[Will Sampson]
[Jack's Bar]
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."
