[WILL "Cableguy" Sampson] [Downtown Raccoon] [Tuesday, September 24th, 1998]
[HP 100/100] [AMMO: None] Slot 1: empty Slot 2: empty Slot 3: empty Slot 4 Memento:[Cut Cable:] A short piece of cable with exposed wire on both sides. Possibly usable, with some repairs.
Will ceased repairs on the train cables and promptly ran in the direction of police sirens and shrill, dying screams. There was a definite commotion in the downtown area of RC, and although Will ran for several yards towards the source of the screams, they only got louder and more panicked. As Will turned the corner onto [ENNERDALE & EMA STREET], he witnessed a handful of police officers aiming their gun at two men wrestling in the open streets. One of the brawling men seemed to be bleeding from the mouth, and had a slightly green, nauseated complexion. (Probably a drunkard, Will thought.)
The aggressive alcoholic assaulted the other man, who wore a two-piece pinstripe suit. The businessman was now clearly frantic, his strength obviously failing him; the businessman was having trouble holding back the violent haggard. The violent, homeless individual held him by the torso, and would not let go, much to the discomfort of the professionally-dressed businessman. The bloodied vagrant began baring his teeth at his victim, like a rabid dog. The victim made the mistake of trying to punch the hobo in the face, but the instant the businessman's arms swung back for the punch, the deranged creature lunged at the other man's neck.
Confusion and horror were evident on the businessman's face; as he pried the insane drunkard off him, off came a slice of his own neck, still caught between the bloody maniac's teeth. The creature backed off momentarily, appearing to savor the sinew it tore from the businessman's throat. It was at this moment that Will recalled local reports of a "cannibal disease" affecting the Raccoon City hospital, and he also recalled the possibility of this being a bacterial infection of some sort, although the Raccoon Weekly did tend to sensationalize some headlines to increase readership of its newspaper.
"Guuurglllrh...SHOOT...glurgh....HIM!" the businessman managed to spit out two words between the sounds of him coughing up his own blood.
Will backed away several meters from the gruesome scene and ducked behind a Raccoon Police Department cruiser. He looks helplessly into the RPD officer's eyes: [Will:]"F-f-fuck! Did that sick guy just bite that man in the neck?"
[Officer:]"All civilians must be vacate the streets. It's not safe here, get the fuck outta here kid! Find somewhere safe to hide until this blows over. RUN!" the officer shooed Will away as if he was a young child. The officer's badge said 'Branagh', Will made a mental note of that as he fled east. Where the hell was Will going to find safety among the outbreak? Home? His apartment complex had over 40 tenants, if even 1 of them was infected.... Mom? Dad? No, Will had no family in Raccoon City. Will headed towards the only other venue, besides the trainyard, he and his coworkers frequented -- "Hopefully the guys are ok are still getting hammered at [JACK'S BAR]. I'm gonna head over there."
"And on today's news, there have been reported over 4 dozen more cases of cannibalism in the streets. Most of the perpetrators have been apprehended and quarantined as per protocol. We have yet to find a cure for this mass hysteria that pushes someone to perform such acts. But rest assured, the .....*screen tears with buzzing sounds*..... are still .....*More buzzing*..... they guarantee .....*Buzz*..... cure .....*Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz*....."
Rik was lying on the bed, his belt tightened around his right arm, a syringe laying on his left side. A pink hairpin danced on the fingers of his left hand just above his head. Every time he thought about going down that path again that was the only thing that pulled him back into the light. The rewards that came from resisting the urge were far more important to him than temporary satisfaction. Removing the belt from his left arm, he pocketed the pin, took the remote and turned off the TV. He was currently staying in a crappy hotel with worn down furniture and walls, no hot water, creaking floor tiles, bed and doors but worst of all, the TV was complete garbage. It barely picked up any signal with its burned antenna on top of it and when it did pick signals the news channel was the only thing it could play. He had to go check on them. With all the chaos going on he had to make sure they were okay, that his hope was still living. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, both hands on his head he remembered.
*Flashback* Rik got up from the table and pulled her chair back, she responded with a courteous smile. "So, I hope you enjoyed the dinner. Was hoping that next time we could go to the movies together. Even take Meridith along? What'd'ya say?" "I'm busy next week, the working hours are terrible extending up until midnight."-she saw Rik take a breath as if to say something before she quickly added-"Don't worry about Meridith, she'll stay with her grandparents as usual." It was clearly obvious how disappointed he was but he didn't insist. She had already taken a chance with him, for him to redeem himself. He had time, he would make sure this worked. He accompanied her next to a taxi. "I love spending time with you and Meridith. No matter how long it takes I will prove to you that I'm worthy of her, worthy of you both." With a meek smile she got close to him and kissed him in the cheek. "Good night Rikkard."- and off she went. As the taxi drove away he could only stand and look after it. He could do this, he would do this.
Getting dressed, a dark green jacket, black jeans somewhat baggy, brown shoes, his wrist watch, wallet and cell, he left the house. Before turning the door he decided to take one more thing. Going back and opening the drawer next to his bed he pulled out a hand gun, 20 bullet clip, fully loaded, along with a handful of bullets from the open box next to it. He pocketed them all and tucked the gun back under his jeans. His eyes made contact with a bag of white powder just behind the box. He shouldn't...he was already over it. 2 more things...he thought to himself as he also pocketed the small bag of drugs in an inside pocket of the leather jacket.
The hotel he was staying at was in the block surrounded by the Fisson street. A small rundown apartment building with an even more rundown grumpy manager. Ignoring the warnings of the receptionist of the dangers outside he hurriedly made for his car. It was parked 2 streets away due to lack of parking place near the hotel. "On second thought..."-he said to himself as he turned around and decided to make the trip on foot. There were too many obstacles, trashes, bodies lying on the ground which he hoped were sleeping hobos, for the car to even get out of the its parking space. Their house was directly in across the south side of the park. A short walk if he was fast enough. He was too in a hurry to notice the lying figure being beaten and clubbed to death just a few meters in an alleyway left of him. Only when he passed close to it did he hear the cries. Turning to them, they seemed to be a bunch of boys, teenagers at most. Bottle of alcohol in hand and melee weapons in the other. "HEY! STOP THAT! GET AWAY FROM HIM!" The boys noticed Rik and they all turned to him, one of them tapping his bloody baseball bat on his left hand. "You want to take his place?" There were 5 of them, none appeared to be carrying a hand gun and they were clearly looking for trouble. It would waste too much time to take them one by one so instead... Pulling out the gun and pointing it at them he said once more:"Leave, now." At first they backed up a little, then they looked at each other, then they all burst out in laughter. "D'you even have the balls to use that you old cu..*POW*.."- the gun shot echoed through the alley walls as the kid fell back on his ass holding his right shoulder. Crying followed after. No one waited to help him up, they all ran as fast as they could with the last kid limping as fast as he could behind them. Now that they were gone he approached the unconscious man and placed a finger on his neck, trying to find a pulse. None. He was too late. Turning his back on the dead body he made for his wife's house. If he had only noticed him sooner maybe the man would be still breathing. Turning back to look at the corpse again...nothing...here was no corpse. "What the.." Maybe the man wasn't dead after all. He saw a trail of blood leading to where the teens were headed. He had more pressing matters than to play Sherlock. No in a frantic rush he was half running for the house. That guy, he could swear he was dead. That whole thing had put him on edge. Passing the bar he carried on until reaching an intersection of alleyways with one on his left side leading back. There he heart screams, trash cans crashing and a loud cry. Rushing to the alley he saw the kids again, but now the old man along with the kid he shot in the arm were on top of the other 2 teens while another pair were lying motionless on the concrete blood pooling around them. "BACK THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEM!"- he yelled at the homeless man and the other teen. They didn't seem to listen. Firing a shot next to them, hitting a can he started again-"I SAID GET THE FUCK OFF OR THE NEXT BULLET IS IN YOU!"- and to that the homeless man turned his head, meat stretching from the kid's body to his mouth, blood dripping on his chin and he turned to Rik with a feral gaze. His head was half smashed, how could he still be alive. After the brief pause the man returned to his dinner. Police sirens could be heard rushing close by as 2 police officers exited their vehicle and aimed their gun at the cannibals. "HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND MOVE AWAY FROM THE BODIES!"- was their first and final warning before they were both filled with lead. How could police shoot others so freely, cannibals or not. What reason could they have. These man were sick and needed treatment, not to be put down. Through all the commotion Rik had managed to get away and backtrack until he found his way in front of the bar. It was all a haze how he got there, sat on a chair and ordered a shot. What the hell was happening?
Bigby sat there in his truck with his eyes closed. He would not get out of his truck and utterly break the person who had hit his truck. The dumbass who had totaled his truck because they couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the road. Multiple tons of metal, plastic, and cloth...and they can't look ahead... He thought before his eyes snapped open. With a squeal of stressed metal he shoved his door open. Well that was good, the metal wasn't welded together from the impact. The other vehicle was smoking while his trucks bed was half collapsed.
"Didn't even touch the brakes..." He muttered to himself while stroking his beard. He turned from the crash to the occupant of the other vehicle and could only see airbag through the window. Hell he wouldn't be surprised if they were dead. That kind of impact could push the engine into the front seats. The airbags started to deflate and revealed something he didn't like the looks of. A person was thrashing in their seatbelt, their lower body crushed like he figured it would be. But the only sound was an oddly savage growl and grunts. The person should have been screaming their head off before succumbing to tremendous blood-loss. A person would survive barely five minutes with both arteries in the legs so messed up. It didn't help the persons eyes were red tinged and milky like the dead.
He could hear sirens in the distance over the feral growls but they weren't getting closer. Actually...the city sounded pretty quiet. The normal din people made was gone. Popping open his nearly destroyed tool chest in the back of his truck he pulled out his normal deterrent of choice. It looked like someone had whittled a log down into a club shape and stuck and X of steel down its center to make a wooden flanged bludgeon. To hold it together so it didn't split were metal bands that had charred the wood. There wasn't a law against having a weapon, it was always about concealed weaponry.
"Well if they have a problem with it I'll just ask for an escort..." He muttered. The city was making him feel uneasy. It had this air of panic and fear. Thanks for the empathy mom.... He thought as he started a light job towards his favorite bar. He looked at the closest street sign and made a note that he was on Ennerdale Street. Up ahead on the right was the rear of the police station, so he'd be coming up on Fisson Street soon.
When he took the turn onto Fisson he gave a slow blink. Up ahead was a single person sort of wobbling while stationary in the middle of the road. "Bit early to be that wasted ain't it?" He called out while eying his surroundings. The figure ahead turned slowly and the more that was revealed the more Bigby didn't like it. The front of the person was drenched in still gooey and fresh blood. A gurgling groan came from the creature as it started shuffling towards him with arms outstretched. Its hands clenching and unclenching, the digits caked in more blood and other things the smith didn't want to think of.
"Yeah, no." He said before quickly darting around the shuffling monstrosity. He was not the police nor was he a doctor. He had no idea what the hell was going on but he wasn't going to just bludgeon a fucked up person to death. He was by far the faster of the two and it was easy to lose whatever the person was. Gunshots echoed off in the distance, that was a true rarity in Raccoon City. This got him to get his hustle on. It took him a few minutes from a good run to get to the bar. He pushed open the door and went inside before closing it behind himself. "The hell is going on out there..." He huffed while wiping some sweat from his face. He was so not big on running, but sometimes you had to.
Sarah stepped out of the battered Bravado Gauntlet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The car had seen better days. The orange and black paint was chipped and there was rust around the wheel wells. The driver, the greasy man with an open shirt that revealed far too much hair waved cordially, a satisfied smile on his face. Sarah turned away, brushing her long blonde tresses behind a slender shoulder and quietly folded the bills and placed them within her purse.
She was tired, oh so tired. Even the large golden hoops piercing her earlobes felt heavy. All she wanted to do was go to Jack's Bar, order herself up a stiff drink- or maybe a coffee; she really couldn't decide which- and go home. She'd only taken three steps, her black mules clicking against the sidewalk stones when someone called out.
"You working bitch?"
Sarah sighed. She paused, closed her eyes momentarily and breathed in before turning around with a smile. Gone was the weary young woman who desperately wanted to go home. She had replaced herself with a spunky, vapid woman who wanted nothing but to make a client happy.
"Anything for you sugar," she replied, beginning the time honoured tradition of haggling.
Some minutes later they were in a nearby alley. Her latest client was a cheap bastard, only interested in a quickie which suited her fine. She wasn't interested in finding a motel to properly entertain a "Walk-in special". She was doing her business when the man above her suddenly screamed out in agony. She opened her brilliant blue eyes to spy a teenager, his teeth buried in her client's shoulder. Sarah screamed incoherently, a shrill inarticulate sound of sheer shock and horror. The man also was yelling, in pain and in shock as he was pulled backwards by the teenager and- and- Sarah gaped. The teenager was chewing! Blood squirted from an artery, spraying across the man's face and Sarah saw no more. She had turned and was running back towards the street, her high heels clattering across the pavement, with wild eyes and with arms flailing!
Will barely had time for the trauma to set in before bursting through the door of [Jack's Bar.] Panting and wheezing, Will quickly slammed the heavy oak door behind him and positioned his back against the wall so as to not be ambushed from behind. Realizing everyone in the bar was looking at him, Will surveyed the room quickly, but didn't see any of his coworkers; perhaps Will miscalculated and his redneck coworkers went to [Kendo's Gun Shop] to stock up on ammunition; practicing at the shooting range behind Kendo's was their second favorite pastime after drinking. Slim chance, Will thought - if there were any bullets left in Kendo's, Robert Kendo himself would have given it out to the doomed citizenry. Probably not the best use of ammunition, but Kendo was a generous man and pillar of the community, and scared survivors undoubtedly flocked to him in this crisis. Robert Kendo's big heart would be the death of him, Will suspected.
Just moments after Will Sampson made his entrance, the strong oaken doors of Jack's slammed behind him - a slightly disheveled trucker barged in, also seeking refuge: [Bigby:] "The hell is going on out there..." The trucker huffed and wiped his the sweat from his face. [Will:] "Hell is probably the right word, seeing as all hell just broke loose." Will tried to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully. Looking around at all the scared faces in the bar only worried Will more - although Will did spot a few individuals who seemed like they could hold their own in a fight, including the scantily clad "Working Girl", the trucker and the junkie in the green jacket. The bar was getting crowded now, Will wondered how the staff at Jack's would deal with the crisis at hand.
"Just-fucking-great, another mouth to feed. Bar was THIS close to shutting down due to lack of business, and now this is the most popular joint in the city?" the eponymous manager, Jack grit his teeth behind a cigarette and began loading his sawed-off shotgun.
[Jack:] "If y'all motherfuckers wanna stay in this fine establishment, y'all gonna have to arm yourselves and man the fort. Don't know how y'all gonna find weapons among this chaos, but 'taint my problem. Y'all either fight to protect your old man Jack or find yourselves another sanctuary. Maybe that fool Kendo will take y'all in and y'all can get eaten together by those cannibal freaks." The manager's gruff attitude was a welcome relief amidst this cannibal outbreak, and it refocused everyone's efforts on getting out of the city alive. The old man had a point - weapons would be needed and fast. Old man Jack's eyesight was fading and he alone would not be able to protect the handful of survivors huddled in his establishment.
Until a plan was hatched to arm each and every citizen seeking solace in Jack's, the patrons had no choice but to cooperate with each other. Now calm and thinking clearly, a plan was indeed hatching in Will's head, but raiding the RPD would be a suicide mission...unless Will had some folks watching his back, supporting him. Convincing the survivors to go back out there was the least of Will's worries; there was no guarantee Will would even make it to the RPD in one piece.
[Will:] ("I wonder if any of these survivors are insane enough to raid the Raccoon Police Department with me. If there are weapons left in this city, that's obviously where they would be found...") Will muttered quietly under his breath, not intending for anyone to hear.
[Jack:] "That's the goddamn STUPIDEST idea I ever heard. Y'all probably gonna get yourselves killed, but I don't wanna hear no objections from this crowd. Good luck, y'all gonna need it." Jack pointed his shotgun towards the exit and sneered, as if to say "come back armed or don't come back at all."
[Downtown Raccoon][Jack's Bar] => [Jack Street] => [Jack's Bar] [Well, Guess It's Time To Leave.]
[HP: 100/100] Slot 1: empty Slot 2: empty Slot 3: empty Slot 4 Memento:[Bridge Camera:] Your trusty ol' camera... well, not that old, but still. If you scrapped some stuff together, could it be possible to modify this?
A Couple of Hours Earlier
Uurrgh... how much did he drink this time, seriously? The blonde boy moaned and groaned over what felt like a whole friggin' hour, but he was probably in such a sorry state for what, like five minutes? Pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead, Keith slowly rose up from the... wooden landing he was lying on? His vision was spinning a bit as he gradually opened his eyes and blinked a little. He didn't even bother to try and recognize his environment as he sat there, trying to recover for the most part.
The first thing he tasted was the sterile dryness of his mouth as he eyed the multiple shapes that littered this... this was definitely a bar. There were a couple of human looking shapes - patrons and servers... ugh, hello horrid breath, his old friend. Propping the arm onto the counter that held his head up, and raised his other hand up. "Blegh... mind if I get some... water," he groggily sputtered out before letting his arm fall onto the counter with an audible clunk, his head falling back down.
A few seconds later, he felt a smooth surface touch the tips of his hand. Moving his head up, he blinked for a bit before slowly grasping the glass and chugged it down, bit by bit. Pressing the glass back onto the counter, he raised a hand, weakly smiling, ""th-thanks for the water mistur...
"Miss."
"... right, sorry 'bout that miss," he mumbled, slowly shaking his head so he would get this friggin' headache off his... head. Removing a hand from the glass, he pointed directly at a temple on his head and swirled his finger around. "I'm sorta outta' it... jus' give me a bit and I'll be outta' here..."
With that said, he lurched a little more, turning his head down to the bar, making himself comfortable for a bit... it's too bad a little Southern Comfort wouldn't make this all better...
...
...
...
After an hour or two of resting, watering himself down, and a piss here and there, he felt rejuvenated... well, for the most part. The pangs of pain in his head had decreased to a very, veeery tolerable amount and he was more than ready to find out how to get back to those apartments! His friends had to be there, right? Downing one more glass of water, paying off whatever he owed, he excused himself from the bar stool before going into a lengthy stretch.
From what he observed, most of the patrons were gone, and only a few people remained. The ones that stood out, however, were a group of people who looked anxious... it was as if they had the devil at their heels. For now, it didn't matter, as he walked towards them at a leisurely pace. Just as Keith was about to pass them, he noticed something rather... peculiar.
The blood he noticed trickling down one of their arms was rather... fresh... i-it was better to probably ignore it... rude'n all to ask about what happened. Pretending not to notice anything, Keith tipped his head away, eyeing his supposed server and giving the lady a polite, but nervous smile. "Th-thanks," he murmured, nearing the door.
"Hey, y'aren't plannin' on goin' out thar', are yeh?"
Keith froze mere seconds as he was lifting his arm up. Were they talking to him? Another one of their group members? Yeah, yeah, the latter had to be it! No reason some randoms would holler to some guy leaving the bar, right?
"Oy' Cameraman, y'got cotten in yer ear's," the voice said one last time. Oh gods, please don't let this be like last time, please don't let this end like last time. Slowly turning his head around in their general direction, Keith tried to avert eye contact as he kept his head bent downwards, staring at the floor.
"N-no, nothing like that," he sputtered almost mutely, unnoticeable chewing at his lips and rubbing his thumb against his balled up hands fingers.
"Well, don't, else yer gonna get yerself killed."
That... gave him some pause... was this a subtle threat, or was it because of that whole "cannibal disease" thing he heard of... He begged that it was the latter as Keith nearly made eye contact with the fellow, popping one of his eyebrows up as he mused over it all. "Uhm... are y-you talking about the cannibal disease this city is havin'?
"Disease," one of the others forcibly chuckled, their voice tense. "That's jus' putin' it lightly... it's more like a damn epidemic!
... that couldn't be true, right? I-it wasn't that bad... I mean, that menagerie of people were mostly... fine... He stayed quiet for the majority of this all as the on-goer continued to make a mountain out of a molehill, saying how their landlady was eaten alive and myriads of other things. Honestly, they just sounded like a raving madman at this point... which would of been fine if it wasn't for the look plastered on their friends faces...
"It was all like that.. erm, uhm, that one Romero movie," the same speaker spoke, snapping their fingers trying to recall it as they focused on the windows. Hmm.
"Uh, N-Night of the Living Dead," he mumbled out just loud enough for them to catch as his constant fidgeting continuously increased.
"Right, yeah, tha's it!" They gave a particularly loud snap, pointing in Keith's direction, putting the spotlight onto him. "So, fer yer own safety, it's best if you hold out with th' rest of us."
As much as there was a cannibal disease reported, he still had his doubts over how bad it was. He nervously shook his head, shrinking away towards the door as he reached out towards it. "I-i'm sorry, but I c-can't; I've gotta find my fr-friends," he mumbled, fumbling around with his camera a bit as he sped out of the bar, hearing one of them plead for him to stay.
"Hey kid, hold on, you d-"
"Jus' cool it Gerry," one of the group members sighed, walking towards the bar and nonchalantly took a seat and called for a beer. The person known as Gerry was dumbfounded.
"There's no way he's g-"
"Listen, we gotta focus on us, so we shouldn't worry about 'im," the person said, before taking a small swig, letting out a breathy "ah."
"Besides, soon'r or later, he'll learn like the others after gettin' his ass chewed out," the person shrugged and shivered a bit before downing another bit of beer. The air felt a bit chillier as the young man stepped outside... maybe that was his intuition telling him not to doubt those folks and head back inside? Keith took one step forward, perishing the thought as he slowly looked around. There... there wasn't a soul in sight, surprisingly... then again, it did sort of make sense.
Goosebumps formed on his skin, patting them down as he carefully trudged out passed the strewn cars and into the opening. Most of the street was barren, save for a few... hobbling people? He could barely make out some of the silhouettes in the street, but clearly there was an inhuman air to them... people infected by the cannibal disease he presumed.
"Looks like their nervous system is shot... poor guys," he mused, breaking into a light enough sprint as he passed by as car. As he studied the car and the shambling humans, his skin grew hot, Keith's heart felt like it was going to pop out of its chest as he gave pause for a few seconds.
He whipped his head around, taking the view up behind him and... oh holy shit... it... it wasn't as bad when him and his friends came here! There were a couple of more vehicles strewn down the street, some abandoned, broken, and tipped over pieces here and there... but for the most part, it looked as if a storm blew over... and what made it even worse was the amount of people congregating farther down the road... they were all moving similarly to those up ahead, but for the most part, they weren't trying to tear each other apart...
Keith had his doubts, finding it pretty peculiar that they were acting in a certain way. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he decided to go away from what he assumed was north away from the crowd of people and went south... which lacked most of those afflicted.
Every time Keith neared one of them, he ducked behind some vehicle, getting out of sight as he listened to the bits of shuffling and... oh god, that smells. Squeezing his hand into a tight fist, Keith suppressed the urge to vomit as well, listening to the wheezing of it all, his teeth chattering as he continued to duck down. When he was for certain he was in the clear, he slowly lurched forward, taking one small silent step after another before shuffling at a swift rate before the cannibal infectee could catch wind of him.
Eventually, he took shelter behind another banged up vehicle... except there was blood partially staining the window. As he lurched over, he stood as still as he thought he heard something rapping and tapping at the window. Yeah, no, he wasn't having any of that as his breathing began to pick up. Crouching down, he slowly backed away from the car... before discovering what was causing that ruckus.
His pupils dilated in utter horror, uttering a rather loud "Jesus," in surprise before realizing what he has done and slammed a hand onto his mouth. Sadly, that was too late with that bridge crossed. Scrambling to get up Keith, didn't bother looking back, noticing those so called "cannibal's" slowly limping towards him.
He got a fresh look, one after the other as he made a mad dash past each of them. Just like the one in the car, they all had similar looking cataract-like eyes, obvious signs of necrosis on their face, and other crap he didn't bother remembering at the time because he was not putting up with this bs!
As Keith sprinted back to the bar, he came to notice a couple of things... mainly over the fact that the huge horde he was avoiding earlier had gotten even closer than he saw previously. That's all he got out of it as he looked to the side, noticing a similar, dimly lit establishment with the letter J set on top.
The student didn't even bat an eye as he stumbled forward, his breath dry as he dispersed from the sight of those cannibal's... th-they were still cannibals right? Not something outta Romero's movies, no! "They're just sick, avoid contact," he repeated in raspy breaths to himself as he stumbled forward towards the light, lurching forward as panted and grasped at the door. As he entered the familiar area, he noted that it was a lot more... populated than before. Shrinking back, he kept his head down as he passed by the duo lurking near the front door, listening to presumably the owner of this bars proposition. Taking a seat near said duo, he slumped down, sitting himself on the floor as he looked at his camera, firmly holding it as he rubbed it a bit.
... ok, get it together and focus Keith! His breathing began to slow down a bit, thinking on the huge amount of... zombie's to the north and how there might be more hordes like that was not a very comforting thought... hell, even this old man's "pep talk" wasn't enough to get him out of this frightened rut...
... well, at least until the old man brandished a shotgun, indicating even more so that they needed get to work providing some coverage for this place or get out. Shivering he buried his head into his knees, thoughts going to the fact that he had to go back out there and possibly get his ass killed to keep this place safe...
"Well fella's, y'heard the man, if we gonna stay here, we gotta make sure this place is packin' heat," a familiar voice spoke up, followed by other grunts as the stools began scooting out of the way and feet began to pick up, coming towards them. Coming out of his sorry state, Keith peered up, noticing the group of guys and girls heading out.
"... h-hey," the young man spoke up in a muffled voice, grabbing the attention of the person in the back. The man paused for a second, looking down on the student before chuckling a bit.
"We-hell, lookie who came back; get yer ass chewed out," he quizzed, amused as he watched the young man shake his head. "Well, coorse' y'didn't, you're still livin'... now whazzup?"
Pressing his hands against the flooring, Keith weakly pushed himself up, averting eye contact with the much older looking man. "U-uh, there's a h-huge crowd of them up the street outside of h-here," he murmured, blinking a bit as he shoved his hands into his pocket, leaving his camera dangling from his neck. "... th-that's all."
The man gave a nod and uttered a thanks before leaving the bar behind, easing the door onto its frame... great, now he was definitely in a rut.
"Crap... h-hey, you two," he anxiously murmured, staring in the general direction of a greased up fellow and the musclebound man with a cap. "Y-you don't mind if I, er, tag-along, d-do ya?"
Bigby glanced at someone who spoke up and seemed sane enough to crack a joke. The large man shook his head while tying his weapon to his belt by its leather thong. No not the underwear you perverts, mind outta the gutter. Others were in here, a bunch of people he didn't know. Mostly because he only really came in once a week to grab a few beers or shots and head home. He moved away from the door and kept a wary eye on it, who knew if those things knew how to operate a knob or not. Jack spoke up about dying business and now it's the busiest night. "Hey! I come here plenty, old timer!" He exclaimed while Jack loaded his sawed off.
Bigby took a look around the bar, taking in the people and the objects. Bar stools, bottles of liquor, ashtrays, jars of munchies to work up your thirst, and cigarette machines. He'd never been in the back so he didn't know what was there. "Jack, you got anything heavy in the back?" He asked after the man told everyone to get armed. The big man gestured to the windows and how large they were. "I'd like to make this place safe so while people are gone you don't get fucked over. Shotguns take a little to reload." He said while nodding to the double barreled sawn-off. Already the smith was moving the cigarette machines in front of the window closest to them. Why put in more effort than needed?
Someone spoke up, making Bigby look over his shoulder after he moved the machines. Others were already filing out to get weaponized. "Since it seems to just be me and Jack who have weapons I don't even know if I should go out to look. He's one man with a double barrel..." He said, trailing off at the end. There was a reason why those shotguns were phased out of actual combat and used to threaten. You had two shots before you had to take a ten second reload. Or longer if Jack's eyes were as bad as they looked. "I think it's a little more important to make this place as safe as we can before setting out, wouldn't want my favorite bartender to snuff it." He said, a joking tone towards the end but he was still serious. These windows needed to be blocked so Jack would have the time to get the shots off on whatever tried busting in.
Sarah rocked gently as she sat at the only table, hugging herself, hiding her face behind a veil of golden tresses. Jack's bar was a dive. There were no booths and just the one rather small table against the wall barely for two. Mostly it was just a number of stools arranged along the long wooden counter top. Dirty white and black linoleum tile covered the floor which and there was the two pinball machines and a payphone. None of which Sarah cared about. The world was ending. It was the end times. It was the rapture and she'd been left behind. The bible had always said that the dead would rise from their graves at the end of the world but she'd always thought that was implied that they were going to be resurrected for judgement. Apparently the truth was far more literal.
She'd come running through the door some time ago and had almost been shot dead by Jack himself with his shotgun. Maybe it was her shrill screams that eased his pull on the trigger but she was alive but it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, she suspected, the dead would inherit the earth and they'd eventually come across them hiding in the bar.
Slamming the glass down after downing his second shot he got up moving the chair backwards, tipping it over. Better not to get wasted else he become easy prey to these cannibalistic attacks. He already had a gun under his jacket but should he tell them? Him having a gun would either put him in front shooting everything down, clearing a way for the others or be knocked down with someone stealing the gun from him. It's like having the only piece of bread in a village full of starving people. He had to decide if he trusted them enough to use it freely or just keep it on him in case of emergencies. I mean, it was the literal apocalypse for all everyone knew, if you couldn't trust your fellow living, who could you trust?
Only himself. He decided to keep the gun hidden and only use it if it was the last option. That is until everyone got an actual gun of their own. Paranoia in these daring times could lead to a premature death...
The bar was full of people. People which he didn't even bother to look at twice. They were all the same to him, uninfected. He would get a closer look at their true self in the face of danger. Everyone showed their true colors while in danger of imminent death.
Leaving for the door he turned to everyone:"Ready to go?"
[Will] is the red circle. 2 Paths to Ennerdale Street/RPD: 1. [Alleyway (Long-Path), north-west]: Abandoned, dark alleyway 2. [Corpses on Ground, north-east]: traverse the trail of corpses without waking them up
"[Cable], check.[Red, Blue & Green Herbs], check. [Weapon], unchecked." Will patted himself down as he looked through his Inventory in preparation for the [Mission]. Before taking a final gulp of air and entering the fray, Will addressed the crowd: "Last chance to change your minds guys..." as he pushed open the double-bolted oaken doors of [Jack's Bar]. The smell of burned tire rubber and metal permeated the cool, night air; Raccoon City was a burning pile of wreckage and the 2 city blocks to [Ennerdale Street] would be littered with obstacles.
The handful of survivors began their descent into the night, first heading north-east towards [Fisson Street.] Will was on high-alert, and peeped around every corner, before finally walking onto the street and immediately wedged himself between two vehicles. Will felt safest between two cars, his front and back both secured, Will dreaded moving. Each time Will rose, he surveyed the street to locate the next hiding spot and inched closer and closer to Fisson Street. They traveled just a few inches, before ducking once more, only stopping the laborious process when they came upon burning debris. You wonder if the flames are getting more intense, or if there is just more burning wreckage here than a block ago. September's brisk autumn wind only fanned the flames, spreading embers and tiny coals that stung Will's skin like razorblades. Will's arm hair was singed off immediately by flying tiny embers, as Will covered his face behind his own forearm, to shield himself from the spray of embers. Nope, the raging inferno was definitely raging harder here, and Will's newly-hairless arms were a strong indicator of that.
"I gotta keep moving," Will said while keeping his eyes shielded with his slightly burned arms. The group hugged the walls close to the storefronts, and ducked in-between cars whenever possible. Every movement was slow and methodical when travelling with a group, and Will's rhythm of moving, ducking & moving again, ensured nobody lagged behind too much. Occasionally the group would happen upon the still-burning wreckage of an diesel truck and would have to take the long way around, Will wondered if [Bigby's] truck was among the wreckage.
Even worse than the burning metal and noxious fumes, were the piles of twitching corpses strewn throughout the road to [Fisson St.] Some of the corpses were pink and raw from severe burns, and others were crimson from their own blood. All of the laying bodies twitched periodically, evidently the remaining electrical-impulse in a dead body's spinal cord was still enough to cause their muscles to contract after death. Fortunately, the bodies looked very much dead, in the classic definition of the word. Still, the periodic twitching and jolting of corpses, disgusted Will.
"Dead things shouldn't move," Will muttered under his breath, as he crouch-walked in between two SUVs. Their path to Fisson Street was BLOCKED by this handful of twitching corpses. Thinking on his feet, Will poked his head out from between the two SUVs to survey the landscape: [Will:]"Hmm...that [Alleyway] is the long-way around and will add another whole block to our travel-time, but fuck it, at least there's no trail of dead people."
[Alleyway]
"There's only a few of us here, I don't like the odds if those twitching creeps start waking up. Maybe if I had a gun to protect myself like Ol' Jack. Call me a coward, but slow-and-safe beats quick-and-dangerous - I'm taking the fucking [Alleyway]." and with that Will used his tactic of 'hiding between cars and sprinting to the next vantage point' until he reached the part of the [Alleyway] that turned north-west and away from [Fisson Street]
Raccoon City blocks were not long, but the streets were wide, seeing as the city itself was a transit center for truckers and shipping businesses. The [Alleyway] was narrow, wide-enough only for a single column of people, much like the one that was headed towards the [Raccoon Police Department] right now. Trash, but thankfully no corpses, littered the cramped alleyway, and the screams of civilians sounded more and more distant. The alleyway was quiet...too quiet. Will occasionally had to move a garbage bin out of the way, to make room for the survivors in his group. He hoped these strangers had his back. Will began huffing and puffing, moving garbage was tiring work. A few crates stacked heavy with magazines blocked the alleyway, so Will fell back slightly and allowed his teammates to assist in unblocking the passageway onto Fisson Street. The alleyway itself exited on the far side of Fisson, bypassing the trail of corpses. From there, it was only one block north towards [Ennerdale Street], and the [Raccoon Police Department] entrance would be right there, greeting them. Hopefully, the station was still guarded by policemen, but Will did not intend to stay in the precinct long. The alleyway itself was unlit, but streetlamps could be seen several yards in the distance (or was that more flame, lighting the night sky?) as the alleyway's exit and [right-turn onto Fisson Street] became visible.
Will began a slow sprint towards the street, but the nearer he got to the street, the louder the sounds of his own footsteps became. Louded and faster, Will heard more footsteps, faster than any person could run. Will stopped dead in his tracks, the other survivors almost crashed into Will's back from the sudden stop.
The team hears a low growl, followed by even faster footsteps...First they hear the panting, then rapid footsteps. Then they hear a snarl, and more footsteps...it's getting closer now. Finally, the crazed canine bursts into the alleyway from the street, barking menacingly at the survivors. The dog's face was obscured in blood and it bared its teeth, which were covered in foam and something else you'd rather not think about. Sniffing the air, the canine hones-in on his targets and approaches without fear...The hellhound leaps through the air and into the crowd...
[Canine: HP 30/30] [Will: HP 100/100] [Canine: HP 30/30] pounces at the first person in the alleyway [-15 HP], pinning Will to the floor. The hound's unnatural strength, prevents Will from getting off, although he begins thrashing and punching [-5 HP] the beast in the face. The hound's skull split open further, but the canine did not seem to notice (or mind), continuing to snap its jaw at Will. "GAHHH, HELP GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF ME!", barely a scratch, Will kept telling himself, but he appeared to be struggling.
Bigby huffed a bit when Jack didn't respond. Well the windows should be bullet proof like most stores and bars so it'll take a lot of force to actually bust them open. But they were windows and whatever was going on could see into the bar. Still he unplugged the machines so their lights died. He went across the room and did the same thing to the two pinball games before shoving them up against the closest windows. If something managed to break the glass they'd get bogged down by the heavy metal contraptions, probably long enough for Jack to do his thing or run.
Well he did what he could for now and everyone was heading out now. People got no patience... He thought while untying his weapon from his belt. Before leaving the building he snagged two green herbs and one red herb. When he got to the door he glanced back, the only people left that he could see were Jack and a blond woman. "Come on miss, Jack's a man of his word so best get armed with something. Won't hurt to be in a group either." He called towards Sarah.
The group moved along at an odd pace. Bigby himself was just walking normally, his eyes scanning the lit road for any signs of movement. He didn't see a point to 'stealth moving' when there wasn't even anything around. Granted the way he walked made his footsteps nearly silent, but he wasn't destroying his back keeping low to the ground and roadie running to another set of vehicles. The smell of burning wreckage reached them as they neared the street he came in on. When they got there it was revealed that a tanker truck, probably full of fuel given the flames, had crashed.
"Lot can change in a few minutes..." He muttered, he had literally just been here. Shaking his head he eyed the twitching bodies on the ground. It was rare for so many bodies suffering different amounts of damage to be twitching like that. Honestly he was tempted to smash in the skulls while they were laying there. Something wasn't right and it was just unsettling. But it'd be stupid to split up this early so he followed Will to the alleyway. Completely ignoring the embers and sparks that landed on him. Just another day at the forge to him.
Will went about moving garbage cans out of the way. Given that Bigby seemed to be the only one armed he kept his eyes peeled and his ears open. His grip tightened on the handle of his wood and metal mace briefly before he relaxed a bit. Once they got to some crates he eyed them. "Should leave em there and just go over...I saw one of these things and it was stupidly slow. Probably fall right into these things..." He said quietly to the group before climbing over the crates.
The others either climbed over like him or they moved at least one of the crates. But they were moving once again until an out of sequence noise popped up. Bigby stopped and looked around, it didn't sound human. The footsteps were to many and to synchronized and far to...quiet or light? Well whatever it was it was revealed when it lunged in and knocked Will to the ground. It was a rabid looking doberman pinscher. "Dammit I hate hurting dogs..." He muttered before running up and kicked the canine in the ribs. Sending it tumbling end over end down the remainder of the alleyway. He had heard a snap, probably a rib breaking from the steel in his boots.
The Canine was still on top of Will, it bared its bloodied-fangs at the survivors.
"Dammit I hate hurting dogs..." He muttered before running up and [kicked the canine in the ribs Sending it tumbling: [-15HP]] end over end down the remainder of the alleyway. He had [heard a snap, probably a rib breaking: [-5 HP]] from the steel in his boots.
Will's punches did not seem to phase the Canine; by some stroke of luck, Bigby managed to punt the dog like a ball down the alleyway, putting a fair amount of distance between the Canine and the team. Will took this opportunity to collect himself, and get his bearings. Will refocused his attack on the dog, and although unarmed, he grabbed a nearby trash can and hauled it overhead. The canine, momentarily-stunned from Bigby's kick, was now back up and sprinting madly toward's Bigby's thigh, "damn, that thing is fast" Will said as he ran towards Bigby still holding the trash can clumsily -- but Will wasn't quick enough; the hound tore a small chunk out of Bigby's thigh [-10 HP]. The canine did not see Will [smashing the trash can down onto the crazed dog's back, crushing it: [-5 HP]] until it was too late.
[Bigby] @Kazemitsu [Damage Taken = 10] [Bigby: HP 100/100] - [10 Damage] = [90/100 HP]
[Canine HP: 0/30] [Canine] died.
The dog's collar indicated this was someone's pet, a proud gun-owner apparently. The owner had fashioned a leather collar and instead of attaching a tag, chose to engrave his dog's name into a [Handgun Bullet]. "Rex" was written on the bullet, which was still USABLE much to Will's surprise. "Thanks for helping me back there, you take it." Will suggested.
[Bigby Inventory] [+1 Handgun Ammo]
Finally, Will and Bigby exited the alleyway and turned onto Fisson Street. Would they have fared better against the corpses that hadn't yet woken? Will brushed his tank-top off, accidentally touching his fresh wound and aggravating it: "No big deal, unless I get a few more of these." Only one more block to the RPD and Will could already see the top of the precinct from here.
Once the dog was off Will the large man just hauled the cableman to his feet. "Hope the hospital is open. Fucking dog could have rabies." He said just as the dog bite down on his leg. "Son of a bitch!" The smith hollered angrily before he started to reach for the dog. Before he could touch it Will crushed its back with a trashcan, the old school metal ones. Growling he pried its jaws from his leg and jerked its head, twisting it the other way before overextending the jaw. Dislocating the lower jaw so the animal was well and truly dead. He felt bad but animals like that needed to be put down for the safety of others. Especially since this one seemed to be running around without some of its skin.
A quick look at the collar and the dog was identified as Rex via bullet. A functional one from the looks of it. Will said Bigby could have it but the big man shook his head. "Not a bit fan of guns." He said before handing the round to Will. He did take the leather collar. Never knew if you'd need a length of animal hide. Tucking the collar into his back pocket he followed the smaller man out into the street with a new wary light. Not to mention a bit of a limp from his wounded leg. "When we get to the station we should probably wrap out injuries. No point getting blood loss..." He muttered to Will as he listened for more dogs. "If there's more of those things around get on top of a vehicle. It'll take em a moment or two to get up there." He said, having had experiences with dogs trying to bite him in the ass. Fond memories of better days.
