THE ZONE: A Survival RP (IC Thread)

[Sarejo]

Snip

Damion slung his rifle over his shoulder as they carried the woman into the infirmary, and stumbled in, still slightly drunk. He walked unsteadily over to the barely conscious woman, but still somehow by some grace of God kept enough control over his hands to not crush the wound as he applied pressure. The woman kept mumbling and crying as the man who claimed to be a doctor of sorts searched for equipment to attempt a surgery. The woman seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, and finally succumbed when the doctor returned. "Fucking finally... Her crying was getting on my nerves, Christ." he mumbled to himself, still holding his hands over the wound.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

Crossroads, Nevada | Day 2

It went without saying at this point, but things weren't going well. Miller kept the handgun firmly against the man's neck as the small group marched forwards towards the gate, the eyes of the town upon them as they did. Silence reigned over the empty streets, only punctuated by the sounds of boots on dirt. It made Miller anxious. The sounds of creaking metal gates and cawing birds would occasionally punctuate the total silence, but nobody seemed to feel like talking.

Well, except for Miller's hostage. He never seemed to stop talking.

Miller kept the man close, the barrel of an empty pistol on his hostage. He wasn't sure how the plan was supposed to work, or even if it would. He was more of an improviser. The kind of man that could wing it through an entire plan and probably come out with minimal injuries. Except for losing a hand, he figured. That was minimal by some standards, his mind retorted.

The gate guards kept their weapons trained on them as the gate opened onto the desert landscape.

A thoroughly populated desert landscape.

About twenty men, armed with body armor and rifles stood, weapons trained on the small group. Their faces were covered with a smattering of shemaghs and bandannas, even gas masks. Their weapons were scavenged and cobbled together, mostly from dead military personnel. There was even a man, hefty and plump, in a wife-beater with a chainsaw. Miller wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but his mind was more preoccupied with keeping his bowels in check.

At the head of the group was a tall man in a tattered hawaiian overshirt and a pair of khakis. A long cigarette hung from his mouth, smoke slowly billowing out into the air as he watched the group. A handgun hung loosely in one hand as he flicked the cigarette aside, stepped forwards. One of the gang, a woman in a trenchcoat, followed him closely as she stepped forwards. The hostage, in a desperate voice, whispered to Miller.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, boy."

The man's voice interjected.

"Paul, you're just as fucked as the rest of them. Keep your goddamned mouth shut."

There was an air of authority to the man's voice as he spoke, accented with a slight Southern accent. Miller shifted the handgun around in his hand as the man stopped, about ten feet away.

"Drop the gun, Miller."

He sighed and tossed the gun aside, letting Paul loose. The man stumbled over to the group, clutching his throat and shooting Miller angry looks. The other man simply sighed and made a quick hand motion; the woman, with an unsettling speed, smacked Paul across the face.

"Now," the man said. "You're coming with us. All of you."

He scanned over the group, finally settling on Spencer. His face lit up.

"Oh, holy shit. It's you. I've always wanted to do this."

With a single, swift motion, he brought the pistol up and fired at him. The round caught Spencer in the head, spraying blood across the ground as the man collapsed. Miller practically jumped out of his skin. He looked to the man, who had stepped even closer. He slid the pistol into the back of his pants and smiled. A long, unsettling grin of moldy teeth that chilled Miller to the bone.

"He'll be fine. He's always fine. I'm Bill, by the way."

The man stuck his hand out in some token gesture, but before Miller could respond, someone threw a bag over his head and hit him. Hard.

Bill motioned to the others, and they were dealt with similarly. As Miller's consciousness began to fade, he heard a single, mocking voice in the darkness.

"Welcome to the Zone, friend."

It was at this point that fleeing out the back door at the first sign of trouble had turned out to be brilliant plan. Amatol was no coward nor traitor, as much as his actions would suggest otherwise. It was an instinct, to flee from a head on confrontation and an even fight with other humans. He watched wide eyed from the narrow, dusty alley between the bar and the nondescript scrap building that neighbored it, crouched low between two large piles of rubble as Spencer was shot and Miller got black-bagged. It wouldn't be too big a leap to assume that the two were dead, or are going to be soon. He knew that the journey to the epicenter was going to get them all killed, but it was such a great waste that they would die so far from their goal. Amatol had no intention of following them all the way to the center; he would guide them close and through the dangerous anomaly fields, that what he was going to be paid for, and grab some ultra-rare artefacts on the way out. As much as liked their company, he had no intention to follow them to their graves. Amatol had something to live for outside the Zone, and was not going to throw his life away following dead men walking.

Miller fell to the ground unconscious as Amatol slunk away from the alley and into a deserted street. His movements were deliberate, a trained mind keeping his panicking body under control as he stealthily moved to one of the Crossroads' walls, hugging the nooks and crannies between buildings. The walls were made of scrap and refuse hastily cemented together, there HAD to be a weakness; a loose stone, a small hole, some form of weak link. If push came to shove, he could blast his way through, but that remained as the absolute last option.

A swift examination of the wall revealed an immediate weak point: there was a small area near the base that was only some concrete slabs leaning onto a poorly concealed length of chain-link fence, about large enough for a decently sized dog to fit through. Amatol worked more quickly and efficently than he had ever before as he made a low run to the wall, bolt cutters in hand. He could count the seconds he felt between heartbeats as the debris was cleared. 1.

9. He swiftly drew the bolt cutters and began snipping through the thin aluminum wire with the efficiency of a machine. In way, he was, a mere machine of bone and adrenaline in his state, an automaton acting on instinct and adrenaline. Make 400 meters. Sprint. We'll survive.

20. Wrenching the fence, he created a small gap for himself to fit through. Barely, but it would of been enough for him to escape. But he never got the chance. The sounds of boots scuffing along the dry desert ground alerted Amatol to incoming in from his right. His rifle was half drawn when he was struck on the side of the head, the blow violently jerking his head over his left. Amatol could feel himself fall as if in slow motion, a glob of his saliva lazily drifting in the air. The world went black as he hit the ground.

[New Grestin]

[TAPE BEGINS]

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "And I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time of ascendance is before I us! We stand, together, at the precipice of the kingdom of heaven!"

[CHEERING]

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "Oh, lord, Oh, my life could never contain a fraction of the love you give. You move the earth and the clouds, the heavens and the beyond. You are everything and we are nothing before you!"

[UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE VOICE]: "Amen!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "Amen! Amen! We are gathered here today to praise the lord and the gifts she has bestowed upon us in these dark times. She has delivered us unto her kingdom! I have seen the future my friends, with eyes that were not mine and through the smiles of the ascended, I have seen it! The King has risen, and we must prepare for his coming!"

[EDITOR'S NOTE: At this point, an additonal male voice, identified as Agent Jarith, began speaking]

[AGENT JARITH]: "P-Please, please, just let me-"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "We. must. cleanse those who would blaspheme against the lord! We must provide them the same deliverance that was provided unto us! Entrance unto heaven is not free, my brothers and sisters! It must be paid for with blood, and flesh!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE #2]: "Kill the Sinner!"

[UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE VOICE]: "He's unclean!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "Now, friends. It is with this tribute that his debt is paid."

[AGENTJARITH]: "Ju-Just let me go. I won't-"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "It is with his blood, that he may be reborn!"

[AGENT JARITH]: "Wait, no, don't touch me! Stop! Wait!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "It is with this flesh, that he may become like the King!"

[AGENT JARITH BEGINS SCREAMING]

[TAPE BECOMES CORRUPTED BEYOND RECOVERY]

[TAPE ENDS]

Recovered Media File CF412-102, circa 2016

Outside Overton, Nevada | Day 2

"Fucking finally... Her crying was getting on my nerves, Christ."

That was it, she was done. Valerie let Salk go to work, the others assisting him as she stepped aside. Her shoulder was killing her, and even as she shifted her arm back and forth, she could work off the odd pain. It was like her muscle was being coiled up. She sighed, noticing a small bathroom in the back of the structure. If nothing else, it would be a moment's respite.

She slid in the small, cramped room and slid the door shut. It was barely big enough to occupy one person, with a simple toilet and a stainless steel sink. A dusty mirror hung over the sink, where she could see specks of dried blood. She thought it better not to mull over their origins as she slid her jacket off. Her shirt followed suit, and she hung over the sink for a moment, pawing at the small specks of blood across her face. Her tank-top, once bright white, was long stained with dirt and blood. Each splatter she could recognize, each a token of one expedition or another.

Valerie flicked one of the sink knobs and, to her astonishment, water flowed into the small basin. She smiled and went to work.

The dirt came off easily, but blood was much more difficult to clean.

As she finished, her eyes flicked to the mirror, catching something out of place. There was something on her shoulder.

Valerie winced and adjusted herself, trying to get a better look. Whatever it was, it was hard. She ran her fingers over the protrusion for some time, trying to gather what exactly it was she was feeling. The rough texture felt odd beneath her fingers. Irritated, she dug her nail under a part of the spot and worked at it. It took some time, but a piece of the protrusion finally came loose, and she brought it up to her face.

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

It was a human tooth.

Panic began to take over and she flailed around, trying to bring the protrusion into view of the mirror.

She could just barely see it now, in that dark little room. A line of human teeth, growing out of her skin. Bile rose in her throat as she sat there, dumbfounded. No explanation made sense, no logic could be applied. The mutation simply was. It was only after what felt like hours that she finally realized the radio was on.

"You're starting to feel it now, aren't you?"

The crackly voice returned, sounding older than before.

"You're marked."

She snatched the radio from her belt and spoke, her voice cracking with panic as she did. Her stomach churned, tears welled in her eyes as she slid up against one of the bathroom walls. Like a little girl, she slid down it and curled against the corner. She didn't understand anything anymore.

"What-what is this?"

"You've been exposed. She's got a grip on you now. You're in the late stages."

Tears finally broke through as she raised the radio once more, her arms feeling like sacks of meat.

"Late stages of what?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Valerie was just about to raise the radio again when the voice came through.

"Corruption."

She broke down, letting the radio hang loosely in her hand as she wept. Nothing made any sense anymore. The sickness was bad enough, but she was becoming something. That was the only explanation that made sense. If that was the case, then what was the point of even trying for the center anymore? If the voice was right, and she really was corrupted, then what might she become if she tried? She couldn't do that to the others. She didn't want to imagine what horror she might become.

Pushing herself off the floor, she felt resignation once again. Why was she really doing this, she wondered. Was it just suicide by another name? Was that what she really wanted? She never expected to find any real answers here, she never expected to understand what he'd understood. Maybe the real reason he'd done it was despair; a despair that she had become well acquainted with after she'd found his hanging body.

She raised the radio once more and spoke.

"Why?"

There was no answer.

Valerie shook her head and slotted the radio back onto her belt. There was no point in trying to ask questions anymore. If anything, it only made things worse. She was a mutant, talking to a voice on the radio that might not even exist, in a place where reality didn't function anymore. Asking questions was probably the worst thing she could be doing. These people were here because of her, and as she rose to her feet, a strange sense of relief enveloped her. Determination.

She would see this through, and she would keep them alive to see the center. She owed them that much.

Valerie threw her shirt and jacket back on, slid the door open, and stepped back up to the others.

Salk was getting to work on Yuki, while the others were either milling about or helping. The new guy seemed disinterested, even disdainful of the group. He didn't want to be there, she knew that. This was a matter of pure survival for him. Even still, his distaste bordered on sociopathy, and she needed to nip that in the bud before it became a legitimate problem.

While the others worked, she stepped up to the man. Her face contorted in disgust as she looked the man over.

"Look, if you want to be an asshole about this, that's fine."

She leaned in closer.

"But whatever your problem is, you're going to have a lot more to deal with than just that if you keep this up."

---

Unknown, Nevada | Day 2

Pain.

That was the first thing Miller felt as she roused. His head throbbed with the fury of an angry god. His body was meat, pounded and ground to beef.

After several minutes, he finally pushed himself into a sitting position. His surroundings were unfamiliar. That didn't worry him, though. If he had a nickel for every time he'd awoken, hungover and confused, in a strange place, he'd be a rich man. What worried him was when his memory returned, and he remembered why he was knocked out.

The room was decently sized; about as big as could be expected for a prison cell. Dull, stained concrete surrounded him at every angle. A single, dust covered, humming light bulb illuminated the room. A few scattered stains were spread out along the walls and floor, ranging from what was obviously blood to indeterminate brown fluid.

He sighed, and instinctively went for his bag. It was gone, of course, and he sighed. More anger came through, this time, though.

The others were here too, including Spencer's corpse, which didn't appear to be rotting just yet. Plenty of time for it to fester, Miller figured, as he called into the room.

"Anyone else alive?"

---

Moapa, Nevada | Day 2

"I'm going to give you five seconds to put that thing down and put the safety on."

Jennifer paused for a moment, staring towards the man. Slowly, methodically, she turned to Hawkins. The pistol still sat in her hand, finger on the trigger as she sighed.

"So, can you see Texas from that high horse of yours?"

She wanted to pounce, to take Hawkins down and tear her throat out with her bare goddamned hands. This soldier, who just moments before was convinced it was a different year, was trying to act high and mighty. She didn't know what lived out here. For all that ingrate knew, there were invisible faceless children coming to eat their eyes. It wouldn't have been the weirdest thing Jen dealt with.

Every muscle in her body compelled her, begged her to take a swing, but she knew there was a disadvantage. Hawkins was a trained soldier, and she was more than arms length away, but just close enough that Jen would have little time.

Part of her wondered if it was just nerves, the paranoia that she had fostered over the years. It had kept her alive, she knew that much. The man had approached from seemingly nowhere, and Hawkins seemed all too willing to trust him. Perhaps she wasn't human either? Maybe none of them were actually human?

God, what if that was the case?

Panic began to seep up in her for the first time as she stared Hawkins down, eyes slowly beginning to widen as her grip on the pistol tightened. Maybe she was really the only human left here? Maybe these were all doppelgangers and she was just being shuttled to her death? She wanted to believe she wasn't right, but what if she was? There was a nagging sense in the back of her mind that she really was right, and she just needed to know. She needed to know. She needed to-

It took Jen a moment to realize that, with shaking hands, she'd brought the pistol up towards Hawkins.

"I-I," she muttered, panic beginning to take hold again.

"I can't- We can't trust it- him."

[Monfrox]

Hawkins was almost at her limit as she stood there, watching the girl grip her pistol.

"Whatever your reaching for better be a sandwich because you're gonna have to eat it." She said to her in a tone of voice that was stern and yet like her, conveyed that there was a lot the former Iraq War vet was holding back. "Five seconds to get your ass back in the Humvee, or you can walk. You so quickly agreed about my obligation to help, but then turn right around and fire at some other fucker for the only reason of the fact that he's standing there. So quick to turn others away as long as you got your's?"

She hadn't put a hand near her own sidearm yet as she took a step and a half closer to her. Then she watched her take it out. Her eyes widened. Wrong move. There was more to being a soldier than just shooting a gun. It was a warrior spirit. It was the honing of the fight of flight instinct. The channeling of fear into effort. She screamed at the girl from inside her mind not to do what she thought she was going to do, but when she saw the barrel of that gun inch closer to her she tapped into her instincts. It was quick, really. A shot from her pistol rang out when Hawkins lunged forward and grabbed Jen's hand to the left to keep the barrel from being pointed at her. At which point her body was reacting completely on it's own as she put pressure on her neck with her right forearm and forced her against the Humvee while tightening her grip around Jen's wrist to persuade her to drop the pistol.

"Don't you ever point a gun at me, understand?! Not even a twig!" She snarled.

[Sarejo]

"Look, if you want to be an asshole about this, that's fine. But whatever your problem is, you're going to have a lot more to deal with than just that if you keep this up."

Damion scoffed and held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll behave." Don't get your panties in a twist he thought. "Just kinda hesitant to join a new group since the last one I was in got slaughtered when the leader succumbed to corruption. I'm especially wary now that little miss Asian Sex Toy here got shot up and could have gotten her blood mixed with God-knows-what out there. But in the interest of keeping that handgun of yours away from my temple, I will play nice." he said, lacing the last two words with an icy mockery. He turned away from the group while the man operated on the unconscious woman. He was silent for a while before clearing his throat and continuing.

"I'll go watch the entrance. Would really suck to have one of those fucking shrooms come waltzing in here to tango with my intestines." he grumbled to mostly himself.

[Beiarusia]

Kimberly Tallow
I-15, Moapa, Nevada

Things had gone south rather quickly as Jen, the woman with the strange device on her arm, exited the humvee only to take a potshot at some man in the distance, the report of the rifle causing all three of the girls to jump in alarm. It had only gotten worse from there when G.I. Jane intervened. With little warning another shot rang out and Jen was pressed painfully against the sunbaked metal of the military jeep. More frightening was that the wild shot had gone wide, striking the rear door and splintering. No one was hit but several shards had come close.

Kimberly was ducking as low as she could, her head between her legs with KT holding tight around her waist, also keeping her head down. The girl had gone through a lot, before and after the Zone, but being shot at was not one of them, and quite simply she didn’t know how to react to the situation. Panic came to mind, but despite herself she was frozen like a deer in headlights.

“What the fuck!” KT yelled out.

Kim peeked over as well. “Will you two stop! We need to get going before any more strangeness happens. Kill each other later.”

[Ximea]

Outside Overton

Salk poured some Betadine over Yuki's belly and smeared it around with a glove. "I don't have time to anesthetize you," he said as he affixed a blade onto a scalpel handle. "Any of the rest of you trained as anesthesiologists? No? Sucks to be you, then." Salk drew the blade down Yuki's midline, opening a small incision above her navel. "That's probably going to scar. I'd stick to one-piece swimsuits from now on."

"She's going to need fluid," Salk said, almost to himself. "At least one of you assholes has to know how to insert an IV. Probably some saline bags around here somewhere. Maybe plasma or even whole blood if we're lucky. Get AB-positive plasma or O-negative whole blood."

A pair of hemostatic clamps slid into the wound and fished about, probing, pushing organs out of the way and disrupting delicate fascia. The wound bled fairly little, until the clamps found a bleeding artery. "Got one," Salk said as blood oozed over the exposed artery and the instrument. He clamped the artery. "Suction...right, I'm dealing with a bunch of amateurs. Someone get me some goddamned sponges or something."

Surgical sponges were delivered, and Salk cleaned the work area inside Yuki. "Better," he said, whipping a sponge out with a flick of the wrist. It impacted against a white wall, splattering blood in a disturbing pattern. Salk threaded some suture through a clean needle. He suddenly wished that he had an operating scope...but the vessel was probably large enough to work with by the naked eye. Salk closed it up as best he could, and held it down with a piece of gauze as he released the clamp. "Patent," Salk murmured as the blood rushed through again. After two minutes, he removed the gauze; there was no leakage. He checked the integrity of the vessel by occluding it again with the clamp, and opening up again; the flow was still good.

Salk sutured up the midline incision, sealing it with a surgical dressing and bandage, then flipped Yuki onto her back, with some help from the others. She was limp and unable to assist. Salk pulled up her shirt and closed up the exit wound in the same way, then flipped her back and closed the entry wound. He checked her pulse. "Crappy, but not getting worse," he muttered as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them in a red bin. "Let me know when she wakes up. I'm gonna take a nap."

[Wallenburg]

WALTER KEELE
Crossroads, Nevada || Real Time

---

He turned his attentions to Keele, all the while shifting the man around and getting a grip on him with his nub of a hand, the barrel of the pistol now firmly against his neck.

"Oh, yeah." Miller said, sarcastically. "We're doing fucking peachy, isn't that right, buddy?"

Walter rolled his eyes. "All right, I get it, you're pissed. You know what I meant."

Even from a distance, Walter could tell that the hostage was only inches away from breaking down into tears. Either he was lucky to survive out in the Zone with such little courage, or he was bluffing his ass away to buy himself time. Walter joined Miller just as he called to Richard to open the gate. He waited, the silence crawling over him like some heavy, uncomfortable snake. When Miller began to lead his hostage toward the gates, Walter eagerly followed. We've drawn too much attention already. Let's just get out of here and--oh, shit.

The gates opened, only to reveal a large, heavily armed band of men, weapons trained directly on Miller's head, and most certainly on Walter's as well.

"On second thought, I'll be taking this back for now."

Before Walter could react, he felt his handgun slip out of his pocket and disappear into the air behind him. He spun around and then back toward the men. "Shit."

The hostage grinned and whispered to Miller. "Oh, you're gonna get it now, boy."

"Paul, you're just as fucked as the rest of them. Keep your goddamned mouth shut!" Walter focused on one of the men, one whose voice seemed to command the entire desert.

"Drop the gun, Miller."

Walter looked at Miller. "You know this guy? Fuck, what is going on?"

The hostage ran to the group while the man continued to speak. "Now, you're coming with us. All of you." Then the man saw Spencer, and a cruel smile broke over his lips. "Oh, holy shit. It's you!" he drawled. "I've always wanted to do this."

Before Walter could register what was going on, Spencer's body crumpled to the ground, a gunshot blasting out through his head.

"He'll be fine. He's always fine. I'm Bill, by the way."

Walter watched in terror as someone threw a bag over Miller's head and hit him with the butt of his rifle. He looked frantically at Bill. "Wait, wait! This has to be a mistake!"

Bill just chuckled and turned back to his men. A bag went over Walter's head and someone hit him. He fell to the ground, his pain melting away into unconsciousness.

Location Unknown || Time Unknown

---

"Damn, buddy, that sucks. Good thing I took the gun back, though. You'll need it later, and they don't let their prisoners carry. Damn, they hit you hard. You're still bleeding, but you'll live. Welcome to Shit Mountain."

Mesquite Relocation Zone, Nevada || One Day Ago

---

Walter ran into the market, gun drawn. "Edwards? Where are you?"

A crowd of refugees drowned out his calls. He pushed through and slowly made it to the center of the marketplace. He scanned the crowd for his friend, but he could not see him over the busy movement of the market. He pulled out his phone and dialed Edwards again. The dial tone droned on slowly, painfully. Then the voicemail message crackled to life.

"Shit, Edwards, answer your goddamned phone!"

A man shouted out in panic further into the market. A gun fired, and within seconds the streets were swelling with people fleeing the gunfire. Walter pressed himself against a wall and waited for the mob to pass. Then he raised his gun and scanned the market.

"Edwards!" he shouted. A bullet whizzed past him and he ducked behind a crate.

"Get the fuck outta here, old man!" shouted an unfamiliar voice. "This isn't about you!"

Another voice said something to the first. Then the first spoke again. "Well, well. Mr. Keele. You're lucky I didn't recognize you. Stay put and don't try anything stupid, and you might make it outta here alive."

The market went quiet for a moment. Then Walter heard footsteps. Steady, deliberate footsteps. He tightened his grip on his gun, preparing to shoot as soon as the man came within his line of sight.

Then the second voice shouted out in surprise, his cries cut abruptly as a gunshot split from across the market.

"Holy shit! Henry, I'm comi--"

A pair of gunshots rang out, followed by the tired sound of a body hitting old pavement. Walter could feel his heart pounding furiously in his throat, anxious sweat dripping down the edge of his hairline.

"Edwards?" Keele tried again.

"Yeah, I'm here!"

Walter sighed with relief, his grip on his gun loosening. He pulled himself to his feet and scanned the market. Two bodies lay on the ground, one only a few yards away. A young, blond man with glasses stood nearby, a small automatic weapon in his hands. "Hello, sir."

"Hello, Edwards. You all right?"

The young man nodded. "I've been better...you?"

"I'm pissed that Daniel double-crossed us. Otherwise, I'm doing just swell."

Edwards pointed down a road away from the market. "Denny's is still our best bet. There's a vehicle ready to go there, and a group working on a plan to get into the Zone. If we get lucky, we can operate from the back of the truck."

"Okay, we'll check it out. But we can't stick around if Daniel is after us."

The two walked out of the market and in the direction of the wall, a slowly decaying Denny's their destination.

[DATA REMOVED BY ADMINISTRATIVE REQUEST] || Real Time

---

Walter came to very slowly. He realized he was leaning against some concrete wall, but everything was dark, and he could hardly see anything. A dim light shone down on him and cast light across his surroundings. He was definitely in a room of sorts, but he could not determine its exact size or shape.

There was no pain until Walter lifted his head. But as soon as his head left the wall he gasped out in pain and let his neck relax, resting his head as to avoid more pain. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled.

"Anyone else alive?"

Keele tried to turn his eyes toward Miller's voice, but he was out of his field of vision. Reluctant to move his head, Walter just sighed and said weakly, "Yeah. I'm still here. Dear god, what the hell is this about?"

[Relikai]

Katori Yuki

When the knife began it's cut, Yuki was already unconscious, the pain simply pushing her deeper into sleep as her fatigued body demands rest. Her dreams were of pain, horror, unrest...

Shrooms, wild mutations, animals affected by the Zone... they all rose and came at her at once, overwhelming the girl and proceeding to tear her from limb to limb. No matter how many times they removed a part of her, Yuki immediately grew yet a new part. Shroom appendages impaled her body, and Yuki felt her organs and essence being dissolved by some acid pumped in every time the appendages thrust themselves into her. She could feel her brains, her eyeballs, receding into nothingness, made into a liquid which the Shroom finally absorbed, at it's climax. Yuki was looking at her body, her body from which the ugly hole was still present, but the skin covering nothing but bones. Blinking, Yuki looked around, only to realise that there were other forms within her. Every consciousness which the Shroom has absorbed, now lives within the creature. A lust for human essence, their consciousness was slowly eroded, just like how the acid turned them into nothingness...

Yuki's eyes snapped open, as she took in a deep breath of air before coughing. Each cough sent waves of pain from her stomach, as she tried to control her breathing, taking slow, deep breaths...

Looking around, Yuki could not tell the time for there were no windows. There was hardly anyone around. Where are they?

"An-anyone? Hello?" Yuki called out in a hoarse voice, her throat devoid of water, her body fully tensed with cramp.

[New Grestin]

"Don't you ever point a gun at me, understand?! Not even a twig!"

It went without saying that things weren't going well. Hawkins pinned Jen against the humvee, just barely pressing against her windpipe. The woman's grip tightened on her hand, and the pistol dropped to the ground. It clattered against the sand as one of the girls stepped out of the car, incensed.

“Will you two stop! We need to get going before any more strangeness happens. Kill each other later.”

The opportunity had arisen, and with pure animal instinct, Jen wriggled her head just loose enough to sink her teeth into Hawkin's arm. The taste of skin was met with revulsion, but it got the woman's grip to loosen. Jen threw her weight against Hawkins, but the woman wasn't just more skilled than Jen, she was simply bigger. Even still, adrenaline had taken complete control, and Jen slashed out at the woman. Her hand struck true, and her nails dug into the soldier's skin, leaving a small bloody slash on the woman's face.

Jen paused for a moment, not having expected the blow to actually land. Her gaze finally fell back to the pistol, lying in the sand, and she dove for it, barely acknowledging the others.

As she threw the handgun into it's holster, Jen could practically feel Hawkins bearing down on her again.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and swung her fist around to meet the woman.

---

"Yeah. I'm still here. Dear god, what the hell is this about?"

Miller shrugged, rising to his feet as he continued to examine the room. His memory was a fickle thing, rendered mostly inert from years of alcohol induced depravity, but he felt that he would remember someone like Bill. Part of him felt like he had done this before, like maybe he was trapped in some repetition. Someone had once told him that time was a flat circle. Maybe that was true, he thought as he turned to Keele.

"I have no idea. I've pissed off just enough people that I've lost track."

It still bothered him, the idea that he had done this before. The cell, the gang, it all felt unbearably familiar. Even still, he couldn't quite remember Bill. He must have been some former associate, someone he'd properly pissed off in his freelancing days. His eyes glanced around the cell, looking for some means of escape. There seemed to be none, save for a barred window and a heavy metal door blocking the exit.

"So," he said, scratching his head.

"I'm guessing none of you guys have a nail file."

---

"Let me know when she wakes up. I'm gonna take a nap."

Valerie figured he deserved that much. She'd kept to the back during most of the impromptu surgery; the woman was much more interested in the various samples and devices that littered the building. Digging around, she found everything from dismembered human body parts in jars to what she was thoroughly convinced was a Shroom fetus. It looked like, whoever these people were, they were studying the Zone, and they'd been doing it recently.

Sliding the back door of the temporary structure open, she found little more than the highway and endless miles of desert. She stepped outside, taking in the cool air. It was nice to finally have a moment of peace, though she really couldn't enjoy it. The thought that Yuki might die, because of her incompetence, wouldn't leave her mind. She didn't know if she could handle being a murderer, even if it was by accident. She'd never needed to use the rifle on a person, let alone use it to kill someone.

She sighed. She knew that, in the end, she'd committed far more sin than just murder. The best she could hope for was that god, even if he was a pipe-dream, would be understanding. Her faith had long since left her, though that implied that it had ever really been there in the first place. Her husband had never had much use for it, and neither had she. Her reasons had been practical, his were philosophical. He'd told her once that if people needed to tell nonsense stories, just to get through the day, that he'd take his chances not believing. She smiled at the memory, but it quickly faded an odd smell drew her attention away.

Collapsed against the side of the building was a man in a labcoat, blood trickling down his face. His jaw had become dislodged, ripped open at the seams. A jellyfish hung from his opened maw, twitching slightly. Her eyes glanced to the nearby wall where, in blood, a final note had been written that made her stomach churn.

There was a man of war inside me. It had to come out.

Disgusted, Valerie was just about to leave when she spotted a security badge on the man's corpse. With some trepidation, she managed to push the jellyfish hanging from his mouth aside and snatch it up. The man's smiling face, coupled with the name "Ian McAvoy" in block text. She fumbled with it in her hands for a moment, then stepped back inside, still unsure what to think.

She looked to Salk, who had taken his leave after an admittedly stressful surgery. Val wasn't sure what to make of Alex, and Salk was the closest thing she had to an acquaintance at the moment. Still, she left him be and motioned to Alex, pointing to the security badge in her hand.

"What do you make of this?"

---

"An-anyone? Hello?" Yuki called out in a hoarse voice, her throat devoid of water, her body fully tensed with cramp.

Darkness was the only thing visible in the room for some time, coupled with total silence at her request. It was as though the entire room were a void, a black hole where no light could enter. The smell of death permeated the void, and just as she was about to yell again, a voice called out from the darkness. It was mocking and raspy, like someone who had just smoked a dozen cigarettes.

"Hello there. How's the gunshot wound treating ya?"

Before she could react, a light, like a spotlight, illuminated a small space in the room. After he eyes adjusted, she could see a man in an armchair waving to her. He was gaunt, lanky and dressed in a gray suit. A pale yellow tie was drawn tight around his corpse-like neck as he spoke.

"Here, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

The man's voice seemed to echo throughout the entire void, chilling her to the bone. There was something unbearably wrong about the man, something that she couldn't quite place. It was like she was looking at two beings at once. A man, and something far more terrible. It was as though her mind simply refused to properly process the latter, and instead merely provided her with a terrible headache.

He sighed, taking a sip of water from a glass that she could have sworn wasn't there before.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have already done it. Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

A smile flashed at her; there were too many teeth.

[The Flame States]

Jeromy Ross(Alamo,NV)

Jeromy ran down the silent street, soaked with sweat. He wasn't running for exercise, but rather for his life. Three shrooms were chasing him, all three about 20 feet behind Jeromy. He loaded a shell into his shotgun, and quickly turns around, firing at one of the shrooms, which had somehow gained ten more feet on him. Splat went the shroom's head, as it exploded into many red and white bits. It's 'friends' didn't seem to care about the death, only about getting to Jeromy. He turns around, now stepping backwards, and aims at one of the two shrooms. Click went the gun, as he pulled the trigger. " You have to be kidding me!" He yelled, turning forward, and was once again running. The shotgun had no more shells in it, and digging for some in his bag would give the shroom time to catch him. So, he did the only logical thing, and kept running. Suddenly, the area warped around him. He risked a glance back, and saw nothing, nor did he hear anything. "This is not my day.." Jeromy remarked. All that was behind him was a distorted road. So distorted, in fact, that he wasn't even sure if it really was a road anymore. He walked around, in confusion.

One hour later

Jeromy thought he was going to break. Was he stuck in this warped reality forever? "HELLO?!" He yelled. He got no response, of course. Not even his own echo. Suddenly, a wave of sounds hit him. Wind, plants rustling, trash scrapping on the ground, being pushed around like tumbleweeds. He saw a small building infront of him, near a highway and a forest. He moved towards the building, now with shells in his gun. " Might as well get some sleep, now that I'm out of that hellhole."

[Relikai]

"What do you make of this?"

---

"An-anyone? Hello?" Yuki called out in a hoarse voice, her throat devoid of water, her body fully tensed with cramp.

Darkness was the only thing visible in the room for some time, coupled with total silence at her request. It was as though the entire room were a void, a black hole where no light could enter. The smell of death permeated the void, and just as she was about to yell again, a voice called out from the darkness. It was mocking and raspy, like someone who had just smoked a dozen cigarettes.

"Hello there. How's the gunshot wound treating ya?"

Before she could react, a light, like a spotlight, illuminated a small space in the room. After he eyes adjusted, she could see a man in an armchair waving to her. He was gaunt, lanky and dressed in a gray suit. A pale yellow tie was drawn tight around his corpse-like neck as he spoke.

"Here, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

The man's voice seemed to echo throughout the entire void, chilling her to the bone. There was something unbearably wrong about the man, something that she couldn't quite place. It was like she was looking at two beings at once. A man, and something far more terrible. It was as though her mind simply refused to properly process the latter, and instead merely provided her with a terrible headache.

He sighed, taking a sip of water from a glass that she could have sworn wasn't there before.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have already done it. Have a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

A smile flashed at her; there were too many teeth.

If there was something which terrified Yuki more than her previous nightmare, it would be the psychological feeling of waking up to another nightmare.

The man was just there, with an impossible amount of teeth. Yuki could feel her heart ready to burst out of her chest, and knowing the Zone, Yuki immediately placed a hand over it, while trying to keep it from literally exploding. Something was there. Something was in front of her, and Katori Yuki could not decide on what was exactly wrong.

Was she going crazy?

"Discuss... I'm still alive..." Yuki replied, her voice coming out rough as she kept her guard up. She would not accept a drink unless she really, really needed one, and only from a human who she was familiar with. However, one might look like someone or something they weren't, just like Mister Multiteeth here, freaking the hell out of Yuki.

"What do you have to discuss, where am I? And who are you?"

[Monfrox]

Hawkins turned her attention to Kim. Well, she was right, but she didn't have time to think about that when pain shot through her arm as Jen sunk her teeth into her.

"Mother FUCKER!"

She recoiled and closed her eyes when Jen reached up and clawed at her face. Using her nails? Well, that was the thing. Hawkins was fighting fair, and that was now thrown out the window. Clearly Jen was trying to kill her, and Hawkins replied like any veteran would. She was taught that when in an ambush you have to apply maximum firepower covering your retreat. And so, she moved to follow her as she watched her reach for the gun. She whipped around ready for her and socked her in her stomach, but Hawkins was well-toned with muscle as a soldier and had been hit worse. She grabbed Jen's fist and twisted her arm away from her, putting pressure on the joint that was enough to hurt, but not enough to exactly break it.

The Staff Sergeant had enough of this punk girl's shit, and she glared down at her, putting her boot square into her other arm before it could point the pistol at her again.

"Lift your chin up." She said in a low tone. She waited a little. "Higher." And when she did Hawkins slammed her fist into the side of her skull and sent her head against the door of the Humvee hard. She let her go and watched to see if she was still willing to fight her. She thought about killing her there and being done with it too. Blood ran from the cut her face and her arm. For a second, she wondered if the girl had rabies.

[True Refuge]

Silvas Thompson, the Gambler
I-15, Moapa, Nevada

...

Silvas ominously watched the whole spectacle, a glorious catfight would have been what an insensitive person would have called it, unsure whether to be worried more by the further annoyance of Hawkins or the revelation of the untrustworthy nature of the woman he had been sitting next too for now it seemed too long. It unnerved him that he couldn't spot her shiftiness during the so far short ride, although that could have been put down by his rather outwardly personality. He tended to see past worrisome things if doing so would grant a little bit of conversation.

Even though the single strong urge from one of the triplets caused Hawkins to hesitate, it didn't stop Jen from continuing the fight, not at all. Blood seemed to run everywhere along the two women's bodies, it was quite disgusting to look. Despite this revulsion, Silvas watched and thankfully didn't miss Hawkins' victory, knocking her to the ground outside the Humvee. The loud thump as Jen's head slammed against the vehicle was disconcerting. Now that the threat had been dealt with, Silvas stuck his head out of the window.

"Done yet, Hawkins? I'm running low on bandages at this rate.

[The Flame States]

Jeromy tightens his grip on his shotgun, walking down the road. He finally steps near the building, about 30 yards away. He narrows his eyes, and unloads the shells from his gun. He loads in a master piece of ammunition, the incindiary 'Dragon's Breath' shells. He continued forward, watching closely for anything unusual. Jeromy walks up to the door, and knocks."Anyone in there?" He yells, as he takes a step back. Shotgun halfway up, he waits for a response.If any in humane response was heard, he would simply shoot the 'residents'.

[Wallenburg]

WALTER KEELE
[DATA REMOVED BY ADMINISTRATIVE REQUEST] || Real Time

---

"I have no idea. I've pissed off just enough people that I've lost track."

Keele grinned miserably. "Ah, I see. So I've been dragged into your personal shit. Good to know." He kept moving his eyes over the room, observing the blood stains on the wall, some of them less human than others.

He heard Miller's voice again. "So, I'm guessing none of you guys have a nail file."

Walter sighed and lifted his hands in front of him, palms in Miller's general direction. "We're probably stripped of anything that could get us out of here."

He let his hands fall to his sides. "You know Miller, I really don't want to die here. Whatever you have done to piss these people off, I suggest you start--"

A sickening metal sound creaked from beyond the room. Walter turned his head instinctively and cried out as pain bolted over his face. His eyes were darting around frantically. "Miller, any ideas, buddy?"

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

"Yeah. I'm still here. Dear god, what the hell is this about?"

Miller shrugged, rising to his feet as he continued to examine the room. His memory was a fickle thing, rendered mostly inert from years of alcohol induced depravity, but he felt that he would remember someone like Bill. Part of him felt like he had done this before, like maybe he was trapped in some repetition. Someone had once told him that time was a flat circle. Maybe that was true, he thought as he turned to Keele.

"I have no idea. I've pissed off just enough people that I've lost track."

It still bothered him, the idea that he had done this before. The cell, the gang, it all felt unbearably familiar. Even still, he couldn't quite remember Bill. He must have been some former associate, someone he'd properly pissed off in his freelancing days. His eyes glanced around the cell, looking for some means of escape. There seemed to be none, save for a barred window and a heavy metal door blocking the exit.

"So," he said, scratching his head.

"I'm guessing none of you guys have a nail file."

Fuuuuck. My head....

The world returned to Amatol as he finally returned to consciousness. The dim light in the cell burned his eyes as they opened a tiny silver again for the first time in who knows how long. The message that his compatriots needed... something reached him past his extreme drowsiness. Amatol helpfully tried to tell them that the filament in the lightbulb could be fashioned into a crude lockpick, but all that escape was

"Mmm mmm-mmph mmmm."

Curious at the noise he just made, Amatol tried to moved his hands, but they were met with the feeling of warm steel and a faint clanking. It soon dawned on him that he was bound and gagged, tied with thick steel chain a length of his own paracord. Whoever had chased him down and brought him here had to have known that he was the sort of person who could improvise a way out of a jail cell and made sure he wasn't about to try to escape. Amatol tried moving his feet, which were mercifully unrestrained, and tried to stand up, only to collapse after a few centimeters of the ground.

[Chicago Heights]

Harris had been watching the fight from a distance from behind a tree, pistol unholstered. And I thought the dangers here were the demons, it seems evil has spread to the rest, He thought, his hands shaking. A brutal yet strange fight ensued until the one who had shot him was defeated. He held the pistol behind his back and stepped out from the tree, "I-I'm sorry if I caused any trouble, I just needed some help!" Pitiful. But it was all his trembling body could think of, all while regretting his actions.

[Sarejo]

Jeromy tightens his grip on his shotgun, walking down the road. He finally steps near the building, about 30 yards away. He narrows his eyes, and unloads the shells from his gun. He loads in a master piece of ammunition, the incindiary 'Dragon's Breath' shells. He continued forward, watching closely for anything unusual. Jeromy walks up to the door, and knocks."Anyone in there?" He yells, as he takes a step back. Shotgun halfway up, he waits for a response.If any in humane response was heard, he would simply shoot the 'residents'.

Damion came around the side of the building and leveled his gun at the man at the door. "First off, you will put that fucking boomstick down, and second, what the fuck do you want?" His southern drawl rolling over the words. "You got ten seconds to answer me before I paint this city gray with your brain matter."

[The Flame States]

Jeromy tightens his grip on his shotgun, walking down the road. He finally steps near the building, about 30 yards away. He narrows his eyes, and unloads the shells from his gun. He loads in a master piece of ammunition, the incindiary 'Dragon's Breath' shells. He continued forward, watching closely for anything unusual. Jeromy walks up to the door, and knocks."Anyone in there?" He yells, as he takes a step back. Shotgun halfway up, he waits for a response.If any in humane response was heard, he would simply shoot the 'residents'.

Damion came around the side of the building and leveled his gun at the man at the door. "First off, you will put that fucking boomstick down, and second, what the fuck do you want?" His southern drawl rolling over the words. "You got ten seconds to answer me before I paint this city gray with your brain matter."

Jeromy looks to the side, lowering his shotgun. At first, he had a surprised look on his face, which turned into anger. " I was chased miles by shrooms, and was looking for shelter!" He said. He had his eyes narrowed at the man.

[Sarejo]

Cut

"Well, that is your problem, friend. Not ours. Now clean up that attitude of yours before I do it for you. You are down the barrel from my gun, not the other way around, so if I were you I'd glue my lips to the asscheecks of the guy with their finger on the trigger. Now put that fucking shotgun on the ground and kneel with your hands behind your head. One.. Two.."

[The Flame States]

Cut

"Well, that is your problem, friend. Not ours. Now clean up that attitude of yours before I do it for you. You are down the barrel from my gun, not the other way around, so if I were you I'd glue my lips to the asscheecks of the guy with their finger on the trigger. Now put that fucking shotgun on the ground and kneel with your hands behind your head. One.. Two.."

Jeromy could feel his heart thump, reality seemed to slow down. Either raise the shotgun, and fight the man, or submit to the man, possibly being shot too. 'I can't just blow his head off like one of the shrooms' he thought. Finally, he snapped out of his state. He put down the shotgun, with a snarl. He got down on his knees, hands behind his head. " You always treat people like this?" He asks.

[Sarejo]

"Well, that is your problem, friend. Not ours. Now clean up that attitude of yours before I do it for you. You are down the barrel from my gun, not the other way around, so if I were you I'd glue my lips to the asscheecks of the guy with their finger on the trigger. Now put that fucking shotgun on the ground and kneel with your hands behind your head. One.. Two.."

Jeromy puts down the shotgun, with a snarl. He gets down on his knees, hands behind his head.

"Congratulations kid, you can listen to directions. Bet you did great in grade school. And I only treat the ones dumb enough to point a firearm at me this nicely. Now, if you would be so generous as to state your name and business and we can move from me pointing this fine piece of military hardware at that pretty noggin and move towards sharing beer that tastes like piss, eh kid?" Damion sneered at the kid. Fucking kid, thinking he's all that. No respect these days. Prick., Damion thought to himself bitterly, Heh. Kid's not even that much younger than me anyways.

Damion walked over, still keeping distance and his rifle raised, drug the shotgun over to himself with his foot. "Don't want you getting any ideas now, might get you hurt, and without that white smile how else are you going to get women, that winning personality? See, I know people don't like me. Difference between them and me is I don't give a flying damn. So if you planned on calling me a dick to inflame my anger and make rash decisions, then you are truly as rock-dumb as you look, lad."

[The Flame States]

Jeromy puts down the shotgun, with a snarl. He gets down on his knees, hands behind his head.

"Congratulations kid, you can listen to directions. Bet you did great in grade school. And I only treat the ones dumb enough to point a firearm at me this nicely. Now, if you would be so generous as to state your name and business and we can move from me pointing this fine piece of military hardware at that pretty noggin and move towards sharing beer that tastes like piss, eh kid?" Damion sneered at the kid. Fucking kid, thinking he's all that. No respect these days. Prick., Damion thought to himself bitterly, Heh. Kid's not even that much younger than me anyways.

Damion walked over, still keeping distance and his rifle raised, drug the shotgun over to himself with his foot. "Don't want you getting any ideas now, might get you hurt, and without that white smile how else are you going to get women, that winning personality? See, I know people don't like me. Difference between them and me is I don't give a flying damn. So if you planned on calling me a dick to inflame my anger and make rash decisions, then you are truly as rock-dumb as you look, lad."

"I'm not a kid. I'm twenty nine years old, mind you. My business is survival, here, and my name Is Jeromy. How about you, old prick? Are you going to give me my shotgun back? " He jeers. He knew he was on thin ice, but humiliating the man holding a gun to his head was sure to make him stop, or so he thought.

[Ximea]

Overton lab

After patching up the girl, Salk skulked off to a far corner of the lab. There was a gurney there, and it was fairly clean, so Salk hopped up and laid down. He was asleep in under a minute.

---

?

It was a clear night and the sun was high, and Salk stepped through the front door of the hospital into the morgue. He took off his filthy labcoat, encrusted in Zone filth, and hung it up on a hook next to the door. He was already wearing scrubs underneath. On a nearby counter was a clipboard listing the day's workload. It had been a typical Vegas day, which meant a full load of bodies.

At the first gurney, Salk unzipped a body bag, revealing a man in his 50s. Salk switched on a voice recorder and checked the subject's file. He announced the date and time and the ID number, and continued: "Keele, Walter. White male, age unknown, weight 210 pounds, 75 inches in length. Cause of death, sepsis resulting from penetrating injury of the abdominal cavity." Instead of continuing the autopsy, Salk zipped up the body bag again, which now contained only a copper rod.

Salk moved to the next body. He unzipped the body bag, which was full of chunks of raw, bloody meat and giant porcupine quills. "Dumonte, Harold, white male, age 37, weight 245 pounds, 78 inches in length. Cause of death, natural selection." He plucked out some quills from the red mess. Despite the fact that each was about 36 inches long, they fit nicely into his pocket. Salk left the bag as is, and moved to the next body.

Unzipping the bag, Salk revealed a body that was more or less adult in proportion, but dramatically reduced in size. The corpse was dressed in sailor fuku. "Yuki, Katori. Asian female, age 22, weight 45 pounds, length 36 inches. Cause of death, what the hell is this child doing in the Zone." He phrased it as a statement, not a question, and delivered it in the same clinical tone as everything else he had said.

The next slab was unoccupied, and Salk climbed onto it. "Salk, Tobias," he said as he laid down. "White male, age 29, weight 120 pounds, 71 inches." He pulled his gargantuan Smith & Wesson revolver from his underwear. "Cause of death," he stated, and he finished by putting the barrel under his chin and blowing his brains all over the morgue.

---

Overton lab

Salk grunted and shifted on his gurney, still asleep. The movement knocked one arm off to hang freely. His other, resting on his belly, drifted toward the revolver holstered to his side. Salk groaned again and turned his head away from something only he perceived.