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Post by Moro Ashford on Jan 18, 2010 22:57:21 GMT -5
"I'm alright...I'm alright."
Nodding to the man who had shoved a few books off of her Moro climbed to her feet, rubbing the back of her head. Nudging the rifle with her toe, she pulled it into a safe distance, and stood looking at the surrounding number with faintly narrowed eyes. It didn't make sense; for days she hadn't seen or heard of any other survivors. Now, suddenly, there were four others. It was a surreal moment, broken irregularly by the input of the others.
"Moro," she said, nodding toward the man named Keith. "And haven't seen anyone for days...sorry."
Her attention swerved to the other brunette. "How on earth did you get dragged all the way out there without getting swarmed?" she asked.
(Ah! That was awful DX apologies.)
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Jan 18, 2010 23:33:56 GMT -5
Tara remembered what she'd done at the Southern man's words, and blushed a light shade of pink. "Oh, sorry. I just got so excited, you know? Being alone for who-knows-how-long will do that to a girl... heh..." she apologized sheepishly. She listened as he introduced himself and said where he came from, though grimaced a little. 'Aw, Hell. Figures that one of the first survivors I meet would have my second ex-boyfriend's name... shit...' Tara thought, inwardly groaning and completely missing his question.
She turned her attention to the other brunette when she introduced herself, finding the name a bit odd- but not commenting on it, since she wasn't rude. She then opened her mouth to introduce herself, but was interrupted as Moro asked her a question. And man, was it a good one. However, Tara really didn't have an answer for it, and could only shrug. "Beats me. Got lucky, I guess. I didn't really see any infected out there at all, actually. Oh! I'm Tara, by the way. Tara Luketic. Nice to meet all of you."
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Jan 19, 2010 17:37:12 GMT -5
' Arright Roy, just stay down, maybe it won't see you... shitshitshitshit...' The native american was stooped over as far as he could manage without losing mobility, creeping slowly from the Sports Authority toward the faint sound of voices, Thirty-odd-Six over his shoulder in a very loving manner. Directly across the upper deck from him was the hulking form of a Special infected. He had no means to tell if it was a Charger or a Tank, but then again, he had no wish to find out. The Machete on his belt ground slowly into the fabric of his jeans, poking his leg every so often. "Aw shit..." An audible groan had escaped his lips as he stabbed himself, and his newfound Tank-buddy turned to face him. The blank eyes of the Bodybuilder-corpse stared him down, and it released an inhumane howl before trying to charge him around the balcony. "Aaawwww SHIT!" Sprinting faster then a Kenyan at the Olympics, Roy was down the escalator (now technically stairs, as they weren't functional) and hurtling at an alarming rate toward the broken glass of a Barnes and Nobles display case. Almost upon entry, he slammed into an teenage girl, full tilt. This, in turn, caused her to hurtle into the older coutherner, whose voice had alerted him to their presence beforehand (the never reading again moment had almost made him laugh, but he'd thought better of it, what with the encroaching zombie horde...). "Aah, git ready ladies and gents, TAAANK!" The tank was still a bit off, but he could hear it rampaging it's way down the escalator.
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Post by Mason Breaker on Jan 19, 2010 17:52:16 GMT -5
Mason took another deep breath before responding, taking a moment to take in these new arrivals. Tara, Moro, Keith, and another individual who had startled him. He might as well introduce himself now.
"M'names Mason Breaker." He stated, "And yer' welcome." he added with a small grin.
Another thought quickly crossed his mind. "I know this is a slim chance, and Moro already said she hadn't seen anyone for a few days, but have any of you seen my daughter. Just turned nine, has-Awwww, screw it."
Rather than go through the tedious process of describing his daughter like he had with Keith, he simply took out a picture of her and set it on the table.
"I know she's alive, I just don't know where she is...." He sighed. "I know it's really an out of the blue kind'a question, but, I need to find her."
He sat back down in his chair, glancing back at the Ipod. Almost done, just needed to reattach a few bits to hold it together, then make sure it still worked. It was then that he noticed an infected stumble into the room through the shattered window. Without really waiting, he suddenly stood up, and with a "Duck!", he hurled one of the chairs at the infected individual. It met it's target with a loud snap and several crunching noises. Giving a short yelp, it stumbled back and fell into one of the larger shards of glass, dead as a doorknob.
Snorting, then reseating himself, he turned to the others.
"Sorry bout' that. Now, anyone?"
However, upon seating himself, he realized that Tara and Keith were on the ground. Again. Why? Because YET ANOTHER SURVIVOR had rushed in and knocked them both over.
He groaned, "Need a helpin' hand up, boyo?"
And that's when he noticed, not through the newcomer's words, but though the rumbling, that it would only be a short while until something awful found it's way here. And in here, of all places, would be the worst, thanks to the low lighting and small space.
"Shit. We'll pick this up after the Tank's history, sound good?"
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Jan 19, 2010 19:06:23 GMT -5
"Alrighty... Just watch out for the rocks and chunks of floor. They like those." Roy just laughed at his own joke, somehow managing to level his rifle with one hand while easing his Machete out of it's deathgrip in his belt. As the tank moved slightly to the left, leaping halfway off the escalator, he took his first shot. This thing was bigger then a black bear, but the shot hit home, right in the face. The .306 caliber round would've killed an adult grizzly bear in one shot, yet the damn zombie kept on coming. Dodging the grey-green tiling by the skin on his neck, he took another shot. This shot went slightly awry, hitting the tank in the chest. Unlike his first, this one had some stopping power, making the Tank stumble slightly. "Try to kill it before it gets up close ladies and gents" Roy taunted, waiting for someone to get out there and take a shot or two at the damn thing. 'This rifle can kill a damn bear, yet this Zombie is takin shots like it was wearin Kevlar... wait a second, this baby would punch through that too...' The third shot grazed the Tank's shoulder, but did little to stop him. "Shitshitshit..."
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Post by Keith the Great on Jan 19, 2010 19:25:17 GMT -5
Just as Keith had gotten used to standing up again, he was once again knocked off his feet (and by the same girl, too). He slid a few feet down the floor, and sat up, dazed, just in time to hear the others yelling something about a ‘tank’.
“Tank?” he asked, bemused and trying to get his head straight. “What in Sam Hill is a–” His lips froze mid-sentence when he caught sight of the massive, monstrous...thing. He had just enough time to scramble out of the way before a chunk of floor crushed the spot he’d previously occupied.
“Oh, hell, oh hell, oh hell!” he exclaimed, forcing his feet back onto the ground and making a sprint for the window in the hopes of getting a few shots in todown it before it downed him. He unslung his hunting rifle from his back and took aim, sending a few well-aimed shots into the thing’s back. (Then again, it was hard to miss such a big target.) However, it didn’t seem to help much. Keith let out a high-pitched yelp of surprise as the thing roared and chucked more tiling towards him. A fortunate dive out of the way saved all but his left shoulder. Too panicked to even bother screaming in pain, he hustled through the window and rolled behind the elevator, hoping to high hell that the others could take it out. In the meantime, he whipped out his trusty desert eagle and threw out a few shots from cover, all the while thanking the Lord that he was a righty.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Jan 19, 2010 19:48:35 GMT -5
"Mason. Nice." Tara replied with a nod, shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. She suppressed a snicker, but held her smirk when he mentioned that he was looking for his daughter. 'Wow. Silent Hill much? He probably hasn't even played the game, so he doesn't realize... but I do... heee,' she thought bemusedly. Before Tara could think too much on this fact, however, someone crashed into her back and sent her flying, yet again, into Keith.
"Agh!! Damnit, this is getting old!" she shouted, dazed. By the time she shook the dizziness from her head, Keith was on his feet and they were dealing with a Tank. "Damnit, I hate it when my intuition is right..." Tara grumbled to herself, staggering to her feet as well and ducking behind a bookcase. "Damnit, Tanks attract hordes and special infected like crazy!! If we don't kill it soon, we'll be-"
RRRRAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH.
"....Shit. Horde's coming from the parking lot! And- oh, FUCK. Is that the sound of a Spitter?!" Tara shouted, pulling a sawed-off shotgun out of her bag and cursing the fact she only had a little ammo for it. She could see a large horde stampeding their way through the broken window, and the sounds of a Spitter were getting louder- and closer. Raising the gun, she waited until the horde was within range and then fired, knocking over a decent amount thanks to the shotgun's wide range.
However, a few got back up, and she had to reload the gun before she could shoot it again. "Damnit, I could use some back-up over here!" She yelled as she snatched two more shells from a pocket on her bag, shoving them into the barrel of the gun.
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Post by Mason Breaker on Jan 19, 2010 20:07:02 GMT -5
Mason made a note to ask Tara why she was trying to hold back a laugh, but first things first, the Tank and arriving Horde had to be dealt with.
Picking up his shotgun that he had sitting at the base of the table and, out of consideration, shoved the Ipod in his pocket, he immediatly ran next the the wounded Tank and, with several bucks to it's face, sent it stumbling, but not quite dead yet. But Mason was not finished. Firing several shots at the oncoming horde (And he was sure that he also shot down a Jockey, but he didn't bother to stop and check), he backed up a bit and threw himself at one of the taller shelves, sending it toppling down. While it wasn't meant to kill any infected, it was meant to force them to scatter a bit, but the fact that it did crush one unfortunate common infected was just an added bonus. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, he fired off several shots at the Tank, ducking when it threw one of the shelves at him.
And that's when it happened.
Mason wasn't sure where it came from, but a Hunter lept though the oncoming crowd and right onto Mason, sending him stumbling back as it clawed at him. Now, thanks to his size and weight, he didn't fall immediatly like someone else might, but he was still getting clawed to shreds by it. It was taking all his effort to not fall over and keep the Hunter from biting him open.
"HUNTER'S ON ME!"
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Jan 19, 2010 20:18:00 GMT -5
The spitter wend down without so jmuch as a thought. One well-placed shot sent the angry old houswife of a zombie to the ground. At this point the horde was too close for his rifle. Sling the Thirty-odd-Six back up on his shoulder, he removed the machete from his belt and started hacking away. While opnly decapitating the first few, he slowly worked himself into a frenzy, hacking and slaching everything in his path to little pieces. The hunter on Mason wasn't even registered, merely ground up like a meatload, splattering the older man with gore. He meticulously dismembered several members of the hord before feeling a slight tightness in the neck. After taking three more steps foreword, each harder then the next, he was pulled back by the slimy tounge wrapped around his asophogus. Barely audible over the din, he managed to choke out "Smoker..."
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Post by Keith the Great on Jan 19, 2010 20:35:01 GMT -5
Now Keith was the type of guy who looked out for his own butt first. However, considering that he was, for the moment, safe behind the escalator, he could spare a little effort to help. Sitting back and balancing his good arm on his knee, he took aim at the creepy tongue-thing (using tongue on the first date: what a jerk) and fired off the six rounds in his gun at the time. The first three missed completely. The fourth whizzed by its ear and snagged its attention. The fifth drove into its shoulder, evoking a wheezing snarl of pain. The sixth, a lucky shot, slammed into the thing’s skull and sent it flying into the crowd, knocking over a couple poor zombies who had happened to be catching up to the action.
Letting out a sigh of relief and grinning at his marksmanship, Keith had just turned his focus back to the Tank in time to take a rock-chunk to the face. The impact sent him flying back into the store and onto the top of the books that had, only moments before, been crushing him to death. (Honestly, he would have rather stayed there compared to this.)
Determined nonetheless, Keith grabbed the bookshelf, dragged himself into an upright position (even if he had to lean on education to stay there), and went right back to shooting what he could with one arm. At the very least, he could take out a few of the zombies. Unfortunately, the Tank was a bit out of his league at the moment. “I think I'll leave this ta y’all, okay?” he called out, collapsing by the bookshelf and shooting from a seated position.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Jan 19, 2010 20:58:43 GMT -5
So much was going on at once that Tara had to force herself to focus on just one thing at a time, or she knew she'd get overrun by something. So, she focused her attention on the horde, shooting it down and then holding them off with the butt of the shotgun while she reloaded. When she'd finally gotten herself some breathing room and most of it had been disspelled, she shoved the last two shells she had into the shotgun and took a look around to take note of the current situation.
Okay, so they really looked like they were screwed. The Tank was still rampaging, a Smoker had dragged off one of the guys, Keith was seriously injured, and Mason had been hit by a Hunter. In other words, the only infected they hadn't dealt with were a Witch, Jockey, Boomer, and Charger. Rolling her eyes at their awful luck, Tara ran out of her cover behind the bookcase and took aim with the shotgun. "Die already, damnit!!" BANG.
That last heavy shot to the face seemed to finally do the Tank in, as it collapsed to the ground in one gigantic heap of bloody muscle. Grimacing at the sight, she slid the shotgun back into her bag and pulled out a pistol instead. "There. Now that the big guy's out, we can focus on what's left of the- ....oh, you have GOT to be KIDDING me! Charg-" Tara, having heard the telltale shriek, had whipped around and raised her gun to shoot at the oncoming infected.
However, as everyone knows that does nothing, and only led to her getting rammed full-force in the front. The wind was knocked out of her instantly, and the pistol went flying off to slam against Keith's head with a solid CLUNK. Unfortunately, Tara realized she was in even deeper trouble as something large gripped her around the torso and she was dragged as the Charger continued its dash through the other survivors.
She was still catching its breath when it skidded to a stop, but knew what was coming and squirmed in its tight grip. "FuckfuckfuckfuckFUUUUUCK!! NO!! AGH!! DAMNIT, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE- OW- NICE!! GOD DAMNIT, THAT FLOOR IS HARD!! OW!!!" Of course she was screaming all of this while getting slammed repeatedly into the ground, pain shooting through her back as she kept her head up in an effort to protect it. This just wasn't her day, was it?
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Jan 19, 2010 21:16:44 GMT -5
Regaining his breath was the easy part, but getting to his feet was a bit different. The horde seemed to flow around him, attacking him from three sides (his fourth was fortunately against a wall). He whipped his Mechete out and hacked away at the first row. Three rows of zombies later, he was finally on his feet, only to catch sight of a charger hurtling through the crowd. "Shit!" But it blew right past him. The charger hit Tara at what seemed like Mach Six, knocking her into the ground and beating the living bajeebus out of her. He swing out his Thirty-odd-Six, and, taking aim between the zombie masses, let all five shots in the chamber go, two being intercepted by the common infected. The other three landed in a beautiful vertical line on the charger's back, allowing it to go limp on top of her. Were this not a life or death situation, he'd have made a comment about her getting mounted by a hillbilly...
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Post by Mason Breaker on Jan 19, 2010 21:24:45 GMT -5
Recovering from his Hunter attack, he turned his attention to firing into the Horde, when two things caught his attention. One, a Charger had just ran past him and now had Tara in it's death grip. Second, he heard the tell tale sounds of a Boomer. A freaking Boomer.
Wait...... TWO BOOMERS. Mason hated Boomers. They ate up the food and puked it all back. It was as if they were laughing at his hunger.
Mason saw one of them, and immediatly fired several shots at it, punching the air (And an infected) in victory.
However, he wasted no time cheering. Turning the Charger, he saw that it was already being dealt with, but it seemed Keith could use a hand. In fact, he was about to really need one, because here came the other Boomer that Mason had heard. It was one of those really freaking creepy bitch Boomers too.
"Ewwwww...... Hey Keith! Heads up! Er, DOWN!"
Running to Keith, he quickly shoved the fat-ass bitch back before she had a chance to spew, then followed up with a bile-free kill, before procceding to hoist the downed man onto Mason's back, carting him over to a (Surprisingly) still intact table, setting him down onto it.
"Come on boyo, you'll be fine. Stay awake, stay alert, and shoot them sons-of-bitches!"
With that he turned back to the fray, immediatly finding that he had dropped his shotgun carrying Keith to safety. He wasn't able to search for long, what with the remaining common infected deciding to gather around and beat him senseless. His only defense? He flailed. He now had only two reliable weapons; his fists. It was unorthodox against infected, but so far, it seemed to be working.
"Keith! Remember what I just said? SHOOT THESE S.O.B.S!"
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Post by Keith the Great on Jan 19, 2010 22:12:21 GMT -5
Keith had just been enjoying the breeze from the Mini-Tank thing (apparently called a ‘Charge’, if Tara was an accurate source) when he noticed that her grip had loosened on the gun. Between the blood already oozing its way through his t-shirt’s fabric and the intense throbbing in his head, it was all he could do to make the brilliant observation: ‘Oh hey, a pistol.’
CLUNK!
And in that moment, he was back in Whisperin’ Oaks, just taking a seat between Ellis and Dave, paint-gun in hand. And damn, was this a realistic dream! He could even hear the tracks starting. (They sounded a little gurgly, though. Was this safe?) He felt lighter than air, no ground beneath his feet, as the rollar-coaster started on a straight path on the tracks. (It was really wobbly, and he couldn’t find the safety bar. [Not like he bothered with it anyway.]) Distantly, he heard Dave advising him to stay awake and alert. (He didn’t recall when Dave got an Irish accent, but that was beyond his mental process at the time.)
“M’ fine, Dave...” he said in his dreamlike state, unaware of his real-life vocal chords working too. “Coaster don’t got mower blades.”
As the coaster started to settle down (must’ve got a mechanic on it or something, or maybe Ellis fixed it), Keith heard Ellis’ voice yelling.: “Keith! Remember what I just said? SHOOT THESE S.O.B.S!”
“Pfft,” Keith scoffed, opening his eyes to reality just wide enough to see the ‘targets’ from Paintball-Coaster. “I got this. Y...Y’know ‘m best.” With a dexterity from years of paint-ball and an inability to feel pain, Keith raised up the one good arm he had and fired eight steady shots into the nearby infected before continuing to dazedly pull the trigger on an empty gun, blissfully ignorant.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Jan 19, 2010 22:23:37 GMT -5
Tara heard the shots just as darkness began edging in on her vision, and suddenly the Charger stopped mid-slam. Dazed and practically unconscious, pain racking her body, she had barely managed a "what" before the massive, hideous infected crumpled on top of her. She grunted at the heavy weight, completely smothered aside from her right arm and legs. However, it managed to knock Tara back to her senses, and she soon realized the situation she was in. Her eyes widened, then squinted at the awful stench of rotting flesh and blood, and she tried to limit her breathing.
Unable to push the behemoth off because of her weak arm strength and current angle, she proceeded to flail her free limbs frantically in an effort to get someone's attention or wiggle out from under the Charger. "HELP!!! GAH, SOMEONE GET IT OFF!!! IT'S GROSS!!! EWWWW!!!! RAPE!! SOMEONE CALL THE COPS!! AAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" Tara screamed desperately, though it was muffled by the Charger's bulk. Seriously, this was just disturbing; at least Hunters were slim and looked decent.
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