BlizzCDC Center...
While Harris, Jon, Petra and Will conversed about supplies and went about their business, the other group moved in and claimed their own supplies from the armory. There were a few brief introductions and this group decided it was best to stay here and ride things out. One of the men geared up in a manner that indicated he had some form of military or police training, and he was actually a state trooper with extensive training and former military experience as a combat line medic. His name was Charles but he went by Chuck. He and Kim did some discussion about what to do as the walked around and eventually they came to an exit. However, the door was blocked by a rough, hasty barricade of bed frames, wood, cabinets and seemingly anything that wasn't bolted down or necessary. Both walls on opposite sides of the hall had black spraypaint on them and the words "DO NOT OPEN" appeared. Under that in smaller words were "ALL DOORS UNLOCKED!!" This could be taken as a warning to anyone who'd been out in the world, outside of their room and not isolated from what was actually going on. Those words were meant to say "nothing is keeping what's downstairs out!"
The Chuck and Kim however took that as an invitation to leave any time, and soon that group was quietly moving things away from the door and had it open in minutes. The hall was quiet, and Kim smiled and said "let's go everyone," holding Marianne's hand as they stepped into the hall. That was a few minutes before the gunshots were fired in the control room, and those sounds didn't make it to the other survivors. The hallway was long and quiet and only dimly lit as a lot of the light bulbs were out, and some seemed to have been taken out or broken. They moved along in silence except for the occasional crunching of class and an sniffle here and there. Chuck was upfront with his pistol in his hand, somewhat casually. It was an uneventful trip and the group stopped about 15 feet from the staircase going down.
Chuck smiled at the group as the all got close together. "Well, looks good. There was a map on the wall, said there was some other supply stuff down there, mainly a food one. I say we get down there, check it out and see who else is down there. If it's safe, we can stay or leave, whichever. Everyone stay together and stay quiet."
A girl spoke up and asked meekly, "what....what if there are zombies down there?" She was a woman, not a girl, but seemed too young to be here. She was actually degreed twice over and was here for those credentials however.
Kim smiled and Chuck put a hand on her shoulder as he said to her, "that wasn't real. And if it was, you saw up there, it's safe. Down here, there's no locks, maybe the other people are already out. Either way, it's nothing we can't handle. I'm sure the government just over reacted. Or, maybe it's all over, and that's why the doors unlocked."
"He's right," Kim said. "Even if there was a threat, I'm sure it would have been handled. This place was meant to keep us safe."
She nodded and cleared her throat and a moment later, the group was making their way towards the stairs. They were walking and there was a sudden, deep creak, almost as if the floor was groaning. All of them stopped and looked to one another. Chuck was about to speak and there was another creak and the floor shook a bit. He was about to tell everyone to slowly spread out when the center of the floor gave and all of the group on it disappeared below.
The fall was more of a slide as a part of the floor held firm, so the group slide down the floor and rolled, slide or bounced to the floor of the second level. The most immediate thing to the senses was the dark, the dust, and the smell of fire. It wasn't an active fire, but it was as if something near them, maybe the walls, floor, or a room had been on fire. In actuality, a good portion of this floor had been on fire and the ceiling above had lost it's structure because of it. Almost all of them were coughing and then it was there was movement in front of the girl who had spoke up earlier. "Help me up, I think I sprained my ankle." She reached up a hand and before she had any time to react or think, before she could see through the swirling dust, she felt incredible pain shoot through her fingers. Violent pain, indescribable pain. Pain that had her screaming for her life. Instinct made her pull back and she was in such pain and shock that she didn't notice her pinky and most of her left hand was gone. She simply scooted backwards on the floor until she hit another form. Again she reached for help and climbed up. She heard another scream and a series of gunshots that lit up the room. There were forms. People. Something. They were everywhere. She couldn't tell who was who, they were all just forms to her, and it was then that hands gripped her shoulder roughly and yanked her sharply. Not a fraction of a second later, she was bitten for the second time, but this one was a full bite on the back of her neck, and this one didn't let go.
And more of those forms were drawn to the scream.
Chuck reacted with a little more military training once the violence erupted, pulling one of his two pistols and opening fire. A few forms dropped but some kept coming. When 3 dropped after taking headshots at point blank range, he saw the trend and took headshots only, dropping several more that came at him. A form jumped on his back and he shook that off and backpedaled, feeling blood where the fingers had scratched him under his eye. Then a form rushed him and again he opened fire. He was shocked when the dead form of Kim slid to his feet. He stood in shock for a moment, and that moment was all it took for Chuck to be overwhelmed. After that, the only sounds from that floor were screams, an occasional gunshot, and then finally, the sound of the undead feeding on flesh.
Azseth Member
Born to Kill
STATUS: So I had H1N1 and if fucking sucked. But once again, I am not dead. 9 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
So I had H1N1 and if fucking sucked. But once again, I am not dead.
9 yrs ago
Apparently, I am not dead.
Bio
Hey all. I'm a few sunsets over 30, and I live in Michigan.
I'm a former Marine, currently kind of going to school.
I've been RPing since AOL, so that's like <counts, then recounts, then sighs>, over 15 years.
I RP at an advance level.
I'm pretty awesome, but I'm kind of direct, prickly, and assertive in terms of the RPs I participate in and the people I RP with.
Feel free to drop me a line any time about pretty much anything.
Go easy.
Az
I'm a former Marine, currently kind of going to school.
I've been RPing since AOL, so that's like <counts, then recounts, then sighs>, over 15 years.
I RP at an advance level.
I'm pretty awesome, but I'm kind of direct, prickly, and assertive in terms of the RPs I participate in and the people I RP with.
Feel free to drop me a line any time about pretty much anything.
Go easy.
Az
Most Recent Posts
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Dark, I'm in it now. Getting to the post. I may post what we have soon just to keep something going.
Is anyone else alive out there? If not, this is going to be a bloodbath before I recruit next.
...not that I'm complaining...
Az
Is anyone else alive out there? If not, this is going to be a bloodbath before I recruit next.
...not that I'm complaining...
Az
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Missouri.
Fuad and Terry proceeded in relative silence for a bit before coming up to an old car. It wasn't the largest, nor the most luxurious, but it provided concealment, relative cover and was nice because it kept heat well enough. It was an older Lincoln, so it actually afforded a lot of room compared to the more compact models of today. Both looked at each other, waiting to see if one would give reason to skip it and move on, but neither spoke up. With a slight shrug, both took "business as usual" which involved walking in a circle around the car many times over, going out as the walked. They would stand closer together at first then eventually end up about 20 or 30 feet away towards the end. They did this to see if they could find any immediate threats, like zombies or people, and then also looked for signs of activity, such as bodies, tracks, trails or anything of the sort. This was all done in relative silence unlike earlier in the day or when they were on the move. When they were moving, dangers could come and go, and they we already on the go, so it wasn't that important--danger was just as likely that you to walk into them as they into it. But now, they'd be static and they needed to be more mindful and serious.
The ended up just over about half a mile from the vehicle and at that point they decided to move back, and about that time, it started to snow. It started as light flurries that hardly accumulated, but started to fall a bit harder. Fuad made a face expressing his displeasure, but kept them to himself for the time being. They were within a few hundred yards of the vehicle when Fuad stopped suddenly and silently, so much so that Terry took a few steps before realizing what was going on. He turned back and looked at Fuad, who pointed down to the ground.
There were footprints in the light snow.
Fuad spoke up first, but quietly. "It's a kid. It's alone. And it's not shambling or dragging. I think this kid's alives."
"You don't know that," Terry shot back quickly, already seeing where this was going. "I don't think w--"
"Shut up Terry. We're gunna check it out. Worst case scenario, it's one kid walker and we just put it down. But this may be a kid, and this kid may need help."
It was rare that Fuad was forward and commanding, but when he was, Terry knew the argument was generally sound, and that it would ultimately dissolve to "well then leave Terry, I'll do it myself." They've been in spots like this before.
As Valentina kept walking, finding nothing but the dead and dust, saliva was dribbling down her chin as she continued to starve. It had been close to four days since she had a proper three-meal ration arrangement, and she'd had no food at all on the fourth day. Foam was beginning to form on the side of her mouth. Her arms and legs could not help but to shiver. The hunger pangs in the stomach was unbearable. Everything swam before her eyes, and the lack of sleep made everything even more unbearable - even the snow and sunshine, things normally enjoyable, became nothing but a source of irritation to Valentina.
Thoughts ran through her mind. Naughty thoughts, but by now good and bad mattered little as she decided, inasmuch as how much a starving child could decide, that she would do anything to find food and bring some back to Dylan. Thoughts of her previous attempt to rob someone returned, haunting her, jabbing at her heart - but the pain from it was nothing compared to the abuse her stomach was going through, so she remained resolute. 'Gretel did kill the witch', Valentina decided. 'The Prince did kill Maleficent to save the sleeping beauty', she thought. 'The Three Little Pigs did kill the Big Bad Wolf', she believed. Then she remembered how she was badly treated by everyone she came across, well, except for her family, Lieutenant Hugh and his men, and Dylan.
The little girl, however, did not have to languish in her dark thoughts as an opportunity had presented itself to her - two men standing out in the open, in the middle of the road, seemingly unafraid. Valentina decided, in her extreme hunger and delirium, that they were bad men for standing in the middle of the road, unafraid, and decided that she would kill them for whatever they had. Quickly darting towards the twisted hulk of a wrecked vehicle, she hid behind it with her MP5K close at hand. Hopping from one hiding spot to the next, she was coming closer, almost ready to gun them down.
Yet... Valentina remembered, miraculously through the haze of desperation clouding her that was like an evil magical spell from a dark sorcerer. She remembered her last attempt at robbing. A family of five, like her own. A father, a mother, two daughters and a son, like her own. She remembered pointing Valerie's snub-nosed revolver at them, asking for everything they had, but they said they had nothing. Hungry and desperate, Valentina remembered firing her gun into the air - she didn't want to hurt anyone. She was afraid to hurt anyone then. Yet she did. The biters came, and as Valentina ran when a horde was forming, she turned back and saw that the family didn't - she remembered that one of them was trapped. She remembered seeing them being surrounded , fell upon by the hungry dead, torn to pieces in a dancing fountain of blood...
Feeling guilty, Valentina did not know what to do anymore. When she took a peek at the two men again, she saw them as just... men, rather than bad men. Although she was desperate, the screams from her previous robbery attempt haunted her. Standing up, she walked towards them, unable to think of a way, unable to think straight because of the haze surrounding her mind, permeating it, paralysing it. Looking at the ground as she approached the two men, she held on to her MP5K tightly, close to her chest, her knuckles turning white from her unnaturally vice-like grip (bearing in mind that she was a kid), unable to... think. Her eyes wandered, sometimes landing on the road, sometimes on their legs, rarely and only briefly, on their eyes and then on the cars on the road.
Valentina, in her current state, was a miserable-looking thing. The abuse she suffered was becoming quite obvious. Other than her one dead eye and frowning scar, her eyebags betrayed her lack of proper sleep, her shaking limbs hunger, not to mention the paleness upon her skin - exhaustion and everything else. The barrel of her gun wavered as Valentina decided what to do with it, but never towards the men as she was unsure what to do with them.
Fuad and Terry proceeded in relative silence for a bit before coming up to an old car. It wasn't the largest, nor the most luxurious, but it provided concealment, relative cover and was nice because it kept heat well enough. It was an older Lincoln, so it actually afforded a lot of room compared to the more compact models of today. Both looked at each other, waiting to see if one would give reason to skip it and move on, but neither spoke up. With a slight shrug, both took "business as usual" which involved walking in a circle around the car many times over, going out as the walked. They would stand closer together at first then eventually end up about 20 or 30 feet away towards the end. They did this to see if they could find any immediate threats, like zombies or people, and then also looked for signs of activity, such as bodies, tracks, trails or anything of the sort. This was all done in relative silence unlike earlier in the day or when they were on the move. When they were moving, dangers could come and go, and they we already on the go, so it wasn't that important--danger was just as likely that you to walk into them as they into it. But now, they'd be static and they needed to be more mindful and serious.
The ended up just over about half a mile from the vehicle and at that point they decided to move back, and about that time, it started to snow. It started as light flurries that hardly accumulated, but started to fall a bit harder. Fuad made a face expressing his displeasure, but kept them to himself for the time being. They were within a few hundred yards of the vehicle when Fuad stopped suddenly and silently, so much so that Terry took a few steps before realizing what was going on. He turned back and looked at Fuad, who pointed down to the ground.
There were footprints in the light snow.
Fuad spoke up first, but quietly. "It's a kid. It's alone. And it's not shambling or dragging. I think this kid's alives."
"You don't know that," Terry shot back quickly, already seeing where this was going. "I don't think w--"
"Shut up Terry. We're gunna check it out. Worst case scenario, it's one kid walker and we just put it down. But this may be a kid, and this kid may need help."
It was rare that Fuad was forward and commanding, but when he was, Terry knew the argument was generally sound, and that it would ultimately dissolve to "well then leave Terry, I'll do it myself." They've been in spots like this before.
As Valentina kept walking, finding nothing but the dead and dust, saliva was dribbling down her chin as she continued to starve. It had been close to four days since she had a proper three-meal ration arrangement, and she'd had no food at all on the fourth day. Foam was beginning to form on the side of her mouth. Her arms and legs could not help but to shiver. The hunger pangs in the stomach was unbearable. Everything swam before her eyes, and the lack of sleep made everything even more unbearable - even the snow and sunshine, things normally enjoyable, became nothing but a source of irritation to Valentina.
Thoughts ran through her mind. Naughty thoughts, but by now good and bad mattered little as she decided, inasmuch as how much a starving child could decide, that she would do anything to find food and bring some back to Dylan. Thoughts of her previous attempt to rob someone returned, haunting her, jabbing at her heart - but the pain from it was nothing compared to the abuse her stomach was going through, so she remained resolute. 'Gretel did kill the witch', Valentina decided. 'The Prince did kill Maleficent to save the sleeping beauty', she thought. 'The Three Little Pigs did kill the Big Bad Wolf', she believed. Then she remembered how she was badly treated by everyone she came across, well, except for her family, Lieutenant Hugh and his men, and Dylan.
The little girl, however, did not have to languish in her dark thoughts as an opportunity had presented itself to her - two men standing out in the open, in the middle of the road, seemingly unafraid. Valentina decided, in her extreme hunger and delirium, that they were bad men for standing in the middle of the road, unafraid, and decided that she would kill them for whatever they had. Quickly darting towards the twisted hulk of a wrecked vehicle, she hid behind it with her MP5K close at hand. Hopping from one hiding spot to the next, she was coming closer, almost ready to gun them down.
Yet... Valentina remembered, miraculously through the haze of desperation clouding her that was like an evil magical spell from a dark sorcerer. She remembered her last attempt at robbing. A family of five, like her own. A father, a mother, two daughters and a son, like her own. She remembered pointing Valerie's snub-nosed revolver at them, asking for everything they had, but they said they had nothing. Hungry and desperate, Valentina remembered firing her gun into the air - she didn't want to hurt anyone. She was afraid to hurt anyone then. Yet she did. The biters came, and as Valentina ran when a horde was forming, she turned back and saw that the family didn't - she remembered that one of them was trapped. She remembered seeing them being surrounded , fell upon by the hungry dead, torn to pieces in a dancing fountain of blood...
Feeling guilty, Valentina did not know what to do anymore. When she took a peek at the two men again, she saw them as just... men, rather than bad men. Although she was desperate, the screams from her previous robbery attempt haunted her. Standing up, she walked towards them, unable to think of a way, unable to think straight because of the haze surrounding her mind, permeating it, paralysing it. Looking at the ground as she approached the two men, she held on to her MP5K tightly, close to her chest, her knuckles turning white from her unnaturally vice-like grip (bearing in mind that she was a kid), unable to... think. Her eyes wandered, sometimes landing on the road, sometimes on their legs, rarely and only briefly, on their eyes and then on the cars on the road.
Valentina, in her current state, was a miserable-looking thing. The abuse she suffered was becoming quite obvious. Other than her one dead eye and frowning scar, her eyebags betrayed her lack of proper sleep, her shaking limbs hunger, not to mention the paleness upon her skin - exhaustion and everything else. The barrel of her gun wavered as Valentina decided what to do with it, but never towards the men as she was unsure what to do with them.
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
The things I want to stress are:
A: I'm never going away, I may just sometimes be gone for a bit. I'm here to stay.
B: So is this RP.
C: I'm the most understanding of having life things happen.
D: I have ZERO issues with slow RPs and posts. I can wait. I don't need this RP to be a 5 post a day RP.
So, I understand. Just always keep me posted.
Az
A: I'm never going away, I may just sometimes be gone for a bit. I'm here to stay.
B: So is this RP.
C: I'm the most understanding of having life things happen.
D: I have ZERO issues with slow RPs and posts. I can wait. I don't need this RP to be a 5 post a day RP.
So, I understand. Just always keep me posted.
Az
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Nope.
I apologize whole heartedly for my abscence. I mentioned my mother having health issues, and while everything is as good as they can be, there were two minor, treatable complications that took a LOT of my time the last two weeks.
So.
I'm going to get going again, and those of you still here, well, you're still here. Those of you who've moved on, I understand.
Either way, if you ARE still here, the RP will move on. Like a phoenix and shit.
Hope all is well with everyone.
Az
I apologize whole heartedly for my abscence. I mentioned my mother having health issues, and while everything is as good as they can be, there were two minor, treatable complications that took a LOT of my time the last two weeks.
So.
I'm going to get going again, and those of you still here, well, you're still here. Those of you who've moved on, I understand.
Either way, if you ARE still here, the RP will move on. Like a phoenix and shit.
Hope all is well with everyone.
Az
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Hey people, let's get this going again.
If there are issues or lost interest, let me know and I'll remedy situations.
Az
If there are issues or lost interest, let me know and I'll remedy situations.
Az
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
CDC Center. Missouri.
Harris turned around, shaking his head with a slight bit of anger. Petra was hot, and some douche bag like Jon would be the one to get her. How the hell could someone even look at someone who just murdered a guard that way? It was beyond him. He moved to his room and gathered up his stuff, deciding to do what he could to get clothes. He did have his own as he said before, but more of them were warmer items, and thus not appropriate for winters with snow and cold temperatures. He pulled his bag out and put it in his doorway as he stepped out. Jon said he could have some of his clothes, but maybe there were more. He looked at the dead security guard and debated taking his clothing. Harris though, he didn't know the man and while the guard did turn his gun on him, Harris couldn't blame him. Zombies, being locked in a building like this, then some guy opens the door while some kind of attack is going on, it was probably his training. He shook his head, unable to look at the body under the sheet, knowing it was beaten, and bloody. Harris pictured him as he looked at him before Jon jumped him, and that image didn't seem like such a bad guy. Just someone who was scared.
And the more Harris thought about things, the more scared he became himself.
He vaguely heard some talking come from the armory, but it didn't sound like two people fucking, so he assumed they were either done or they had just finished before Harris walked in. Either way, he was going to avoid that for a bit. He did want to get his hands on some of that stuff. One thing he say were big bags, and right now he just had some K-Swiss backpack that was bulging, beat up, and hardly fit his things in there. If he DID get warmer clothing, it sure wasn't going to fit in there. Plus, having one of those guns would be pretty fucking cool too.
Soon enough, Harris would find himself joined by Will, a bag slung over his shoulder. He seemed a good deal more comfortable, dressed in his usual outfitting- Jeans, hiking boots, t-shirt and windbreaker. The bag on his back looked fairly light and hollow, as if he hadn't bothered to put much in it- And of course there was the impossible to miss oddity of the fact that bside the bag he had a quiver of arrows strapped to his back... The bow itself, he held loosely in his left hand. How he even got that in the facility is a mystery.
".... Sup."
Because formal greetings make no sense in a place like this if there aren't other hot sixteen year old girls around.
"Where'd everybody get off to?"
His gaze flicked about in an almost bored manner, as if he were already discontent with how slow things were moving. The only thing that continually drew his attention back was the corpse at the end of the hall- A corpse he was now crouched before. He lifted the edge of the sheet that covered it and peered beneath curiously, sniffing, then poking a few of the open wounds and fractures on the skull from where Jon had pounded it.
Harris shook his head at Will, debating saying something, but then he assumed the kid was maybe salvaging or looking for something of use. Had he known he was just looking out of some morbid or wanna-be detective curiousity, he'd have spoke up. Instead he turned away and looked down the hall, seeing the girl, Marianne, coming out into the hallway, looking meek and quiet. He waved her over and said to Will, "put the sheet down, the kid is coming. Anyway, I'm assuming everyone's getting their shit together. I didn't have much myself. Did you have any spare, well, anything I guess? I only brought short sleeves and shorts. Jon said he's look too. Oh, speaking of Jon, him and Pahtra or whatever her name is are fucking in the armory. So. That's cool," he ended with a heavy does of sarcasm.
Will dropped the sheet back into place with a shrug, flicking his wrist to shake the blood from his fingertips, wiping the rest off on his jeans.
"Figures. I didn't bring much of anything, outside of my bow and knife."
He offered a shrug, stretching out with a few grunts and a sigh, shaking out his limbs.
"Nice to finally be out of the damn cell though. It was getting stuffy in there. Still, if you didn't bring anything, might as well head into the armory. Sure they'll have some spare clothes and the like."
Without further ado, he himself made his way for the room in question, expecting Harris and Marianne to follow on their own, apparently. He didn't say much of anything to Jon or Petra, just setting to rummaging through things. He seemed to have a specific set of tasks in mind- After all, he was aware of something the others might not be. He'd listened in on a few of his father's meetings before they sent him away, and by the way things were going, he didn't doubt what had been said. 'Reanimates'. 'Zombies'. Some kind of viral outbreak that was bringing the dead back. In truth, he'd always wondered what surviving the zombie apocalypse might be like. He figured now was his chance to find out. Soon, he gathered a small array of materials- Both from inside the armory, and from the rooms nobody had come out of. A badass looking leather jacket, a roll of bandages, a 9mm glock and holster, plus a pair of loaded clips and a pair of ammo boxes- both placed in his bag.
Still mostly silent, he went through the strange process of cutting off the right sleeve of that wonderful new jacket, tucking away his windbreaker and replacing it with the leather jacket, leaving his right arm bare from shoulder to fingertip. Who the hell knows why. Still, knowing it would be cold, he couldn't sacrifice warmth for freedom of movement entirely- The bandages were promptly wrapped around his right forearm from wrist to elbow. Warm, -and- as good a place as any to keep a roll of bandages! The glock, he clipped to his thigh, just beside his knife, and once he'd replaced his quiver and bag on his back, he generally looked like a badass ready to take on hordes of zombies.
"Hey! Harris, I found clothes in one of those rooms. Should be some that fit you."
He pointed to Harris, and then to the room he'd grabbed his new jacket from.
The girl never really made her way over, instead she seemed to look around for someone, and Harris assumed it was Petra, whom she was talking with earlier. Harris looked at Will when he told him to go over to the room. "Thanks," he said and did just that, leaving his bag on the floor for now. He moved across the hall, peaking into the armory as he did and went into the door that Will pointed him to. The two were just standing there casually, obviously just talking at this point, but it looked like Petra had appearantly grabbed some gear or some sort. Harris would go in later, right now he didn't want to feel awkward. Inside the room, he started to go through the drawers and look around, initially feeling bad at rummaging through another man's things...but he was dead now, and Harris needed them more.
"Whatever you say." She just gave his words an easy going shrug. There were more important things to worry about, right? For instance, the survival of everyone else that wasn't a government dignitary deemed worthy of his own CIA escort. When he explained further while she was grabbing gear, it made a little less sense. He might have fumbled his words. They would have given the kid a Rambo-type SEAL guy, right?
Petra ignored any snide comments she might have overheard about sexual encounters, instead refocusing on her conversation with Jon. In addition to her newly acquired weaponry, she went ahead and added manipulation into her arsenal. Harris was going to make it even easier for her by even mentioning it. Jon was playing right into it, seemingly. Maybe a little too well. She watched him fumble with the belt. Why were his hands shaking? When he held it out with his palm open, she snatched it hungrily before pulling it around her hips. The holes didn't quite go back far enough, so she pulled the knife from her pocket and went at it to make another farther back enough to give her a snug fit. She glanced up at him every few seconds while she was working.
"So, can you get that other door open, or what?"
Will lofted a brow at Petra's stabbing of a hole in the belt, frowning.
"What a waste of a good belt..."
This coming from the guy who just cut the arm off of a jacket. He was probably just trying to relieve a bit of the silent tension.
"But what she said, think you can get it open for us? I've had my fill of being trapped in this building, in or out of a single room."
Being stuck in places does not agree with Will.
Jon cleared his throat and looked around, the look on his face seeming to say "holy shit, other people are here." He took note that outside the armory, there was more action now and he fought back the sudden desire to take control. Not knowing exactly what everyone was doing didn't sit well with him. Mentally, he was going over her answer, 'whatever you say' and he wasn't sure if that was telling him that she didn't believe him, or simply that it didn't matter.
"Yeah, I can get that door open, but that's the control room, that won't get us out. The doors there," he pointed to a pair of double doors that were slightly barricaded. On the inside of the door, there were chains on it, although no lock, and a few large pieces of metal holding them closed. What they would NOT be able to see is that on the other side, once the doors opened in, there were heaps of items blocking the way. Once those items, which included shelves, beds, drawers, and other large pieces of debris, were removed, that would lead down a 30 foot hallway to a stairwell going to the second level. Jon knew where the stairs went based on the map, but had no idea what was on the other side. He continued after a pause, "that one, despite the obvious fire safety violation, leads downstairs and out. And I don't know about you guys, but I'm not in a hurry open every door and run out, or invite any one or any thing that's out there inside. So, let's just relax, take stock of the situation, and we'll go from there. Right now, we should make sure we're all getting what we need in case we have to leave. I don't know about you, but I'd RATHER be here, in this building or room, than out there if there are feet of snow, or....other dangers out there."
Petra sneered at the kid when he made the comment about the belt.
"Right. Agreed. No reason to rush things. We get in the control room, we learn more about what it's like out there. What we're dealing with. Surely there's a newspaper or something, right? Maybe some more bodies with outside objects on them." A few seconds later, she was done creating the new notch. She pulled the gun from her waistband and slid the slots of the hoslter over the belt before fastening it around her hips. She gave Jon her best smile, which was really more of a roguish smirk when combined with her half closed dark eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into her hip once more, waiting to see what was on the other side of that door.
By now, pretty much everyone was back in the hallway, except Harris. He had thrown a heap of clothing onto the bed in a rough pile, some of it would be too big for him, but some would fit well enough. From the looks of it, a few people slept here. There were two beds and a mix of clothing items of different styles and sizes. Harris didn't have to be a detective to do the math. He heard the group talking and after taking what was probably too much clothing, he just grabbed it all and made his way out into the hallway. Jon, Petra, Will, Marianne, Kim and himself were now all outside, talking about leaving, doors, and who knows what else. He interruped slightly, telling Jon, and all of the others, "I should be good on clothes, the room there, Will found it, it's where the guards slept and stuff I guess. So, there's more stuff there."
At this point, Kim, who'd been silent up to this point, spoke up. "Why do we even leave? Why not stay here? I see no reason to leave." Jon gritted his teeth at the condescending tone, taking a moment to figure out how to tactfully tell her to fuck off. "Look, you can stay if you want. Why we'd leave, at least eventually, is because at some point, I do not want to resort to eating you. Or anyone else. Unless you have a farm in your room somewhere that I'm not aware of."
"Let's just get the door open, right? All of this can wait." The investigation was the most important thing right now. "Come on, Romeo." She liked the new nickname. "Put those CIA skills to good use." Petra glanced back over her shoulder at Kim, the threatening look on her face suggesting she might have to come shut her up if she delayed things any further. The smile returned after she turned back toward the door.
Will seemed pretty content to just stand around quietly for now. Though, he kept a wary hand on his knife, staring at the door they were talking about opening. They'd already been attacked once coming out of their rooms, who's to say there wasn't another person in there with a gun? Or more?
"What she said."
Harris dumped the clothing by the bag in his doorway and went through the crowd, trying to keep quiet and avoid getting involved. He moved to the armory and looked inside, seeing a few things he'd like to grab. "Well, I'm gunna head in there and grab some stuff." If anyone heard him, they didn't show it immediately. With a shrug, he moved in, while Jon blushed slightly at the nickname being used out loud now. "It's uh...not CIA skill. Simple bypassing security protocols and knowing... It's computer shit. Simple really."
Harris kind of walked quietly into the room, shaking his head and grabbing a bag, a handgun, which he'd never fired before, some magazines and a knife. He tossed them into the bag and then added a few canteens. He didn't waste time organizing, knowing he'd be adding clothes and other things. He came outside and waited with everyone else.
Harris turned around, shaking his head with a slight bit of anger. Petra was hot, and some douche bag like Jon would be the one to get her. How the hell could someone even look at someone who just murdered a guard that way? It was beyond him. He moved to his room and gathered up his stuff, deciding to do what he could to get clothes. He did have his own as he said before, but more of them were warmer items, and thus not appropriate for winters with snow and cold temperatures. He pulled his bag out and put it in his doorway as he stepped out. Jon said he could have some of his clothes, but maybe there were more. He looked at the dead security guard and debated taking his clothing. Harris though, he didn't know the man and while the guard did turn his gun on him, Harris couldn't blame him. Zombies, being locked in a building like this, then some guy opens the door while some kind of attack is going on, it was probably his training. He shook his head, unable to look at the body under the sheet, knowing it was beaten, and bloody. Harris pictured him as he looked at him before Jon jumped him, and that image didn't seem like such a bad guy. Just someone who was scared.
And the more Harris thought about things, the more scared he became himself.
He vaguely heard some talking come from the armory, but it didn't sound like two people fucking, so he assumed they were either done or they had just finished before Harris walked in. Either way, he was going to avoid that for a bit. He did want to get his hands on some of that stuff. One thing he say were big bags, and right now he just had some K-Swiss backpack that was bulging, beat up, and hardly fit his things in there. If he DID get warmer clothing, it sure wasn't going to fit in there. Plus, having one of those guns would be pretty fucking cool too.
Soon enough, Harris would find himself joined by Will, a bag slung over his shoulder. He seemed a good deal more comfortable, dressed in his usual outfitting- Jeans, hiking boots, t-shirt and windbreaker. The bag on his back looked fairly light and hollow, as if he hadn't bothered to put much in it- And of course there was the impossible to miss oddity of the fact that bside the bag he had a quiver of arrows strapped to his back... The bow itself, he held loosely in his left hand. How he even got that in the facility is a mystery.
".... Sup."
Because formal greetings make no sense in a place like this if there aren't other hot sixteen year old girls around.
"Where'd everybody get off to?"
His gaze flicked about in an almost bored manner, as if he were already discontent with how slow things were moving. The only thing that continually drew his attention back was the corpse at the end of the hall- A corpse he was now crouched before. He lifted the edge of the sheet that covered it and peered beneath curiously, sniffing, then poking a few of the open wounds and fractures on the skull from where Jon had pounded it.
Harris shook his head at Will, debating saying something, but then he assumed the kid was maybe salvaging or looking for something of use. Had he known he was just looking out of some morbid or wanna-be detective curiousity, he'd have spoke up. Instead he turned away and looked down the hall, seeing the girl, Marianne, coming out into the hallway, looking meek and quiet. He waved her over and said to Will, "put the sheet down, the kid is coming. Anyway, I'm assuming everyone's getting their shit together. I didn't have much myself. Did you have any spare, well, anything I guess? I only brought short sleeves and shorts. Jon said he's look too. Oh, speaking of Jon, him and Pahtra or whatever her name is are fucking in the armory. So. That's cool," he ended with a heavy does of sarcasm.
Will dropped the sheet back into place with a shrug, flicking his wrist to shake the blood from his fingertips, wiping the rest off on his jeans.
"Figures. I didn't bring much of anything, outside of my bow and knife."
He offered a shrug, stretching out with a few grunts and a sigh, shaking out his limbs.
"Nice to finally be out of the damn cell though. It was getting stuffy in there. Still, if you didn't bring anything, might as well head into the armory. Sure they'll have some spare clothes and the like."
Without further ado, he himself made his way for the room in question, expecting Harris and Marianne to follow on their own, apparently. He didn't say much of anything to Jon or Petra, just setting to rummaging through things. He seemed to have a specific set of tasks in mind- After all, he was aware of something the others might not be. He'd listened in on a few of his father's meetings before they sent him away, and by the way things were going, he didn't doubt what had been said. 'Reanimates'. 'Zombies'. Some kind of viral outbreak that was bringing the dead back. In truth, he'd always wondered what surviving the zombie apocalypse might be like. He figured now was his chance to find out. Soon, he gathered a small array of materials- Both from inside the armory, and from the rooms nobody had come out of. A badass looking leather jacket, a roll of bandages, a 9mm glock and holster, plus a pair of loaded clips and a pair of ammo boxes- both placed in his bag.
Still mostly silent, he went through the strange process of cutting off the right sleeve of that wonderful new jacket, tucking away his windbreaker and replacing it with the leather jacket, leaving his right arm bare from shoulder to fingertip. Who the hell knows why. Still, knowing it would be cold, he couldn't sacrifice warmth for freedom of movement entirely- The bandages were promptly wrapped around his right forearm from wrist to elbow. Warm, -and- as good a place as any to keep a roll of bandages! The glock, he clipped to his thigh, just beside his knife, and once he'd replaced his quiver and bag on his back, he generally looked like a badass ready to take on hordes of zombies.
"Hey! Harris, I found clothes in one of those rooms. Should be some that fit you."
He pointed to Harris, and then to the room he'd grabbed his new jacket from.
The girl never really made her way over, instead she seemed to look around for someone, and Harris assumed it was Petra, whom she was talking with earlier. Harris looked at Will when he told him to go over to the room. "Thanks," he said and did just that, leaving his bag on the floor for now. He moved across the hall, peaking into the armory as he did and went into the door that Will pointed him to. The two were just standing there casually, obviously just talking at this point, but it looked like Petra had appearantly grabbed some gear or some sort. Harris would go in later, right now he didn't want to feel awkward. Inside the room, he started to go through the drawers and look around, initially feeling bad at rummaging through another man's things...but he was dead now, and Harris needed them more.
"Whatever you say." She just gave his words an easy going shrug. There were more important things to worry about, right? For instance, the survival of everyone else that wasn't a government dignitary deemed worthy of his own CIA escort. When he explained further while she was grabbing gear, it made a little less sense. He might have fumbled his words. They would have given the kid a Rambo-type SEAL guy, right?
Petra ignored any snide comments she might have overheard about sexual encounters, instead refocusing on her conversation with Jon. In addition to her newly acquired weaponry, she went ahead and added manipulation into her arsenal. Harris was going to make it even easier for her by even mentioning it. Jon was playing right into it, seemingly. Maybe a little too well. She watched him fumble with the belt. Why were his hands shaking? When he held it out with his palm open, she snatched it hungrily before pulling it around her hips. The holes didn't quite go back far enough, so she pulled the knife from her pocket and went at it to make another farther back enough to give her a snug fit. She glanced up at him every few seconds while she was working.
"So, can you get that other door open, or what?"
Will lofted a brow at Petra's stabbing of a hole in the belt, frowning.
"What a waste of a good belt..."
This coming from the guy who just cut the arm off of a jacket. He was probably just trying to relieve a bit of the silent tension.
"But what she said, think you can get it open for us? I've had my fill of being trapped in this building, in or out of a single room."
Being stuck in places does not agree with Will.
Jon cleared his throat and looked around, the look on his face seeming to say "holy shit, other people are here." He took note that outside the armory, there was more action now and he fought back the sudden desire to take control. Not knowing exactly what everyone was doing didn't sit well with him. Mentally, he was going over her answer, 'whatever you say' and he wasn't sure if that was telling him that she didn't believe him, or simply that it didn't matter.
"Yeah, I can get that door open, but that's the control room, that won't get us out. The doors there," he pointed to a pair of double doors that were slightly barricaded. On the inside of the door, there were chains on it, although no lock, and a few large pieces of metal holding them closed. What they would NOT be able to see is that on the other side, once the doors opened in, there were heaps of items blocking the way. Once those items, which included shelves, beds, drawers, and other large pieces of debris, were removed, that would lead down a 30 foot hallway to a stairwell going to the second level. Jon knew where the stairs went based on the map, but had no idea what was on the other side. He continued after a pause, "that one, despite the obvious fire safety violation, leads downstairs and out. And I don't know about you guys, but I'm not in a hurry open every door and run out, or invite any one or any thing that's out there inside. So, let's just relax, take stock of the situation, and we'll go from there. Right now, we should make sure we're all getting what we need in case we have to leave. I don't know about you, but I'd RATHER be here, in this building or room, than out there if there are feet of snow, or....other dangers out there."
Petra sneered at the kid when he made the comment about the belt.
"Right. Agreed. No reason to rush things. We get in the control room, we learn more about what it's like out there. What we're dealing with. Surely there's a newspaper or something, right? Maybe some more bodies with outside objects on them." A few seconds later, she was done creating the new notch. She pulled the gun from her waistband and slid the slots of the hoslter over the belt before fastening it around her hips. She gave Jon her best smile, which was really more of a roguish smirk when combined with her half closed dark eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into her hip once more, waiting to see what was on the other side of that door.
By now, pretty much everyone was back in the hallway, except Harris. He had thrown a heap of clothing onto the bed in a rough pile, some of it would be too big for him, but some would fit well enough. From the looks of it, a few people slept here. There were two beds and a mix of clothing items of different styles and sizes. Harris didn't have to be a detective to do the math. He heard the group talking and after taking what was probably too much clothing, he just grabbed it all and made his way out into the hallway. Jon, Petra, Will, Marianne, Kim and himself were now all outside, talking about leaving, doors, and who knows what else. He interruped slightly, telling Jon, and all of the others, "I should be good on clothes, the room there, Will found it, it's where the guards slept and stuff I guess. So, there's more stuff there."
At this point, Kim, who'd been silent up to this point, spoke up. "Why do we even leave? Why not stay here? I see no reason to leave." Jon gritted his teeth at the condescending tone, taking a moment to figure out how to tactfully tell her to fuck off. "Look, you can stay if you want. Why we'd leave, at least eventually, is because at some point, I do not want to resort to eating you. Or anyone else. Unless you have a farm in your room somewhere that I'm not aware of."
"Let's just get the door open, right? All of this can wait." The investigation was the most important thing right now. "Come on, Romeo." She liked the new nickname. "Put those CIA skills to good use." Petra glanced back over her shoulder at Kim, the threatening look on her face suggesting she might have to come shut her up if she delayed things any further. The smile returned after she turned back toward the door.
Will seemed pretty content to just stand around quietly for now. Though, he kept a wary hand on his knife, staring at the door they were talking about opening. They'd already been attacked once coming out of their rooms, who's to say there wasn't another person in there with a gun? Or more?
"What she said."
Harris dumped the clothing by the bag in his doorway and went through the crowd, trying to keep quiet and avoid getting involved. He moved to the armory and looked inside, seeing a few things he'd like to grab. "Well, I'm gunna head in there and grab some stuff." If anyone heard him, they didn't show it immediately. With a shrug, he moved in, while Jon blushed slightly at the nickname being used out loud now. "It's uh...not CIA skill. Simple bypassing security protocols and knowing... It's computer shit. Simple really."
Harris kind of walked quietly into the room, shaking his head and grabbing a bag, a handgun, which he'd never fired before, some magazines and a knife. He tossed them into the bag and then added a few canteens. He didn't waste time organizing, knowing he'd be adding clothes and other things. He came outside and waited with everyone else.
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
FirstCode,
Right now the RP is "closed" but only because we have had a lot going on in lives and right now we're trying to catch up, consolidate characters and all that.
So basically, you have two options: 1) Find another RP. 2) Be patient, hang around until we all get organized, feel free to chat away in the OOC and keep up to date on the IC, and when it opens up, hop on in. By my estimate, I plan on opening it within 2-4 weeks again.
Let me know your thoughts.
Az
Right now the RP is "closed" but only because we have had a lot going on in lives and right now we're trying to catch up, consolidate characters and all that.
So basically, you have two options: 1) Find another RP. 2) Be patient, hang around until we all get organized, feel free to chat away in the OOC and keep up to date on the IC, and when it opens up, hop on in. By my estimate, I plan on opening it within 2-4 weeks again.
Let me know your thoughts.
Az
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Arlear, give me a contact number and I'll make sure to call and give a bad reference.
Dark and Arlear, we'll just kind of start putting things together in the live/collab doc, so we can piece things together as we find time.
Az
Dark and Arlear, we'll just kind of start putting things together in the live/collab doc, so we can piece things together as we find time.
Az
In
Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Jon stood outside the door after completing his bow, waiting for her to enter once he deemed it safe. It may have been a bit overboard, and he may have spun it off as some romantic attempt at flirting and being witty, but the truth of the matter is that it’s simply how Jon was trained. Any time he entered a room, he cleared it. This could be visually, audibly, or with weapons, but it wasn’t in his nature to move into a room having no idea what threats were there and what plans he would have to take to get out in case of any emergency. Jon was always thinking about things like that despite whatever facade he was putting up.
When he listened to Petra speak about Will, he looked over his shoulder and made sure no one else was within earshot. He turned and saw Harris watching him from inside of his room, but he was far enough off so that Jon knew he couldn’t be heard. Harris had most likely watched him open the door however, and he wondered what the computer whiz would deduce from that—granted the entire event could be passed off as him having clearance and high security computer protocol access. He had just bypassed a myriad of top secret government safeguards and Jon wondered how much knowledge both Petra and Harris had of this. Had they known what was just done, they’d be a bit more suspicious.
He looked at Harris and nodded as he began to speak to the woman. He thought on it for a moment on lying full out or partially and then opted to “open up” to her and win some trust. He leaned in and spoke quietly. “Look. I told you I’m CIA. I am just that computer guy, but every CIA agent has training, and mine was a little more than most because I had to travel to places and train in the event something happened. I had to first protect the government assets and then, if that wasn’t an option destroy them and try to stay alive. Staying alive was secondary though. Government top secret mainframes and all that, it’s more expensive to replace those than agents. Anyway, so yeah, I have some good training under my belt. Basically, I was sent here to do my thing, mainframes and all that, but I was also instructed that once we were free that basically, my actual main objective would be keeping Will alive, getting him somewhere safe.”
She muttered “about time” as he opened the door and they stepped in, Jon staying near the door as she moved about. She gave him more praise and Jon blushed, outwardly unsure if she was joking or being demeaning, but beneath his red cheeks he didn’t really care. He continued as she pulled her gear together. “I’m no, like, Rambo or anything, but they couldn’t afford to throw some navy SEAL or super soldier in here, they had limited room. So I was the best option. I have a purpose and training, and they never assumed that we’d be compromised I think.”
She nodded, still going through the gear, focusing on the packs when she asked about why all the gear. “Just the government making sure we were provided for I guess. This was also probably for the security guys.”
Then she asked “don’t happen to have a spare belt, do you?”
He couldn’t help but look at her as she moved about, noting her familiarity with many of the items, but also unable to keep his eyes up or in proper places as she bent over or reached. “I have a cup..Couple belts in… My room, but I don’t have them. I mean I have mine, but not them. I can give you this one if you want. I’ll just get the other one.” He moved to fumble for his belt when Harris’ voice could be heard from behind.
“Oh, cool. Guns and shit.” Jon turned around still fumbling for his belt, not thinking anything of it and Harris made a face, saying “seriously you two? Already?” He made a disgusted face and turned around, walking back to his room.
When he listened to Petra speak about Will, he looked over his shoulder and made sure no one else was within earshot. He turned and saw Harris watching him from inside of his room, but he was far enough off so that Jon knew he couldn’t be heard. Harris had most likely watched him open the door however, and he wondered what the computer whiz would deduce from that—granted the entire event could be passed off as him having clearance and high security computer protocol access. He had just bypassed a myriad of top secret government safeguards and Jon wondered how much knowledge both Petra and Harris had of this. Had they known what was just done, they’d be a bit more suspicious.
He looked at Harris and nodded as he began to speak to the woman. He thought on it for a moment on lying full out or partially and then opted to “open up” to her and win some trust. He leaned in and spoke quietly. “Look. I told you I’m CIA. I am just that computer guy, but every CIA agent has training, and mine was a little more than most because I had to travel to places and train in the event something happened. I had to first protect the government assets and then, if that wasn’t an option destroy them and try to stay alive. Staying alive was secondary though. Government top secret mainframes and all that, it’s more expensive to replace those than agents. Anyway, so yeah, I have some good training under my belt. Basically, I was sent here to do my thing, mainframes and all that, but I was also instructed that once we were free that basically, my actual main objective would be keeping Will alive, getting him somewhere safe.”
She muttered “about time” as he opened the door and they stepped in, Jon staying near the door as she moved about. She gave him more praise and Jon blushed, outwardly unsure if she was joking or being demeaning, but beneath his red cheeks he didn’t really care. He continued as she pulled her gear together. “I’m no, like, Rambo or anything, but they couldn’t afford to throw some navy SEAL or super soldier in here, they had limited room. So I was the best option. I have a purpose and training, and they never assumed that we’d be compromised I think.”
She nodded, still going through the gear, focusing on the packs when she asked about why all the gear. “Just the government making sure we were provided for I guess. This was also probably for the security guys.”
Then she asked “don’t happen to have a spare belt, do you?”
He couldn’t help but look at her as she moved about, noting her familiarity with many of the items, but also unable to keep his eyes up or in proper places as she bent over or reached. “I have a cup..Couple belts in… My room, but I don’t have them. I mean I have mine, but not them. I can give you this one if you want. I’ll just get the other one.” He moved to fumble for his belt when Harris’ voice could be heard from behind.
“Oh, cool. Guns and shit.” Jon turned around still fumbling for his belt, not thinking anything of it and Harris made a face, saying “seriously you two? Already?” He made a disgusted face and turned around, walking back to his room.
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