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The Last of Us: Exodus (IC/Open)

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Galdius
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Founded: Sep 26, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Galdius » Tue Oct 25, 2016 5:35 pm

Lt. Sam Pryzbylewski

The impromptu team moved along the side of the building, heading towards the CATH side entrance, Sam pushing in the front of the group forward with her rifle aimed dead ahead. sweeping the area with her rifle, ready to engage any targets at the drop of a hat. Although she had a feeling that firing off her rifle wouldn't be the smartest of ideas. Things had grown increasingly more unnerving as howls and screams of the infected became more common than the gunfire that was rampant a mere hour ago. If she got into an engagement, they would likely lore every single infected person right to them. And she was sure that nobody would come to bail them out if they got into trouble. Getting everyone in the hospital killed in the process. Although, maybe it didn't matter. Everything they had worked for had been washed down the fucking drain within a few hours, from one single attack. Countless, innocent lives had been taken brutally because of their negligence, She had no doubt in her mind who was to blame, and it was themselves. they had failed to have proper safeguards, and It now made everything feel seemingly meaningless.

Even if they did make it outside of the walls, where would they go? off into the wilderness to sing kumbaya? they had no real plan other than to get the fuck of dodge, and she couldn't think of a single solid idea of what to do after that goal was accomplished. Did they have a future outside of these concrete walls? The cynical thoughts where quickly shaken away. They where still alive, and her job still applied. She still had to protect these people. The team made it to the entrance within a few seconds, and the sounds of two people talking became audible. Could be friendly, but judging from the casualness in their voices. She harboured doubts. Slowing down, Sams had shot up into a fist as she made herself smaller, crouching down as they came up to the large entrance, sneaking along the large window frame towards the double doors. Peaking in and listening to what was being said, as she got ready to make the decision on what to do.

Bandits.

The pair stood inside the CATH reception area nonchalantly, playing a game of rock paper scissors as if they hadn't just raided and killed several people, being totally disconnected from a basic sense of morality. Killing had become a second nature to them, some even fucking enjoyed it. peaking in spotted the fact that they seemed to be lightly armed, but the more she looked at them, the more a sickening feeling developed in the bottom of her stomach. They looked just like us, they talked like us, but they were nothing more than animalistic predictors, and where their was one, there tended to be a few more, they liked to move in packs. If she wasn't here on a mission, she'd move to avoid them, the risk wasn't worth the reward. but they had the job of secure the area. So now she had to decide on a method to deal with them. Opening fire was out of the question. Normally she'd drop the two of them, she had the element of surprise and was confident enough with her rifle. She could effectively drop the bastards with one quick burst before they even knew what hit them. But the noise risked bringing in infected. If it was only two of them, a soda can silencer would have been an option. Getto in its appliance, but it worked, made the report of the rifle more silent. But if it came to dropping them with two headshots in quick succession, she'd have trouble. The risk of them making a lot of noise would alert any more of the bastards inside. Not an option. It only really left one on the table. And that was hand to hand. The very last resort.

Contrary to popular believe generated by old world novels and action movies. It was a messy affair and these two looked like slightly tough cookies. Sure, she had the experience and the training, both from the military and recreational activities. But all that would go out the window as fast as the fight begins, and she wasn't the strongest of people. These guys could probably easily overpower most of the people in her team. Sure, they had the number advantage, but if they managed to shout something out or make a lot of noise, everyone in the hospital would come crashing down on their position.

If they were going to do anything to take these bastards out silently. It would have to be fast and brutal. No hesitation. If they hesitated, it would turn into a very messy affair for both sides.

As she pondered the options, the others seemed to be in debate about taken one of them alive. It wasn't a bad idea. It could yield some solid information about how many more of them might be inside, as well as where they had come from. Maybe give them a chance to hit them where it hurt. On the other side of the argument, it created its own set of issues. People struck with fear tended to react unpredictably. Fight or flight often kicked in. Maybe he'd scream, maybe he'd fight, regardless, if he did anything other than stay quiet and submit, things had the potential to turn ugly real fast. And If they wanted any extensive information, they'd have to drag him along with them. Sure, she had cable ties for that exact reason, but he would be a liability and another mouth to feed. The risks where arguably higher than the reward. At-least in her eyes.

"Negative. Not a bad idea, but right now its too risky." Sam answered with low whisper. tightening her sling to avoid the weapon dangling down before letting it fall to her side, taking out the knife from the sheath. Giving a very clear indication of what she planned to do. "We need to do this fast, quickly and brutally." She stated, clutching the grip tightly in her right hand, blade downwards. "whoever has the knife does the deed, go for the base of the neck, and then give a few in the chest for good measure." Her free hand moved up to the back of the neck, indicating were to strike with a very clear tap. "Don't hesitate, stay low. Me and Kurwell will take the guy with the pistol, you two take the guy with the machete." Orders given, she moved towards the counter in the room, staying low to the point of almost crawling, slowly so not to make a sound until she was right next to them behind the counter, well within range to strike. Once everyone was in position, she gave a silent count down with her free hand.

"1"

"2"

"3!"
Last edited by Galdius on Tue Oct 25, 2016 5:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Ave Alea Necis

Life's but a walking shadow. Honor. Love. Friends. But in there's death. Curses.

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Vulkata II
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Founded: Jun 08, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vulkata II » Tue Oct 25, 2016 10:01 pm

Alexander Maccus


The idea of not taking prisoners wasn't new to Alex but in a world that everything is fucked up and humanity is now overrun by their dead loved ones and enemies makes him think it was decreasing the chances of reclaiming Earth but we gotta make some sacrifices.

He prepared the gun Dustin gave to him and saw Sam count with her fingers.

1.

2.

3.

He fired the first shot and missed alerting the two hunters making them stand up and Alex shooting their target in the arm but they're well aware of his presences now but not his buddies.

The one he shot screamed and then went down to cover from the counters but his friend was firing at Alex forcing him and Dustin to cover behind the doors while they take fire while he fires back.
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. -George Patton

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Part of the American dream is to live long and die young. Only those Americans who are willing to die for their country are fit to live. -General MacArthur
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Corrian
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Founded: Mar 19, 2011
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Corrian » Wed Oct 26, 2016 12:34 am

Isobelle Rothstein Smith
The day had changed so drastically, and so fast. Isobelle felt like it may have had been a good day, beyond the boring scanning. She just had a good feeling about the day. The exact opposite of how Vivian felt. Yet she was so wrong, and everything had been immediately turned on its head. People got murdered left and right, including her parents, and she saw it first hand. Now the feel of a good day had turned to a horrified shock at the fact that they were gone, that everything they knew and felt safe with was now shattered into a million pieces. She could still barely breath, the feeling of sadness feeling as if it was trying to choke her to death, her barely being able to fight back the sobs, and at times, even failing to do so at all. The attempts by Cedric to comfort her only went so far in being effective as well. Again, all she really did was sob into him, clearly scarred and in shock from everything that had happened so fast, and she didn't know how to cope with such a tragedy. While Isobelle would have her own ways of taking care of Cedric, right now, it seemed like she needed her big brother, who seemed to be coping...better. Well might not be the proper term, but better.

Isobelle looked amazed by Lyle's coping through all of this, and almost...slightly unnerved? He seemed...too calm. But she chalked it up to him just being different. He was always different than the other kids, and that's what she tended to like about him. Maybe he just had a different way of going about things that wasn't conveniently, and this was his way with coping. Or he just coped well in general. However, even she seemed unsettled by the second but. Not because of what he said being bad or anything, but more because it was true: Would they in fact be lucky the next time? Who knows. And that scared her. Lyle may not have noticed, but his words seemed to make her uneasy again, and she clung to her brother tighter, scared that she would die. Dying was one of her biggest fears, after all. Even after all of this pain within a very short period of time, she wanted to keep living. She didn't want to die. So having the thought that next time...maybe they wouldn't be so lucky...that didn't sit well with her. Hopefully there wouldn't BE a next time, but she kind of had her doubts right now, because it seemed like they would be forced to be on the other side of the walls after this, and that...that world was scary. It wasn't their protective world anymore, it would be nothing but scary hell.

Isobelle had simply observed the people that had arrived, until they spoke to them directly. She listened, then looked at her brother, and listened to him afterwards. She looked straight at her brother with glossy eyes, clearly from having been crying, and gave him a nod of her head as an answer, sniffling while she did. She didn't really think anything was okay right now, but she didn't say that. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and sniffled again. "Okay...Okay" She commented, nodding her head again, and to the girl that said to stay close to them, she nodded to her, too. She gave her brother a look that seemed to pretty much be saying she was checking to see if he was ready, and with that, she headed over to near the soldiers that had arrived, as least glad that they could be protected now, instead of stuck alone here with who knows who around that probably just wanted to kill them. Even if nothing about her expression or her apparent mental state said that she was okay right now, because she really wasn't. She was currently emotionally damaged beyond repair, at least for a long time until all of this blew over...if it ever did, and not more and more stuff pile on top of what she had already had the misfortune of seeing.
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Futrellia
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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Wed Oct 26, 2016 9:04 pm

Vulkata II wrote:
Alexander Maccus


The idea of not taking prisoners wasn't new to Alex but in a world that everything is fucked up and humanity is now overrun by their dead loved ones and enemies makes him think it was decreasing the chances of reclaiming Earth but we gotta make some sacrifices.

He prepared the gun Dustin gave to him and saw Sam count with her fingers.

1.

2.

3.

He fired the first shot and missed alerting the two hunters making them stand up and Alex shooting their target in the arm but they're well aware of his presences now but not his buddies.

The one he shot screamed and then went down to cover from the counters but his friend was firing at Alex forcing him and Dustin to cover behind the doors while they take fire while he fires back.


[i]Dustin quickly jumped behind the door as his friend shot. Alex fired another shot, this time responding with a scream, meaning that the first shot would have missed. Dustin was a little disappointed. He had trained with that gun, sights were corrected, the weight was like paper in his hand. He would have nailed a headshot.

"Goddamn, it Alex. Did you miss?! Shit, man. Slide the fuckin' gun!" He said aggressively. He had spent alot of years shooting walking and moving targets. It reminded him of the time in Atlanta, Georgia, on a mission to link up with a Firefly and civilian group of about forty in the once great peach capital. Atlanta was neck deep in runners when the cameras were still rollin, and the last report he heard was that the Military was setting up some QZ in the center of town. Well, after his mission, he knew for sure that it was fucked over just like everywhere else in the country, probably the world. The QZ was full of hundreds of runners, and his mission went sideways pretty fast, leading to the deaths of nearly all that was with him, excluding him and two others from Garden City. They had shot down forty, maybe more, maybe a little less, but by the end of it, they attracted an infected horde of a few hundred. They escaped and it showed him the meaning of the saying "one shot, one kill". Aiming for the head was the most effective way to put down an infected quick, and he was very good at it.

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Kentucky Fried Land
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Founded: May 11, 2016
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Kentucky Fried Land » Thu Oct 27, 2016 8:10 pm

Soon enough, the wild flurry of gunfire and light was over. The chaos ended with the two dead bodies on the floor, the ones who had been playing Rock, Paper, Scissors just moments before. The quartet of opposing soldiers stared down at the twitching corpses, chests stained with blood, heads full of twisted holes. The LT looked disapprovingly at Alexander, but made no move to belittle him, as a crash from the courtyard doors brought them to attention.

The Hunter with the rifle kicked the doors in, breaching as if he were a member of one of those ancient SWAT squads. His eyes darted around, from the dead bodies up to the soldiers and Fireflies before him. “Wha-wha-wha-what the f-fuck?!” He spat out, raising his rifle before a bullet implanted itself into his neck. A gurgled scream flew from his wide open mouth, as he grabbed at the wound in his throat. The man fell forwards, onto the hunting rifle. He was dead before he even hit the ground.

Cpl. Kurwell lowered her smoking barrel, then looked to the Lieutenant, nodding. The four moved on, having cleared the CATH Labs and the courtyard in one fell swoop. However, their ammo was almost entirely gone now… only four or five bullets remained in each of their guns.

The cafeteria was full now. People were getting wounds dressed, Connifer had a splint on his bad leg, Anna had a few banadages and stitches over her wound. Brandon also cradled his own knee, an ice pack over the shin. Nick had his wound bandaged, an extremely light cut that didn't even need stitches. Francis had a long strip of gauze covering his cut, that stretched across his belly just underneath the plate carrier. Sam had already radioed in to Porter by the time everyone’s battle scars were patched up. Porter and her two companions entered the room, looking a bit frightened and pale, but otherwise fine.

The Staff Sergeant leaned up against a wall, watching as everyone stuffed cans of food into backpacks, pushed medicine into side pockets, and hoarded up bottle water and syringes. She took quick notice of the new faces, a few teenagers and a middle-aged man with about shoulder length brown hair. She smirked at the ragtag crew. She took a brief second to consider calling them out, as she knew they were going to return. She wasn't going to abandon all hope in Murrell’s Inlet, not yet anyways. She wasn't sure if she could; this place was all she had left. This damned rotten, walled off city.

She approached the group, hands on her hips. Porter had begun to prepare a speech while she leaned against the wall, as everyone seemed somewhat ready to go now. Connifer was still sprawled out in Francis’ arms, but the others were mostly conscious.

“Alright.” Porter smiled weakly, as best as she could. She had to figure out how to break it to them. These people probably didn't believe in the town. Porter wasn't certain that she did either. She gave an exasperated sigh, felt tears rushing her eyes, before laughing. “Oh God, we are fucked.” She chuckled, throwing her arms up as tears streamed down her cheeks.

The group were too focused on Emily’s breakdown to notice the three cylinders flying in.

Three cans rolled into the room, nails clinking around inside what had once been a container for beans. Porter, through blurry eyes, saw one of them go near the feet of one of the teenagers. A young girl, it appeared to be. Porter stared at it for what seemed like minutes, but had only been milliseconds. It sizzled, but the poor girl made no effort to get away. She stared down at the IED, a deer in headlights.

Staff Sergeant Emily Porter made the final decision of her life.

She stumbled forward, only two feet away from the bomb, before throwing herself to the ground. Her stomach covered the nail bomb before it went off. She only grunted once when it did explode, hundreds of nails shredding her intestines. A few rusty spikes drove themselves through her plate carrier, not breaching skin. Others flew up her stomach and into her chest, puncturing her lungs and snapping a few of her ribs. A disgusting sound came from her mouth, as if she were coughing up phlegm, but instead a spat of blood flew from her lips. Her arms have way after that, body lying itself down. The light faded from the Staff Sergeant’s eyes, and a small stream of blood flowed from her lips. A pool had formed at her chin by the time the other explosions happened.

The other two bombs had managed to find themselves right next to where Porter would never have wanted them; right next to the kitchen doors. The clinic itself had never found a need for updating much of its older doors, and as such the kitchen doors still remained wooden. Giant holes burst into the bottoms of the doors, killing a few of the infected behind it. Unfortunately, the rest were unfazed. They rushed out, crawling and screaming and crying. Most of them were simple runners, but one of those who left the ungodly smelling room looked… different. Fungal growths had covered its entire head, and sprouting from every orifice on its body. It had once been a woman, or at least a very womanly man. The monster looked at them once over, before screaming.

Image

The survivors ran at the first sign of trouble, the zombies nipping at their heels. The bombers had fled, gone from sight as the survivors rushed out of the hospital. The unfortunate Corporal Bassett tripped, screaming before one of the clickers grabbed his head and bit into his neck. The man was taken down, gargling blood while runners surrounded him, hording. The survivors could swear they heard crying, but the thought was replaced with the sounds of screeching. The infected tripped over each other, grasping at the flesh that ran away from them.

They had left the hospital soon enough, heavy breaths and heavy footsteps crashing their ears. Swears and screams encroached them, and the infected slapped the glass doors open. The towering, concrete wall was just up ahead. A rusted ladder hung from the top, just enough for most of them to get up. The Lieutenants yelled something unintelligible to most ears, but the teenagers began to scale the ladder. The military prepared to stand their ground.

The sound of gunfire drowned out even the tribal shrieks of the infected. An angered clicker clucked and croaked aggressively, before chunks of its fungal exterior flew from its face. Nick helped the younger Harris up, his adopted sister climbing the groaning ladder with him. Climbing down was a simple as lowering yourself as much as you could, and dropping down. No sprained ankles had happened yet, due to help from survivors on the other side. Connor and David scaled the ladder next, creaks squeaking out of it. Brandon, with help from Dustin and Alexander, carried Connifer up the ladder. Nathan and Rylie followed suit, the Russians just behind them. Vedenin had the most trouble out of all of them, but proddings from Viktoriya managed to get the out of shape man up there.

Before long, it was just the military, bullets ejecting from chambers. Ears rang, pounding at their brains with every shot. Eventually it became a steady thump thump thump. Sam didn't even notice the clicker leaping onto Sgt. Seltzer, ripping a chunk out of his right forearm. “Fuck! Fuck!” Seltzer screamed, bashing it away with his rifle before unloading the rest of his magazine into the monster. It had once been a woman, or at least a very womanly man. Now, it was a mangled heap of fungus and blood, mashed body parts unrecognizable from a combination of bullets and Cordyceps.

Sam stared at the man. It was protocol for them to put infected down. Any infected. She shuddered, a shaky breath croaking from her throat. Others seemed ready to raise their rifles, gun him down. Seltzer turned and looked at her, hand around his arm. “I… I’ve been… fuck, fuck, fuck! Lieu… Sam, please, oh my God, oh my God…” He stammered, voice shaking and fluttering about. Seltzer was on the verge of tears, and Sam could tell. She raised a hand to get them to stop, a sudden decision. Postponement of the inevitable…

“Seltzer! Francis! Up the ladder!” She whipped her hand up, pointing up the ladder. Her left eye twitched, clenching her teeth. The two scrambled towards the ladder, Seltzer shocked and trying to offer thanks, but failing to do so. Fritz walked up to Sam, “Sam…” escaping his lips, but she only stepped away from him. “I will watch him like a fucking hawk, Friedrich.” She turned around, another wave of infected approaching them. Kurwell was the next to clamber up the ladder, followed by Hale. Just after her came Mason, and then Sam herself climbed up the ladder. The sounds of infected sobbing below her made her shake, and she looked down to see Friedrich scaling the ladder after her. Their ammo was spent; hundreds of casings littered the grass below, and Sam could see a thick fire burning through the fog up ahead. She reached the top of the wall, crawling on to the ground below. Friedrich came right after her, seeing Hale on the wall still. The girl stared out at the fire, and Friedrich kicked the ladder down. He almost said something to her, but a deafening sound squashed anything he could have tried to say to her. He looked out at what she was staring at, and saw the arcing explosion at town hall that she saw. It rose, almost like a Phoenix rising from ashes. Hale herself could only say two words to the destruction of Murrell’s Inlet.

“Holy shit.”

END OF PROLOGUE
To realize that all your life - all your love, all your hate, all your memory, all your pain, it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room. A dream about bein' a person.


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Kylantha
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Founded: Jan 22, 2015
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Kylantha » Fri Oct 28, 2016 7:35 am


Lyle "Fairfax" T. Sorenson, Cedric R. Smith


After the group was finished with stocking up on the appropriate materials, they moved on out of the classroom. Elsewhere in the building, a gunfight had commenced, causing Cedric to instinctively crouch whilst moving, holding Isobelle close once again. Lyle on the other hand, didn't seem to care all too much. He was able to judge that the sound was quite far off, and he was also very alert about his surroundings, so he didn't even flinch or so much as glance in the direction of the firefight.

Keeping close to the others, Lyle moved quickly and did his best to keep a low profile. With one hand cradling the tomato plant to his chest, he often combed down his hair with one hand, worried that its bright color might stand out in the dark corridors. Behind them, Cedric and Isobelle moved a bit more slowly, but Lyle didn't really worry much for them. He didn't know them well enough, although he considered them to be acquaintances. The boy would glance back every now and then, but nothing more than that could be gotten from him.

"Fairfax!" Cedric called up the hallway in a hissy voice. Lyle skidded to a stop, turning halfway around. He gave no reaction apart from staring blankly at Cedric. "Do you know where we're going?" Cedric asked, but Lyle shook his head and went back to following the soldiers' route. The boy was putting his full trust in them, since he himself did not know how to defend himself. Cedric felt the same way, and was planning on keeping as close to them as possible for as long as possible. What was important was his sister. He didn't care so much about himself, although he would prefer to remain alive and well.

Later they arrived at the hospital's cafeteria. A number of people had gathered here as well, recuperating from the mass slaughter that had taken place just a few hours ago. Entering the room, Cedric guided his sister to a chair to rest. It was his mistake, leaving her close to the doors as he went off to get some water for her. He felt a tad more comfortable, now that he knew that most of the people huddled up in here were from the QZ itself.

Lyle was a little more meticulous about his own safety. He couldn't stop walking around, searching for a spot that would ensure his survival in case something went wrong in this enclosed space. At some point he decided to sit down under a table that was at the corner of the cafeteria. There he sat in silence, taking a sip of water he'd been given. He poured some of the precious liquid over the tomato plant and proceeded to speak to it in a hushed voice.

Cedric looked over at the female soldier who came in. She seemed to be in charge of things, and so he thought it fit to listen. He was on his way back to Isobelle when Sgt. Porter began to show signs of surrender, and the three cans rolled into the room almost inconspicuously. Cedric dropped the water in his hands as he jumped to push his sister over, all the while, the female soldier was also lunging forward. Cedric managed to reach Isobelle, landing on the ground with her as the first nail bomb went off and killed Sgt. Porter. The other two detonated a short while after, causing Lyle to scramble out from under his table and towards another. He kept his head down low, confused by the sudden panic.

People ran past Lyle, and he couldn't tell who was infected and who wasn't. All he knew was, those things were among the crowd, waiting for an opportunity. Cedric pulled his sister up, slightly fazed by the Sergeant's sacrifice, and half-dragged her to safety, once again leaving Lyle on his own. The young blondie kept to the walls at that point, worried about being trampled again. He slipped out the cafeteria doors with the others before the infected could catch him. Panting, Lyle hurried out into the corridors, following the others and often dashing past them in hopes of getting cover.

Once they were out, Cedric was among the first to the ladder. He had carried his sister all the way to the foot of it since she didn't seem up for running. Lyle followed later, being faster and more agile than some adult survivors, and without command, followed the Smiths up the ladder. He had at this point, stuffed the tomato plant in the side pocket where a water bottle would usually be. A full water bottle was now in the other side pocket. Cedric got down the other side first, then helping his sister down onto the ground. He called her to some cover, waiting for the others.

Right behind Lyle was a young girl (Molly), and once at the top of the ladder, changed his mood all of a sudden and took her hand, helping her up. He remained at the top of the wall, pulling others up to speed up the evacuation before jumping down himself. He landed incorrectly however and stumbled forwards. As a result of the accident, Lyle garnered a small cut on his face and scrapes on his hands, but the first thing he did upon kneeling was to check the tomato plant. It was fine, and he sighed with relief, before slightly jumping at the sound of the explosion.

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Kentucky Fried Land
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Founded: May 11, 2016
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Kentucky Fried Land » Fri Oct 28, 2016 9:07 pm

Act I: Spring

Ambient Music

The restaurant was sinking in on itself; bits and pieces of it had already fallen into the gushing river below. A weathered and beaten sign hung over the double doorways, the aptly named Bovines Steakhouse. A little cartoon image of a cow had begun peeling from the sign, leaving only the cow’s snout and a few of the black patches on it’s body. Inside, the building did little to differ. The tile floors had been broken through with various weeds and flowers. Vines stretched along broken chairs and shattered plates. An anthill had formed behind the counter, where a bored hostess once considered what she was going to do about her student loans.

The bathrooms were in no better shape. The water inside the toilets and sinks had been drained completely, sucked up by condensation, feral dogs, or desperate people. The mirrors were cracked, from a dirty fight or just good old heat expansion. The mirrors had also been smudged with gray, so it was unlikely for someone to do up their makeup in front of one.

The kitchen was a little less worse for wear. Only a few tree roots and other greeneries had cracked through the wall. The pantries were mostly empty, other than a few diseased slabs of meat. The freezer in the back no longer worked, and was certain to cause vomit by the smell alone. Flies buzzed about inside, maggots swarming the chunks of what was probably cow hanging from meat hooks.

The dock itself had once been a place of grandeur. Now, while it was structurally sound, it had begun creaking and leaning in on itself. Pressure, from growing weeds wrapping around its supports, caused it to groan. Mother Nature planned on taking the dock down into the otherwise pristine river, back to whence it came.

Two figures sat out on the dock, the rest of the survivors still beginning to wake from their early nap. The untimely death of Staff Sergeant Porter had left two options for the leader; First Lieutenant Fritz, and regular Lieutenant Pryzbylewski. They had led the remaining misfits across river and rock for the eighteen hours following the arcing fireball at Murrell’s Inlet. They had planned on returning. But after witnessing the massive explosion and subsequent burning of the town, they realized there was no town to go back to. The Murrell’s Inlet Quarantine Zone was finished. Finito. Zilch. Zero. Nothing but ash, dust, and bandit piss.

They had been having a grand small talk about how beautiful the morning was, when another silhouette in the rising sun approached from behind. Dustin Cole. He obviously had something on his mind, and judging by his open mouth, that something was about to be on theirs as well.

Chapter 1: Out of the Frying Pan

For a while, Dustin had been listening in on the conversation between the Lieutenants, which wasn’t much to begin with. All this time, all the running, walking, climbing, straining of bodies, pushing to the limits of what the human body can take, and Dustin couldn’t seem to fall asleep right. He tried for several hours, but the pain within his ribs was simply too much to bear. Laying down didn’t seem to help, neither did standing. So unofficially, Dustin simply sat by the bar, acting as just another guard as the others slept away. He was tired, nigh exhaustion, but he couldn’t find solace from the pain that had plagued him for the past day, maybe more.

For a moment, the rising sun, the beautiful colors of gold, red, and yellow mingled in the damp air and the dew-covered rotten beams of wood. It almost took his mind off of the current situation..almost. While Dustin sat guard over his sleeping comrades, he began to think once more of Garden City. With no clear goal after the destruction of the Murrell’s Inlet QZ, he heard rumors that they would continue aimlessly, until they either died or found something better. If that was the case, he wasn’t planning on staying with the group for very much longer. But a certain spot inside of him felt remorse for the group he was with. Him and Alexander had a place to go. These people, the soldiers, had nothing. Murrell’s Inlet was their home, and it was ruthlessly ripped away from them. This is what drew Dustin to follow his heart, his overbearing “What would you want in their position” attitude. Sure, bringing soldiers to a Firefly camp was damn stupid, and it might end in Dustin’s death, but he at least had to give it a shot. And he always held in the back of his mind that if the soldiers were desperate enough, they wouldn’t resort to shooting dead every Firefly they see, they would instead revert to survival, for all. Lieutenant Fritz might be open to it, but he could see how that Pryz girl might have some objections with it. After the whole boondoggle in the hospital, he didn’t quite trust her, and certainly had the doubt that she would attempt some kind of incursion, but if it came to that, she would be dealt with, either by clickers and runners or by Fireflies and, maybe even her own men.

“Excuse me, soldier boys and girls? Mind if i run something by you?” He said, with a little bit of a nervous shake in his voice.

Here went “Plan FUBAR”.

***

Friedrich had sat by the dock since the first lick of light, hell - probably longer than that. He and ‘Lieutenant Polak’ as he liked to call her (mainly due to his failure to pronounce her actual name) had sat in near silence, just looking out over the waters. Clearly both processing their options and what happened back in the QZ. That was, until a voice approached from their rear - Dustin’s voice to be exact. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the boy, then again - he wasn’t sure what to think of just about everyone in the group, Porter had been one of the few he’d actually spoken with in any significant manner in the past and she’d since “left” them. He merely offered a glance over his shoulder, followed by a sharp nod - as if permitting him to speak further, meanwhile he reached down for his canteen, taking a quick gulp of its contents before extending it out to Pryz, sighing softly with relief as the water made its way down his throat.

Pryzbylewski simply refused, continuing to stare out into the horizon, still damaged by the bite mark on Seltzer’s arm and the few screams out of Bassett’s throat. Friedrich returned his gaze back to Dustin.

With the invitation, Dustin walked closer, slowing his pace as his ribs began to ache once more. If only he had just a bit of morphine. Oh the wonders he could have. Striking these thoughts aside, Dustin began formulating his request that wouldn’t set the soldiers off to see Dustin killed. Right on the spot, he cut any Firefly affiliation out of his request. If they knew Dustin and Alexander were Fireflies, the distrust would only grow and would split the group into two, eventually leading to an outright firefight, or the soldiers leaving and going out on their own, which would mean certain death. When Dustin was back at Garden, he overheard a few Firefly smugglers talking about Murrell’s Inlet, about how far it was from Military protection, how isolated. Guess now those observations finally caught up to them.

“Listen, I know that this group’s got no goal, no heading, nothing. As far as I can tell, at best, we’re just gonna wander, leaving us open to additional attacks, by Hunters, Fireflies, or worse. Without some place to hold up in, we won’t last a week out here. Which brings me to my next grand idea.”

This was where Dustin needed to be careful. If he said he was a Firefly, his chances weren’t good. If he said he was a smuggler, his chances still weren’t the best. Civilian it was.

“I didn’t actually live in Murrell’s Inlet, I was only visiting family I had there. Family that fled during the attack. My home settlement is in Garden City. It’s small, doesn’t offer much. But it has beds, food, medical supplies. Hell, my mom is a Doctor, she could help out anybody here. It’s enough to send you on your way. But if by some miracle, you choose to stay, there’s enough room. Only downside, is that the entire city is swarming in a large pool of Clickers. Bloaters come second to that, and runners are in least supply there. That just means that we can’t make a lot of noise, we gotta stay quiet. We do that and we can survive. Since y’all haven’t told me to shut the hell up yet, I’m gonna go ahead and say you’re interested.” Dustin ended off with. He wasn’t going to say anything else until the soldiers had a word in. It was his offer. They could either take it or leave it, but if they left it, Dustin was bound to leave the group as well. He began to feel regret for lying about having family in that hellhole. The only family he had left was back in Garden City, but he couldn’t just say that he felt like swingin’ in, seeing what everybody was up to. He would need to have a great reason for entering a Quarantine Zone, owned by an entity that is known for massacring Fireflies on the spot.

Friedrich waited for a response from Sam, who had spun around to get a good look at Dustin. Her and Friedrich exchanged glances, accepting who was next on the conversation. Sam opened her mouth, directed towards Dustin. “Garden City, huh? Don’t remember much of a community there.” She bit at her left cheek, leaning back against the feeble railing. It squeaked, and she instinctively pulled herself away from it. Friedrich stayed comfortable against the railing, river rushing and gushing behind him. Dustin gulped, glancing between the two before focusing on Sam. Friedrich still kept his cool, refusing to back down during a “staring contest” with the man. “I, I know! That’s the thing, that’s just it! No hunters, no bandits, no… Fireflies! It’s all underground, in the sewers. I know a safe way there, it’s in this old gas station. Just… come on. You don't have any reason not to trust me.”

Dustin looked at them, pleading with them. He could make it with Alexander on his own, of course, but he was in no position to leave these poor souls wandering. Sam and Friedrich began to discuss among each other, sometimes glancing in Dustin’s direction. He pursed his lips, rubbing his face with a callused hand. Eventually the two turned back to him, Sam letting a tired sigh out. “Alright. We’ll take it up with the others, see who’ll be coming with us to Garden City. You… you’re under no position to force them to stay. Get it?”

When Dustin answered, she brushed past him, Friedrich following. Dustin shuffled in after them, trying to contain his ecstasy. The Firefly practically beamed with excitement, his walk showing signs of excitement. Sam and Friedrich looked over the tired faces, and Friedrich approached them first. “Listen up, early birds! We’ve decided that Murrell’s Inlet is…” The words stuck in his throat like a particularly angry frog. “Gone. We have to accept that. The explosion at town hall, and the hunters setting fire to the buildings… but, we have another chance. We don't have to continue wandering. Dustin, he told us about this place. Garden City. Just a ways up ahead, not too far. The hunters won't follow us there. The place is mostly underground, in the sewers. There’s infected all over the above ground, and hunters prefer to go after healthy people. None of you have to come. I’m not sure how I feel about the town, but as of now… it’s our best option.”

When Friedrich finished, Sam’s ears perked up at the sound of a motor. Strange. Her light slumber must have been affecting her mind.
Last edited by Kentucky Fried Land on Fri Oct 28, 2016 9:20 pm, edited 2 times in total.
To realize that all your life - all your love, all your hate, all your memory, all your pain, it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room. A dream about bein' a person.


INFP (obligatory? probably)

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Ormata
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Posts: 3772
Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Fri Oct 28, 2016 10:50 pm

Vedenin Arseniy Valeryevich, Rylie Ashley Knox
Murrell’s Inlet


When Dustin answered, she brushed past him, Friedrich following. Dustin shuffled in after them, trying to contain his ecstasy. The Firefly practically beamed with excitement, his walk showing signs of excitement. Sam and Friedrich looked over the tired faces, and Friedrich approached them first. “Listen up, early birds! We’ve decided that Murrell’s Inlet is…” The words stuck in his throat like a particularly angry frog. “Gone. We have to accept that. The explosion at town hall, and the hunters setting fire to the buildings… but, we have another chance. We don't have to continue wandering. Dustin, he told us about this place. Garden City. Just a ways up ahead, not too far. The hunters won't follow us there. The place is mostly underground, in the sewers. There’s infected all over the above ground, and hunters prefer to go after healthy people. None of you have to come. I’m not sure how I feel about the town, but as of now… it’s our best option.”


Vedenin looked up at this comment. Hell. Everything had gone to hell. Well, not precisely everything; Reggie was dead and no amount of crying would bring that dancing bastard back. But he’d kept it together, despite what the hell happened with the rest. The group mattered; everything else was just bonuses.

Well. He’d kept it together by a slender hair. A bit slower and he would’ve been dead. Vedenin really needed to get out more; age was a bitch, though. A heartless bitch.

Garden City: Vedenin had heard of it. He had visited it. He had done business with it. The place was a Firefly stronghold, though it wasn’t very strong. They didn’t have the weapons that the bigger areas had; that he knew. Hell, he was better armed than them. That was saying something. They lived in the sewers; that much was true. You had to when the infected were swarming.

“Fucking hell,” he said, finally. “Running off to the sewer like rats does not appeal to me, though I expect you are saying this because it’s one of the few...relatively safe places nearby, yes?”

Vedenin was hazily aware that it was; heck, traveling about was a chore to begin with, and that wasn’t with half-mad bastards. This circus would be going to Garden City, whether or not Vedenin liked it. He got-up from his crouching position, popping his neck.

“Rylie, what do you think?”

She chewed her lip, thinking it over. Rylie didn’t like the civilians; they were alright in a pinch, but any more independent thinking and someone would get independently bit. The crazy guy didn’t help her opinion of the crowd, and neither did the military. “I think this is a bad situation. Fucking crazies. Hate to say it but the Soviets would be the way to go.”

The idea was a simple one; stick with who can move. Stick with who can fight. Stick with who can live. That kind of philosophy definitely applied there; the military people were OK, but she didn’t trust them. The civilians were worse, and she trusted them less. Viktoriya and Anna were fellow smugglers; they knew the drill, and while there was some tension, damn it to hell. Tensions would have to way.

“What about Malakai and Bobby, though?”

Now it was Vedenin’s chance to chew his lip. They had gone on an extended patrol, and while he would damn-well love to find them...he was unsure of it all. Vedenin frowned at the thought of them being dead, but...those zombies came from somewhere, and the two men had met them. They had definitely met them, or the hunters; there was no use trying to be cheery on it. And if they had met them, the two would have run back.

So they were dead.

“Let’s...god, let’s assume worst. Can’t go searching for them.”

Rylie sighed at this; she hadn’t know Malakai for long, but Bobby was a good friend. Was. She really wanted to say “Let’s go for ‘em”, but she understood it, too. They didn’t have the time. They didn’t have the resources.

And so, Vedenin walked-over to Viktoriya, leaning-in close to her so the rest couldn’t hear. “Look; I don’t trust them. Whatever...differences we have, we need to put them aside. I trust you; if anything, I trust you enough to lead. Look, I never rose above Corporal. I think you can lead me, Ma’am. What do you say?”

The words did not come as easily as they sound; he did trust her. She was in Chechnya; that place ate-up Russians. She lived through Chechnya. That was a good deal enough for Vedenin. But she had also never tried to knife him, and that meant a lot, too. She never figuratively knifed him, either; she always stabbed him from the front. At least she was honest.

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Main Nation Ministry
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Founded: Sep 28, 2016
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Main Nation Ministry » Fri Oct 28, 2016 11:07 pm

The Prisoners


The sun was rising in South Carolina as the "Three Fucking Stooges" were in a "borrowed" military troop transport truck driving on the Ocean Highway with a broken tail light. The sound of the loud motor was the only sound in the truck, as the radio was broken. Peter Bailey was driving at the steering wheel with his half-broken sunglasses and a grey hoodie hiding his prison uniform and Kyle Cameron was seated at the passanger seat, holding an old ice skate by the laces and scars on his face from a beating from the military trying to escape once. Franklin Roberts was sitting in the back of the truck, sulking in silence.

Peter was the first to strike up a conversation with Kyle. "So do you like Queen?", asked Peter. "The fuck is Queen?", replied Kyle. "You know, the rock band with Freddie Mercury. I used to listen to him during the 10's." "Got wanting the radio to work in your head? Queen was probably popular, but I didn't have time to enjoy due to the Cordyceps." Peter checked the left side view mirror, glancing the road behind him. "You think they are going to chase us?" Kyle replied, "No, the QZ back at Simmonsville is fucked, remember? If the military didn't try to kill us while the Hunters attacked the QZ, they would have been more survivors back there. The military were complete bastards, anyways." Peter hated the military as Kyle, but he wanted to change the conversation on something else.

"You think, he likes it back there all alone?", said Peter. "I heard he is a crack head or something. Was being executed for doing drugs or something. He clearly likes being lonely, because if he wanted to jump out of the moving truck, I would've heard him." This conversation abruptly ended when an explosion happened as the truck entered through Brookgreen Gardens. The rising sun was being obscured by the trees, but the two were more focused on the explosion and the trail of smoke that was happening in front of them. "The fuck was that?", said Kyle. "I think the Hunters are at it again somewhere. I think we should check it out." "No way, what if the Hunters mistake us for the military? They attack us." "Kyle, calm down. Put your gas mask on and tell the one in the back to do so, as well." "Hey, you back there! Put your gas mask on or I shove it up your ass!", Kyle yelled at Franklin in the back and relaxed when the brief moment of movement, then silence met that Franklin did so. As the truck reached the end of the trees, the two saw the flaming ruins of Murrell's Inlet as they drive on the Route 17 Bus Route.

The ruins of what was once Murrell's Inlet was nothing more than fiery rubble. The corpses of soldiers were seen in the fire, indicating the military failed. "This is brutal. You think there was any survivors?", Peter asked Kyle. However, Kyle was focused at what was in the flames. During his time at the Simmonsville, he believed about something called the "Dweller", but everyone dismissed him. Kyle watched as he saw the shapeless image of the Dweller in the flames and it seemed to call his name. "Kyle....Kyle......."

"Kyle?" Kyle snapped back to reality while Peter was saying his name. "I'm fine. Just was thinking about the Hunters, that's all." The truck was approaching a series of restaurants near Murrell's Inlet and Kyle took his attention to what he think he sees silhouettes of people at the dock near the restaurants. "Peter, get your gun out. I see people, need to make sure it isn't Hunters.", Kyle gripped his ice skate hard as the truck slowed down near the restaurants.
Last edited by Main Nation Ministry on Sat Oct 29, 2016 11:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
Local 19 year old Diet Coke Addict College Student Ruins Everything

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Kylantha
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Founded: Jan 22, 2015
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Kylantha » Sat Oct 29, 2016 7:41 am


Lyle "Fairfax" T. Sorenson, Cedric R. Smith


After going through hell and high water, the survivors reached an old food place. Cedric moved on inside with Isobelle, while Lyle just stood outside for a moment, marveling at the crumbling sign. He wondered what kind of animal that was on the sign. After a few minutes of staring, he realized that he had been left behind and hurried into the restaurant. Inside, everyone was doing their own thing, but most of the people around were getting ready to rest. Guessing that it would be good for him to recline as well, Lyle found himself a comfy spot under a table and covered himself almost completely for a break from all the pandemonium. Cedric would rest as well, giving room for his sister to lean against him if she wanted to.

A few hours later, the people who were now in charge stepped into the diner. It took a few moments for Lyle to wake up, while Cedric was jolted out of his shallow sleep. Nonetheless, they both listened attentively. Lyle sat up under the table and gave the tomato plant some water as he listened. Cedric tried his best to keep his eyes open, he didn't want to miss anything.

Friedrich stepped forward and explain their next course of action, which would be to head to Garden City. Lyle looked up for a moment, hoping that he would see his mum and Noah there, but he was unaware that they took a different route. Either way, he was just hopeful and stared at Friedrich as he spoke before going back to the tomato plant. "He's right, you know." he whispered. "We can't wander out in the open. It's not safe. We need to be comfy somewhere."

At that thought, Lyle folded up his blanket in his bag and got out from under the table. Cedric wondered where the guy was going now with that dead look on his face. Looking to speak his mind, Cedric whispered to Isobelle whilst halfheartedly listening to whatever Friedrich said, "You know, Fairfax is really starting to freak me out. I've got this bad feeling that one of these days he's going to murder us all in our sleep."

But Lyle wasn't capable of that... Was he?

As quietly as possible, Lyle crept into the back of the dilapidated steakhouse with all his belongings. Being the guy that he was, he decided to follow his daily morning routine in spite of the circumstances. He came outside before the truck drew close enough to be heard and set his tomato plant at the edge of the water to catch some sunlight. Then, he took one of his cloths and reached down to dip it into the water. Now that it was damp he could rub the tiny bit of soap he had all over it. He then goes back inside and into one of the bathroom cubicles to wipe himself down. After, he took some water and brushed his teeth with it like there was so much clean water to use. He cleans his glasses as well, then for the first time in two days, puts his trapper hat on, figuring it would hide him better.

When he comes back out, Lyle doesn't see the truck since it was coming from the other side of the restaurant. But he did hear it, and so he crouched down even lower before sneaking back inside. He stands just behind the counter, ready to drop down beneath it if the need arose. Cedric visibly became tense, drawing his legs up to the edge of the seat. "Hey, hear that?" he whispers to Isobelle, "Get ready. We might have to scram again."

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Futrellia
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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Sat Oct 29, 2016 6:12 pm

Dustin Cole
Bovines Steakhouse


Dustin watched in the background as the various others of the group seemed to ponder the idea of heading to Garden City. Some didn't care for it, others were more than willing, but he knew all would go. If they didn't, they would go alone, out into the crumbling ruins, the psychopathic hunters, the bat-shit crazy Military and of course, the hundreds of millions of infected that roamed the desolate landscape that is now America. They wouldn't last long, and with Hunters everywhere, they probably wouldn't last the next two days.

Dustin could hear something out the left side of his ear. A faint crackling sound mixed with mechanical revving. As Dustin panned his head to the side and focused on it more, it became clear it was a vehicle of some kind, a truck most likely. He couldn't see a car making heavy noises like that. The Military rarely sends reinforcements, especially to a QZ so far from the others. It couldn't have been Fireflies. His group wouldn't risk driving something so loud and luring in infected. Civilians maybe, but how did they make it past Murrell's Inlet without the Hunters getting to them? Unless it was Hunters? Shit.

"Shit guys. Those might be Hunters. We need to take cover." Said Dustin as he withdrew his M1911 pistol from his waistline. Dustin walked over to the nearest window facing the road, barely peeking out, just enough to see what was coming. He could see the truck. A military truck, definitely. That ugly drab green color, the boxy frame. No mistaking it. But something was odd. Inside, he managed to see people, not wearing the black military uniform that the Military now donned, but just civilian clothes. Could still be civilians.

"Soldierboys, they ain't military. What do we do?"

Dustin wanted nothing more than to open fire on 'em, take them all down. he hated the waiting game, he waiting being on the defensive, but this was one of the situations that him not doing so would most likely save all of them. Dustin only had 6 rounds left from his reserve clip he carried in case he wasted his primary, which he did, with a little help from Alexander, but he couldn't hold that against him. He had a box of 40 rounds sitting on his bunk back in the Outpost, but carrying around that many would weigh him down too much, clank too much. So two clips was all he thought he needed. Alot of ammo wasn't required for recon, or at least he didn't think so. He knew his way in, and he would follow it back out. Too bad the Hunters ruined all of that.

Dustin cleared his mind as he waited orders from the soldierboys, the tactical masters of battle, or so they thought.







Dustin's Journal Entries are a new aspect i want to incorporate into every post of Dustin's. During the course of this RP, i will be posting a Journal entry written by Dustin before the events of Murrell's Inlet. It will show readers a little more into Dustin's personality, his habits, his attitudes, just a window into his life.


Journal Entry
January 6, 2031


Just got back from trading with the Fireflies up in Charlotte, and let me say that it's the last time i do something nice because we are undermanned. Nearly got killed by a group of Hunters in Florence, then nearly got trapped by a whole horde of infected on I-77. Besides that, Charlotte was a damn paradise compared to this nasty sewer colony. Met a prostitute up there in some ragtag bar, some girl called Eliza Dushku. Funny last name but she was quite the character. Said she used to be a movie star in Hollywood, made a whole lotta cash. She told me all kinds of stories about what Hollywood and Los Angeles was like before the infected came. Hollywood sounded alright, but she described Los Angeles as "the city that was shit before the shitstorm even caught up." Nevertheless, we had a good night. That morning, i sold all sorts of shit. Recharged car batteries, salvaged car parts, six of the AR-15s we stole from that QZ a few miles down, Murrell's Inlet? In and out no problem. It's not like they really needed them, their armory was fuckin' massive. They won't miss 'em. A whole lot of other things that made a pretty penny. Chuck the dickhead overlord told me to make a list of everything i got just in case something went "missing". So here it is Chuck.

3 black travel backpacks (Jansport brand)
4 Flashlights
25 Double-a batteries
2 thick comforters
56 Freeze dried complete meals (I can't wait to try Stroganoff)
960 ounces of Oil Lamp fuel
30 Gallons of Purified drinking water
3 Cans of Febreze (To make the area smell not so much like shit but more like Clean Linen)
20 Rounds of 9mm rounds
Hohner Marine band harmonica (For Ella)

There. There's the list. I'm gonna go get this harmonica to Ella. She's been looking for a new one since the one she has is all bent and off-tune. I'm sure she'll love this.
Last edited by Futrellia on Sat Oct 29, 2016 7:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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The Hoosier Alliance
Diplomat
 
Posts: 779
Founded: Mar 17, 2016
Corporate Police State

Postby The Hoosier Alliance » Sun Oct 30, 2016 5:46 am

Brandon listened to the soldier's idea. He, of course, wouldn't hesitate to go. He only had his rifle, a few bullets, and his knife for protection. Going out on his own was not an option. If he stayed with the soldiers, he would at least have a better chance of survival. Hell, he didn't even know where he could go if he went his own way. Back to his home town? Please. He would be torn to shreds within a week. If he was lucky. His best bet was Garden City, where ever that is.

He just sat there, in silence, by himself. He had no friends or family to consult. It was just him. Brandon just sat, waiting for everyone else to come to a conclusion. He didn't really care who came with. The only people he wanted to come were the soldiers. They knew how to protect themselves much better than Brandon did. He would be much safer with them when they got attacked by hunters or infected.

"Shit guys. Those might be Hunters. We need to take cover."

Brandon looked over and saw someone, he thinks his name is Dustin, walk to the front windows. He pulled out his pistol and peeked out. Brandon hadn't noticed it before, but it sounded like a truck was approaching. Maybe some of the military survived the attack, Brandon thought. Brandon crouched, safety off his rifle. He didn't dare peek out, in fear of being spotted.

"Soldierboys, they ain't military. What do we do?"

Shit, he thought, Not military? It must be hunters. They could've just stolen that truck from the QZ after they sacked it. Brandon just stayed down, rifle in hands. He didn't really want to fight, but if he had to, he would. Brandon waited for a response from the soldiers. They would know the best way to handle the situation. He personally thought it was best to just open fire on them now. They have already been through a lot, lost so much. He didn't want to take a chance. In the end though, the soldiers would know best. So, he waited for some sort of command.
I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery
- Thomas Jefferson
What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms
- Thomas Jefferson
Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it
-Mark Twain
They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety
- Benjamin Franklin
To disarm the people is the most effectual way to enslave them
-George Mason
I ask who are the militia? They consist now of the whole people.
-George Mason

Nation doesn't represent my views.

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Main Nation Ministry
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5249
Founded: Sep 28, 2016
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Main Nation Ministry » Sun Oct 30, 2016 10:35 am

The Prisoners

The truck slowed to a stop in front of the Bovine's Steakhouse. Kyle could've sworn to have saw someone at one of the windows. "I'm not going out there. Have the loner do it.", said Kyle to Peter. "You know, I could hear you in the back. You don't have to yell at all.", replied Franklin. Franklin took off his gas mask and grabbed his police baton. "If you want me to be shot, instead of you guys, that's fine." Franklin dropped out of the back and walked to the front, where Kyle and Peter are. "So what do you want me to do?" "Check inside the restaurant, make sure there no Hunters inside. If there is, run like hell and we mean quick or we leave you behind.", Kyle said to Peter. "Fine.", Franklin said as he walked towards the entrance to the steakhouse, gripping his police baton.
Local 19 year old Diet Coke Addict College Student Ruins Everything

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Futrellia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1590
Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Sun Oct 30, 2016 12:00 pm

Main Nation Ministry wrote:
The Prisoners

The truck slowed to a stop in front of the Bovine's Steakhouse. Kyle could've sworn to have saw someone at one of the windows. "I'm not going out there. Have the loner do it.", said Kyle to Peter. "You know, I could hear you in the back. You don't have to yell at all.", replied Franklin. Franklin took off his gas mask and grabbed his police baton. "If you want me to be shot, instead of you guys, that's fine." Franklin dropped out of the back and walked to the front, where Kyle and Peter are. "So what do you want me to do?" "Check inside the restaurant, make sure there no Hunters inside. If there is, run like hell and we mean quick or we leave you behind.", Kyle said to Peter. "Fine.", Franklin said as he walked towards the entrance to the steakhouse, gripping his police baton.


Dustin Cole


Dustin could hear them talking outside. They had to be Hunters. A small group of civilians? There was no way they could make it out here alone, even with weapons. Hunters always had something better, if the Military didn't pick them off first.

"I'm not going out there. Have the loner do it." They sounded disorganized. Might be just the misfits the others wanted to kill of by having them pursue his group. Dustin turned to the soldiers, mumbling the words "What the fuck are you doing?" He turned back and watched as a single one walked towards the entrance, gripping a police baton. Damn, they really wanted to kill these guys off. Who comes equipped with only a baton?

Dustin had to make a decision, and since the soldiers weren't doing it, he had to come to make a move, or risk the entire group being exposed. Dustin quietly moved from the front window to behind one of the large wooden doors the man was going to come through, his pistol ready. He thought over the plan in his head. They wouldn't fire on their own man would they? Take him hostage. That'll work. Have them kick their weapons to his group. Once they disarm, he'll leave 'em here and kindly "borrow" their truck. That's all he can do with Hunters. Taking them with them would only invite someone to make a mistake and kill somebody, or attract hundreds of clickers to their position.

He waited where the hinges of the door were, that way it would mask his presence behind the door until he entered. He'd put that gun to his head and make his move.

He motioned for the others to drop down, stay out of sight, do whatever they had to to keep them from being seen.





Journal Entry
November 4, 2031

Some bad shit went on up top today. None of us know what happened, but early this morning, we were awoken by the sound of a loud car horn, blaring right on top of us. It lasted for a few seconds before we heard gunfire, alot of gunfire. Whatever happened went on for a good two, three minutes before it stopped completely. No noises, no groans, screams, nothing. We don't ever use the sewer exits right next to the colony considering that if something were to happen, they would just fall right in, ambush us while we slept. We kept all heavily used entries covered by twos for the next six hours, just to make sure.

In other news, Justin and his group got caught. Him, Jake, Steven and Max were all captured by Hunters. Alot of hunters. We didn't have enough men or ammo to go get them back. It's cruel, fucked up and i hate abandoning men like that, they didn't deserve it. They were out salvaging for us. Us! And now they might as well be dead. It's wrong. But i understand it. We would all just get slaughtered if we launched a rescue mission. Darius sat down and talked with the others, thinking up ways to shore up our defenses throughout the sewers. I figured they were solid already. Can trip lines, dynamite trip lines. I overheard him talking about moving camp elsewhere. They were thinking of heading to Charlotte. Pretty big sized Firefly camp up there that i saw when i went there to trade. Above ground, virtually ruled the entire city. Enough men and weapons to keep the Military, infected and Hunters all at bay. It's been a long time. Starting to think i wanna go back up there.
Last edited by Futrellia on Sun Oct 30, 2016 8:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Main Nation Ministry
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Founded: Sep 28, 2016
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Main Nation Ministry » Sun Oct 30, 2016 2:14 pm

The Prisoners


Franklin walked to the large wooden doors of the steakhouse. He didn't want to peek inside the windows, so he simply knocked on the doors. Then he simply waited. Peter and Kyle were on edge as Franklin stood at the doors, waiting for what would happen.
Last edited by Main Nation Ministry on Sun Oct 30, 2016 2:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Local 19 year old Diet Coke Addict College Student Ruins Everything

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Vulkata II
Minister
 
Posts: 2332
Founded: Jun 08, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Vulkata II » Sun Oct 30, 2016 4:24 pm

Alexander

Alex did what he was told, it was the best he could do after fucking up so bad.

He heard the door being slammed open and he quickly peeked to see what happened but then went back down under his cover.

He saw Dustin and mouthed the words "What do we do?"
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. -George Patton

He alone, who owns the youth, gains the future. -Adolf Hitler

Part of the American dream is to live long and die young. Only those Americans who are willing to die for their country are fit to live. -General MacArthur
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Futrellia
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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Sun Oct 30, 2016 8:28 pm

Dustin Cole
Bovines Steakhouse


Dustin could feel his heart pumping like a cannon, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and landing upon his stained black shirt. He wasn't ready for this. He was being the hero. Swooping in, negotiating and saving everyone. He wasn't built for this, or so he thought. He heard the knocking, but there was no way he was opening that door. That brave man would have to open that door himself, and face the consequences. So there, Dustin stood, stiff as a board, moving his eyes around the area, darting to the door, and back at his group, who was now directly all behind cover. The only way they would know they were there was if someone sneezed. The remnants of the crumbling coffin that once brought joy, happiness, good food and conversation to the people who paid enough to eat here, now was a shambling hollow of what it once was. A few Budweiser and Miller Lite decorations still adorned the walls, but now covered in mildew, dirt and dust.

Dustin took shallow, delayed breaths, keeping his body movement to a bare minimum. He didn't dare move a muscle.


Journal Entry
January 18, 2032

Darius, Nick and Sasha just got back from Charlotte. It's gone, all gone. They said they found bodies everywhere, buildings charred, marks and symbols adorned all over the place. They collected a hell of a lot of guns though. Said they were just left, ammo and supplies both. Whoever attacked Charlotte, didn't want their stuff, just their lives. I can't believe it. I was there less than a year ago. Armed sentries on the rooftops, barricades and streets. More than a hundred people. All dead, all rotted. Darius collected what weapons the truck would carry, assault rifles, pistols, grenades, three five gallon bucket fulls of ammo, but not a single soul left alive in Charlotte. Guess we gotta find a new trade partner. Shit.
Last edited by Futrellia on Sun Oct 30, 2016 8:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Main Nation Ministry
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Founded: Sep 28, 2016
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Main Nation Ministry » Sun Oct 30, 2016 8:50 pm

The Prisoners


Franklin waited for a response, glancing back at Peter and Kyle. Franklin knocked again at the wooden doors, but he gripped the door at the handle. Surprisingly, the doors were unlocked so Franklin gripped the door and pulled it towards him, opening it. He glanced inside the steakhouse, nothing more than a ruin of the past. "Hello? Anyone in here?", Franklin shouted at the opened wooden doors. He waited till he heard movement or another voice while gripping his baton.
Local 19 year old Diet Coke Addict College Student Ruins Everything

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"That's okay. Your tears say more than real evidence ever could." - The 1994 episode, Homer Badman, The Simpsons.

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Terintania
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Posts: 12064
Founded: Mar 20, 2011
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Terintania » Mon Oct 31, 2016 3:24 am

Diego was in a nearby building. Wahoo's Fish House, to be precise. He had arrived here a couple of days ago, and raided the remains of the bar. During all that had happened at Murrell's Inlet, he had been passed out drunk on one of the booths on the upper floor. And so he slept through the explosions and any other noises that there had been.
However, at the sound of a truck driving nearby, he began to stir. The first thing he processed was the stabbing headache. He slowly opened his eyes, his goggles protecting him from any overwhelming amounts of light. Though it was still early, so it probably wouldn't have been that bad, anyway. He took a bit to get his bearings, then pulled himself up in to sitting position, his head immediately protesting, and he swayed, putting an arm on the table to steady himself. "Whoa," He groaned, putting a hand against his head. Maybe he'd had a little too much to drink. But he couldn't carry it all, so what was he going to do? Leave it? Also, what was that sound, drilling in to his head?
After sitting a bit, the world stopped spinning, and he was able to stand up. The sound had stopped now, and he realized it had been an engine. A big one. With this in mind, he ducked down, keeping low as he moved through the upper area of the building, and out on to the large balcony. Keeping behind the tables, he made his way over to the outdoor drink area that was on the balcony. From there, he could see the Bovine's Steakhouse, and he noticed people seemed to have moved in while he was asleep. Outside, there was a military truck. Must have been the source of the noise. However, the people who emerged from the truck didn't seem to be military. For now, he felt it was best that he just observe, out of sight.
Times are looking grim these days~

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The United States of North Amerigo
Diplomat
 
Posts: 626
Founded: Apr 19, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby The United States of North Amerigo » Mon Oct 31, 2016 12:17 pm

Hale still wasn’t over Staff Sergeant. Porter’s death. Porter was probably the closest thing she had to a parental figure in a long time, even if just for a day. Hale drowned out the conversation about garden city only picking up bits and pieces. Francis returned, M4 being carried in hand, Hale noticed the safety was off.


“Hey. You okay?” Francis asked, tilting his head slightly. Hale nodded.


“What about you?” She whispered, somewhat croakily.

“Yeah but… I don’t know if I like the plan in all honesty, I didn’t say anything, but we might not have another choice.” Francis went on, “But if I split, or you split, I’ll come with you, I promise.” Hale was used to promises, and how often they were broken in this world. Maybe things weren’t different before cordyceps, whatever. This seemed genuine though. “Got me?”


“Mm.” Hale made a soft grunt of acknowledgement.


“Right on, I stashed some ammo in a bag. I’ll go grab it, it’s .223, for us.” Francis told her, Hale nodded again. Francis brushed a tiny bit of blood off Hale’s black G3 uniform, it was starting to dry. Then he left for his aforementioned surplus ammunition..
Last edited by The United States of North Amerigo on Mon Oct 31, 2016 12:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Amerigo.
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Daltheria
Secretary
 
Posts: 40
Founded: Oct 24, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Daltheria » Tue Nov 01, 2016 2:31 pm

Nathan had been watching everything that had happened in the steakhouse from the woods across the river. He had barely managed to escape the carnage in Murell's inlet. He had been able to grab all of his gear, at least he thought he had, he still hadn't had a chance to check in pack. However that wasn't important, he had been watching the group of survivors and wondering how to approach them... or even if he should approach them. He had been thinking about that when the truck pulled up, he was now crouched in the underbrush watching the truck. He had his rifle at the ready, he didn't know if the men in the truck were hunters or not but one couldn't be too careful.

He couldn't tell on many men were in the truck but he saw one get out. He was armed with a baton and was moving to check the diner. He lifted his rifle from the resting position and put it firmly into his shoulder. He didn't look down the scope yet, a slight breeze shook the underbrush around him and he caught a whiff of smoke. He winced as he remembered the explosion, he hadn't been close but he had seen the fireball from the outer neighborhoods in Murell's Inlet. The man by the steakhouse suddenly shouted, "hello" he heard "anyone there?" Nathan readied himself for a fight that seemed inevitable. He decided that if there was a shootout he lay suppressing fire on the truck. It wouldn't be much, given that he only had a bolt action rifle, but he could buy time for the people inside the steakhouse to do whatever they needed to survive. Nathan noticed that it was eerily quiet, he grimaced, something was about to happen. He just didn't know what.

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Futrellia
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Posts: 1590
Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Tue Nov 01, 2016 8:10 pm

Dustin Cole


As the man yelled his question, Dustin stayed completely still and deathly silent. The only movement on his body were his eyes, as they dotted back and forth from side to side of the restaurant, making sure none of his group made a single sound. The steakhouse was dead, and from the outside, he was sure they thought nobody was inside.

Dustin knew there was only one way to determine if they were hunters: Disarm them, ask them questions, and wait for them to prove their loyalty. He knew that none of the others would disagree, considering their home was just burned to the ground.

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Ormata
Senator
 
Posts: 3772
Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Tue Nov 01, 2016 9:00 pm

Vedenin Arseniy Valeryevich, Rylie Ashley Knox
Bovines Steakhouse


First the bus came; that was worrying. Transports don’t just drive about; you never had survivors with those things. It did a few things wrong; it was loud, for one thing. Clickers could hear the bastards coming, follow the noise however best they can. That’s what Clickers did. Bandits heard them, too, and they set-up ambushes. Those transports also had fuel issues; they guzzled the stuff. You, if you had fuel, wanted to sell it, because you never could get enough to run a car for long. Not that you wanted to, due to rule one. For another thing, they were too big; a lot of cars on the road were out of gas and would not budge, and the road was often messy.

So, there were a few options. For one thing, it could be Bandits. Bandits didn’t care about their noise levels, and they were stupid enough to not care about the food. If they mounted a gun to it, anything heavy that was salvaged from the National Guard, they had a gunboat. At least, that’s what a damn bandit would think.

For another thing, they could be military. It was, after all, a military vehicle; at least, that was what Vedenin first thought. It was coming quickly, though, and he couldn’t see anything on it. The guys on the truck, nor the soldiers, were saying shit. So there was that.

"Shit guys. Those might be Hunters. We need to take cover. Soldierboys, they ain't military. What do we do?"


It seemed the crazies weren’t so crazy; at least they knew when the hell to not fuck about. Vedenin leant down, closer to the ground, his Walther ready. Rylie did the same, gripping her 1911 in white knuckles as she pointed it towards the ground.

The truck came to a halt, and one man got out. He was walking closer, and closer, and closer, with a bat, too. Bastard was asking to be shot, Vedenin thought. Bastard also wasn’t a Hunter. They moved in packs, and were smart enough to send in a guy through the back as well as through the front.

The same bastard went to the door. Shit, shit, shit came Vedenin’s thoughts in gasps. The man was going to try something. He was going to try something stupid. He was going to try something risky. He was going to get everyone fucking killed. Maybe he was thinking of ambushing them; that plan might work. It'd also get people killed. It would definitely get people killed, and unnecessarily, too. They didn't have to die for that twit's glory.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Move. A. Fucking. Muscle.” That was Vedenin’s command to the sonuvabitch near the door, to Dustin, in hushed tones. The guys weren’t Hunters; that was plain. Hunters didn’t ask if people were inside a building; they took it by storm and shot anything alive inside until it died. They didn’t use calm tactics. They didn’t use subterfuge. They used brute speed and brute power to overwhelm the enemy before they can do shit.

Vedenin got-up a bit, moving closer to the door. He kept silent; the man was large, but he made a very good attempt at not being heard. One hand out, and he grasped Dustin by the shoulder. The Russian’s grip tightened on it, and he pulled the twit back behind him, before his hand grasped the Walther MP again, barrel down. Rylie kept back, 1911 still pointed at ground as she concentrated on getting her breathing down. He kept pausing, before saying around the corner.

“What do you want?”

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Main Nation Ministry
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5249
Founded: Sep 28, 2016
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Main Nation Ministry » Wed Nov 02, 2016 4:22 pm

The Prisoners

"What do you want?"
Franklin heard someone from behind a corner. He gripped his baton and replied, "Who's there? We just simply drove through a fireball, we wanted to know if their people in here, that's all."
Last edited by Main Nation Ministry on Wed Nov 02, 2016 4:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Local 19 year old Diet Coke Addict College Student Ruins Everything

Quote of the Week:
"That's okay. Your tears say more than real evidence ever could." - The 1994 episode, Homer Badman, The Simpsons.

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Futrellia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1590
Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Wed Nov 02, 2016 7:53 pm

Dustin Cole


Dustin could see one man, the Russian, he thought it was, mumble a few words to him that he barely caught.

"Don't you move a fucking muscle" Was all he was able to get across. This didn't take to Dustin very well. Nobody makes a plan, seems okay with it, then all of a sudden, butts in? Dustin was literally a few steps away from the man, and he was gonna be his hostage. They wouldn't shoot their own, but they might shoot Dustin. It was a chance he had to take.

Dustin watched as the man creeped over to him, grabbing his shoulder.

"The fuck are you doing?" He mumbled quietly, before being pushed back behind him, giving him the lead on the door. Dustin didn't care for his authoritative actions, but he would wait to see if they actually paid off, whatever they were.

"“What do you want?” Said the Russian, very audibly within earshot of the Hunter.

"Aw hell." Dustin thought in his head. This couldn't possibly go down well. Either bullets are about to start flying or they are gonna give an ultimatum, then bullets start flying.

""Who's there? We just simply drove through a fireball, we wanted to know if their people in here, that's all." The man replied from outside.

Bullshit, he thought. The Hunters wouldn't had just let them drive by, that would be the stupidest shit. There's no way they didn't hear them, what with that massive engine and the exhaust rumbling for miles around them.

"No, that's bullshit. If they ain't hunters, there's no way they would have let them go. They heard that truck from miles away, i just know. They're fucking tricking us. And if they somehow did manage to let them go, if there's any clickers in the area, we will be seein' them in the next five minutes." Dustin whispered to the Russian, trying to get him to see reason with these people.

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