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The End is Nigh: IC; The screams of the dead will haunt you.
Topic Started: October 10 2008, 06:37 PM (479 Views)
Nick
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Boardman of Advanced Thinkers
"Oh, right." Daniel kneeled over the manhole and reached down. He hefted Richard out of the manhole with some difficulty. "You need to cut down on the yams," he said to Richard. Daniel walked across the street, wary of any zombies that could jump out from hidden shadows and alleys. Seeing nothing, he grasped the door's handle and opened it. Still very much afraid, Daniel took a glance inside before walking in. "Looks good, lets go in."
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Colton C
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Richard uses his good arm to pick up the gun on his belt, and looks around. When he saw the way was clear he followed Danny. Right as Richard opens the door he hears a noise:

"RAAAA!!!"

"F)^&K! Danny, we have a problem!" With that 10 zombies run out from the building across the street. Richard runs into the deli, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. He falls to the ground, pulling back the hammer on his gun. "Hope it is worth it!"
Edited by Colton C, October 27 2008, 11:22 AM.
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jcarle049
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Bruno was in the back room, snorting cocaine, when he heard the door open before slamming shut. Without thinking, he grabbed the cleaver off of the table, limped to the doorway and threw the cleaver, hitting the door frame with a loud thunk. He grabbed the shotgun under the counter by the pistol grip and shot at the ceiling. "Who's in my store?" he yelled. Then he noticed the money that had fallen from the ceiling. Forgetting all about who might have been in his store, he dropped the shotgun, ran forward, grabbed the money, and ran to the nearest wall. He then pulled the drywall away to show the hidden money and shoved what fell out into the wall.
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Colton C
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Dr. Rorschach looks to his left where the cleaver now was. Impaled in the door. Next to his head. Richard then stood up running towards the man. When he was directly behind the man, who was frantically trying to pack the money into the wall, he grasped his pistol by the barrel. "Lights out!" with that he brought the gun down on the hefty Russian's head.

CRACK!

Without turning around Richard addressed his friend, who was sitting nervously by the door. "Danny!..Grab the gun!!"
Edited by Colton C, October 27 2008, 11:21 AM.
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Nick
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Daniel awoke from his shock and ran over to the shotgun, picking it up with shaking hands. He had never held a gun before but he attempted to look proficient. He points it in the general direction of the Russian guy. "Uh, put your hands up?" His hands continued to shake but with concentration, he willed them still. "If you move, I'll, uh, I'll shoot."
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jcarle049
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Bruno felt something hit him in the back of the head, right after he finished stuffing the money into the wall. He slumped to the floor in a heap, unconcious.
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Colton C
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Ching!

Dr. Rorschach looks over to his left. The glass from one of the two front windows has fallen on the ground, and one of the 10 zombies starts crawling through it. Richard places his gun on his waist, and moves toward the door. He pulls the Cleaver from the wall. The zombie now was half-way through the window. Richard runs towards the window and slashes downwards with the cleaver, decapitating the zombies left arm.
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Nick
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The man who was threatening them before was clearly unconsious. Daniel lifted the gun and aimed it towards the more immediate threat. He pointed it in the general direction of the zombie that had just broken throughthw window, the gun clicked as he pulled the trigger, firing nothing.

"Shit." Daniel dropped the gun and pulled out his crowbar. Just then, Dr. Rorschach ran over and chopped off the zombie's arm with a cleaver. Awesome, he thought. Daniel ran over and tried to help. The zombie, ignoring his missing arm reached out to the Dr. with his remaining arm. Daniel swung the crowbard down on to his arm, it crunched sickeningly. He brought it up again and smashed it against the zombie's face, he could hear the cheekbones crack and a tooth shot from his mouth and landed on the floor along with a bit of spittle. It was disgusting, but Daniel could taste a sick pleasure in the back of his brain. Why was he enjoying this?
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Colton C
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Dr. Rorschach, standing by the window, moves in front of it and kicks the zombie's body through the window. It lands on the other side. One of the nine remaining zombies moves towards the window. It trips over the body of the dead zombie, landing with it's neck placed itself on the windowsill. Another zombie runs forward, using the other as a ramp, runs through and dives through the window.

Crack!

The ramp brakes it's neck as the zombie which entered crawls on all fours towards Bruno. Dr.Rorschach throws the cleaver at the zombie. It lands in it's back without any effect on it's actions. "F(*K!"
Edited by Colton C, November 6 2008, 09:22 PM.
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Nick
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A zombie was now crawling towards the unconscious Bruno. Daniel was ready to let the jerk get eaten but the Dr. threw his cleaver into the zombie's back. Why was he saving the Russian guy? Hm, he must have a good reason, he thought. So Daniel ran over and brought his crowbar down on the zombie's back. He brought it up again and again, slamming it now on the zombie's head. Daniel felt like vomiting. Blood and brains were splattered about the floor, Bruno was positively soaked in it. He turned around and looked at Rorschach. Shit!

"Zombie! Right behind you!" One of the zombies had just barely gotten through the window and was turning towards Richard.
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jcarle049
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Bruno felt something hit his face.

CRASH!!

Bruno jerked upright. A window just popped out, apparently the second. Then he saw the zombies, nine of them. I didn't know zombies wore lab coats and jumpsuits. Wait, how did my shotgun get over there? And why is my cleaver in this zombies back. Why are the lab coat and jumpsuit zombies fighting the other zombies? Oh well, I guess I have to kill them all. He got up and ran to his shotgun. He checked the chamber. Nothing. He cycle the next round int the chamber. By that time, a zombie was right next to him.

BOOOOMM!!

Bruno blew the zombie's head off, spewing brain matter everywhere. Then he slammed the butt of the gun int the zombies chest, knocking it down.
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Colton C
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Dr. Rorschach, now unarmed, pulls his gun from his belt. He counts, seven zombies left, three are in the room. The rest are outside. Two zombies approach Danial, who is now smeared with blood and grime.

Boom!

A sound erupts from behind him. Dr. Rorschach swings around to see the Russian, now with the shotgun, standing in front of a headless zombie. Taking priority, the biochemist pulls out one of his HCl vials, hurting it at the leg of the Russian. It shouldn't kill him, yet he will hurt like hell. Dr. Rorsarch turns toward his friend, aiming his gun at one of the zombies. He takes a breath. Time slows.

Click...BOOM!
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Nick
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The zombies were closing in on him and his arms were aching. Suddenly, one of the zombie's heads exploded. Daniel turned to see yet another zombie head explode. What the hell? He saw the Russian drop to the floor. Woah, when did he even get up? The distractions gave the third zombie in the room ample time to tackle him. They both fell to the ground in a bundle of swinging legs and fists. Daniel's crowbar fell away from him and clattered across the floor. Daniel swung and his fist connected sharply with the zombie's jaw. It didn't feel the pain but took the oppurtuunity to bite down on his hand. Daniel yelped and used his other hand to push the zombie off. Its teeth were caught in the plastic of his glove, pulling it off his hand. Daniel frantically stopped on the zombie's face until it stopped squirming. He examined his hand, luckily, there was no mark indicating it had broken the skin. That was a close call.
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jcarle049
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Bruno watched as the zombie in the lab coat throw some sort of vial at his leg. He felt it shadder and felt some sort of liquid seeping into his pants. Then it started to burn. He quickly jumped over the counter so the zombies couldn't get hihm and ripped off his pants. Stupid zombie; what the hell... Zombies don't throw things. Okay, lab coat zombie isn't a zombie. That probably means jumpsuit zombie isn't a zombie either. Good; that means there are only six zombies left. Two rounds in my shotgun; hopefully I wont use them all. Head hurts; I will have to bring that up with lab coat guy and jumpsuit guy after. Priorities first. Bruno noticed a zombie nearing the counter. Then he noticed one of his butcher's knives on the floor, probably there from a previous zombie attack. He grabbed the knife and jumped on the counter. By that time, the zombie was ony a foot away. He held the knife blade down, and jumped off the counter towards the zombie. He slashed at the zombie's neck, and only cut it half off. He body slammed the zombie, knocking them both to the floor. He felt the zombie clawing at his neck and arms. He rolled off the zombie and sat up. Then he slashed at the zombie's neck again, this time completely decapitating it. "Serves you right you Fu*king zombie," he mumbled. "Five left."
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Zac

Zachary stepped quietly down the side of the street, trying his best to take cover under any shade whatsoever cast by the sun, which was almost directly overhead. He had no watch, but it was obviously midday. He shifted the sewn-on shoulderstrap of his leather medicine bag further up his shoulder as it began to irritate him. For something so frugally packed, it got damn heavy after a couple of hours walking. He cast random cautious glances into the shopfronts around him, just in case one of the 'mannequins' was feeling livelier than it's siblings. Although, it was a misnomer to refer to them as 'alive'. They were by all accepted scientific definitions of the word, dead, but they walked nevertheless. The strangest thing to him was that they were still in a somewhat preserved state. They weren't pretty, but they didn't appear to be decomposing at a normal rate, which would be something like six months to turn them into skeletons, presuming the conditions were good, which they were. Perhaps some part of the infection kept some sort of 'blood-ish' fluid coursing through their veins, keeping them at least adequately fresh. That whole point was redundant, but musing had never done any harm; quite the opposite in his current predicament, it had kept him sane over the last five years. He slowed a little as he neared a curb angling to the right into another street. He swung the makeshift shoulderstrap of his medical bag around to his left shoulder, holding the grip on the bag itself with his left hand, which freed up room to draw his handgun from the back of his pants with his right. He raised it and pressed his right shoulder towards the concrete brick wall of a hair salon. He took one deep breath; two; three and then swung around into the next street, his gun raised and strafing from storefront to storefront for targets, his left eye shut while his right eye trained on the sights. His hand was a little unsteady at the range of a hundred feet and as such the view from down the sights of th Glock 17 9mm was bobbing up and down unpleasantly. He blinked and allowed both eyes opening, lowering the pistol to his thigh and then reholstering it in the back of his pants as he confirmed the street to be empty. He shifted the shoulderstrap once more further up his shoulder and then continued to make his way down the street.

While the previous street--whose name, as usual, he took no notice of--had been primarily clothing stores and beauty salons, this street had one or two small food vendors thrown into the mix, including a delicatessen, a sweets store and a bakery. He ignored the bakery, five years after being abandoned and any remaining food of that type would be hard as a rock or blue-black. The sweets store was also out of the question, even if they were edible, old candy was a hideous thing, even hard candy had a sticky outer layer and a noticeably poor taste. Hell, that would happen after one year. The windows of both buildings had been smashed in during the early craze of collecting food. Maybe if he was lucky there would be a small, private kitchen behind the counter with tea or coffee, but on a day like this he needed a cold drink. Unaware of the decomposition rates of meat he instead turned his attention to the small deli. He winced as an unpleasant audible gurgle wracked his stomache, making him feel a little sick. His stomache was secreting acids to digest food, but there wasn't any there to digest, so the sound came instead. It was the bodies way of telling their hosts to eat something. He walked gingerly off the sidewalk and onto the road, crossing it at a diagonal on the way to the deli. He looked with mild interest at the grass that was beginning to poke up through cracks in the tarmac. Nature was beginning to take over the city again. One or two buildings had already crumbled to the ground, scattering debris across the road. It was surprising how fast things went to hell when left without attention. Another five to ten years and he guessed that the city would be unrecognisable. It of course happened slower than Will Smith would have one believe, but it did still happen. His personal thought track shifting to Will Smith now, as usual he had very little trouble keeping himself somewhat entertained. How did he manage to get a Ford Shelby 2008 GT500 Mustang? Three years after the vampire apocalypse and it was still shiny and new? The man was a lieutenant colonel and a virologist in the movie, not a mechanic. The movie had more than a few plot-holes for the scientific eye. All he had to do to confirm that was look around. Most streets had at least one abandoned car. In the rush to try and get out of the city someone would be stuck in a traffic jam, perhaps ditch the car and go on foot, leaving it in the middle of the road as other car owners followed suit or the road cleared. On this street he could make out the heavily dented and dusted remains of an old silver Honda Civic that had been partially crushed in one of the aforementioned collapsed buildings. His mood at the moment was so mild and casual that when the first crack broke out he flinched and nearly leapt off the ground. He drew the pistol into his right hand once again, holding it in a raised-but-ready position as he searched for the noise. It had come from within the Deli. Shit, frigging competitors. Was the first thing that came into his mind. Adrenaline can do that, months without seeing hide-nor-hair of another living thing to give him company, but yet the first ones he comes across he greets with irritation because they're getting in the way of his stomache. He snapped around to look behind him as he heard an bellowing roar. About ten of the infected creatures had just rounded the corner at full speed, swinging their arms like humans for momentum. He had already walked two hundred yards or so since he had turned into the street, so he had time before they reached him. He changed direction immediately, running at full speed back to the right sidewalk and flattening himself up against a small protruding stepped entrance to a shop. He had no idea as to whether or not the infected had seen him, he had been in the middle of the road in broad daylight. He waited with baited breath, but none of them split off for him. It seems they were interested in the cause of the crack and had just destroyed the deli window. The crack had been by no doubt gunfire, so the other humans were armed. It may not be wise to approach them, competition was never met with friendly-attitudes as far as he had seen. He had had more guns pointed at him since the outbreak than Mel Gibson had in all the Lethal Weapon movies put together. No, actually, that was an exaggeration, but he had been in at least a dozen Resevoir Dogs tense gun-pointing competitions. Most of these had resulted in him backing away while a small group continued feasting away, wasting food and leaving him to starve for another night, occasionally also ending in someone stealing his sidearm. This was the third Glock he had looted from abandoned police cars. Another crack, then another, both resounding and echoing through the streets. He simoultaneously winced and blinked at each gunshot as the huge sound jammed into his ears. He didn't want to get close to these people while they were firing guns, at least not without earplugs. His Glock wasn't deafening, but shotguns and revolvers were. He eased forward a little, checking out the situation. Five of the ten infected had crawled in through the window, as was apparent by the crashing and sounds of general mayhem. The other four were still outside, with one dead infected who had had it's neck stepped on. The rest were trying desperately to push past each other to get inside. They were fast, but they weren't particularly organised. That was something, at least. As he surveyed the battle, options flew through his mind: possible outcomes, some good; most bad, as usual.

One: He could attempt to help them, wasting precious bullets but perhaps winning himself some favour, and thereby hopefully some food. Two: He could wait for them to hopefully finish them off, or at least dwindle the numbers a little. If they left one or two, maybe three or four of the infected then perhaps he could take them; after that it would be too difficult and he would have to wait for them to eat their fill of the humans before leaving. He didn't think it would be intelligent to wait around that long for them to pick up his scent, also, he wanted food soon if at all possible. Perhaps the humans would kill all of them, saving him bullets and perhaps lending him some food? Or perhaps taking his weapon and his precious, vital medical supplies and leaving him to die in a meat freezer. Cannibalism was not unheard of, once he had been unfortunate enough to chance upon a meat freezer filled with three naked female corpses hung up by meathooks, one missing both her legs. He had been left with nightmares for weeks after that encounter, the gruesome details returning to him whenever he closed his eyes for too long. Even now he frowned in remembrance. If he fired a shot, it would not be as loud as their own, but there would be no way that they could miss it. Unwanted attention was something that he didn't need either. Finally he resolved to wait and watch how things turned out, shrinking back into the shade of the doorway, hiding him from view as he formulated a clean-up plan, looking over the building studiously. Beyond the broken window he could see nothing of the battle raging within. The view was blocked by the four live creatures on the outside trying to get in anyway, but he still caught occasional tiny flashes of movement. Ultimately he was spectating by ear. He had heard no human screams of pain yet, so perhaps they had a chance of winning the battle? Then again, a human wouldn't be able to scream if a zombie ripped his throat out. He continued to watch, waiting for things to sort themselves out.
Edited by Zac, November 14 2008, 01:36 AM.
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Colton C
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Dr. Rorschach lets out a sigh of relief. Danial was covered in brain matter yet he was otherwise alright. Looking down at himself he saw the blood and guts sprayed over the front of his coat. The tie that was used in a frantic attempt to hold his arm in place had now fallen onto the floor somewhere. With every step his collarbone hurt severely. He could hear the bones separating and reforming, destroying what little mater had healed back. The room had no zombies in it for now, yet three were still just outside, frantically trying to shove their rotting bodies through the windows into the room. Dr. Rorschach stands in the center of the room, panting...

Holstering his gun at his belt, Dr. Rorschach runs towards the bar. Jumping over it, he slides past the butcher, flying past. Then, he immediately drops behind the bar. Dr. Rorschach looks down the table for weapons. Several knives and forks are on the table. Without thinking, he grabs the first metal object he finds... A meat tenderizer...
Edited by Colton C, December 16 2008, 12:54 PM.
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jcarle049
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Bruno say something fly by him. As he turned he realized it was the lab coat guy. After realizing he wasn't a threat, Bruno got up and noticed the three zombies by the window. Noticing that one of the zombies was starting to make some progress, Bruno started limping towards the window. The jump off the counter probably wasn't the best thing for his knee. When he got close enough, Bruno thew the knife at the zombie. Unfortunately, the zombie lurched at the same time. Instead of the knife smashing into the zombie's forehead like he wanted it to, it slammed into the zombie's shoulder, knocking it back a little. Sh*t he said under his breath. he started walking back to the bar to get another knife.
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