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Post by Mr Spock on Nov 20, 2011 22:09:29 GMT
Another heavy force slammed into the shopping cart simultaneously synced with the sound of shots as Amy hurled herself into the trolley and shot as quickly as she could at the zombie as it went to leap again, the force of the bullet hurling it backwards. She glanced at Marian and cocked her a wry smile, before glancing back at the zombie, confirming it was dead before pulling the cart away from Marian.
"So.. how're you?"
She took several steps back to avoid Marian hitting her in any act of vengeance.
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Playle
Talking In Your Sleep
Posts: 441
Deadly Sin: Sloth
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
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Post by Playle on Nov 21, 2011 0:05:52 GMT
There seemed to be the sound of rough and tumble, and even a few shots, from within the store. Crashing and clashing until somewhat of a calm, but Joe just looked vacant and glazed as he was began to be left alone.
It was one of few times that Joe’s mind drifted towards serious thought; his inevitable downer that made him repeat a message in his head loud and clear – “I am a burden.”
All his mates used to tell him. Whilst they were telling him to pick himself up, sort his life out, do something more with himself and what not, he smoked it up and rode the tide of just enough profit from his Camden stall to eat Tesco value spaghetti and four can Carling packs. They got more affluent, moving into bigger better places, even starting families with girls of glamour (even in this cockney shithole). They weren’t stuck in the monotonous repetitive cycle of cannabis induced lethargy, with uncommon highs, or they’d broke the mold and made something for themselves. They got somewhere in life.
Joe was stuck in a drugged rut. Well, him and dodgy Dave (his favourite dealer who made a living running a sweets shop stall as well as growing his own cannabis). Dodgy Dave was probably part of the carrion canopy which covered and cluttered the Camden cobbles, being torn apart by the infected.
But it was moments like this, like witnessing those who were putting in 110% into survival, that made him feel like a burden. Maybe he’d have to prove himsel-
“Shit, is that a copter?” he muttered to nobody in particular, looking to the dark skies. He could hear a distinct sound, before a huge bloody bang, and another, and then glass smashing, and then more bangs. He instinctively ducked down, as if some kind of armed helicopter would actually shoot civilians. He thought of how much fucking noise it was making, attracting every rotting festering fucker in the city at the rate it was going.
He waited though, ducked down slightly, and guessed the others would hear the helicopter.. if they believed Joe was being truthful and not just somewhat delusional.
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Post by PenguinNinja on Nov 21, 2011 0:35:57 GMT
Cold. That was what Kayla noticed first.
The cold.
And the silence. Sitting up she stared at the wall. Something was definitely off, strange about the air. Something hung around the room, attached to the ceiling, walls, bed, her clothes, something... dead.
A squeak. Somewhere off down the hall. A scream outside the walls and the only window in her room. She stood, rubbed her arms and approached the window. Wind whistled in the crack up the side, something she'd done herself only three months ago in another attempt.
Nothing moved and she listened, heard a grunt, scuffling feet, rushing feet and even a few groans. An explosion sounded in her ears, and an invisble wind forced her to turn and cower and when she looked back up it was to the empty room save for the bed.
Kayla shook her head and rid her mind of the explosion. 'It's not there, it's not real,' she told herself as she set herself to pace the edges of the room and stopped at the door.
There was a small tiny window in the door and she stared out of it. It was locked, she knew that, and the only way to open it was with the key card her Doctor had. Twelve feet away he lay, blood surrounding him in a large puddle with a nurse collapsed against a wall two feet further.
Tilting her head, she looked at the other doors down the corridor. There were other residents staring out or screaming, clawing at the windows and she shook her head as the sreams somehow dug themselves through the doors and into her ears. She slammed her hands against the door, let out a scream herself and turned, slammed her palms onto her bed and breathed slow and deep. 'Not again. No. Not. Again.'
After several minutes, her mind was halfway clear and she pulled the mattress off her bed, dragged the frame to lean it against a wall and kicked the springs in. she proceeded to pry the frame apart. She thanked the funder's for cheap bed frames as she grabbed one of the poles and shoved it underneath the door and lifted as much as could. Several moments later, she pulled it back out to find the end flattened and forced it into the tiny gap between the door lock and the frame.
She proceeded to push on the pole, the crack of the door giving way slowly increasing before finally the door gave a loud crack and flew open with a loud bang. Gripping the pole in her hands, she stepped, bare foot, out into the hall and listened. Many other residents had ceased their screams to stare at her through the windows and the loud noise she had created. "Look away, stay away, keep away," she muttered keeping her eyes low.
Bloody footsteps. She stepped around these and did so quietly, ears listening all the time as she slowly inched further and further down the hall. She had watched from her room as creatures, creatures that were human with white eyes, no sign of colour, had ripped the doctor and nurse apart and proceeded to gnaw on their innards. She had watched as some creatures barged their way into some of the residents' room, some walked, some crawled, some hobbled and some ran with impressive speed. It all meant one thing from haggard looks and savage inhuman hunger for flesh; they were to avoided.
Keeping quiet in her room and away from the window had allowed her to survive. How others hadn't become victim to these beasts was a curious question.
Stepping over the nurse, she lifted her eyes and looked down the two way corridor. 'Left? Right?' A faint scuffle from the left hand side made her decision for her and she turned right. Her bare feet felt as though they suddenly touched rough dirt and she felt the wave of de ja vu hit her once again and her mind screamed for her to hide, quick, before the explosion.
With a mutter, she stumbled into an office room, slammed the door shut, pushed a desk up against the door and slumped down behind it. Kayla stuck her arm in her mouth and let the shout come in form of her biting her arm in order to qwell the shout and memory from reoccuring at this moment.
The bite mark produced blood and at that point, her brown eyes looked further down her arm to the faint scars that covered her wrist in disjointed lines. Her memory for each and every one of them came back to mind and all of a sudden, she felt her hands scratching across the floor to the pens that lay there to grab one.
It shook in her hand, hovering over the lines and she gulped, closed her eyes and moved the nib closer to the flesh on her wrist.
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Andaru
Goody-Two Shoes
I...like...cats...cos...they're...fluffy... The End
Posts: 337
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Post by Andaru on Nov 27, 2011 16:20:56 GMT
Robert had made his way into the store; he had increased his pace when he heard the shots being fired. He had only known the two women for a few hours now, but it was times like this where anyone you meet who wasn’t infected practically became family to people like him who were desperate to survive. He had always grown attached to people he had known, he had very few friends in his life and those he had managed to get a good relationship with he had tried his best to hold onto them. Obviously the present state of the world had robbed him of all of these.
“Hey, is everyone okay?” He looked around at the travesty which was now the shop. It was clear that things had gone a little off plan.
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Ryoku
Anything But Ordinary
[A:0]
'You can't see a shadow amongst shadows'
Posts: 241
Deadly Sin: Wrath
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Post by Ryoku on Nov 27, 2011 23:29:16 GMT
Over St. Paul's the crew slowed to a hover and debated over several subjects. The two passengers exchanged a glance with each other before turning to the pilots "What the bloody 'ell is the hold-up?" they screamed.
"Thermals picking up a large mass around the target, recommend we abort mission" the co-pilot replied. In truth the thermal imagining camera couldn't see Buckingham palace, let alone anything past Charing cross station, which suggested that the place was probably overrun with undead and or vermin.
"An' who the hell put you in charge!" they quickly strode into the cockpit and glanced at the monitors.
"Fine we abort, but you're bloody taking us to see who's down there" one of them indicated several individual heat sources near Temple station. "Land us on the embankment then circle round. Inform command that we need our gear on station" and with that the two figures resumed their positions at the door guns.
"Copy that, tracking Temple" "ETA 45 seconds" "Deploying decoy"
The black hawk dropped one of several pig carcass' strapped to it's underside. The basic idea was to distract any undead from the noise created by the rotor's then slow down the rotor speed to little more than a whisper and coast in quietly, drop the cargo and glide off to a safe distance then resume normal operations.
Task Force 95 had been performing such missions since the quarantine to retrieve high value targets, be it people, equipment or documents. It was discovered that rotting flesh attracts hordes more effectively than noise or light. Such a discovery was made whilst transporting injured civilians, at the cost of several hundred lives.
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Post by PenguinNinja on Nov 28, 2011 20:03:46 GMT
She stopped, brown eyes focused on a small cardboard box just inches away from her feet. It was snug in the carpet, abandoned, ready to spill its guts across the floor.
Kayla’s mouth itched, her fingers twitched and she abandoned the pen to snag the prize. The last time she had laid eyes on a single cigarette was fifteen days ago at least. The memory of its scent and taste filtered into her mind and she smiled. They’d always helped her to relax, to feel calm in a tough situation.
Now all she needed was a light.
There it was again.
She froze, listening. There. A growl, thudding steps and moans. Eyes darted to the pole, grabbed it and she crouched behind the desk and stared at the door. Shadows lumbered past, no more than ten. Three stopped near to the door, their moans and growls slurred as they inched closer.
Kayla turned her eyes to the cigarette box, counted four and jostled one out to put into her mouth. Surely the doctor had a light lying around.
Scratching at the door made her look up from opening drawers.
Scratching.
She shook her head and nibbled the end of the cigarette. ‘This is . . . London? Yeah, London.’ She repeated the mantra in her head and finally found an almost empty lighter. Seconds later the flame lit the end of the cigarette and she took in one long drag.
The scratching increased and she turned to survey the room. A brown leather coat hung on an untouched coat rack and she threw this on, stuffed the cigarettes into a pocket and eyed the door. They were banging now.
Whatever they were.
She blew out a puff of nicotine and observed the door. The windows next to it showed several more decomposing things staring at her through the glass and she knew she couldn’t stay much longer. Her feet were cold.
No shoes.
“Fuck,” she muttered, gripping the pole and looking around the room again. A window led out beyond the walls of Bartholomew’s hospital, but what was out there? Another cloud of smoke. Another creature banging on the windows.
They weren’t going to hold. They were going to shatter into thousands of pieces and they were going to fall in, cut, bruised, bleeding, moaning, crying in pain. Eyes wide she shook her head. ‘Not the same, not here, no. They’re gone, there, you’re here.’
She decided to take the risk and jimmied the window open, slipped through and closed it behind her. A quick look at the dark sky, touches of light on the horizon, told her that north was to her left. When she looked at the roads, she could see more of those creatures lurking in the distance.
The pole in her hands wasn’t going to do her much good, she needed weapons, decent, good weapons. Maybe a gun. At least a knife.
Turning right, she slipped down the next road, the shop in view put a smile on her face and she smirked, her direction changed to aim straight for the retail store. “First order of business, workable clothes,” she muttered, half jogging with the knowledge they were just within her reach.
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Post by Taya on Dec 14, 2011 11:23:38 GMT
"Do I look bloody alright to you?" Marian huffed holding her torso. "damn, feels like a rib." she muttered to herself as she took a step. Snapping and cursing certainly wasn't the proper response, but it bloody well hurt and she clearly would not be running at top speed now.
"what are you two waiting for? Unless we have that van, we grab what we can carry." Marian said heading straight for the medical supplies with her pack open. She paused "what's that sound? A helicopter?"
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Post by Mr Spock on Jan 8, 2012 2:05:49 GMT
Amy frowned, but shook her head. "It's not important unless it's definite. Cripple. Take these," she threw two large plastic vats of sunflower oil at him, not really paying enough attention to know whether she would bowl him over or not. "Try it out."
She turned to the entrance, then glanced back into the store.
"Marian.. The water supplies here are basically untouched..."
She knew water was the most precious commodity since the main taps had been switched off, and Marian would do stupid things for Cannon. Amy wasn't sure whether that would stop short of carrying all that water out of here herself or not, but she was worried about finding out. Hopefully, the van would work.
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Post by Light on Jan 8, 2012 15:40:43 GMT
Finally. The faint trickle of air and somewhat lessening of the gloom signalled the end of the vent shaft.
Reaching the grill panel at the far end he slid his hand over the rucksack and the gun on top of it that he had been pushing in front of him and pushed against it the grill: it had been looser, and the fittings more rusted than he had thought, causing it to clatter to the ground below: "Shit!" he hissed, waiting, listening, praying that it would go unnoticed. For what felt like an age he waited in silence, his ragged breathing the only sound, but to him that still felt like thunder in his ears.
Finally, he inched forwards, peering out gingerly over the rucksack and into the kitchen below: "Thank God..." he breathed, seeing none of the creatures in the kitchen at least. Lowering the rucksack as far as it would go towards one of the sideboards, he let it drop onto it before lowering his gun beside it. Lastly, he crawled forwards, and with a lot of squirming and shifting, managed to drag himself out of the vent, and onto the sideboard, grimacing as a jagged edge of the vent entrance sliced into his left hip on the way out, leaving a piece of his clothing behind on the metal. Another cut to add to his collection of bruises and scrapes.
Stepping down onto the kitchen floor, he opened the rucksack and took out the sabre he had placed inside before going into the vents; aside from the fact that he wanted a weapon that wouldn't run out of ammunition with him at all times, it was also the last real reminder of who he had been before all this, because his uniform, once the striking scarlet and gold weave of a Horse Guards Major, was now faded, stained, torn, and dulled: little more now than clothes to keep him covered up. Strapping the sabre back onto his belt, he slung the gun over his right shoulder by the strap and gave a last look round the place for any of the monsters.
Seeing his reflection in one of the less spoiled pans, he sighed deeply: pale, gaunt, with several cuts and a couple of scars on his face, along with a particularly painful bruise on his lower jaw where one of the bastard creatures had ambushed him a few days back. He'd been lucky to survive that one. Not to mention the rest of him; beneath the clothes there were bruises, cuts, and numerous other little scrapes that did not show in the reflection: "Fucking hell Simon..." he muttered to himself: "You look a right mess..." he dumped the rucksack on the side and started looking around the kitchen for some workable supplies. He was going to have to leave Buckingham Place very soon. There were just too many of them flocking here, and they had been for a few days now. He was only alive because the place was so big and he knew it so well, but now it would be impossible to stay, so he was going to have to take what he could use and take his chances moving somewhere else, and see if there was anyone else out there
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Post by PenguinNinja on Jan 8, 2012 17:02:46 GMT
Kayla sighed as she looked at the ‘Ted Baker’ store. Just from the looks of the mannequins in the windows told her it would hold little suitable clothing. A groan behind her made her jimmy the door open and close it shut behind her. If there was one thing she knew it was how to act and think fast.
‘Claire.’ That name. “Claire,” she tested it on her tongue. Frowned. It was familiar. Sounded like someone she knew.
A round face with a cheery toothy grin; brown eyes just like hers but with brown hair. “Claire.” She tested the name again, felt tears prickle her eyes and shook her head. No. At this moment, all she could think about was finding some suitable clothes and focus on surviving whatever it was that was going on.
But there were very little clothes she wanted to wear. She ignored the dresses, ignored the brightly coloured tops and the ladies shoes. After a thorough quick search she found a pair of black boots from the men’s section, followed by a pair of blue baggy jeans and a plain baggy men’s dark grey t-shirt. A belt solved half the jeans problem, the other half she had to deal with.
These clothes wouldn’t do, wouldn’t last long and were inefficient for combat.
Claire.
She pinched her eyes shut, tried to drown the picture. Hated the replacement picture her mind put there; a group of five men and women, dressed in yellow and brown fatigues. A sniper, a bomb. Screams. Blood. “No!” She shouted, slamming her fist down onto the checkout counter. It was wrong, having those thoughts, having them interrupt her. “Stop, please,” she begged her mind.
A collective groan, different intonations, pitches voices. Her brown eyes snapped open and she grabbed the pole she’d kept with her and readied herself. The sounds were all around her, she couldn’t pick the general direction and gulped.
“Claire.” She remembered now. The brown eyes, brown hair, pretty smile. Her sister. “Where are you?”
Bang.
She turned, found a group of crazy monsters pushing through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. “Fuck.” Kayla lifted the pole, aimed it at their chests and rammed forward with as much force as possible. It would hopefully slow them down as she pushed the group of three creatures, now affixed to the pole, back into the larger group. She pushed back as far as could against the horde and with a little help from her covered foot, kicked the group further back and slammed the door. It took her a whole 90 seconds to find something strong enough to slot in the handles of the doors.
Now she had to move fast, and needed another weapon. It took her a further three minutes to work the metal pole from inside one of the mannequins inside the store free. Once done, she looked out of the front windows, swore at the number of creatures walking around and decided she’d rather face them than the group who were still trying to break their way in.
She took a breath, held the image of her sister in her mind. An address. It came to her, where Claire was supposed to be living. Chadwick Court. That’s where she needed to go.
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Andaru
Goody-Two Shoes
I...like...cats...cos...they're...fluffy... The End
Posts: 337
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Post by Andaru on Jan 12, 2012 21:56:11 GMT
Robert caught one of them but the the other slammed against the first and it sent him tumbling to the floor. He didn't really want to look up, he imagined the two of them staring at him thinking nothing but how useless he was.
After a moment he pushed them off him and without looking at the others rolled the vats out of the door towards the van. Where he began to fill up the tank of the van.
"I wish she'd stop calling me cripple." Robert said quietly to himself.
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Post by Taya on Jan 12, 2012 22:21:43 GMT
Marian felt a flash of pity as Robert fell. But then admired his determination to help. He would be a good addition to Cannon. They needed dedicated fellows like him that wouldn't be trying only to save their own necks.
Her knapsack was half full of drugs and gauze when the water supply was mentioned. Marian immediately changed course and began to fill the rest with bottles of water. She was astonished at how much there was and was seriously hoping that van would work. Once her bag was filled, Marian went for the large jugs, two in each hand.
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Post by Mr Spock on Jan 13, 2012 4:03:50 GMT
"He seems like a good lad," commented Amy as she filled her heavy industrial backpack with bottles of water and various cans and tins. "I'm going to take him back with me and if he's still talkin' in the morning, I'll bring him over to you. Unless he has a problem with it, do you want the van? I know it'll be more use to Cannon than it'd be to me."
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Andaru
Goody-Two Shoes
I...like...cats...cos...they're...fluffy... The End
Posts: 337
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Post by Andaru on Jan 13, 2012 4:28:33 GMT
Robert Finished putting the last of the sunflower oil into the van and chucked the bottles in the back just in case they needed them at a later date. He then looked around to make sure Joe hadn't done anything else stupid and satisfied that he wasn't going to get himself killed in the time he started the van got inside. He lay down in the seat and started playing with the wires.
"And you said I would never make it as a mechanic..." Suddenly the van roared into life which made Robert bang his head. He sat up in the chair.
"Yes!" He cheered at his success...suddenly his face dropped as a slow realization dawned upon him.
"Shit..."
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Post by Mr Spock on Jan 13, 2012 4:35:47 GMT
Having drifted to the other side of the store for cans, Amy snapped to attention and dashed to the front of the store.
"Marion?" she bellowed into the store, "That's making a damn sight more noise than I expected! Move out!"
Her voice was urgent and authoritative - it was in moments like this that Amy's military training suddenly bared its teeth, and she seemed even more like a force to be reckoned with than usual.
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