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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Feb 21, 2010 22:52:13 GMT -5
Dark blue eyes blinked in surprise and shock as icy-cold water was splashed over her face. A shiver passed though her body and she scarcely seemed to notice Mason taking her magnum away from her. The next minute Kameko was being carried bridal-style back inside the Horseshoe Tavern. Shame washed over her and she bowed her head like a scolded puppy.
Suddenly she didn’t feel like doing anything anymore. The blood coming from her scratches on her stomach made by the hunter continued to pour out like a waterfall and she still felt light-headed. When they entered the building and Mason set her down, she didn’t thank him. Instead she turned her head away and only muttered quietly loud enough for him to hear, “You should be trying to get some sleep or those wounds will never get better.”
The Japanese girl didn’t even meet Roy’s gaze or Moro’s, who was seated near the base of the stair case. She stumbled weakly over to the nearest window and climbed up on the windowsill where she sat there. Taking her iPod out from her pocket Kameko placed the white earphones into her ears and searched through her songs until she found one that suited her at the moment. The song just so happened to be Dead! by My Chemical Romance.
As the song played she looked out the window, staring up into the dark night sky and paying no attention whatsoever to the three occupants inside the building.
She didn’t even care if Keith and Tara didn’t make it back in time with the needle and thread and she bled to death. Personally she thought the two were dumbasses for even risking their lives if they were going to the mall to get some supplies just because some hunter clawed the shit out of her and the wounds were bad. As long as she got to see her mother again, it didn’t really matter if she died.
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 22, 2010 19:58:35 GMT -5
“Yeah, well,” Keith scoffed, “you live in Ohio. This kind ‘a cold is like the goddamn dead of winter down South.” He ignored the fact that he didn’t actually recall if she’d ever mentioned where she was from, similarly to how he ignored the fact that he wasn’t actually positive this was Ohio. Nevertheless, he sighed, figuring Tara to be the type who’d pull ‘ladies first’ on him.
For the time being, however, Tara was good to have around. Keith beamed at her praise, opening his mouth to thank her or tell a story or something similar. The words were swiftly cut out by a ‘pat on the back’ that was anything but encouraging. A bubble of air that went down the wrong way sent him into a short spasm of coughing, but the fact that Tara had already gone into the store and left him in the middle of an open mall encouraged him to swallow down any other coughs and hop in after her.
The pharmacy, it seemed, was the object of many a good feeling like Keith’s; the place was practically empty. A couple bottles left by the more considerate occupied the shelves, but overall, there wasn’t much to be found out on the front shelves. Fortunately, being the trouble-maker he was, Keith knew that all the good stuff was in the back rooms, and the door behind the counter looked particularly promising.
Leaving Tara to her own task, Keith bounced over to the back-room door and tried the doorknob. Though it was unlocked, thereby making his life easier, he frowned: stores didn’t often leave their back-rooms open. Hopefully whoever had broken in hadn’t taken everything.
Keith swung the door open hard enough that it nearly rebounded into his face. Leaving the door half-closed, he took a peek around. Even with just the dim light from a lone, swinging lamp, Keith found enough to make him grin and whisper “Jackpot.”
On one of many shelves, though admittedly one of the further-back ones, Keith could spot a white-and-red box, the colours obviously signaling a first-aid kit. Better yet, he could see other bottles and small boxes scattered about and, while it wasn’t exactly fully-stocked, it was better than the front.
Keith had been about to skip out and reap the rewards of his search when a rather attention-grabbing huff made him freeze. Slowly, as though a quick movement would let it smell his fear, he turned to his right and stared down the room’s other occupant: one lonely, very angry-looking zombie in a pair of overalls (why the hell anyone wore overalls in Ohio, Keith would never know). The zombie growled, flexed its one muscular arm, then made like a football player and tackled.
In a panic, Keith jerked his head out of the room and promptly slammed the door, pressing his back against the wood while the creature slammed into the wall just inches away from the door, a slight miscalculation that Keith feared wouldn’t be repeated.
“T-Tarrie?” the hobo stammered, listening carefully to the deep, gruff breathing that seeped through the door behind him. “It’s one a’ those things that like t’ kill you more’n you like t’ kill me.”
Silently praying that the thing didn’t know how to use a doorknob, Keith continued to lean against the door in the hopes that, somehow, he could hold back the monstrosity, at least until Tara could run up with a shotgun. (He didn’t think his hunting rifle or magnum would quite cut it.)
Right on cue, a meaty arm punched its way through the wooden door like a black-belt martial-arts master. The Southerner paled as the arm, obviously strong enough to crush the average Keith, swung about blindly, then managed to find it’s prey. “Oh, shi–” The rest of the explicative was cut off by the thing’s massive grip, settling around the majority of Keith’s face.
More determined than the average zombie, the overall-zombie retracted its arm back into the room; or, at least, it tried to. Though it had punched through the door without issue, holding the weight of an entire Southerner (albeit a short, scrawny one like Keith) slowed it down a bit. However, it seemed not to notice the issue. Despite the fact that its prey didn’t fit through a door and the door, made of good-quality wood that caused extreme pain upon impact, refused to budge, it continued to attempt to drag its victim through the fist-sized hole.
Keith, while not the sharpest crayon to start with and gaining no benefit from being repeatedly smacked into the door, still managed to think enough to reach down into his pocket, grab his magnum, and shoot over his shoulder. While the shots didn’t seem to faze it much, he figured it was better than nothing and continued pouring all eight shots into the arm before desperately pounding at the thing's fingers and hoping that Tara could shoot it down.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 22, 2010 21:25:46 GMT -5
Tara hadn't heard Keith's comment about Ohio, because if she had, she would have instantly corrected him on their true location and where she lived. Or, had lived, at least. She heard him scamper in after her, but since he didn't say anything, she guessed he must have been searching another aisle. Coming to the end of her own and finding nothing else of value, Tara sighed and walked into the next one. "Man, and just when I thought we'd gotten lucky. You find anything, Keith?" she called out.
She waited for his reply as she scanned the labels of a few boxes, and was bewildered when no answer came at all, let alone right away as it normally would. "Keith? Keith??" Tara called out again, quickly going around the end of her aisle to check the last one; he wasn't there. Instantly, she began to panic, but then she suddenly head two loud slams and a whimper. Nearly jumping out of her skin and emitting a small scream in fright, she whipped around to bathe Keith in the light of her flashlight.
"Keith! You ass! Don't scare me like tha-....Keith?" Tara asked, realizing his terrified expression and then hearing his explanation. Instantly, her own expression changed to match his and she tugged her shotgun out of her messenger bag. "God damnit, Keith! Of all the special infected to attract!... okay, so a Tank might have been worse, but still!!" she scolded, obviously panicking. Tara checked to make sure her shotgun was loaded, and just as she was about to run over the Charger's fist busted through the door.
She gasped and nearly dropped the gun, but managed to catch it and for a few seconds could only watch in awe as the beast tried pulling her companion (and secret crush) back through the hole it had made. Needless to say, it was failing... miserably. Finally, Tara came to her senses and ran over to the door, realizing she'd have to get up close and personal to get in a clean shot. "Eat buckshot, mother fucker!" she growled, sticking the barrel of her shotgun into the small gap left in the hole. She squeezed the trigger, firing a nice shot into the Charger's face that sent it sprawling backwards with a howl of rage and pain.
It released Keith, dropping him to the ground as Tara shook out the empty bullet casings and worked on reloading her weapon. "You okay?"
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 22, 2010 21:51:19 GMT -5
Tara was no quick-draw master. (It became pretty obvious after that display.) However, she at least knew how to use a shotgun. After a few more painful meetings between Keith-skull and door, a roaring blast of shotgun pellets blew by the Southerner’s ear, practically deafening him; however, that was nothing compared to what the other guy got.
The big-arm zombie reeled back, releasing its grip and letting out a death-cry. Keith, fortunately still on his side of the door, slumped to the ground and leaned back against the door with a sigh.
At the inquiry of whether he was ‘okay’, Keith went right into a normal process. (He got asked “Are you okay?” a lot.) First, he wiggled his toes and swished his feet a bit to make sure they were moving. Next came hands, fingers, and arms. Finally, he checked to see if he was seeing double. Fortunately, Tara was standing near enough (and had a bright enough flashlight) to be a good test.
Keith gave her a goofy grin, though only the joy in his eyes showed, thanks to his fashion sense. “M’good!” he drawled. “There’s is only one an’ a half of ya.” He staggered to his feet, using the nearby counter for balance. Fortunately, he hadn’t whacked his head hard enough to be so incapacitated.
“So, an’way,” he started, hanging on to his support-counter with a grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “There’s a kit an’ stuff in ‘ere.” Seeing that the world was shaking less, Keith risked shifting from the counter to the door, shoving the ‘push’ door open drunkenly and stumbling inside. He grabbed a nearby shelf to support himself, then pointed out his discovery. “See? All th’ good stuff’s in th' back.”
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 22, 2010 22:01:43 GMT -5
Once the shotgun was reloaded, Tara slid it back into her messenger bag and stared down at Keith with her flashlight aimed through the hole in the door. Just in case the Charger decided it was up for a round two. She watched with mild interest as he seemed to go through a mental checklist of sorts, going over each part of his body and making sure it still worked properly. "Uh..." Before Tara could inquire as to whether or not he was feeling right in the head, he sent her a joyful look and answered her question.
She couldn't help but smile and giggle a bit at his words, shaking her head. "Right. Only one half more than there should be," she replied. Seeing him stagger, Tara began to reach out to him, but thought better of it and let her free hand drop back down. Luckily, he hadn't seemed to notice as he continued to ramble on about what he'd discovered in the back room. She followed him inside, and her smile morphed into a grin like she was a kid in a candy store.
"Yeah, and it was guarded by a Charger. But at least all of that was worth it. Let's see... I should be able to fit a medkit in my bag and on my hip. I could probably manage to squeeze in at least four or five bottles of pills. What about you?" she asked. Tara snatched the nearest medkit and shoved it into her messenger bag, followed by two pill bottles. She then proceeded to work on strapping a second medkit to her hip, since her backpurse currently occupied her back.
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 22, 2010 22:24:37 GMT -5
Keith merely rolled his eyes at her correction. “I ain’t never got in th’ hosp’tal with only one an’ a half. Two’s a maybe, an’ three’s us’lly always.”
Tara’s grin upon entering the back room was contagious. Even though he’d nearly had his skull caved in by a half-Tank, he grinned along with her and searched through the shelves. However, her question on how much he could carry rather ruined his mood. He blinked once, twice, then recalled that his jacket had been the home of the only pockets he had big enough to hold anything worthwhile. His jacket also happened to be warming the small teen whose life they were trying to save.
“Uhm...” he mumbled, staring at his hands. “Well, I got two hands that ain’t broken an’ jean pockets. Tha’s about it, though.”
To make up for his lack of backpacks, purses, and Tara-ness, Keith went right back to searching the shelves. Fortunately, his search went well: on a shelf near one very sad-looking corpse, Keith found a needle (slightly bloody, but altogether usable) and a small spool of thread. The hobo didn’t seem to notice the surrounding splotches of blood when he snatched the sewing equipment from the shelf and turned to Tara with a proud smile. “Got th’ needle an’ thread!” he chirped. “Let’s grab what we can an’ get the hell outta here!"
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Post by Mason Breaker on Feb 22, 2010 22:30:45 GMT -5
Mason watched silently as Kameko walked over to the windowsill and climbed up on it. Her entire behavior, posture, it all suggested that she had given up hope. And why? Because some dumbass Hunter clawed her open. And? Mason had been thrown, punched, and bashed by a damn Tank, and in the bookstore earlier had been clawed at by a Hunter, but did he let that stop him? No. But then again, he was fighting to get to his daughter, he had some sort of motivation to go on. And he was so freaking big. Helps a bit.
Regardless, he went upstairs for a few moments, slowly returning down the stairs with several long strips of cloth.
"Kameko, come here. Your wounds need dressin'." His voice was loud enough for her to hear even with her Ipod, but not so loud to shout. And his tone suggested that even if she didn't come over to him, he'd go to her.
"I won't have you bleedin' out on me, understand? You helped me, and I intend to return the favor."
He looked around the room, his gaze coming across Roy and Moro. Roy still looked rather dizzy, and Moro seemed to be improving, in a sense.
"I'm not just gonna let any of you die."
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 22, 2010 22:36:30 GMT -5
"Yes, Keith, but this is you we're talking about. You're not like other people... okay, so none of us are like 'other people.' I mean, heh... what? We've got an accident-prone Southern boy, a clumsy packrat, a hyperactive Asian, a crazy hunter, an 'Irish grizzly,' and Miss Sunshine and Sparkles." Tara rambled through a sigh as she finished tying off the medkit; she'd noticed how Moro had been acting lately, since they all met up at the bar. Something was wrong, but she wasn't the kind of person to push about it; Moro would tell when she was ready to do so.
She stuffed two more pill bottles into her purse, and somehow managed to squeeze a fifth into one of her jacket pockets. "Just grab what you can, then. Okay? Do you see any-" Before Tara could even finish her sentence, Keith exclaimed that he'd found what they'd been looking for. "Great. I think I've got as much as I can hold... hmm... one more thing," she murmured. A glass bottle caught her eye, and she grabbed the bottle of anti-septic off the shelf.
"If we're going to be sewing someone up with a needle that's been who-knows-where, I think we should have some of this. Just in case. Now we can get the Hell out of here."
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 22, 2010 22:54:56 GMT -5
Keith had been about to nod in agreement with her statement when one part of Tarta’s description caught his attention. “Wait, boy?” he exclaimed, giving her a glare visible from beneath his winter-gear. “I got like ten damn years on you, girl! I think that qualifies me t’ be a ‘man’.”
Huffing, he pocketed the needle and thread before tucking a spare bottle of pills into his other pocket and plucking a discarded, barely-used roll of gauze from another shelf. He took a quick check to make sure there wasn’t a hole in the pocket that held the needle and thread before deeming himself ready to, as they’d put it, ‘get the hell out of here’.
“Alright, let’s hit the road!” he laughed, hurdling over One-Arm’s corpse and dashing out the door. Hoping to get back before anyone died, Keith dismissed worries about whether Tara could keep up and instead just ran as fast as his legs could carry him back towards the tavern.
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Feb 22, 2010 22:56:09 GMT -5
Kameko was at piece, a little bit until Mason’s voice destroyed it. The Asian ignored him, making it completely obvious too. At the sound of the older man’s words telling her that he would wrap up her wounds whether she liked it or not, made her head turn slowly to lock cold dark blue eyes on him. She gave him a full-well ‘You-come-over-here-and-I-won’t-be-fazed-as-to-punch-you-in-your-damn-face’ look before looking back up at the night sky.
But at his words of ‘I’m not just gonna let any of you die” she couldn’t help giving a dark chuckle. Pausing the song on her iPod, Kameko turned back to the man. This time her facial expression was unreadable but her eyes ruined it all for they were nothing more than dark pits of hatred.
“Why do you say that?” she demanded in a cold voice that resembled ice splintering. “We’re all going to die anyways so why not just die now?” She let a sneer fall on her face as she addressed Mason. “Mason, I respect you. You’re a good guy and I know you’re looking for your daughter, but for all we know she could be dead. I mean, she’s just a little girl isn’t she? The infected could overtake her in a heartbeat.” She waved an absent-minded hand as if she didn’t care if his daughter was alive or not. “Now I’m not saying she’s dead, but hinting that there could be a possibility.”
Laughter came from her, but it held no emotion to it. “I mean, who gives a fuck anymore?!” Kameko said, her hatred-filled gaze resting on Roy, Mason, and Moro in turn. “You heard Tara. The military isn’t going to save us. We’re left for dead. I might as well die now then being killed by those fucking vampires! This damned zombie apocalypse took everything from me! My father and sister left and my mother is gone! But I can see her again, if I’m dead.”
She then gave them a serious look. “Do me a favor guys and let me see my mother again.”
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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 Feb 22, 2010 23:30:07 GMT -5
Roy, stock still in general shock, thought quietly to himself. His first instinct was to move foreward, toward the window and the upset Kameko. His second stopped him dead. SHe'd slapped him. Told him to get the fuck away. She'd pulled a damn gun on him. So Roy stood quite still, shoving his hands into his pockets and kicking the dusty -albeit blood drizzled- carpeting, the maltreated tapestry giving up a nice puff.
That magnum flashed into his mind again. The gun... right at his face. He'd looked a balck bear in the mouth, and laughed while he stuck his knife into it. But the sight of that little Japanese girl with the gun was more then he could bear. Just ten minutes before thay'd been in each-others arms. Now she was sulking, almost bleeding to death.
“I mean, who gives a fuck anymore?!” The look on Roy's face as he looked up at her was contorted. Half pain at her sudden attitude change, half enraged. “You heard Tara. The military isn’t going to save us. We’re left for dead. I might as well die now then being killed by those fucking vampires! This damned zombie apocalypse took everything from me! My father and sister left and my mother is gone! But I can see her again, if I’m dead.”
Reaction wasn't even a word for it. This was pure , blind fury. two long strides and he was almost to the sill. A slight lean foreword, and he was in arms reach... exactly where he wanted to be. With a well contained rage, he struck out, slapping her across the face as she had him. "What the hell are you talking about?! This is no time to go all whiney emo bitch on us! Who gives a damn about the army, or anyone else for that matter. You're still here goddammit, and I will not let that change, got it? If I have to drag your ass out of here myself i will, but you will not die!" All of this was snarled so that only the little asian could hear him. His voice had taken on the same tone as it had with anyone else who'd pissed him off, and then some. They were just getting started, and there was no way he was letting her die now.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 23, 2010 16:06:26 GMT -5
Tara blinked in surprise at Keith's glare and exclamation, grinning sheepishly when she realized she'd unintentionally insulted him. She had a tendency to do that a lot, especially with her friends. "Sorry, Keith. I didn't mean anything by it. I just said the first word that came to mind," she apologized. Tara watched him grab a few more things, grinning at his shout of "Let's hit the road!." She ran after him, managing to keep up with him until they exited the mall.
In the confined space of the pharmacy and mall, Keith had been forced to run a little slower; a pace she already had problems keeping up with. Tara wasn't exactly an athlete, she hated running with a passion, and her bags hindered her a bit with the extra weight and the fact they swung about crazily when she ran. As such, when they left the mall and Keith sped up, she was utterly left in the dust. When he'd disappeared into the darkness ahead, out of range of her flashlight, she decided to stop and catch her breath. Tara doubled over, sweating with a reddened face as she straightened her makeshift sarong.
"Damnit... Keith... wait up!" she called breathlessly. He probably didn't even hear her, but she knew the way back so there wasn't much to worry about. At least, that's what Tara thought until she heard a very familiar screech and a sizzling sound. Instantly, she froze, eyes slowly widening as she inched her way around to look behind her. Yup, it was a Spitter; and a really ugly one at that.
Tara realized that her gun was in her bag, and that by the time she pulled it out, she'd be covered in acid. So, seeing as "fight" was out of the question, her body turned to "flight" and she made a mad dash away from the special infected. "Come on, come on, come on.. gotta get out of range..." she muttered. Tara had heard the projectile launch almost instantly after she turned tail and fled, and pushed herself to get out of range. When she heard the acid hit the ground, she breathed a sigh of relief, believing she was in the clear.
Until she felt a burning sensation on the back of her left leg, the pain almost making her trip and fall. Forcing her body to stay upright for fear of the Spitter, Tara gritted her teeth together and kept on running until the tavern came into sight. She could just catch Keith heading inside, and it seemed she'd lost the Spitter, but her leg felt like it was on fire. "Ah, god damnit, I don't need this right now... KEITH!!" she called, voice pained.
Tara finally stumbled into the doorway, slumping slightly as she pressed her hand against the doorframe. "You.. why didn't you... wait up... I... ergh, damnit, this shit BURNS!!"
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 23, 2010 17:24:41 GMT -5
Keith wasn’t athletic so much as he was impatient. He took his time in the mall, making sure he didn’t trip over anything, but the moment he broke through the door and the fresh air hit his lungs he couldn’t help himself.
In a flash, Keith went from ‘casual running’ to ‘hell yes I’m in the open and I’m gonna sprint to my heart’s content.’ He wasn’t a distance runner, but he’d learned to ignore pain when his life wasn’t in danger of it. Between the wind in his ears, the cool breeze brushing his elbow-scrapes, and a desire to get a needle and thread back to the bar before there were fatalities, Keith didn’t hear much else.
Upon reaching the door, Keith burst in loudly (he didn’t know many other ways to enter a room.) And promptly announced, “Guess who, guys!”
He hesitated a moment when he heard some yelling from behind him. Glancing casually over his shoulder, he spotted Tara, still catching up and slipping through someone green and disgusting. Keith recognized it as the same burning crap he’d been hit with earlier.
When Tara finally caught up, all she had was complaints. Keith merely scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, you shoulda said somethin’!” After a short pause, in which the hobo figured out that she wouldn’t have reprimanded him if she hadn’t said anything, he continued: “...I mean, you shoulda said it louder.”
Whistling a merry tune, Keith scaled the stairs in just a few bounding steps and strolled into Kami’s room with a bright smile. “No worries, y’all! I got it!” he proclaimed upon entering, oblivious to the tension within. It took a few seconds more for him to look around the room and realize that no one seemed in the mood to celebrate his return.
Swallowing down a nervous lump, the loudmouth Southerner quickly set the roll of gauze, which he’d kept tight in his fist, onto a nearby dresser, then fumbled the pills, needle, and spool out of his pockets and set them aside as well. He did a quick double-check to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything before slowly backing out the door and heading back to his hallway-corner. His jacket would just have to wait.
Casually, Keith glanced back down to Tara and gave her a little, slightly-cheery wave. “They’re talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ serious,” he informed her, putting all his concentration into talking quietly enough so as not to disturb the others. Nonchalantly, he tucked his arms into his sleeves, took a seat, leaned against the wall, and got comfy. “I’ma wait out here.”
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 23, 2010 18:23:02 GMT -5
Tara's eye twitched visibly at Keith's reply to her words, having at least expected a "sorry." She opened her mouth to say that she had said something, but he beat her to it and only made her angrier. The pain sparking her temper, she stumbled forward a few more steps after him and glared a burning hole into his back. "IS THIS LOUD ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" Tara shouted, tossing her bags onto a nearby table and grabbing one of the pill bottles she'd grabbed.
She let Keith head up and give their findings to the others, also snatching the medkit from her hip. She was about to take two of the pills when she realized that Mason still had her water bottle, and her leg was hurting way too much for her to walk up those stairs. "Screw it. If it helps, then it helps. I don't care anymore," Tara muttered, snatching the forgotten bottle of sake from a nearby table. She used it to wash down the pills, grimacing a bit at the unfamiliar, bitter taste of alcohol.
She coughed a bit, setting the bottle down and sitting in a chair. Taking the bottle of anti-septic and a cottonball from the medkit, Tara bit down tightly on her lip and wiped the acid off of her burns. She nearly screamed at the pain, but focused all of her attention on the pain her teeth were causing her lip. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the injury was clean and she tossed the used cottonball off to the side. Tara snatched the gauze from the medkit and quickly wrapped her burn, cursing under her breath that there wasn't any burn medicine.
Suddenly, she heard Keith's voice, and she sent him a fresh glare from where she was sitting. "Fuck. You," she growled viciously. Tara was still waiting on that "sorry." And she could hold one Hell of a grudge.
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Feb 23, 2010 22:02:35 GMT -5
Kameko’s head whipped to the side after the blow from Roy. She stayed silent as he ranted off at her, cupping her already red cheek. She stayed silent as she slowly got up from the windowsill and, brushing fiercely past Roy, limped outside where she flopped down. Bringing her knees up she rested her chin on them and stared up at the night sky.
That’s when she heard it.
The little Japanese girl looked up in alarm as distant crying filled her ears and she knew who the crying belonged to, the pale little infected other wise known as a witch. Kameko suddenly leapt to her feet and rushed back inside the Horseshoe Tavern and, without a glanced at the others, stole back her magnum from Mason and raced back outside.
Once away from the others she didn’t even glance back to see if they were following her as she took off in the direction of the crying. Kameko stilled as the witch came into sight, sitting on the ground rocking back-and-forth crying. She paused for a minute, just studying the depressed infected. And then slowly, ever so slowly, she crept forward.
Alerted by the action, the witch and she glanced up sharply and turned to stare directly at the approaching Kameko over her shoulder. A warning growl rumbled deep in her throat as the Japanese girl advanced. If the foolish survivor came even closer she would surely meet her doom by the witch’s claws. But Kameko didn’t heed the witch’s warning as she continued forward. This time the witch was starting to get to her feet, her growls getting louder and more threatening.
The next scene happened in a blur. A single gun shot filled the air, followed by a high-pitched scream. Kameko found herself staring at a pissed-off witch racing towards her with claws outstretched ready to do serious damage. Instead of running the black-haired girl held her ground. Her dark blue eyes bulged and a choking sound escaped her as the witch’s claws tore into her.
Is this what dying feels like?
Instead of it all, Kameko could help but smile lightly as she fell to the ground and the world around her went black.
~*~*~*
A red, familiar-looking door, swung open as a mop of black hair could be seen. Light brown eyes scanned the area in front thoroughly and, concluding the coast was clear, the figure of a tall boy was seen. He turned on his flashlight before heading out into the dark world. After a day of fighting with infected and searching for useful supplies, he had decided to shut himself up in a safe house. The boy had only left the safety of the room to get himself some fresh air.
Suddenly he froze as crazed screaming was heard. Cursing he reloaded his pump shotgun and sprinted in the direction. As the screaming grew gradually louder he skidded to a halt. The sight in front of him was of a pissed-off witch shredding what looked like another survivor to pieces.
Raising his pump shotgun, the black-haired boy aimed it at the back of the witch’s head. With a simple pull of the trigger, the bullet buried itself into the witch’s skull. A dying cry was heard and the special infected fell to the ground dead. Snorting rudely the boy traveled over and looked down at the downed survivor. His light brown eyes grew wide a little when he noticed the pool of blood around the black-haired girl.
“Aww…girl…aww.” Shane said in mocked sadness, lightly kicking the corpse of the dead teenager girl. “Probably shouldn’t have pissed off that witch, eh?”
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