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Post by Taya on Jan 13, 2012 4:45:37 GMT
Marion hated to leave such a find with out loading up the van proper, but she wouldn't be any use to anyone dead. So she tossed the water in the back of the van and took up the shotgun position and loaded her shotgun.
"Well it was a nice thought." she said to Robert.
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Post by Mr Spock on Jan 13, 2012 4:55:18 GMT
"We'll come back," said Amy, without hesitation. "Let's go. If we've done this to the scale I think we have, it'll be crawling thick with the bastards until tomorrow. We'll come back, have a nice little game of headshot, and take the rest of the water. But for now, we're fucking bolting."
Amy threw her bag into the back of the van and then swung herself authoritatively into the driver's seat, shoving Robert over as she did so.
"Doubt your driving is up to zombie scratch, cripple. OI! Crack'ed! Get in or get eaten, your choice!"
She was bellowing orders again as she accustomed herself to the girth of the van, reaching down for the clutch.
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Post by PenguinNinja on Jan 13, 2012 5:50:28 GMT
Pushing through the front door, Kayla stepped as lightly and as quickly as she could. The door didn’t seem like it would hold for more longer from the ferocity of the creatures that she saw. “Claire.” The name fell from her mouth again and she froze in her tracks on the corner of the road. Images flashed in her mind; blood, scared wide eyes. Screams filled her ears and she shook her head, trying to rid it of the things that she knew were not there.
“Ryan.” That name fell from nowhere. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure where the name fit into her life, in her mind. Nothing. Shaking her head she stepped forward and looked up and down the roads. A sports store caught her attention and she hurried to it, dodging and hiding behind cars, bus stops and various bags of trash in order to remain hidden from the ambling monsters in the street.
She decided to use the delivery door that it no doubt had and snuck inside. It was dark, the odd light on here and there. What she was looking for was a bag. Something small, but tough and sturdy, able to withstand being thrown around, dropped and keeping its contents inside.
It took her thirty minutes of exploring, testing and trying the bags with extreme scrutiny, and a few muffled hits to the heads with the pole but she finally found a bag she was happy with. She took a glance around the clothes section and decided that there was nothing helpful to her and decided it was time to move on.
With a sigh she hauled the black backpack onto her shoulders and decided to leave the way she came in. There were few zombies in sight that she had to worry about and shimmied her way to the front of the building again. A corner store gave her thoughts about food and drink and she decided to hold up in there for a short while to stock up and relax for a short while.
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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 Jan 16, 2012 0:21:03 GMT
Joe was in a world of his own – the thought of the helicopter reminded him of the timeless evenings he spent sat on his arse on video games, playing war-based shooting games. He could shoot people in the face with ease from his sofa, but now in time of crisis he was wank at accuracy. Or forward thinking. Or general common sense.
The helicopter was a thought, but sharply interrupted by the lass calling him a crackhead – he’d taken offense to such a term, preferring the title of “stoner”. Still he shrugged, made his way towards the van in too casual a manner and just kept his thoughts to himself temporarily – he’d be a shit leader, driver and overall teammate. His most recent flourishing idea was looking at a sunflower in a florists window, and remembering a game a couple years back that used such stupid methods to fight off zombies – hell, if it was just all that easy.
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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 30, 2012 9:43:56 GMT
Robert had banged his head against the window when Amy had pushed her way into the driving seat. Which as painful as it was, was something he was glad for. He had never actually passed his driving test, mostly because he always hit things. Never a person mind you, but he had a fantastic ability to hit things that were nowhere near the road. Like once he had managed to get his parents car stuck in a tree, although he'd rather not explain that one if asked. Usually if he was asked to take a car out to test it, he'd ask one of the others to do it for him, the boss never payed attention to the tests and he'd quickly get filled in on the problems before speaking to the customer anyway.
"Where are we going again?" He said whilst trying desperately to get his seat belt in. If Amy's driving was anything like how she was normally, it'd be an incredibly dangerous journey.
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Post by Mr Spock on Feb 25, 2012 2:26:17 GMT
It turned out that Amy's driving was exactly like how she was normally, and this was demonstrated astutely in the first few seconds by her ignoring Robert's question and slamming on the accelerator, turning the van in a sharp u-turn that threw all of the van's passengers into the side of the vehicle before tearing off down the bare roads in an unspecified direction.
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Post by Light on Feb 26, 2012 20:12:00 GMT
A cursory glance around this part of the kitchen confirmed his suspicions: there was nothing really usable in the way of supplies bar a couple of the larger knives which he placed into a section of the rucksack with the spare ammunition he had gathered along the way. Usable weapons were something he'd have to balance with food and water until he could find either a way out or a group of survivors if there were any who could work together to find some way out of the hellhole London had become from the infection. He wished he had the capacity for more weapons: sure his standard issue firearms and the ammo he'd gathered would last him a while, but everything ran out eventually, and then he'd like something to go with his sabre. Anything that could give him a chance of coming out of this whole situation relatively intact would be most welcome.
Back to the other pressing requirement: food and water. Anything useful, i.e non-perishables, would be in the stores at the back of the kitchen, so after a furtive check for anything else useful where he was, he headed towards the door to the stores.
Opening the metal door, he was greeted by an unpleasant sight: one of the creatures had somehow become trapped in the stores, absently beating at a box in front of it: "Oh fuck!" he cursed, as the thing turned and lunged at him, swinging its fists. He backtracked as best he could, still being caught in the chest by the thing's flailing fists, which knocked him into a nearby counter. With no time to draw a weapon, he reached blindly along the counter he'd been cast against for the nearest thing that wasn't secured, which happened to be a hefty saucepan. Swinging it two-handed, he smashed the creature in the jaw, staggering it into the doorframe and then continued to beat it around the head with the pan until it finally stopped moving.
"Shit..." he panted, dropping the dented pan back onto the counter: "Too bloody close..." he made sure it was dead before heading into the store, weapon raised this time, and filled the main section of the rucksack with food that would last a reasonable amount of time and a large quantity of bottled water. He also slipped a few extras that would fit into his pockets, and finally opened a tin of spam from the shelf and ate it on the spot; he hadn't realised quite how hungry he'd been up to that point, and so ate half a packet of biscuits from the shelf and downed a bottle of water too. The last thing he took with him was a bottle of the fine wine kept in here. Force of upbringing made him stuff it into one of the side pockets of the rucksack on his way out.
Finally with adequate supplies for at least some time away from the palace, he slung the rucksack back onto his back, took his rifle in hand and made his way carefully out of the back door of the kitchen, then down the manhole and into the underground pipes: granted, he wasn't going to be able to get into the streets this way; otherwise anyone could get past the Palace walls by going under them, but this would enable him to cross under the Palace grounds and come up just on the inside of the gates, which had been broken by the creatures at some point or other over the course of their infestation of the area.
Coming back to the surface just besides the gates, but still within the Palace compound, he checked the area as diligently as possible before climbing out of the manhole, then exited the broken gates to the City Streets. Taking on last look at Buckingham Palace, saluting and with the usual patriotic 'God Save The Queen' he made his way along the streets, sticking to the shadows and whatever cover he could find where possible along the way. The next place he could imagine as sustainable, and likely that others might have a similar idea, was St Pauls, and that was where he was heading now, because at the very least, even if he found no-one else, it was a sturdy place to hold up, at least for some time.
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Post by PenguinNinja on Feb 26, 2012 22:44:29 GMT
Kayla stopped inside the doors of the shop, St Paul's Cathedral in sight through the windows, and listened.
Silence.
But still she listened. Eyes examined the back room door with scrutiny, looking for anything that may seem out of place. If anything, it only seemed empty, owners having fled. She didn't know. Wouldn't argue. Taking cautious steps still, she edged around the shop, keeping one eye on the door she entered through and another on the back room door. It was open, whether by force or not she didn't know.
It dawned on her that somewhere between leaving St Bartholomew's and getting to the first shop on her little excavation to find her sister, she'd lost her cigarette. She couldn't remember if by accident or by smoking it all. But she grabbed the packet from her pocket and jiggled it around to hear the rattle of three left. She put one in between her lips and pulled out the lighter. It failed to work this time and she muttered a curse before spotting a box of lighters behind the counter. Her eyes wondered right to the open door and she chewed the cigarette before advancing towards the door.
She stopped on the boundary between shop and backroom. Looked at the lighters. Looked back to the open empty space. Shrugged her shoulders and muttered, "What the hell." In less than ten seconds she blew a puff of smoke out in a perfect circle that quickly dissipitated and placed it back in her mouth. She continued to puff smoke between her teeth, hands busy holding her weapon ready in case there were any more monsters lurking in wait.
A three minute sweep of the back room let her shoulders relax and she piled boxes of chocolate bars and drinks against the back door, closed the door that led to the back room and looked around the shop. She threw her backpack onto the counter and in the front pocket put three packets of 20 box cigarettes along with two lighters for emergencies. In the main section, she gathered up bottles of water, placed packets of biscuits in between them along with a few tins of beans.
She searched for a can opener, remembered the small sink in the back and opened the door to search a set of drawers. Found one and threw that in with her cigarettes and lighters. Her eyes caught on the bottles of alcohol lined up on the shelves and she grabbed small bottles of whiskey, rum, vodka and brandy. If need be, they'd make great molotovs.
"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." She foudn herself repeating the name and she did her best to picture the face. It was blurry and she was beginning to become frustrated by the lack of memories she seemed to be having. "Who the fuck are you?" she whispered to the mysterious man in her mind.
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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 Mar 7, 2012 23:11:26 GMT
"Amy you don't have to be so crazy! You could have at least let us put our seat belts on!" Robert shouted as he was thrown into the window whilst desperately trying to tug his seat seat belt to fasten it. He looked up through the windscreen.
"Amy watch for those cars!" He shouted again as the van flew down the road.
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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 Apr 22, 2012 9:18:30 GMT
"Sir we've got movement" the pilot's announced in unison "Van, 50 yards bearing one-five-niner" The pair of them swivelled their turrets to track the vehicle and subsequently the large horde barrelling after it. "Bring us in. Brush the pavement if you can" The chopper adjusted its position and dive bombed after the van, levelling out just above the rooftops. The resulting downwash from the rotors created a small vortex, whipping small unsecured objects like bins and bicycles, around like a child's plaything. Needless to say a portion of the horde were blown away or pulverised.
"Recommend weapons free sirs" "Copy that, give ‘em hell" After this quick exchange the M90 door guns began singing to the meaty 'thwump thwump' of .50 calibre machine gun fire. Tracers chewed up tarmac, buildings and zombies alike. This only added to the debris 'tornado', pounding the advancing enemies with a fusillade of bricks and bodies.
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Post by PenguinNinja on May 4, 2012 0:18:42 GMT
Kayla darted her eyes up and down the street, pushing the name Ryan from her mind. She kept her back to the wall of the shop and side stepped along the pavement. There weren't many zombies about giving her a bit of ease as she edged down the road.
St Paul's stood just a few hundred yards away. It was close. Was safety. Changing direction, she ambled along in that direction, hiding and crouching behind various items. It took her a total of thirty minutes to make it, but once she had she pushed on the door and found it difficult to budge. "No more room."
Kayla stepped back to stare at the door. Judging by the size of the building, she guessed it would easily fit a thousand people. "How many people you got?"
Silence. "There's no room."
Then she heard them. The gunshots. She jumped, crouched and held her pole close to her in defense. Sand spit up around her and she heard the faint screams of someone going down. "Ward, defend," she nodded at the order and raised her gun to the offending direction the shots had come from.
But froze.
Zombies stood in front of her, heads twisted in the direction of the shots. Their moans echoed in her ears with manly screams from a bleeding leg. "No, no, no," she muttered. "London. London. London." She twisted back to the door, knocked on it and said, "Let me in before I shoot through the door." As if to make a point, she banged the pole on the door just enough to be heard on the other side.
"No! Please, don't," the man on the other side all but shouted. She twisted her head to see if any zombies had taken notice of her and puffed on her cigarette. For the moment, she was fine.
The door opened, revealing the head of a white haired balding man. He peered round her to the zombies and pointed to her mouth. "You cannot come in here with that." She stared at him for a few seconds, took another long drag before spitting it on the ground and standing on it with her foot. The man nodded then and permitted her entry.
Kayla pushed herself inside and observed the inside of the Cathedral. She turned to thank the man and stopped. She came face to face with a priest. Instead of thanking him she turned back to the room and took note of nobody else. "I thought you said there were other people."
"I lied, so what? I didn't think there was anybody left. Have you been bit? Are you a carrier?"
"A what?"
"A carrier. Of this disease."
She shrugged. Hell, she didn't know. She'd woken up to a mess of a world. Her eyes focused on a candle at the front of the hall, a small flicker of a flame, and she sank into her mind. Heat rose up around her, the building was falling down around her. Somebody was screaming for help.
She kicked out, hit a bench and found herself back into the church. Swallowing a large lump in her throat, she withdrew her packet of cigarette's, pulled one out, lit it and took an extra long drag.
Almost instantly it soothed her nerves. "You can't smoke in here. It's a place of worship and God."
"Screw God," she muttered to the man before snaking off towards the front row of benches to sit, think and smoke. Her mind was a mess, a jigsaw puzzle that needed putting together again. She just wanted some time to think and try to figure out the mess of her mind.
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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 May 10, 2012 16:34:36 GMT
Slamming around the in the back of the van, Joe tumbled freely. He was clinging onto some kind of bar for support, but each sharp turn knocked him wildly off his feet or arse. Countless swear words escaped his mouth as he was attempting to steady himself.
“Fucking hell, can you give a guy some fucking war-”
Joe began to shout, before the lass had turned the van sharply to one side, Joe’s entire weight throwing itself with a fair bit of force behind it into what appeared to be a tool box. He swore he heard a snap of sorts, but the blunt force just smashed consciousness out of him. He slumped down, falling hard to the van’s floor, muttering the words “cunting toolbox” before blacking out.
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Post by Mr Spock on May 11, 2012 8:52:46 GMT
"You haven't been out here very long, have you?" Amy said with a smirk to Robert as she swerved the van out of the way of the cars littering the road and continued veering as fast as the van would go as she saw the mess of unpleasant bodies begin to swarm the horizon in the rear view mirror.
"Marion, I'm gonna take you back first. D'you want the crack'ed?"
She spoke loudly to be heard over the revving of the engine, which was clearly not used to Amy's unorthadox style of driving.
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Post by Taya on May 11, 2012 21:01:46 GMT
Marion looked at the unconscious pot head in the back of the van. She was braced against the door with her shot gun facing out the window. Amy's driving was jarring but she wasn't tossed around as much as the boys and she certainly wasn't going to complain about it.
"you can't be serious." She said. "He's been lucky that i haven't killed him yet. What about giving him a sporting chance by taking him to St. Paul's?"
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Post by Light on May 13, 2012 15:21:13 GMT
To say that his journey had been tense and unpleasant would have been an understatement. To have to cover the ground between the Palace and St Paul's alone in a place, any number of features along the way which could be housing hordes of the hungry undead was not exactly a fetching prospect. He'd travelled that distance with a constant tension in his body, every street he'd gone down, every corner he'd turned he'd expected the worst; at least that way when it was clear there was a small sensation of relief to be felt. There had of course been times along the way when he'd run into the inevitable; his travels had been a mixture of wondering if a street would be clear, coupled with having to duck for cover in uncomfortable and barely tenable places, and in some of the less fortunate places, having to fight the damn things off again.
The whole journey, aside from being something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, had earned Simon a host of other scrapes, bruises and yet a few more tears to his clothes from the combination of squeezing into hiding places and the fortunately relatively infrequent occasions where he'd had no choice but to remove the creatures from his path. All in all, hellish, something he hoped he'd never have to do again in his life, but given the situation London was in, he probably would. Maybe he could at least find some other survivor's, and a secure place to hole up for a while at least.
Finally having run the gauntlet, he saw St Paul's as he turned the final corner. Moving up carefully, using as much cover as he could find, he carefully made his way towards the place. Stopping a short distance from the doors, he spotted a small group of zombies a short distance away; three of the damn things, milling around outside. Making sure that they were the only ones around, he took aim with his gun, and fired a few quick bursts, striking the creatures down quickly so that they wouldn't scatter and make it difficult to get rid of them.
Once they were down, he quickly made sure that they were dead, breathed a sight of relief that they were, and then jogged over to the doors of St Paul's. Pushing against them, it was clear that they were secured; whoever was inside had surely heard the shots, but just to make sure, he knocked loudly and called out: "Anyone inside? Open the doors!"
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