THE ZONE: A Survival RP (IC Thread)

[Ximea]

<SNIP>

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office, Nevada

Krausser had just finished his blind stumbling through the menu's of the computer monitor before he was kicked off as an unauthorized user when a whisper sounded directly in his ear.

"Hurensohn!!!" Krausser yelped as he turned and stumbled back. The one who had seemed unbalanced stood there with a grin that befitted a ten year old who had just gotten away with something. It unsettled Krausser as the grin didn't reach the eyes, or even the face but was rather like the man was going through the motions. Muttering a thanks in English, Krausser set the pack down so he could go through its contents and still keep an eye on the man who was now leaning against a wall. Krausser's pack was packed specifically in such a way to save space and keep effort in reaching for objects down; what he found was the various items of his kit now in disarray.

The sound of a slap caused Krausser to lift his head towards he culprit of both the sound, and also probably the rifling through his pack. However, the urge to confront the man didn't come into mind and instead the sniper let it simmer as he pulled the items he either needed or wanted at the moment with the vow to repack before going asleep.

"Kommen zu poppa" The joy was obvious in his voice as he pulled a set of desert colored fatigues that fit more at home in this more earth colored place. As well it went with the tannish green sniper's cloak that came next, the simple garment having just a hood and some holes in it to allow for Krausser to tighten it to his person. However, the actual cause of his joy was the special hard case that made up for a bit of the weight in his pack.

Casting a glance over at Giuseppe, Krausser removed his equipment and piled it on the table; however his sidearm was always in reach as he completed the practiced motion of stripping and dressing in a hurry. Now clad in the lighter desert material, the sniper felt a bit odd as he pulled on the non-blending black armored vest and his various equipment belts. Now as full equipped as before; he pulled the poncho style-cloak over his shoulder's and secured it in place, with the hood down and the material falling to his knee's. Lastly; he pushed the helmet aside with the rest of his SS style uniform and replaced the headgear with a green field cap.

With his wardrobe taken care of; Krausser tucked the now unused clothing away at the bottom of his pack while the helmet was clipped by its chinstrap to the side. The German was going to turn his attention to the rifle when the thunking of a knife hitting word multiple times caused Krausser to look over at what he was now convinced was an insane man. The game he was playing wasn't an unusual site around young boys with toys and times on their hands; but when he nicked himself, the laughter and sudden collapse onto the table made the sniper leave from the room with his hardcase in hand, rifle slung and pistol halfway hanging at his side. As he made his way into the stairwell; Krausser practically flew downstairs in search of Deckard as the recent memory of the laughter urged him on.

Finding Deckard was not as hard as the sniper suspected as he found her attending to a prone Richard in the makeshift practice of waking a casualty. The slaps guided him to her, mainly because he thought it was a threat at first, but his fears were soon alleviated as he made his way to her and set his case down to whisper loudly in her ear.

"There is something wrong with the man you call Giuseppe. He play the knife game; you know? One where you open fingers and try not to stab? However, he hurt self but he just laugh and collapse. Like....coma I believe is word?" Krausser said as he glanced at the hall he had just come down to make sure the man was not in sight.

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office, Nevada

"Good."

Salk had appeared behind them. "I don't know if he's just cracked or if some weird Zone blowfly larva is eating through his brain or what, but that guy belongs in a straitjacket. We should lock him in one of the offices and leave him behind at first light. Maybe tie him up while he's comatose, just to be safe." Salk jerked a thumb at Krausser. "I trust Colonel Klink over here more than that grinning weirdo, and he's a goddamned Nazi. No offense."

Salk sighed as he paced around the group. "Be a pity if we do have to leave in a hurry, though. I want to see what's behind that big door, and I think we might have a way through. I didn't get to grab anything back at the lab."

At last, Salk noticed the man on the ground, being tended to by Deckard. "What happened to him?"

[New Grestin]

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office
The Man watched Giuseppe with a mix of amusement and confusion. He'd seen plenty of Vessels try to kill themselves, and he'd seen plenty that were already crazy before he'd shown up, but this man was in a league of his own. A few moments of his influence and he was already acting like a serial killer. He wasn't complaining, but things were progressing faster than the Man expected.

"Twenty nine..."

The Man wracked his memory for a moment, then smiled.

"Eula Phillips. Don't remember quite what she looked like. Bout' 17, if I recall correctly. Screamed like a stuck pig the whole time, too, especially when I offed her husband. Can you believe people got married that young back then?"

He chuckled, watching the man fiddling with a knife as he continued.

"As for my name, I've had a lot, really. I used to have a real name, a long time ago, but I suppose there's no real reason to dwell on it. As for why I picked you-"

The Man winced a bit as Giuseppe cut into his finger.

"Uh, wow. Alright. Doing the whole self harm thing. Ok. I can dig it, I-"

Then, Giuseppe passed out like a light, and the Man was left to his lonesome. He sighed, scratching his head and looking around the darkness of Giuseppe's mind.

"Well. Shit."

A slight bit of irritation ran through the man as he stood there, his plaything taken from him before he could even react. Fine, he thought, pacing his way across Giuseppe's mind, I'll go find someone else. It was a rare thing for him, to abandon a host, but the man had been so utterly useless that there was no point in sticking around. He'd cut himself and managed to pass out in moments.

The Man had seen plenty of things in his time, but that was definitely a new one.

With a sigh, he abandoned Giuseppe's mind, turning the reigns back over to whatever remained of his subconscious. If nothing else, he figured, he could always poke in on Salk or the Nazi. Perhaps they'd be a bit more amiable to having him around. Perhaps they wouldn't be comically incompetent. A thought crossed into the man's mind, and a smile curled across his face.

He needed to pay an old acquaintance a visit.

---

Downstairs, Valerie hung over the unconscious man. Panic had been replaced with dull resignation now. If the man was dead, then he was dead. That was how it was going to play out. The more maternal side of her practically shrieked at the notion, forcing her hand forward to slap the man once more. Nothing. She sighed, running a hand through her increasingly messy hair. She felt disgusting, covered in a mix of her own blood and that of others. When they got out of the Zone, she was going to take a nice, long-

Krauser's thick German accent came in from behind, nearly making the poor woman jump out of her skin. She swiveled her head around to meet his as he spoke.

"There is something wrong with the man you call Giuseppe. He play the knife game; you know? One where you open fingers and try not to stab? However, he hurt self but he just laugh and collapse. Like....coma I believe is word?"

She sighed. A long, dejected, angry sigh. The kind of sigh that a mother might make when she found her child playing on the couches. The kind of sigh she was becoming very accustomed to. Salk came in shortly after, still clad in that increasingly dirty lab-coat. He echoed Krauser's sentiments and Valerie, with yet another sigh, rose to her feet.

"You two aren't the only ones that think he's crazy."

Her voice was low, only lightly echoing against the walls. The minimalist, rotting contemporary designs seemed to watch over them as they spoke, and Valerie's eyes periodically flashed out towards the darkening desert. She could see shadows out there. Strange forms that moved and gesticulated in the darkness in ways that made her skin crawl.

"If he's still knocked out, then let's get Wyatt Earp over here upstairs first."

She thumbed back to Richard, still splayed out on the floor. From the movement of his chest, she could tell he was still breathing. At least there's that, she thought. Her optimism, though tarnished, remained to an extent. When one was in a place like this, where it seemed all reality was trying to beat the good out of you, there was a victory in staving off dread. She didn't want to be like her partner, drinking away her sorrows and letting the world burn around her.

"Krausser" she said, authority in her tone. "I want you to help Salk get Richard upstairs. Try and wake him up."

Her head turned to Salk. As she spoke, her hands drifted to her holster, retrieving a handgun. The magazine slid out into her hand with a quiet thump.

"And Salk. I'm going up there. Yuki's up there too, and we're going to have a word with our new friend. Once you two are done getting him upstairs, I want you to barricade the stairwell with anything you can. Nobody gets in or out of here until morning."

With that, she nodded and moved past the men, leaving them to their work.

The walk up the stairway felt like an eternity. Her hands shook, rattling the pistol as she walked. She knew she couldn't kill him. She already had too much blood on her hands, quite literally. She had a few zip-ties in her bag still, holdovers from one of Miller's drunken rampages. A slight frown creased her face as she remembered that night, how he'd gone totally off his rocker on LSD, spewing nonsense about the end of the world and Pandora's box. She'd managed to tie him to a pipe in their dingy hotel room until he calmed down, and even then, she never stayed around the man unarmed. It was a strained partnership, to say the least, and that was just one of a long line of incidents that made her question the man's sanity.

It wouldn't matter if he was dead, though. That possibility stuck in her mind as she stepped up into the upper levels of the building. It was about what she expected. Walls of cubicles filled with metal desks and computers, long dead plants accompanying motivational posters. Quotes about teamwork and achievement, coupled with stock images of forests and oceans. She sneered at it as she craned her head to find Giuseppe, keeled over a table near the stairway, and Yuki trying to wake him up. Her hand slowly slipped into her pocket, retrieving a ziptie, and she crept forward. The gun still stayed in her hand, of course.

She didn't want to kill the man, but she would if she had to.

With a hand-wave, she motioned for Yuki to step away. Valerie worked quickly, tying off the man's hands behind his back before he could react. Once the deed was done, she stepped cautiously around to the other side of the table and sat down.

"Giueseppe" she said, choosing her words carefully. "Don't freak out. Your hands are tied off, so don't try anything. We're going to put you in one of these offices until the morning, then we're leaving, you're staying here until we're gone."

---

Miller perked up at the sound of the man's voice. If he had a truck, then they could all get out of there, presumably in one piece. That was better than the other options, at least. He lowered his rifle, letting it hang loosely from his body by the sling, and extended a hand. Just as much a gesture of peace as it was one to get the man out of the dirt.

"Pleasure to meet you, Winston."

As he helped the man to his feet, he continued.

"You'll have to forgive the guns and such. We've all been through a lot of hell today."

He then motioned to the others with his other hand. It was really only a hand in the vaguest sense. More accurately, it was a nub, and Miller was still kicking himself for not getting a hook installed. The pirate jokes alone would have been enough.

"These are the rest of the crew. Spencer over there is apparently a time-traveling zombie. The gal back there is probably from the past or some shit. Then there's Walter n' Roy inside. Roy's the cheeky mysterious asshole in the hood, and Walter's the other one."

The sun hung low in the sky, just barely past the mountains. Soon enough, the town would be bathed in darkness and the group could escape. There was no way to get through with the Secessionists bouncing around, and Miller wasn't too keen on getting shot today. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he stepped back across the yard to the others.

"Now, look, all this talk of Confederates and Yanks is good, but we need to get the fuck out of here, and soon. It's getting to be dark out, and that'll give us a better chance to get out of dodge. If we can get out onto the 15, we can head towards Dry Lake."

Almost sensing the other's confusion, he glanced between the Lieutenant and Winston.

"We're going to the center of the Zone."

---

Jen simply sneered at Silvas for a moment, frustration visible on her face, even in the darkness of the Chapel. Who was this man to judge her? It wasn't that long ago that he'd had a knife to her throat, and yet she was the one that had a murder-boner? She scoffed at the man as she spoke.

"Fuck off. I did what I needed to do. So what if I enjoy it."

She didn't leave him any time to respond before she took point, Hawkins following behind as they swept through the Chapel. It was a dank, musty looking place. Jen wondered where it might have come from. Perhaps it had been displaced? That would certainly explain a Chapel in the middle of nowhere, but then again, she'd seen weirder things in her time. Water-logged bibles littered the floor as she walked, squishing beneath her boots with disgusting, moist sounds that made her skin crawl. All across the floor was fungal growth; stalks and roots haphazardly emerging from the rotted wood. She could even see, on the lower levels, more of the growth. Whatever they had stumbled into, it went down deeper than she expected.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted the glint of metal near the altar. A hatch, leading down into the basement and, she assumed, the Shroom's actual nest. There was no way in hell she was going down there without a flamethrower. Actually, she thought, a flamethrower would be really nice right now. Emergency heat, roasting marshmallows, burning things alive. Her mind was stuck on the positives and negatives of owning a flamethrower when she finally came to the altar. Behind it, she found a bleached skeleton, whatever flesh that had been on it peeled away by monsters and the baking desert heat. On the altar itself, she found yet another bible.

A less than shocking discovery, Jen thought as she loomed over the book.

It'd been a long time since she'd seen one. The last one she'd ever deal with was in Salida, in Denver, a thousand realities away. The book had been left open to the elements, to Revelations 6. She giggled a bit at that, bemused by the irony. The same amusement came on stronger as she looked over the Chapel's interior and, smiling, she spoke.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered her today to get through this thing called life-"

Her amusement was cut short as her eyes drifted from the altar to Hawkins, who looked less than amused. Jen shot her an unimpressed look.

"Not big on Prince, eh?"

[Monfrox]

Glendale

Lt. Nicholson blanched. Zone? As in The Zone? She swore those were just rumors, though. Like grown-up versions of scary bedtime stories parents tell their children so they'll stay in their beds all night. She was there? Here?!

"No." She stated firmly, pointing directly at Miller. "No." She repeated. "Noooo." A little longer infliction as she felt him look at her. "No!" A more forceful tone. "No!" This one was higher pitched as she pointed to the Rebel next to her. "Nuh-uh." She threw her hands up. "No way." Turned around. "Absolutely not." Walked in a small circle. "Not happening." She looked to the group as a whole. "Negative." Then, finally, after the episode of stress, she pointed at Miller again. "You're crazy; You oughta be locked up. All of us just waaaalkin' right into the Zone, just like that?" She shook her head and put her hand over her face. "Swiss fuckin' cheese...shoulda just stayed away from that ball of light..."

---

Chapel

Hawkins had a neutral expression, though neutral to her even though she was in that mode so she was a bit more aggressive than usual, at least to hostiles.

"Mom was about him. I had different taste in music." She replied, giving an off-character chuckle for once. "Sunday morning when we go down to church, see the menfolk standin' in line. I said they come to pray to the Lord with my little girl, looks so fine..."

Hawkins gave a content sigh, which was not to be confused with her letting her guard down. She was a bigger fan of classic rock and the like than pop songs. The Rolling Stones were a big hit with her. Older stuff always sounded better than the newer stuff, but then again most people didn't make good music nowadays.

"So what do you think, can we take shifts for night watch safely in here or would you rather chance the rain again."

[Ximea]

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office

Downstairs, Valerie hung over the unconscious man. Panic had been replaced with dull resignation now. If the man was dead, then he was dead. That was how it was going to play out. The more maternal side of her practically shrieked at the notion, forcing her hand forward to slap the man once more. Nothing. She sighed, running a hand through her increasingly messy hair. She felt disgusting, covered in a mix of her own blood and that of others. When they got out of the Zone, she was going to take a nice, long-

Krauser's thick German accent came in from behind, nearly making the poor woman jump out of her skin. She swiveled her head around to meet his as he spoke.

"There is something wrong with the man you call Giuseppe. He play the knife game; you know? One where you open fingers and try not to stab? However, he hurt self but he just laugh and collapse. Like....coma I believe is word?"

She sighed. A long, dejected, angry sigh. The kind of sigh that a mother might make when she found her child playing on the couches. The kind of sigh she was becoming very accustomed to. Salk came in shortly after, still clad in that increasingly dirty lab-coat. He echoed Krauser's sentiments and Valerie, with yet another sigh, rose to her feet.

"You two aren't the only ones that think he's crazy."

Her voice was low, only lightly echoing against the walls. The minimalist, rotting contemporary designs seemed to watch over them as they spoke, and Valerie's eyes periodically flashed out towards the darkening desert. She could see shadows out there. Strange forms that moved and gesticulated in the darkness in ways that made her skin crawl.

"If he's still knocked out, then let's get Wyatt Earp over here upstairs first."

She thumbed back to Richard, still splayed out on the floor. From the movement of his chest, she could tell he was still breathing. At least there's that, she thought. Her optimism, though tarnished, remained to an extent. When one was in a place like this, where it seemed all reality was trying to beat the good out of you, there was a victory in staving off dread. She didn't want to be like her partner, drinking away her sorrows and letting the world burn around her.

"Krausser" she said, authority in her tone. "I want you to help Salk get Richard upstairs. Try and wake him up."

Her head turned to Salk. As she spoke, her hands drifted to her holster, retrieving a handgun. The magazine slid out into her hand with a quiet thump.

"And Salk. I'm going up there. Yuki's up there too, and we're going to have a word with our new friend. Once you two are done getting him upstairs, I want you to barricade the stairwell with anything you can. Nobody gets in or out of here until morning."

With that, she nodded and moved past the men, leaving them to their work.

The walk up the stairway felt like an eternity. Her hands shook, rattling the pistol as she walked. She knew she couldn't kill him. She already had too much blood on her hands, quite literally. She had a few zip-ties in her bag still, holdovers from one of Miller's drunken rampages. A slight frown creased her face as she remembered that night, how he'd gone totally off his rocker on LSD, spewing nonsense about the end of the world and Pandora's box. She'd managed to tie him to a pipe in their dingy hotel room until he calmed down, and even then, she never stayed around the man unarmed. It was a strained partnership, to say the least, and that was just one of a long line of incidents that made her question the man's sanity.

It wouldn't matter if he was dead, though. That possibility stuck in her mind as she stepped up into the upper levels of the building. It was about what she expected. Walls of cubicles filled with metal desks and computers, long dead plants accompanying motivational posters. Quotes about teamwork and achievement, coupled with stock images of forests and oceans. She sneered at it as she craned her head to find Giuseppe, keeled over a table near the stairway, and Yuki trying to wake him up. Her hand slowly slipped into her pocket, retrieving a ziptie, and she crept forward. The gun still stayed in her hand, of course.

She didn't want to kill the man, but she would if she had to.

With a hand-wave, she motioned for Yuki to step away. Valerie worked quickly, tying off the man's hands behind his back before he could react. Once the deed was done, she stepped cautiously around to the other side of the table and sat down.

"Giueseppe" she said, choosing her words carefully. "Don't freak out. Your hands are tied off, so don't try anything. We're going to put you in one of these offices until the morning, then we're leaving, you're staying here until we're gone."

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office

Salk watched the woman head up toward Yuki and Giuseppe. He shrugged and crouched low to slip his hands under the cowboy's arms. "Get his feet," Salk said as he hefted the man's shoulders. "Any idea what happened to Roy Rogers here?" He dragged the limp body toward the stairs. "He looked fine earlier. No sign of a struggle, either. Whatever took him out, he did Nazi it coming."

After a pause, Salk added, "What, nothing? Not even a chuckle? Don't be such a sour Kraut. Seriously though, if there's something dangerous in here with us, I want to know about it."

Something dangerous besides Giuseppe, anyway, Salk thought. The guy already made his skin crawl - with his weird, inappropriate giggles and grins, and his freaky marionette walk, and now, apparently a penchant for self-mutilation. Salk really hoped that when they left him behind, he would stay behind. The Zone being what it was, he doubted it.

Think of something else. "Hey," Salk said. "Does your world have a writer named Philip K. Dick?"

[The United Federation of Terrans]

<SNIP>

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office

"Javul, Herr.....err....Fraulein Deckard." Krausser corrected himself awkwardly as he stowed the hard case in his pack to carry out his chore later. As she left, Krausser turned to Salk, before sparing a glance forwards the prone man. The white clad 'doctor' grabbed Richard's arms before directing the already moving Krausser to grab the legs.

"He looked fine earlier. No sign of a struggle, either. Whatever took him out, he did Nazi it coming."

"What, nothing? Not even a chuckle? Don't be such a sour Kraut. Seriously though, if there's something dangerous in here with us, I want to know about it."

Krausser clenched his jaw as he helped carry the unconscious Richards up the stairs. Salk seemed determined to get a rise out of the sniper. So he cut out the white noise that was Salk's conversations; mainly in an effort to avoid a sudden explosion of temper that Krausser was sure would appear soon at this rate.

The second floor didn't come soon enough to the sniper, as he and Salk stood with the sagging bulk of Richard hoisted between them, surveying the wrecked office. Noticing a almost cleared off desk, Krausser gave and to the still standing desk missing its cubicle walls.

"Put him down over there."Krausser and Salk laid the unconscious cowboy on the surface and Krausser gave a sigh as he pulled out his medical equipment. Then as an after thought he gestured towards a set of large metal cabinets that once held semi-confidential documents. "I'll get to work on our....friend here. Start moving those and I'll help after I get this one up and moving."

Krausser then began pulling out everything he would need to inject one of his vial's contents into a human being. He set them up one by one beside the unflinching man and snapped on a set of latex gloves out of a habit drilled into him back in first aid training. Then with his gloves in place Krausser lifted Richard's chin up so he could peer at the neck from different angles. With a vein of sufficient size located, he marked the spot in his memory and with his free hand sanitized the area with a smaller then normal application of rubbing alcohol.

"You will probably hate me for this cowboy, but Fraulein Deckard wants you up and moving immediately. And I'm not one for denying someone else's whishes." As he talked Krausser had drained a small amount of a reddish-orange liquid from a resealable container and shaken the syringe to get rid of the air bubbles. With that accomplished he turned and gently guided the needle into the skin and then into the vein where he depressed the plunger and pulled the device out.

The fluid quickly took hold in the veins as it traveled first to the heart and then to brain. There it began an almost simultaneous stimulation of the nerves within there by kick starting the production of adrenaline via tweaking the fight-vs-flight area of the brain. His body reacted with a jerk as muscle's suddenly tightened at loosened from the shock of the sudden influx of adrenaline. Richard's eyes popped open as he jerked up his arms flailing and his mouth taking in heaving gasps of air. Krausser had backed up almost immediately and had collected up his containers to get them out of the reach of the wildly flailing man. When he seemed to calm down as his brain returned to normal functions; Krausser tried to explain what had happened.

'Cowboy, take it easy. Your rbain just went from sleep to awake faster then your used to. You will fell empty headed... I believe is word, anyway, as well as sore in limbs. Just sit there for a little bit and I will give you water in a few minutes after your vitals have.......leveled out." With that problem taken care of Krausser turned to help Salk with the growing barricade on the stairs.

[Tayner]

-Snip-

Richard Spencer
Glendale

The woman seemed to start pacing around and started her denial. It was a common process for new arrivals in the zone from other realities, and it quite resembled the process of dealing with a problem.

"All of us just waaaalkin' right into the zone"

After the woman finished her little speech, Spencer spoke up. "Yeah, no, you don't walk into the zone, it's like how one does not simply walk into Mordor. I was killed in a fire tornado outside of Las Vegas near the beginning of the Zone, and then I was flung sixty-some years back in time. I don't know how the others got here but I imagine they somehow broke through the militarie's quarantine, but that all fell apart a few hours or so ago apparently. That Roy guy, I don't even know about him. You're welcome to stay here if you like, deal with the secessionists by your lonesome, but if you think that Miller here should be locked up, well don't even get me started on their leader, who introduced himself to us by shooting me in the head." He said as he touched the scab on his forehead with his index finger.

"This is the Wild West, except that it's a whole lot more horrific. Logic and reality became someone's bitch or something because nothing's right. We need to put aside our hate for each other of we want the slightest chance of living, and yes, you should've stayed away from the ball of light, who the hell goes towards the light?" He sarcastically asked. "Now we should all shut up, bunker up in a building until night, and get Winston's truck and leave. You're welcome to leave, but I propose that you do it after we leave Glendale." He looked to Miller. "Sorry for the long speech, but I'm not wrong, am I?"

He pulled out the half finished smoke from earlier and lit it up with a zippo lighter before going inside. He plopped down on the sofa that he woke up on, kicked his feet up on the table, and leaned his rifle up against the side of the couch. He didn't know if the others would follow, or wait outside or leave him behind for some reason, but he knew that he had enough bullshit for one day. He probably put up with more bullshit today than most people did in their lifetime, but that didn't make a difference. At the end of the day, everyone there would still bleed red, or so he hoped, and they all would still be in the Zone.

[Deramen]

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office
The Man watched Giuseppe with a mix of amusement and confusion. He'd seen plenty of Vessels try to kill themselves, and he'd seen plenty that were already crazy before he'd shown up, but this man was in a league of his own. A few moments of his influence and he was already acting like a serial killer. He wasn't complaining, but things were progressing faster than the Man expected.

"Twenty nine..."

The Man wracked his memory for a moment, then smiled.

"Eula Phillips. Don't remember quite what she looked like. Bout' 17, if I recall correctly. Screamed like a stuck pig the whole time, too, especially when I offed her husband. Can you believe people got married that young back then?"

He chuckled, watching the man fiddling with a knife as he continued.

"As for my name, I've had a lot, really. I used to have a real name, a long time ago, but I suppose there's no real reason to dwell on it. As for why I picked you-"

The Man winced a bit as Giuseppe cut into his finger.

"Uh, wow. Alright. Doing the whole self harm thing. Ok. I can dig it, I-"

Then, Giuseppe passed out like a light, and the Man was left to his lonesome. He sighed, scratching his head and looking around the darkness of Giuseppe's mind.

"Well. Shit."

A slight bit of irritation ran through the man as he stood there, his plaything taken from him before he could even react. Fine, he thought, pacing his way across Giuseppe's mind, I'll go find someone else. It was a rare thing for him, to abandon a host, but the man had been so utterly useless that there was no point in sticking around. He'd cut himself and managed to pass out in moments.

The Man had seen plenty of things in his time, but that was definitely a new one.

With a sigh, he abandoned Giuseppe's mind, turning the reigns back over to whatever remained of his subconscious. If nothing else, he figured, he could always poke in on Salk or the Nazi. Perhaps they'd be a bit more amiable to having him around. Perhaps they wouldn't be comically incompetent. A thought crossed into the man's mind, and a smile curled across his face.

He needed to pay an old acquaintance a visit.

---

Downstairs, Valerie hung over the unconscious man. Panic had been replaced with dull resignation now. If the man was dead, then he was dead. That was how it was going to play out. The more maternal side of her practically shrieked at the notion, forcing her hand forward to slap the man once more. Nothing. She sighed, running a hand through her increasingly messy hair. She felt disgusting, covered in a mix of her own blood and that of others. When they got out of the Zone, she was going to take a nice, long-

Krauser's thick German accent came in from behind, nearly making the poor woman jump out of her skin. She swiveled her head around to meet his as he spoke.

"There is something wrong with the man you call Giuseppe. He play the knife game; you know? One where you open fingers and try not to stab? However, he hurt self but he just laugh and collapse. Like....coma I believe is word?"

She sighed. A long, dejected, angry sigh. The kind of sigh that a mother might make when she found her child playing on the couches. The kind of sigh she was becoming very accustomed to. Salk came in shortly after, still clad in that increasingly dirty lab-coat. He echoed Krauser's sentiments and Valerie, with yet another sigh, rose to her feet.

"You two aren't the only ones that think he's crazy."

Her voice was low, only lightly echoing against the walls. The minimalist, rotting contemporary designs seemed to watch over them as they spoke, and Valerie's eyes periodically flashed out towards the darkening desert. She could see shadows out there. Strange forms that moved and gesticulated in the darkness in ways that made her skin crawl.

"If he's still knocked out, then let's get Wyatt Earp over here upstairs first."

She thumbed back to Richard, still splayed out on the floor. From the movement of his chest, she could tell he was still breathing. At least there's that, she thought. Her optimism, though tarnished, remained to an extent. When one was in a place like this, where it seemed all reality was trying to beat the good out of you, there was a victory in staving off dread. She didn't want to be like her partner, drinking away her sorrows and letting the world burn around her.

"Krausser" she said, authority in her tone. "I want you to help Salk get Richard upstairs. Try and wake him up."

Her head turned to Salk. As she spoke, her hands drifted to her holster, retrieving a handgun. The magazine slid out into her hand with a quiet thump.

"And Salk. I'm going up there. Yuki's up there too, and we're going to have a word with our new friend. Once you two are done getting him upstairs, I want you to barricade the stairwell with anything you can. Nobody gets in or out of here until morning."

With that, she nodded and moved past the men, leaving them to their work.

The walk up the stairway felt like an eternity. Her hands shook, rattling the pistol as she walked. She knew she couldn't kill him. She already had too much blood on her hands, quite literally. She had a few zip-ties in her bag still, holdovers from one of Miller's drunken rampages. A slight frown creased her face as she remembered that night, how he'd gone totally off his rocker on LSD, spewing nonsense about the end of the world and Pandora's box. She'd managed to tie him to a pipe in their dingy hotel room until he calmed down, and even then, she never stayed around the man unarmed. It was a strained partnership, to say the least, and that was just one of a long line of incidents that made her question the man's sanity.

It wouldn't matter if he was dead, though. That possibility stuck in her mind as she stepped up into the upper levels of the building. It was about what she expected. Walls of cubicles filled with metal desks and computers, long dead plants accompanying motivational posters. Quotes about teamwork and achievement, coupled with stock images of forests and oceans. She sneered at it as she craned her head to find Giuseppe, keeled over a table near the stairway, and Yuki trying to wake him up. Her hand slowly slipped into her pocket, retrieving a ziptie, and she crept forward. The gun still stayed in her hand, of course.

She didn't want to kill the man, but she would if she had to.

With a hand-wave, she motioned for Yuki to step away. Valerie worked quickly, tying off the man's hands behind his back before he could react. Once the deed was done, she stepped cautiously around to the other side of the table and sat down.

"Giuseppe" she said, choosing her words carefully. "Don't freak out. Your hands are tied off, so don't try anything. We're going to put you in one of these offices until the morning, then we're leaving, you're staying here until we're gone."

Giuseppe woke up once Valerie spoke in his ear. His eyes widened. "W-What? N-N-No! You cant leave me alone with him! He's gonna kill me! Please!" He started hyperventilating. "O-Oh god that yellow man is going to kill me! I-I cant die in some building, alone! I cant die knowing that murderer will kill me, I cant!" He looked down and breathed in. "Look, I get it. If your gonna leave me to die like some fucking animal at least do it right and end it now!" He stared at Valerie with a glare of anger, sadness and acceptance.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Winston felt himself pulled up by the man named Miller. He gripped his hand tightly, and allowed himself to stand.
”Please to meet you, Winston.”

Winston looked up at Miller. “Good to meet you too.” His response was sincere. Maybe he was naive to be so trusting, but he didn't care. It was better than being a standoffish asshole. ”You’ll have to forgive the guns and such. We've all been through a lot of hell today." Winston nodded, and did a weird half-smile half-frown. “Yeah, that’s alright. I probably would have done the shame.” He said, slurring at the end and saying shame instead of same. He quickly corrected himself, just saying the word “same” once again. Christ, his head hurt.

The group seemed to perk up at this prospect of a truck. The previous gloomy, brooding faces grew less weary as they learned of the possibility of escape. Winston had saved them. He hadn't really saved anybody before, he guessed.

The man who attacked him looked at him, and handed Winston his pistol. Winston slowly took it and holstered it, breathing out a “Thank you” before letting the man continue. "I'm really sorry for busting my rifle over your head. It's just that, well, when you have a paramilitary organization hunting you, you shoot first and ask questions later."

Winston considered the first sentence, thinking a few words in it should be switched around. He guessed that making more snarky comments wouldn't exactly make him a good person though, so he stayed quiet and smiled. He didn't mind these people, if he were being honest. Sure, they seemed on edge. Sure, they almost killed him. But hey, apparently they were being chased by a group of people who wanted them dead, which could tense anybody up.

Winston considered that maybe they were being chased for a reason. He meant that people didn't go around trying to kill others for any old reason, did they? Of course, The Zone was different. People were different round these parts, but Winston decided he’d be cautious anyways.

Winston was about to ask when they should leave, when Miller began to talk, as if he had read his mind. Maybe he could. Winston had already heard enough crazy shit today.

"These are the rest of the crew. Spencer over there is apparently a time-traveling zombie. The gal back there is probably from the past or some shit. Then there's Walter n' Roy inside. Roy's the cheeky mysterious asshole in the hood, and Walter's the other one." Miller said, and Winston smiled. Walter the other one. Winston could relate with him, as he saw the man he assumed to be Walter standing in the yard. They were the same. Nothing special about them, he thought. Unless he had mind reading capabilities. Winston suddenly screamed as loud as he could inside his mind, making no sound or indication of it on the outside. Nope, the man Walter was not a mind reader, as evidenced by his inability to wince. So, yeah, neither of them were special. Miller had a missing hand, Roy had a mask and was “mysterious”, Spencer was a freaking time-traveling zombie (how cool was that?) and the girl was from the past. But him and Walter? One and the same, open books of non-confusion. Probably.

Everybody has secrets.

There was that voice again. It intruded into his mind like a rat in a cupboard, and Winston was considering laying down some mouse traps. Before he could continue thinking of a more witty one liner, Miller began speaking again. "Now, look, all this talk of Confederates and Yanks is good, but we need to get the fuck out of here, and soon. It's getting to be dark out, and that'll give us a better chance to get out of dodge. If we can get out onto the 15, we can head towards Dry Lake."

Winston confused my stirred in his mind. Why would the be heading to Dry Lake? Wasn't that farther towards the center, so even more dangerous? And then, as if to confirm Winston’s suspicions of there being mind readers in these thar hills, Miller answered.

”We’re going to the center of the Zone.”

Winston nearly had a heart attack. “What?” He subconsciously blurted out. The center of the Zone? What was called so affectionately as the Epicenter? Or Hell on Earth, as he had heard back in Mesquite. Why would anybody go there?

The girl, probably a newcomer as well, began to spout off. Winston couldn't help but laugh nervously at the situation. How absurd was this? He had begun to consider going to Hell on Earth with a future necromanced soldier that tried to kill him, a man with no hand, a soldier with an awkward speech, a masked figure with a gun, and then there was fucking Walter. How could you make this up? Oh, and also don't forget that you’re being chased by monsters, probably cultists, and also a neo-Confederacy that stations it’s encampment in Shit, USA.

Winston could not believe what he was thinking to himself at this point.

You know the artifacts in the Epicenter? Just on the Outskirts of the Zone people made thousands off of them, but can you imagine the Epicenter? Millions. Hundred of millions. You’d be set for life. Your
grandchildren would be set for life. Your grandchildren’s children would be set for half their lives if they didn't go too crazy.

“I’ll do it.” Winston said, nodding. “I’ll drive you to the Epicenter.” He was confident. He could do this, right?

[Beiarusia]

Kimberly Tallow
the Chapel

---

KT cursed to herself as she trudged back through the mud to the humvee, the others in their little motley crew having ignored her yet again. To say that she was fuming would be an understatement, and while she would gladly spout of obscenities until she could be ignored no longer there were more urgent matters to attend to, namely seeing to it that her better third was okay. Kim was understandably upset about staying in the creepy chapel, and while she complained she made no effort to argue the matter. Kim grabbed their shared bag while KT helped Kimberly to the little church, supporting the other girl with her shoulder since her leg was still in bad shape from her earlier fall, a fall that KT had not yet forgotten. The angry girl made a mental note to dig her claws into the pastor the next time she saw him.

There was little to do about the rain and all three were thoroughly wet upon stepping into the chapel, Kim less so as she had done her best to hurry along so as to keep their things as dry as they could be. KT helped Kimberly into the nearest pew. “You’re heavy, you know that,” she joked, trying to bring some sense of normality to the situation.

Kimberly shrugged.

“Here, let’s get that off you,” Kim said, helping to remove the muddy jacket from the shivering girl. Her undershirt was soaked as well, as were her pants and most everything else. “Did we bring a towel? We need something to dry her off with.”

“I’m fine,” Kimberly said.

“No, you’re not. It’s cold and you’re gonna get sick.” Kim glanced over to KT. “You too.”

KT was indeed cold, what with being half naked in a sports bra and shorts only, but she would tough it out since that was the sort of person she was. In a way it was refreshing. They had spent the last year living in a desert, so while the change in weather was sudden, and kind of terrifying in its own right, it was not necessarily a bad thing so long as they had a roof above their heads. The chapel was not a pretty roof but it was a roof nonetheless.

Sniffing back a stuffy nose Kimberly reached down to the bag and dug through until she found her pack of cigarettes much to Kim’s displeasure. “I need a smoke,” was all the girl said before Kim could berate the habit. She tried to stand but her leg was sprained, or possibly fractured, and the simple action of getting up from her seat presented itself as a near impossible challenge. More irritating than disheartening. Then again Kimberly was lucky that her injury was only minor and not, say, a broken neck or mangled body. She very well could have gone under the tires of the humvee, and the fact that she hadn’t was a miracle in its own right.

Before Kimberly could fall back into the pew KT caught her and helped her to her feet. “I’ll help you out. Kim, maybe someone else has a towel?”

Kim was about to protest but merely sighed.

There was a porch on the front of the chapel, allowing the two girls to be outside but not rained down upon, and even better there was a bench for them to sit on. Kimberly dug out a cigarette for herself and for KT and then lit the both of them with her never-ending yellow flip lighter, a trinket she had found at the Moapa rest stop months before. The first cigarette was quickly burnt away and a second lit, the smoke and nicotine trailing off with the breeze.

“You’re fine, right?” KT asked nonchalantly before taking a long drag, allowing the smoke to fall from her mouth in a thick stream.

Kimberly allowed the stream of smoke to answer for her. She was shivering.

KT wrapped an arm and pulled the girl close so that there was no space between them. Kimberly tried to protest but was hushed when KT rested her head on the girl’s thin shoulders. KT flicked the butt of the cigarette out into the mud before bringing her second arm around Kimberley as well. Her voice was low when she spoke. “Don’t do that again.”

Kimberly looked down to her but said nothing. She finished the cigarette and flicked it away from her as well. Her face was red, but the embrace was warm so she didn’t bother to say a word.

The spooning girl nuzzled into the crook of Kimberly’s neck, tracing the slender shape with her nose until her mouth was near touching Kimberly’s ear. Kimberly tried weakly to pull her head away but didn’t put much effort into escaping. In an odd way it was comforting.

A rumbling engine ruined the moment as both girls grew stiff with hearing the approaching sound. KT pulled away and stood at the end of the porch, looking out into the rain and the approaching outline of a vehicle. Obviously it was a person, but after her day, and the insanity that had happened upon meeting their new friends, it was a safe bet that KT was not optimistic about the prospect of meeting someone new. They could bring more calamity their way, or maybe they were the calamity themselves. Likely not but KT’s mind was already racing as the truck came to a halt not too far from the chapel’s front.

“Hey guys!” KT called out to the people already inside the chapel but quickly gave up hope of them actually listening to her. Instead she stood in such a way to look from a distance as if she had a weapon holstered, moving to place herself between Kimberly and the truck. She called out again, this time directing her attention to the foreign man. “Who are you! Don’t come any closer or I… I’ll shoot!”

[The Warriors of the Sun]

The Chapel

Patrick closed in on the chapel at a slow pace that got slower and slower as he neared the lone building. He could finally make out the building with a little detail, but he couldn't see any of the people that would have made the gunshots he saw earlier. A shiver ran down Patrick's spine as the possibility of whatever these people were shooting at won filled his mind. He shook his head to attempt to remove the thought; they probably just went inside to get shelter from the rain. And he could hardly see anything in this rain anyway.

Yet he found himself still holding his breath as he brought the truck to a halt a short distance away from the chapel. He shut off the ignition, slipped his jacket on and grabbed his pistol before stepping out of the vehicle. For a moment he lingered by the open truck door, his shotgun sat on the floor of the passenger side, resting against the seat. His instincts told him to bring it just in case, what if whoever he saw didn't win their fight? He shut the door, no shotgun in hand, ignoring his survival instincts in favor of his hope. The pistol that he gripped in his right hand would be enough to defend and wouldn't make him come off as too hostile to whoever was inside, which Patrick had to keep reassuring himself that they were inside and alive.

With a deep breath Patrick turned around to walk towards the entrance, his arms limp at his side. As he took his first step he heard the shouting of a young woman...

“Who are you! Don’t come any closer or I… I’ll shoot!”

Patrick let out his held breath in a sigh of relief. And he couldn't stop the smile that crept onto his face as he realized he finally found others who were alive. "I...uh, I'm..." stammered Patrick as he raised his left arm to place his hand over his brow to help block the rain that was pounding his face. He could make out the figures of two younger women who looked very similar to one another. One seemed to have her hand at the ready to pull out what Patrick could only guess was a gun if he proved to be a threat. He couldn't blame her, these people were just in a fight not too long ago. The pistol in his hand all of a sudden felt heavy in hand as he realized the gun wasn't going to make him seem any more friendly.

Patrick quickly pressed the safety trigger and tossed the gun to the girl's feet, it wasn't the best throw, but it was definitely closer to her than himself. His instincts immediately reminded him that the gun was his only form of defense which Patrick promptly ignored. "Uh, I-I..." Patrick closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself now was not the time to act shy. Patrick let out another exaggerated breath before continuing, "I'm not looking for uh...any trouble. Just some shelter till the end of the night..." Patrick quickly added, "or the end of the rain, whichever you prefer. Um, I'm Patrick." Patrick looked down to the ground in a moment of unneeded bashfulness, "I really don't mean any harm." Patrick looked back to meet what he assumed was the girl's gaze. His smile was bigger than before, the girls would probably think that he might be crazy. But even in this position where he was now defenseless and at the mercy of the girls he could only feel joy and relief as he looked at them.

[True Refuge]

Chapel

Hawkins had a neutral expression, though neutral to her even though she was in that mode so she was a bit more aggressive than usual, at least to hostiles.

"Mom was about him. I had different taste in music." She replied, giving an off-character chuckle for once. "Sunday morning when we go down to church, see the menfolk standin' in line. I said they come to pray to the Lord with my little girl, looks so fine..."

Hawkins gave a content sigh, which was not to be confused with her letting her guard down. She was a bigger fan of classic rock and the like than pop songs. The Rolling Stones were a big hit with her. Older stuff always sounded better than the newer stuff, but then again most people didn't make good music nowadays.

"So what do you think, can we take shifts for night watch safely in here or would you rather chance the rain again."

Silvas felt a slight expectation to reveal something significant about his own past, perhaps his backstory from back in LA, before the Zone. An eddying river of tales about his childhood, poker, gangs, all the interesting and deep stuff like that, but whenever something came to mind, details scurried away, leaving him with only the most vaguest of memories. Not that it mattered, the rain wasn't helping his mood, and his family wasn't the sort to attend church.

"I'll be staying in here if you don't mind," he replied quietly while the storm thundered away outside. "My suit's already been drenched to death, I doubt it could survive much more." He gently placed the MP5 down. "I suggest that since neither Jen and I not entirely well-trusted, gangster nicknaming being evident and all that, that Hawkins takes first watch."

[Beiarusia]

...

Kimberly Tallow
the Chapel

---

KT watched as the handgun landed just out of reach. She was tempted to make a scramble for it but ultimately decided to hold her ground, not wanting to give up her bluff of being armed in case the man had another weapon on his person. No, she stood where she was, her eyes not once leaving the man for fear that his oddly calm smile was only a ploy of his own. Regardless neither he nor she could stand out in the rain all night.

“I’m Kay-tee.” She emphasized each syllable. “Just… just don’t move.” KT backed away until she was back near the bench and beside Kimberly. Eyes still trained on Patrick the paranoid girl leaned down to her doppelganger. “Whaddya think?”

Kimberly shrugged. “He didn’t shoot.”

KT frowned. “Yeah.” She sighed in a slightly annoyed manner as she stood, raising her voice to be heard over the din of the falling rain. “You stay here. If you so much of think of hurting her” - KT pointed a thumb over at Kimberly – “I will find the most jagged stick I can and shove it in your dickhole.” Threat made, KT turned to enter the chapel, pausing long enough to glance back at Patrick so as to make the I’m watching you gesture with her fingers. The heavy door was left slightly ajar.

Kimberly watched her go before lighting another cigarette. “It won’t a small stick, just FYI.”

Inside the chapel Kim was doing her best to find something warm and dry for Kimberly. Of the people present not many seemed the sort to be approached with such an inane but important request. Jen was likely suffering from some form of mental psychosis; Hawkins was all around grumpy; and Kim secretly wanted KT to follow through with her threat of violence against the supposed pastor. That left only the gambler. Kim walked over to his side, breaking into their conversation and announcing herself by clearing her throat. When that failed she tapped the man, Silvas, on the shoulder. “Excuse me, but do we have anything dry? Kimberly is soaked and-”

“STRANGER DANGER!” KT yelled from across the chapel, jogging over to where everyone now stood. Ignoring the annoyed look of Kim the girl elaborated. “We got a strange dude outside. Says he’s friendly, but seeing as how you have the guns I thought I’d allow you to make the call.”

[Monfrox]

Chapel

Hawkins wouldn't exactly object to taking first watch, but she didn't know who could be trusted to not slit their throats while they slept, or moreover her's. She was pretty sure Jen would pounce on the chance to do so given the opportunity. Jen would not take a shift. Silvas could only be trusted moderately more. That left the triplets. Well, maybe two of the three. Hawkins took her shemagh off and let it plop onto the nearest pew. Well, at least it kept most of the rain off her shirt, and her cover helped that too.

The Staff Sergeant sighed and stripped off the ACU undershirt after coming back from the Humvee with her UCP blouse and tossed both to KT and Kim respectively.

"It's all I got short of rags. You'll have to make due and hang your wet clothes to dry."

Now she was starting to feel chilly, and even threw the shemagh back on to try to cover up her cleavage. That was a stretch. Hawkins was very well-endowed for a woman of her stature, and was just as toned. A small bruise was on her abs where Jen had socked her earlier, but the muscles were obvious. She'd think twice before trying that again. Sadly, the shemagh only dripped water onto her chest, compounding her slight embarrassment. Whatever, it wasn't that soaked anyway. She wrung it out real quick and then threw it back on, being the only thing other than the somewhat conservative black bra she had on to hide he curves.

Now that that was done, she walked back out to where Kimberly was and didn't take long to find the aftermentioned stranger. She waved him over, sizing him up to see if he was a threat or not. Her hand slipped her M1911 back into the holster, but remained on its grip in case she needed to draw it fast.

[Relikai]

Katori Yuki

She felt disgust, anger and pity all at the same time, none of it at Valerie or those who restrained Giuseppe, but rather at the man's mannerisms. Disgust at his behavior, a madman has no place in the Zone, Anger at needing to carry his weight despite all they have gone through, and Pity at his current state, especially when he gave her water earlier when they first met.

"Here." Yuki said as she fed Giuseppe some water from her canteen, pouring it slowly so the man would not be overwhelmed by the influx of liquid. "Try not to make so much noise, we do not want to attract attention. Please."

Moving away from the man, Yuki proceeded to hand the bottle to Valerie, also informing her of the current state of the level.

"Bathroom is alright, there's water running. I took a soft rinse and wipe, everything seems alright. Just lock the doors so none of these men would barge in by accident."

Yuki then sought out the man who literally saved her life.

"Salk." Yuki said as she sat on a table near him, observing Richard's sudden burst to life with a blank expression. "Thank you, for saving me." Scratching her neck as Yuki made sure that her hair was still tied, she then raised her jacket a little, showing Salk the fresh bandages which she bound around her wounds, mainly for inspection.

"Are these alright? I did them myself earlier, but I can't be too sure. It's the first time I did bandaging."

[The Warriors of the Sun]

The Chapel

Patrick visibly twitched out of discomfort in response to KT's threat as she went inside the chapel. He chuckled as he twitched again at Kimberly's follow-up after KT went inside before mumbling, "Why did I have to imagine it the second time..." He stood silently afterwords, considering if he should make small talk, if they did let him stay it could make things less tense. But Patrick decided against, unsure if he would just make the situation worse, so he opted to just lightly kick at the puddle forming in a divot in the road near his feet.

His attempt at killing time didn't last long as another woman exited the chapel and waved him over. He briskly made his way over, glad that he was allowed at least some momentary sanctuary from the rain. As he walked over h made a quick glance to his handgun that was still laying on the ground just in front of the porch, thinking to himself that he really should've just holstered it rather than throw it to them. But he opted to ignore the gun for now and retrieve it after he knew his place in this situation.

He stepped onto the edge of the porch, giving the rest some distance from him. Patrick could've come off as an intimidating man, standing at 6'1'' with a fairly muscular build, but his slouched posture and grin he couldn't seem to shake quick deteriorated his intimidating persona, not to mention his earlier incident of immediately throwing his gun away. Patrick quickly wiped the excess water off his face before looking at the woman. Was this group made up of only attractive woman?

"I'm, uh, Patrick," he began as he ran his fingers through his hair, a quirk he did whenever he was nervous. What was this woman wearing? A bra and scarf? "I guess you are the leader and all," continued Patrick. This woman had very large breasts that her choice of attire was trying very hard to conceal. "Like I was telling your companions, I just need a place to stay for the night or till the rains stops." Was this the kind of clothing this woman wore? Not that he was complaining, he'd be glad if that was the case. "I'm not looking for trouble, quite the opposite. If you need me to do anything to put y'all at ease just name it." Were there other girls in this group with similar attire and proportions? That'd be the dream. "And being around other people for a night might not be that bad either..." said Patrick mostly to himself than the woman.

He blinked after finishing his intro and realized he had been blatantly staring at the woman's chest the entire time. Patrick quickly wondered what was wrong with himself as he immediately blushed in embarrassment. "I-I uh, I um..." stammered Patrick as he quickly glanced back towards his truck contemplating if he should just leave out embarrassment. But being embarrassed here was likely better than dying to who knows what out in the open. He said, "Gosh," before taking a deep breath and softly finishing with, "I'm really sorry...I've never been great with, uh..." he didn't finished as there was a whole slew of words he could use to finish the sentence with: first impressions, women, people; but couldn't decide which, opting to just the let the sentence hang as he once again ran his fingers through his hair in embarrassment. His smile still persisting in even this fumble that he made, though noticeably smaller.

[Ximea]

Katori Yuki

She felt disgust, anger and pity all at the same time, none of it at Valerie or those who restrained Giuseppe, but rather at the man's mannerisms. Disgust at his behavior, a madman has no place in the Zone, Anger at needing to carry his weight despite all they have gone through, and Pity at his current state, especially when he gave her water earlier when they first met.

"Here." Yuki said as she fed Giuseppe some water from her canteen, pouring it slowly so the man would not be overwhelmed by the influx of liquid. "Try not to make so much noise, we do not want to attract attention. Please."

Moving away from the man, Yuki proceeded to hand the bottle to Valerie, also informing her of the current state of the level.

"Bathroom is alright, there's water running. I took a soft rinse and wipe, everything seems alright. Just lock the doors so none of these men would barge in by accident."

Yuki then sought out the man who literally saved her life.

"Salk." Yuki said as she sat on a table near him, observing Richard's sudden burst to life with a blank expression. "Thank you, for saving me." Scratching her neck as Yuki made sure that her hair was still tied, she then raised her jacket a little, showing Salk the fresh bandages which she bound around her wounds, mainly for inspection.

"Are these alright? I did them myself earlier, but I can't be too sure. It's the first time I did bandaging."

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office

With Krausser's help, Salk finished the barricades. Together, they had stacked desks, office chairs, filing cabinets, and even a vending machine in front of the stairs. A determined invader would get through eventually, but this would slow them down and make a hell of a racket in the meantime - hopefully giving the building's occupants an opportunity to flee or fight back as appropriate.

Salk placed another chair against the barricade and leaned against the wall, considering whether it was worth dragging anything else over. He heard his name and turned his head. Yuki was sitting on a table in the corner that Salk had apparently overlooked. "Thank you for saving me," she said, and she raised her jacket for him to inspect her bandages. "Are these alright? I did them myself earlier, but I can't be too sure," she added. "It's the first time I did bandaging."

Salk stepped over. "There's not much to it, really. Clean away any pus or bleeding - I assume you did that - stick a dressing on, hold it in place with a bandage." He knelt to get a look at the bandage on her front. "Looks alright. Stand up, let me see the exit wound." She did as ordered, and Salk said, "That one's all right, too." He poked at the bandage with a finger. "No pain? Good. How did it look in front? It won't be pretty, but it shouldn't be too inflamed unless it got infected. That reminds me - " Salk stood up, fished a small bottle from his lab coat, and tossed it to Yuki. "Antibiotics. God knows what filth we're going to get ourselves covered with out here, so take one a day until the bottle runs out. Should be about thirty in there."

With that, he walked away. He had already selected a good place to sleep while ransacking the area for barricading material - a small office with an old, cheap bookshelf. The thing looked like it would fall apart if he tried to move it, so he and the German had left it there. Salk snapped on a light and took a look at some of the titles - advanced references on molecular genetics, retroviruses, cell biology. Nothing particularly interesting. Certainly no secret files or smoking guns.

As Salk idly flipped through one of the books - an old textbook on virology that optimistically predicted the eradication of polio by 2005 - his thoughts turned to Yuki. She had thanked him for saving her life. He chuckled. As if any of us are going to survive this road trip. Not even God knows what we're heading into.

[New Grestin]

And in other news, the Department of Anomalous Affairs is reporting that the containment breach at the Mesquite Relocation Camp has been, for the most part, contained. While the death toll has not been reported, conservative estimates put the number of missing at three to five hundred. Government forces are reporting that the creatures responsible for the breach were terminated following a protracted battle within the Relocation Camp itself. Eyewitnesses reported that the creatures in question appeared to be coordinating their attacks and deliberately targeting civilians, however our source in the DAA stresses that these are merely unfounded rumors.

We go now to Michelle Nyguyen, just outside the Relocation camp.

"Thanks, Tom. We're here outside what remains of the Mesquite Refugee centers, where the National Guard is conducting clean and sweep operations. I'm here with Jack Proctor, head of the Citizen's Militia assisting the government in cleaning up the area. Jack, how would you say the current operation is going?"

"Uh, well, it's going alright so far. We just took out a Class 3 a few hours ago. Big one too. Sucks to try and move them when they've got so many d***ed legs."

"Right. Can you lend any credence to the eyewitness accounts? There were reports that-"

"Reggie! Put another round in that one over there! He's a twitcher! Sorry, we get these ones, you put a bullet it em', they're twitchers."

"Well, yes, but there've been reports of paramilitary units operating during the battle. People are saying that they were using anomalous weaponry-"

"Uh, well, Mikayla, I can't really comment on- REGGIE, for f**k's sake! Cap the f**cker!"

"It's Michelle. Can you at least comment on the people claiming the creatures were coordinated?"

"Whatever. Uh, well, some of them kinda acted like it. Not like they were using guns or nothing, but some of them seemed like they were workin' together."

"Really, and what-"

"For f**ks sake, Reggie. In the f**cking head, you stupid a**! THE HEAD!"

"Can you not-"

"THE OTHER HEAD, GODD*****T!"

"Sir-"

"You know what's f**cked up, though? Some of these people are mutants, ya know? I know some of these people we're putting down. That guy over there? He sold me my house. It's a shame, but somebody's gotta do it."

"...."

"That woman over there? I think I did her."

NBC News Report, Circa 2016

---

Atlas Biotech Corporate Office | Outside Overton, Nevada | Day 2
As night fell over the desert landscape, the various nocturnal beasts that now inhabited the Zone slowly crept from their nests to hunt. Spiders the size of cows scrambled about, fighting over the corpses of the Nazis. Multi-eyed bats, snouts filled with thousands of razor sharp teeth, watched with patience. They'd get their fill eventually, especially if the spiders killed one of their own in the fray. Semi-humanoid mutants scrambled about in the din as well, picking up whatever scraps they could and retreating into the other buildings. Off in the distance, a massive, legless humanoid slowly crept over the landscape. It's eyeless face briefly scanning over the small collection of structures, barely prompting a thought in it's alien mind. It carried itself onwards on it's hands in near silence, marching off towards some unseen goal.

Yet, as all this occurred beyond the walls of the office building, the only thing on Valerie's mind was the man sitting before her. He looked pathetic, really. Like all the crazy had suddenly drained out, leaving nothing but a thin layer of hysterics behind. If she lacked empathy, she would have told him to suck it up and shut his mouth. Instead, Yuki tried her best to calm the man. Valerie, on the other hand, took a different approach.

She slid her jacket off, letting it hang from the chair as she leaned back. Her shirt was still dyed red with blood and she was seriously considering taking a sink-bath when this was all over with.

"Giuseppe," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. There was an air of frustration to her voice.

"You're acting like a fucking maniac. Calm down, take some deep breaths. I am not, I repeat, am not going to shoot you. There's already been enough of that for one day, and I'd rather not be more of a murderer than I already am."

With a look of intensity, she leaned forward, eyes dead-locked with his.

"Trust me, it's not a fun experience. I don't want to kill you, but I will if you try anything."

She slid back in the chair, hand still firmly planted on the pistol beside her. The woman was the picture of exhaustion. Hair frazzled, blood smeared across her clothes and hands, she looked like something out of a slasher flick. To say she was acutely aware of this was an understatement. Even still, in the swirl of emotions in her head, a twinge of curiosity rang out. Yellow Man? Giuseppe was crazy, sure. Everything he'd said was a psychotic jumble of word-soup, but that, that stood out in her mind. It wasn't like the others would think she was crazy for asking, and it wasn't like she particularly cared at this point, so she asked.

"Who's this 'Yellow Man', anyway?"

---

The Chapel | Outside Moapa, Nevada | Day 2
Jen hung over the altar as Hawkins spoke. Despite being soaked, dirty, and in serious need of a drink, Jen felt like things were going quite well. Sure, she had been seriously considering murdering these peons earlier. Sure, she still really wanted to feel Silva's neck snap in her hands. Sure, she probably would get him killed later, preferably in the most gruesome manner possible. The subject shifted to who would take the first shift, and before Jen could chime in with her typical snark, Silvas interrupted with his own.

"I suggest that since neither Jen and I not entirely well-trusted, gangster nicknaming being evident and all that, that Hawkins takes first watch."

She shrugged. Hatred and murder fantasies aside, the man had a good point. Jen's eyes drifted over the wall behind the altar, letting the others talk as her mind drifted to other things. Something caught her eye, just behind the elaborate abrahamic carvings. Something rough. Painted, even. She slowly nudged a worn-down statue of Christ aside, and her heart nearly stopped. On the wall was a series of symbols. A figure, painted in black with a crown above it's head, a half-dozen arms emanating from it's torso.

Fuck, she thought. They're here too.

Regrets emerged from the back of her mind and she let the statue settle back into place. If the Cult was here, in this reality too, than that might explain some things. Her jumper hadn't worked since she'd gotten here. The kind of tech needed to block that, or to outright knock it out like that, was certainly something those bastards would have access too. Or it was magic. Who knew at this point. Those thing were a living embodiment of Clarke's third law. With a sigh, Jen stepped back to the others. Hawkins had, for whatever reason, stripped off her shirt, exposing her bra. Jen paused, eyes drifting to her breasts for a moment before she shook it off. Goddamnit, Jen, keep your mind out of the gutter. Even still, her thoughts were still on Hawkin's tits.

She shifted her thoughts to something, anything else, while forcing her gaze from the woman. Scratching her head awkwardly, Jen shrugged once again.

"Uh, yeah, that makes, uh, sense. I guess. Um, I'm just gonna, um, wow, I-"

[/i]

---

Glendale, Nevada | Day 2

Miller sighed. The woman was in denial. Of course she was. As if he needed more shit to deal with right now. She paced around, repeatedly pointing among the group and repeatedly denying the proposal. There were less polite ways of putting it, but Miller wasn't in the mood to get stabbed by some stubborn broad today. Without looking, he spoke to Spencer.

"No, you're absolutely correct."

On the other side, Winston seemed sold on the idea. Or, rather, he looked like he was. Words meant little to Miller. Words couldn't hold a gun and cover him in a fight. Words couldn't stave off the monsters they would go up against. Words were just bullshit and syntax, and he had no patience for fucking syntax. He sighed and stepped forward, motioning to Spencer as he did.

"Cigarette, please."

At the same time, Miller turned his attentions to the woman.

"Look, hon. You've got about two options right now. You can fuck off and probably get gang-raped by a pack of bumfuck, red-neck secessionists , who will probably then shoot you. If you're lucky, you might get out of town on your own, and then maybe you'll be eaten alive by a pack of land-sharks or stabbed to death by Mannequins. Alternatively, you can stay with us until night-fall and tag along until we reach another settlement that isn't actively trying to murder us."

With a look of tired intensity, the man stared her down.

"There's a town a ways off from here. Dry Lake, if I recall correctly. Last time I did a run into the Zone, the town was doing alright. If it is, then we'll drop you off there and that'll be it."

He turned back from her, breaking eye contact and swiveling on his feet, throwing in a few grand gestures to complete the "sarcastic prick" vibe he was going for.

"You could also stick around for the duration, because when we get to the center, and when we get out of the Zone, there's a good chance that we'll all be set for life. I'm not just talking thousands. I'm talking millions of dollars, maybe billions for some of the shit up that way."

Miller swung back around towards the woman, a slight smile creasing his face.

"So, can we all just go inside, before someone gets shot?"

[Wallenburg]

WALTER KEELE
Glendale, Nevada || Real Time

---

Walter raised an eyebrow at the hectic yet almost amusing exchange between Spencer and the two people they had all apprehended. Presidents? We're holding two people at gunpoint and we're all worried about presidents? Walter lowered his gun and stepped forward to get a better view. The woman appeared from behind the house, and Walter could better see the man Spencer had knocked down. He turned to look back at the street, confirming it to be as lifeless as before. Spencer asked the woman more questions of little importance, and she responded in unusually lengthy detail.

Miller interrupted the exchange. "Alright, hon, you're human. Probably. It was James Monroe, by the way." He motioned to Spencer and said, "Spencer, keep an eye on her for a moment."

Walter watched as Miller approached their second guest and gave him a standard death threat to keep him under toe. He smiled in amusement at the interaction. They had been running for their lives perhaps less than an hour earlier, and now Miller was speaking as if he owned the entire town.

Then Walter heard something behind him. Feet brushing against grass, and the weight of a gun in a pair of hands. He spun around and pulled up his gun to defend the group. A gloved hand shoved the gun out of Walter's hands just before he could pull the trigger.

"Fucking hell, Walter, do not do that again!" snarled the hood, his anger only barely contained. Two furious eyes glared back at Walter, almost daring him to give Roy an excuse to kill him.

Miller and Spencer introduced themselves, the latter delving into his background--if one could call it that, considering that he came from the future. The hood stepped forward to join the others as the group continued its discussion.

"Anyone here have a ride? Pickup truck? Car? Hybrid? Hovercraft, bicycle, airplane, flying dinosaur, other means of transportation?"

The hood fidgeted in place slightly, hesititant. Walter looked at him questioningly, but soon the new man told the group that he had a truck that could get them through the Zone. Walter felt a weight lift off of his chest. Finally, we aren't stranded. We can move. We can get out. We--

"No," said the woman. "No, no! No!" She seemed terrified at the prospect of being in the Zone. Walter stared at her in confusion. "You're crazy," she said to Miller. "You oughta be locked up. All of us just walkin' right into the Zone, just like that? Swiss fuckin' cheese...shoulda just stayed away from that ball of light..."

Walter smirked and commented, "Well, Miller and Spencer and I drove in here. At least, Miller did. Miller did all the driving. And all the crashing."

"Whether you like it or not, we are in the Zone, ma'am," said the hood. "No number of no's will change that. Believe me, I've tried."

Spencer filled the newcomers in on the harsh reality of the Zone, and the dangers of Glendale in particular. The hood stepped aside as Spencer left, walking around to the front of the house and turning around the corner. The shutting of a door carried over quite clearly.

"Look, hon," said Miller, "you've got about two options right now. You can fuck off and probably get gang-raped by a pack of bumfuck, red-neck secessionists, who will probably then shoot you. If you're lucky, you might get out of town on your own, and then maybe you'll be eaten alive by a pack of land-sharks or stabbed to death by mannequins. Alternatively, you can stay with us until night-fall and tag along until we reach another settlement that isn't actively trying to murder us. There's a town a ways off from here. Dry Lake, if I recall correctly. Last time I did a run into the Zone, the town was doing alright. If it is, then we'll drop you off there and that'll be it."


The hood whispered faintly to Walter, then turned around and walked quickly to the front of the house. Walter stayed with the others. He noticed that the sun had crawled down to just above the fence line. It cast long shadows across the suburb, and it seemed to tinge the air with a cool, slightly green light.

"You could also stick around for the duration, because when we get to the center, and when we get out of the Zone, there's a good chance that we'll all be set for life. I'm not just talking thousands. I'm talking millions of dollars, maybe billions for some of the shit up that way."

Walter raised an eyebrow at Miller. He certainly believed Miller that whatever was at the center of the Zone was probably exceedingly valuable. Whatever waited at the epicenter was probably also very deadly, and likely to kill anyone in a mile radius.

"So, can we all just go inside, before someone gets shot?"

That sounded far more agreeable to Walter. "I'm good with that. It's getting dark, too. With any luck, we'll have Bill's goons off our tails for good." He backed up and turned to go back into the house.

[Monfrox]

Glendale

"Lotta good money does ya when you're too dead to collect." The LT grumbled to herself as she moved past Miller towards the house. "Man...you gotta be shitting me."

The whole thing was fucked. Sure, she had enough in her pack to realistically last her maybe two days if she rationed her food accordingly, three if she really stretched it, but getting taken advantage of in ways she could only imagine was not at all high on her list of things to do. Then again, neither was dying in some horrible fashion. The prospect of a settlement seemed promising, but she knew that by herself she'd be a target. She would try to get some rapport with the settlement in the time they were there, and if things looked good she'd stay. If not, well, hopefully she could go for the next one. Center of the Zone was out of the question by far. No way was she going to just willingly agree to be killed.

She was the first one in the house, went back up to that room she jumped out of, and stripped off her blouse and boots along with her pack and web belt. She fetched out a fig bar from an MRE she had packed and munched on it in between sips from one of her canteens.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Winston blinked, listening to Miller talk. He was starting to come off as a bit of a self-righteous prick. Winston frowned, then thinking to himself that Miller was just probably under a lot of stress. Probably.

Well, of course he was. He had one hand, a group of people with guns hunting him down, and a group of people to take care of. So, maybe he was justified in being a bit dickish.

Winston watched as the hooded man walked out to them while they were discussing matters, and felt disappointment creep in when he began whispering words to Walter. Well, there appeared to now be only one completely unspecial person there, and that was him. Winston Garnett, the most unspecial person on planet Earth.

Winston, in defeat, walked into the house at Miller’s suggestion, stepping in with the Lieutenant, Spencer and Walter, following the trio to safety. The house was dark, and had a distinct smell. Winston reckoned that if the scent was a candle, it would be called something to the effect of Musty Apocalypse. Winston looked around, noticing all of the fine furniture and assortments of fine china bowls, spoons and cups littered in oak dressers and birch wood cabinets. Some of the cabinet doors in the kitchen hung open, gaping maws that only held darkness, rat pills and porcelain.

Winston took quick notice of a magazine poking out of one of the cabinets, and he grabbed it. The cover showed the words “Reader’s Digest,” along with a whole other assortments of words listing off features in the magazine. Winston held it in hand and walked out of the kitchen.

He watched the Lieutenant head up the stairs, and then a few shuffling a on the top floor. He decided not to follow, and instead walked into the living room, and found himself a nice armchair to sit in. He plopped down, and began to flip through the magazine.

[Deramen]

"Who's this 'Yellow Man', anyway?"

Giuseppe sighed. "I-I'm not sure but remember when that rock fell on me? Well he came to me then and intruded my mind. He..."Giuseppe stopped speaking. He shivered. "He did, terrible things to my mind and my soul. No that doesn't explain it, You will never know the pain I felt in those few hours. You think bullets hurt? This is a whole new ball game. I'm not sure how but he started changing my mind and making me do things. Speaking of that I need to tell you that I think he's interested in you or something. Now please don't ask me more." He took the water from Yuki and chugged a good section of it. He glared at the wall, and Giuseppe swore that there was a message there. 'My Friend, It was a good time but you aren't at my standard. Maybe one of your friends will be a better fit." He blinked and the message was gone. Giuseppe started looking at the two people in front of him. Were they controlled by the yellow man? He looked back at the water then back at them. "Is this water safe?"

[Relikai]

Giuseppe sighed. "I-I'm not sure but remember when that rock fell on me? Well he came to me then and intruded my mind. He..."Giuseppe stopped speaking. He shivered. "He did, terrible things to my mind and my soul. No that doesn't explain it, You will never know the pain I felt in those few hours. You think bullets hurt? This is a whole new ball game. I'm not sure how but he started changing my mind and making me do things. Speaking of that I need to tell you that I think he's interested in you or something. Now please don't ask me more." He took the water from Yuki and chugged a good section of it. He glared at the wall, and Giuseppe swore that there was a message there. 'My Friend, It was a good time but you aren't at my standard. Maybe one of your friends will be a better fit." He blinked and the message was gone. Giuseppe started looking at the two people in front of him. Were they controlled by the yellow man? He looked back at the water then back at them. "Is this water safe?"

Yuki had returned to Giuseppe after expressing her gratefulness to Salk. It seemed that she did a decent job cleaning her wound with a wet cloth, her shirt to be exact, and took the antibiotics gratefully. Perhaps a week or two of light activity would see the healing through, Yuki had no intention of being disabled after she managed to pull through.

Giuseppe was rambling about a Yellow Man... that term brought memories to Yuki, bad memories. The Man who appeared to her just as she was recovering from her treatment, regarding Valerie and some woman. Shaking her head, Yuki adjusted Giuseppe until he was sitting straight against a table, sitting across him with her legs crossed. She would trust Valerie with this, Yuki was never very good with strangers.

"It's safe." Yuki said. "Even with my mild paranoia, it is safe... it is safe..."

Yuki's eyes snapped open, as she realised that her mind has wandered slightly. Must be the stress of the day, the trauma... She thought, taking another swig of water as she popped an antibiotic pill. Since everybody has gathered here, Yuki cleared her rifle of it's ammunition, slotting the bullet back into the magazine as she kept her Luger loaded and put to safe on her holster belt. She was no soldier, but the skills she picked up over the years had proven valuable.

"I-I'll take first watch." Yuki said, standing up and dusting her jacket and shorts. "I'll be by the doorway."

[Tayner]

Richard Spencer
Glendale

After everyone filed in, Spencer tossed a pack of cigarettes to Miller as he entered per his earlier request. The Lt. went upstairs and Winston grabbed a magazine and sat down, while the others milled about. Spencer relaxed on the couch for a few minutes, until his boredom overcame him. He sat up, looked around the room, and saw a magazine on the counter in the kitchen. He got up to retrieve it, and upon seeing that it was a gossip magazine he tossed it aside and went on to continue his search for real literature.

He found a NRA magazine nudged I between the fridge and the toaster, and returned to his seat, glancing at the gossip magazine he previously tossed aside. He saw that when it landed, it had opened to a full page cleaning solution advertisement with a cartoonish shrimp-cow.

A shrimp-cow. Spencer thought. He dropped the NRA magazine and picked up the other magazine, reading the advertisement.

Greater Best Cleaning Solution, Cleen and Cleer! Nothing other likes it!

"Shit." Spencer whispered to himself. He ran back into the living room and showed Winston the ad. "Shit." He repeated before going to find Miller. He saw Walter and Roy standing nearby in the room, and then showed them the ad. "Shit." He repeated again, a little louder. He heard some footsteps in a nearby hallway and ran over to find Miller. He saw Miller, and showed him the ad. "Shit." He repeated again, slightly louder than the last time. He shoved the magazine into the man's hands as he ran back into the living room.

"Shit, we gotta leave now, shit." He said, before almost sprinting up the stairs. He found that the Lt. had taken off her blouse. He didn't have time to apologize for his sudden appearance and just simply repeated his earlier statement. "We gotta leave now." He said before returning down the stairs, mumbling "Fuck this shit." Under his breath. He entered the living room to see the group obviously confused, but Spencer glanced into the kitchen.

There it was.

The sink was overflowing with some sort of green foam, and soon the fridge busted open, more green foam spilling onto the floor. Spencer pointed at it and simply reiterated "Shit" a few more times before looking at the door that lead to the basement and saw that more green foam was emerging from there. "Shit shit shit." He stated once again, before grabbing his rifle and nearly vaulting over the couch that was in between him and the door. "Fuck this shit." He said, flinging open the door and running outside.

He bent over, and took a few slow breaths trying to lower his heart rate. It was starting to get dark out, but the sun was still visible in the sky. Getting killed by that ecto-cooler shit was horrible, the foam got in Spencer's eyes once, and even after he woke back up he was blind for a week. Spencer would rather be gunned down by secessionists before getting killed by that shit again. Spencer glanced around the neighborhood street, finding no signs of immediate danger. He took the time to slowly scan his sectors before seeing two little white dots that were in a shadow that was cast by the garage of a building across the street two houses down.

"Shit." Spencer said, this time having the word drawn out to two syllables. He pointed at the spectral hunter or whatever it was called, and hoped that the group could see it too. "S-s-sh-shit" He said struggling to grab anything that could help him fend off the invisible predator. His hand dove into his bag and grasped a cylindrical object, a road flare, and retrieved it. He tried to ignite it and after a few tries it happened. The Hunter drew closer, and Spencer threw the flare at it. When the flare bounced off the invisible creature's body, it revered back and hissed. Spencer withdrew another flare and ignited it an attempt to keep the creature a safish distance away, while he withdrew his flashlight and shone it on the hunter while it hissed again, this time casting a shadow behind the invisible monster.

"Shit." He said, again.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Winston was reading an article when Spencer had rushed over and revealed to him an advertisement in his NRA magazine. Winston grew perplexed about this, wondering why Spencer had shown him that with such fear. And then, a deep feeling of unrest fell upon him. He flipped through the Reader’s Digest, coming upon an advertisement. A strange one.

The cover depicted a little cartoon cow that was looking a little prawnish, and a few words plastered upon it’s otherwise white background.

Best Cleen Solution In Everywhere! Cleer and cleen, promise love or give back money!

“Well, that’s….strange.” Winston said, setting the Reader’s Digest down quickly. He began to think about it, the words seeming oddly familiar. He suddenly remembered that his notebook was bunched up in his jacket pocket, and he pulled it out quickly. “What are you?” He whispered, as he flipped through the yellow, wrinkled pages. Just as he was about to find it, a sudden cry of vulgarity came from the kitchen. It was Spencer, yelling “Shit” at the top of his lungs at the fridge and sink. When Winston spun around to see why, he echoed the soldier.

“Holy shit.”

The sink practically exploded, as green foam came bursting from it. Winston was struck with the sudden feeling of insanity, and he grabbed at his hair and screamed. “Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit shit!” He began to yell, when a voice in his head shut him up real quick.

No, no. This is not how you die.

It troubled him, the voice. He calmed down from his previous hysteria, but the voice gave him even more anxiety. It was his voice….but it wasn't, if that made sense. The voice was unnatural, like he had experienced it before but hadn't. Strange.

Winston got back on track, out of his spell. He looked around, seeing the front door and rushing for it. Before he could, a part of the wood wall burst open, a pipe flying from it, and sending green foam into the door and in front of it. Escape route, ruined.

While the house continued playing Amityville Horror, Winston attempted to work out a plan. He ran into the kitchen, now eyeing a large bulge coming from the top floor. The upper bathroom, it appeared. It was about to come crashing down, and Winston nearly ran out back door when he saw Spencer fighting something out there with a road flare and a flashlight. Likely to be a futile fight, and Winston watched him. And then, it hit him.

The shard of glass, that is, as green foam burst outdoors now, and into the open. The glass left a sharp cut in his cheek as it flew by him, and his head spun. Winston immediately grabbed his burning cheek, and brought his hand away to see blood. Winston, nearly freaking out again, heard the voice again, telling him to snap out of it. The voice had a calming nature to it, so Winston listened.

He then turned his attention to the thing Spencer was facing. It was invisible, all except for the noises it was hissing and the large, fidgety shadow shining behind it. Winston analyzed the situation, and determined it to be a Spectral Hunter according to his notes, a spider like creature of flesh, eyeballs and limbs. The green sludge was Ecto-Cooler, an alien substance that was probably used as “cleening” solution in some other universe. However, a lot of houses in The Zone seemed to be infested with it to the point that it would seep out of the walls, literally. It also had the same effects as bleach did on the human body, so, quite deadly.

Winston began to connect the dots, a little logic puzzle forming in his mind. If the Ecto-Cooler was bad for your eyes and skin, and the Spectral Hunter was a walking mass of eyes and skin, then…

Instincts began spinning, and Winston whipped his pistol out, and yelled through the broken window. “Get it inside! Uh, please. I have a plan! " He yelled, hoping the man would listen. Winston looked up at the bulge, and pointed his pistol at it, preparing himself.

[Wallenburg]

WALTER KEELE
Glendale, Nevada || Real Time

---

Walter passed through the front doorway just after Nicholson. He sat down on the couch and stared at Spencer, who had taken the sofa. "So you're a zombie, and Miller's a lunatic. This day keeps getting better and better."

He could see the hooded man back in the kitchen, searching the cabinets for food. Each one was as clean as it was the day the house had been bought. The hood sighed and kicked one of the lower cabinets lightly in frustration. "I'm getting real fucking hungry. Whatever. Walter, take my gun. Try not to kill me with it."

He flicked the safety back on the submachine gun and tossed it to Walter. Keele fumbled with it for a moment, but he finally got hold of the end and rested it in his lap. "Right. Sorry about that."

The hood looked at him briefly, then turned around and went up the stairs. Walter looked at Spencer. "Well, he's pleasant, isn't he? Damn, that guy is weird."

The hood went upstairs quickly. A gloved hand pulled back the hood and revealed a shortly cut head of hair. The hand then pulled down the bandana that served as a mask and let it rest at his neck. The man sighed. "Ah, that's nice. He smiled as the cool air wafted gently over his face. Under the hood and mask, he found it difficult to avoid overheating. It was getting cool outside, but the house had not yet surrendered to the chill of the evening.

Roy looked around briefly to make sure nobody was watching. Slowly, methodically, his gloved hands peeled off the cloak. Cold air rushed up his arms and pushed away the sweaty heat. He laughed to himself and shivered with euphoria. God, it's been forever since I've taken this off. I feel twenty pounds lighter...

He rolled his cloak over his arm and sighed happily. He put his hand to the door that led to the room from which he had trained his gun on the woman, and turned the doorknob. Pushing the door open, he stepped in, but froze as he realized that she was in the room as well. He yelped in surprise and slammed the door shut, stumbling backwards back into the hallway.

"Oh shit, oh shit," he whispered to himself. He pulled the bandana over his face and threw the hood back on. Slowly, he opened the door again, making sure that the hood and mask obscured his face sufficiently. He saw the woman again, who seemed to be confused at his behavior. He noticed that she was not wearing her shirt, and that she was eating some sort of bar.

"Um, hello there," he said, his discomfort and hesitation bleeding through in his voice. "So...do you plan to join us? Or are you going to stay? I mean, we certainly aren't the nicest of people, but Miller is right. Most others would rather kill you than offer you a chance to join them."

The door burst open, Spencer running in. "We gotta leave now." Before the hooded man could respond, Spencer was back downstairs.

The hood turned back to the woman. "Well, um, I guess you should get dressed. He doesn't get worked up over nothing. You can call me Roy, by the way. At least, as long as I'm with Walter."

He stepped out of the room and descended the stairway back into the living room. He heard something burst in the kitchen and soon saw the huge body of green foam bloating out of the fridge and sink. Spencer was repeating "shit" uncontrollably, and Walter had raised his weapon to the foam.

"Walter, that won't work! Get out now!"

Some green foam splattered out from the basement and landed on the living room television. It spilled down onto the rug below and slowly began to grow. Walter scrambled away and ran out the front door. "Shit," said Roy as the foam expanded. He followed Walter and Spencer out to the front yard. He turned back to look at the house, green foam beginning to build up in the garage. Whatever had happened, the foam was going to consume the house within a matter of minutes.

"Shit," he heard Spencer say. Walter and Roy turned around to look at where Spencer was pointing. Soon Spencer had ignited a flare and had thrown it at something across the street. Something hissed, and a shiver of terror crawled down the hooded man's spine.

"Oh, no. No, we don't have time for the truck. Oh, crap, this isn't a good time!" Roy rummaged through his cloak, his hands shaking in fear as he heard the monster approaching. "Okay, okay. Here it is!"

In Roy's hand was a large piece of sidewalk chalk. It was white, but the tip was tinged deep red. "We'll have approximately fifteen seconds to get through. Do not push that window. Walter, keep that thing away from me at all costs. I'm pretty sure bullets will at least slow it down." Roy knelt down and began to draw a wide oval across the driveway. "Now, somebody tell me where we're going!"