was cold on his face. He could charge across chaos, and pray not to get hit. Or he could wait for the soldiers to come to him, but what if they didn’t make it? “Shit!” He grunted without effort, pushing himself off the ground and onto his feet. He knew he had to run, reach the soldiers, and somehow manage to not get hit by a stray bullet. John was thankful, that at the very least, the infected weren’t focused on him, they were busy with the Seals. It would get give him a few extra seconds of leeway.

With a deep breath, and eyes focused in on the helipad, John bolted out of the door. He ran at full speed, his footsteps hitting the ground as quick as they ever head, but no one could hear them over the gunfire; not even John. Everything was happening faster than he could process it, and before he knew it there was an infected soldier in front of him. He came to an abrupt stop, as they soldier knocked him on his ass. John rubbed his jaw in a daze, the feeling of a fist lingered on his cheek.

“Well helllllloo!” His deranged smile was spread from ear to ear. He was already rearing his arm back, as he readied himself for another strike; a savage glint in his eye.

John groped the ground around him, he had dropped his rifle in the confusion, but he didn’t know that it had slid out of his reach. Then he remembered the handgun, it was still in his vest. By the time his fingers wrapped around the grip, it was too late. The Seals had beat him to the quick draw. Blood spurted out of the infected’s chest, and he slumped over; nearly falling on John in the process. John didn't waste another second. He jumped to his feet, quick like bunny, and started running to the Seals. He neglected to pick the rifle back up in the process.

The helipad was nearly in arms length when it happened. John was waving his arms in the air, “I’m not infected! Two plus two is four!” John shouted in desperation, but it also drew the attention of the crazies. One in particular immediately fired at John. The majority of the cluster missed him, and ricocheted away, but one bullet grazed the back of his leg. The sudden impact sent John stumbling into cover behind the Seals, “Fuck I think I got hit!” He frantically started patting his legs down, while the battle raged on.

"I'm not going anywhere until we've killed these sons of bitches, I'm sick of running," Jamie hissed as she grabbed Kahleen. Heavy footsteps came their way. Is she crazy? We need to get away! Now! But Jamie didn't intend to leave, in fact she made pretty clear that she was gonna fight them down.

"Kal, shoot anything that moves." Right! The gun. Kahleen took the gun and held it up high, waiting for the crazies to cross the corner. Her heart was beating in her ears. Her whole body screamed to move and run, but she stood with the gun in her hands.

Ducked behind the counter she heard firing before she even saw the crazies. Her ears rang from the loud noise. Her girlfriend answered the firing with no hesitation and two marines dropped onto the floor. Kahleen breathed in and then out very slowly, everything disappeared from her mind. There was just her and this gun. She didn't hear the firing anymore, she didn't care about the headache building quickly. A breath in, and out... she shot. And hit one right into the forehead - well she planned to hit him in the chest, but okay. That was her only good shot though, all the other tries went straight into the wall, not even touching the crazies the slightest bit.

She shook her head, concentrating she fired the rest of the magazine into the direction of the marines. Those people who were suppossed to protect them. A bullet almost hit her head. She yelped and touched her burning ear. Blood was on her fingertips. It didn't seem bad, just a little scratch, but the bullet left her ear burning.

She was lucky it was literally just a scratch. Could have been worse. Could get worse any second...

Etzer was at the door when he heard the screaming and yelling and gunshots. His hand was on the door prepared to open it. He could leave them behind with the marines and go on to try to get to the helipad in time, or he could delay himself to help them. He also didn't know what was behind the door, and could use the extra backup/meat shield.

"Goddamnit!" Etzer turned around, heading back for the armory. The light was shining through the wide open door, and he could see what was going on from where he was standing. They had to dive behind a counter, and one of the chicks' ear was bleeding. Without warning, he pulled the pin from the grenade and threw it into the smoke coming from the doorway leading back to survivor preceding. After that,meh started firing his magazine into the smoke, followed by an explosion from the grenade. The ceiling of the hallway to survivor processing caved in, leaving them with only one way left to go.

"Hurry up, I don't want to spend anymore time dealing with these goddamn freaks!" Etzer then ran back through the hallway he just came. Thats the last time I'm saving them!