Realistic or Modern 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 — at the end of the world

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW
Inside​

Connor winced when she heard the child call Murder Moron Dad. Honestly, the gall of the guy popping some chick in the back when he had a fucking kid to take care of made Madison want to pick up where Lt. had left off, though for wholly different reasons. Xander. Murder Moron was named Xander, aka Dad. The small, scared voice beside her tugged her awareness downwards.

Lies born out of compassion were some of the only ones Madison ever allowed herself. Her lips opened to tell the child that she was sure the medical people would do their best when a familiar, unexpected voice behind made Madison startle.

"Sneakers. I'm glad you lived." The Hunter said, following the line of people towards where the bandages and gauze and (gods willing) the doctors might be. Hopefully Fleet Foot had Madison's bag...... otherwise there was a trip to the roof in her very near future.

Madison's gaze drifted back downwards. "Minnie? I'm Connor. I'm sure... Mac.... will do his best. Why don't you show me where Mac is?"

Miaow ​

 

[Good_Morels]

NORTHVIEW - outskirts​

Northview


Beau didn't really feel the wind on his face. He didn't really hear the groans behind him, he didn't really feel the kickback of his pistol every time he turned to shoot one of the dead. It had become habit.
Drive, turn, shoot.
Drive, turn, shoot.

He didn't hear at all when they agreed to turn around, only noticing when the other bikes had turned and he was about a hundred feet ahead.

He shot one more dead, watching it crumple to the ground before turning to join them. It wasn't long before he drew ahead again. He hardly noticed the road through his haze, nothing felt real. He was so, so tired.

'We're dead meat when we get back, Elvis can't keep his mouth shut. Even if he could, he's Hank's lap dog, he wouldn't want to. Why don't I care? I care for the others, sure. They'll find some way to survive. I can't imagine anything else coming after this. Not for me.'

He sped up a bit, letting the asphalt pass beneath him.

'Maybe I'm not awake, maybe I'm already dead. None of this shit makes sense, none of my actions mean anything, it's like following a movie script. I should've gotten hurt by now. Why aren't I dead yet? I feel dead.'

He didn't realize he'd gone full throttle, completely lost in his own head.

'My kin's probably all dead. I'm glad pop wasn't alive to see this. I hope ma went quick. I'm not gonna see them again, not after the shit I've done. I wonder what hell's gonna be like'

He barely noticed the figure in the middle of the road. Her clothes hung off her, a leather jacket that was far too big and filthy. Jeans that were torn at the knees. Dirty brown hair just barely kissing her shoulders.

"Fuck-" He gripped his brakes as hard as he could, the motorcycle threatening to lose control as he swerved around her. Glazed green eyes met his as he rolled to a stop. His hands shook as his chest grew heavy.

"no… no no no this isn't real, this isn't real" his voice was distant to his own ears, shaky as the figure drew closer.

She hasn't been dead for long. She must've survived the first couple of months, if he squinted she could still be alive. He scanned her body, watching as the leather jacket shifted just enough to reveal the gaping hole in her side.

She must've died screaming.

He felt wetness on his face, paralyzed as Em drew closer to him, reaching for him as if begging for help. "I-I.. I'm sorry Em. I lied. This is all my fault, I should've been there to protect you"

He was half tempted to reach back for her, but he couldn't make his limbs move. "I joined a gang. I was selling firearms to pay for my dad's care. I should've told you, but I knew you'd hate me for it, I was scared, I'm so, so sorry." He sobbed

Em made a choked growl, only a couple feet away from him now.

Beau didn't move, unable to look away. He swallowed hard, feeling as if the earth was shaking beneath him as the roar of engines grew closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Em I'm sorry" was all he could muster as her hand gripped onto his arm. He closed his eyes tightly.

'I owe her this. This is my fault, I owe her this."

He didn't move, even as he felt her pull him closer.
There was a pop, and then his ears were ringing and his face was wet.



[/B]

[ BeyondDandy Namazu ​

 

[Namazu]

NORTHVIEW
Somewhere on the distant outskirts, on a stretch of road...​

“Fucking Christ fucking shit fuck this and fuck all these-” The train of profanities in Fish’s mind was, by this point, basically unending. He was so tired of this endless drive. All of his muscles were tense, every joint stiff. He needed a break, a smoke, a good dinner, and a long nap. By this point, he was still watching for and seeing the dead, but not truly seeing them or their gory details. His brain had long wandered off, back to thinking about dive-diner burgers with double-patties, cheese, jalapenos, bacon, and the house’s special sauce. Chocolate milkshakes. Seasoned fries. Spicy pickled green beans. Mozzarella sticks. Pecan pie. The warm cozy din of a half-full restaurant full of living people.

God did he ever want a beer, too.

Fish took in a breath and held it, trying to force all those thoughts away. Not the time. Now was not the time to slip up.

Glancing over his shoulder to his left, he made sure Auguste was still with them, giving him a chin-up gesture to acknowledge he saw the man. Turning to his left, he was about to do the same with Beau, when he realized the man wasn’t there - because he’d just sped up past them without any indication as to why. Just a rumble of engines and whoosh of wind.

Cursing under his breath, Fish glanced back, looking for some sign of danger. His first thought was trucks, given what he’d heard of convoys. The last thing they’d need was a mystery convoy appearing out of thin air to run them down too. But he saw nothing but dead. It was almost a relief. Fish gestured to Auguste to get his attention, then called out.

“Stay with the horde - I’ll see what he’s up to!” Fish waited a moment for acknowledgment, then sped up and followed Beau. Something was off, and he felt obligated to make sure Beau didn’t do anything stupid.

He almost lost Beau, but thankfully he didn’t - and as he watched Beau sit there in the center of the right lane, simply watching a dead bastard slowly lumber closer to him, he knew the man had gone and lost his shit, finally.

Moving into the left lane for a clear shot, Fish raised his pistol, took aim, and shot the undead right in the head. He grimaced, watching the way the freshly-dead corpse’s head popped and splattered Beau’s face with a spray of blood. Disgusting. Fish rolled to a quick stop next to Beau, reaching out to grab the man by the collar and shake him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Another shake. “Stick to the plan. Stick near the group. Don’t go fucking speeding off. Don’t stop for a chat with the local wildlife. And for the love of fuckin’ God, stop trying to fuckin’ get yourself killed.” Yet another shake.

“We will deal with your shit when this is done and we’re home again, but for right now, keep your shit together, Montaire.” One last shake for good measure.

“Please.”

Good_Morels NanLia BeyondDandy Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[Good_Morels]

NORTHVIEW - outskirts​

Collab with Namazu

Fish's words moved through him like water, his gaze focused on the body in front of him even as Fish shook him, a silent mantra playing on repeat in his head.

'That's my jacket. She's wearing my jacket'

Objectively, he knew she was already long gone, but he couldn't help the primal desperation clawing at his chest. He slowly twisted his fingers under Fish's methodically loosening his grip until he could step away and kneel beside the body. His hands shook as he picked her up, holding her close despite the mess that was once her head. He gripped that jacket like he would die without it, his knuckles white from the force. He was quiet for a long while before he spoke again, his voice shaking as tears fell from his face.

“Beau, what the shit-” Fish sighed, letting go of Beau’s collar and watching as he bent down to kneel beside the corpse. Nothing about this damn corpse stood out from any of the others. Roving dangers. Who cared about a jacket, what made this one special-

Fish was about ready to smack Beau upside the head and ask if he was drunk right now, too, when he spoke.

"You shot my wife."

The silence that filled the space around them after those words were said were heavy enough to pull down a building.

“Oh, shit. Beau - I’m sorry man, but… she was already gone, you know that, right? She was already dead. She would have killed you.”

Beau was quiet for another long moment before he mumbled a response.

"She's got every right."

He pulled her a little closer, hiding his tear-streaked face in her bloody shoulder. He sobbed. Underneath all the blood and rot, it still smelled like her.

"Why... why didn't I find her a month ago? Why now?" He asked, his entire body shaking now. A slow burning anger filled his stomach, boiling his blood degree by degree.

'why now? Why not when I coulda' saved her? What kind of cruel, twisted son of a bitch God would do this? Why kick me while I'm down?'

"Because it's my fault. This whole fucking thing is my fault. I killed her."

“It ain’t your fault.” Fish let out a quiet breath, sliding off his bike, putting down the kickstand, and giving the area a quick glance-around to make sure it was safe. Or safe-ish, anyway. It looked good, so Fish stood at Beau’s side. He didn’t want to get too close to the corpse - it was disgusting. And, frankly, kind of disgusting Beau was even able to hold it… her… so close.

It made him wonder if he would ever love someone so much that he’d be okay with holding on to their rotting corpse like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

He doubted it.

Fish wasn’t sure what to say here, but suddenly Beau made a hell of a lot more sense than he ever had. He felt bad for the guy, though he wasn’t sure if that was pity or something else.

He reached down, placing a hand lightly on Beau’s shoulder. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill her. These dead-shits did. This… this shit, that got loose in the world somehow. I dunno how. I don’t know if- I dunno if God did it, or nature did, or scientists did, or some fucked up government did, or a terrorist or… I just don’t know, Beau. But what I do know is it ain’t your fault.”

Beau flinched at his touch, shaking his head no. Fish didn't understand, how could he? Beau didn't quite have the words to explain it, but he tried anyway.

"She.. she don't live around here Fish. She... She was lookin' for me" His voice sounded more pathetic than he'd ever heard it as he choked back hiccuping sobs. "I.. I shoulda been there. I coulda' saved her. I know I coulda'...." he trailed off, shaking his head again.

"What stupid son of a bitch would pick this club over her? You foul, sick fucking bastard, Beau. Couldn't save your pa, couldn't save your wife, no, you gotta go around kidnappin' women and killin' kids."

Fish frowned at Beau’s comment about picking this club over her, and what he said about them.

“I don’t recall you ever participating in kidnapping women and killing kids.” He said, maybe a little too flatly and firmly than he intended. But, it was hard to argue that it if she was out here, she could have been looking. Still, he had doubts.

“If she was looking for you, how would she know to come out this way? Ain’t like she can call you or hit up your social media shit and find out where you were at. Beau, we’ve been moving around so much… you ever think it was just chance? Besides, ain’t like you-” Like you took a gun to her head yourself. No, that was all Fish. Shit, don’t say that.

“Ain’t like you meant to.”

"it don't.. it don't make any sense why she'd be out here without a reason." He mumbled. Maybe it was just fate. Maybe God hated him. It didn't matter anyways, she was still dead.

He slowly let her go, hesitating before stealing the jacket back. He couldn't quite leave all of her, even if he had probably half of her on his clothes already. With the jacket off, her town shirt and open wound was significantly more visible. Beau couldn't quite look away, even as he stood up.

"I should've been there."

Fish tucked his hands in his pockets and let his shoulders slouch, taking a step back to give Beau room as he stood. Fish shook his head.

“Life’s a lotta shoulda-coulda-wouldas, even before the dead decided to get back up.” He wasn’t sure where exactly he was going with that statement, and after he said it, it didn’t sound helpful at all.

“We should give her a proper burial.” Fish commented, after a few moments of silence, looking not at the body but at the grass and trees in the distance. He glanced behind himself - still nothing down the way, no noises from Auguste and the rest of the fanclub.

“This far out, I think we’re far enough away we can circle back to Auguste, have him speed up to join us, and we take off quick. Leave the horde out here to mill around without us. You could.. Uh.” He motioned awkwardly to the body. There was not going to be a good way to do this.

“Drape her over the back of your bike, tie her down, and we bring her back somewhere better. Get something to dig with, and do it right. What do you think of that?”

Beau was silent again, thinking hard about what Fish said. "Yeah.. I'd appreciate that." He said quietly. Emily deserved so much better than being left to rot out here.

He shoved the bloody jacket into his saddlebag and pulled out the rope he kept with him, trussing her like he would a deer. Once he was done, he stroked her back apologetically.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I'll get you put down soon." He whispered, a part of him hoping her soul wasn't there to hear him.

[/B]

​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

NORTHVIEW
Outside

Collab with NanLia
​

"Woooaaa straight in the head!" One of the enforcers laughed when Dutchess drove a bullet through Jose's skull. The sucker dropped like a sack of potatoes. Busy joking with his buddies, Toni didn't catch the moment Xander left his side. He looked over when the man was already talking to Dutchess.

Not talking. Coño

He started off after the gunshot rang in the air but Wesley was faster. He rammed into the stunned local, about to massacre his face. So Toni slowed down, his brain working on overdrive. Puppy eyes skipped to the body on the ground. Fucking Dutchess. Cabron killed fucking Dutchess!

Toni walked over to the motionless female while others rushed to stop the beating. He loudly drew in the air as he stared into the Lead Scavenger's face. Mere seconds when the idea popped to his head. He looked around and just like he expected. They were there. Two of his old gang's members marked by Mara Salvatrucha ink stood by one of the convoy vehicles. They came to help. One of them, his ex. She was a fucking bitch. But useful. And gave the best head.

He quickly looked around when coaxing the two with a hand gesture.

Neveah watched the chaos around with a subtle smirk; she’d been excited at the prospect of violence, at the thought of killing, even if it were just the already dead but the long-ass ride had paid off in spades. Dutchess ruthlessly merc’ing that nerdy teacher, followed by getting iced herself and then LT pounding the ever-loving shit out of her killer.

Honestly, this would be worth the hell LT would no doubt put them all through back at the prison. Fuck! She’d do twice the shit duty just to watch it a second time.

In all the chaos it was not lost on her the desperate and nearly erratic movements of Toni as he squirrelled out of the school, past the fighting and shouting to the dead Dutchess. She’d heard he’d been here, she’d heard he’d got here by giving Weston one hell of a blow job. And she certainly hadn’t stopped that rumour from spreading among their peers. Maybe even helped it move a bit.

She blew out a breath as he signaled, her and another nearby and she rolled her eyes, making her way to him. “Fuck do you want?” She asked, quietly, not willing to draw attention.

"Shut up and help me, Fresa." He leaned over the limp body sprawled over the ground to grab Dutchess by the shoulders. "Get her legs, mano." He spoke to the other man that approached with his ex-bitch.

Soon the girl heard the familiar tongue spill off Toni's lips. It wasn't just English and Spanish, it was their local El Salvadorian dialect twisted with prison lingo and sprinkled with some English. Nobody present there would understand but the trio.

Tino puffed the air with a grunt when lifting the blonde up, about to carry her to the closest, unloaded Samaritan van.

Neveah rolled her eyes and made a noise of annoyance in the back of her throat. She was ready to tell him to fuck right off, there was enough of a shit show going on that she did not want or need to get involved in, certainly not after she’d watched LT pop off on the rando.

She paused as Toni spoke, softly, quickly and in their native tongue made her fall silent and actually take the douchebag seriously. A quick glance over the body of the Lead Scavenger as Toni took up her shoulders and their compatriot took up her legs.

Fuck She glanced back to LT and Wes as they were gathering themselves, children had now entered the fray and it would be now or never to do this. Neveah turned to the nearest truck and whilst Toni loaded Dutchess into the back, she climbed in behind the driver's seat and started the engine. This is madness. She thought, waiting long enough for the pair to climb in before slowly rolling away from the school.

Toni knew his idea would shut her the hell up and it worked. Once the body was loaded at the back and Toni's buddy began to strap Dutchess like cargo, Toni stopped. Standing by the open doors of the van, he turned his head to watch Weston. Who hurried over to…Cabrera. Fuck, jefe was alive. Would he tell the Second in command what went down? Hell, did he know Toni was the one who shot him?

Fuck it. Fuck Cabrera and fuck Weston.

The ex-gang member hopped into the back with a glint of unwarranted anger in his eyes, slamming the doors shut. "Drive!" The vehicle rolled forth and took a turn. Moments later it was disappearing in billows of dust and behind the nearby hill.

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[Aegis]

Northview
Corridors

TW: gore
​

The hallways of Northview were choked with a silence that shook Connor's nerve upon entry. There was no response to his call, no cries, no screams, nothing. Connor started forward with his pistol outstretched in front of him-- the muzzle trained on each corner as he swept wide to see around them, and started his way through in hopes of finding someone who could inform him of Tanner's whereabouts. His approach was slow, methodical while maintaining a steady pace; it was highly likely based on the lack of viscera and signs of fighting that many-- if any, of the infected had breached into the building, yet one could never be sure.

Unfortunately, his optimistic assessment was quickly proven wrong. Smatterings of blood began to appear lacing walls in the form of spray, bloody handprints, and squirts that surrounded bullet pocks before ending in puddles of blood left vacant by their newly reanimated owners. Fear bit at his heart as he briefly considered the fact that maybe the people outside were the only ones left-- that Tanner wasn't out there and that meant the only thing stalking these halls was a terrible hunger puppeteering his corpse. Drawing him from his thoughts, a dull shuffle spiked adrenaline through his veins and saw his sidearm locked out toward the end of the darkened corridor where hastily thrown desk, beds, and other defenses could be seen piled against a door that had been forced open to scatter them; two figures sat crouched over a body that still clutched what looked to be a bloodied crowbar and absently chewed on its appendages as another infected stared at itself in the glass of a classroom window-- its forehead bouncing violently off the glass in streaks of red as it tried to assert itself toward its own reflection.

"HEY! Over here, fuckheads," Connor growled out toward the infected as they turned toward him and began to eat away at the distance between them, "that's right-- come closer..."

Connor assumed a solid shooting stance and squeezed back on the trigger with three pops: one taking off the top of the first infected and simultaneously smashing the window it had been looking into, another punching through the nose of one that staggered against the wall in a sitting position, and the third blowing out its eye socket and temple before leaving it sprawled next to the corpse it had been dining on. Connor's ears screamed as his stretched out his jaw in an attempt to pop them; it was easy to forget how loud gunshots were when inside of a building-- like a thunderstorm crashing through the halls for a quick moment. Following the shots, though, more shuffles could be heard coming from behind him and Connor turned to face the potential threat, "If you're living, make yourself know--"

However, he wouldn't be able to finish his callout as the corpse of the fallen Defender from before slammed into his side at full sprint causing him to smash against the wall and drop his weapon. Gnashing teeth snatched out toward his neck but threw himself from the wall with the arm that had collided into it and sent both of them careening onto the floor with The Soldier ending up on top, but that didn't stop the determined infected from reaching up and grabbing at the side of Connor's neck in an attempt to pull him down into its deadly embrace-- its nails carving trails through the skin on his neck as he let out a growl the pain. In a gut reaction, The Man slapped its arm away with his own before hauling back and slamming it across the face in a right hook that did absolutely nothing at its head jerked back to face him and its teeth snapped out toward the knuckles The Soldier barely managed to pull away in time. The Infected began to buck and writhe beneath Connor before launching its hips upward in a mad frenzy that sent The Man atop it staggering off to the side as it spun and mounted him this time.

"AH FUCK!"

Connor screamed out as he secured a hold on the thing's jacket and threw it off him to their side once more as it tried to dive on him-- the two twisting and rolling atop one another as The Soldier tried to break free and the creature tried to take its pound of flesh from him. Finally, they ended up with Connor on his back as the creature staggered a foot or so away from him-- just enough space for The Man to get his leg in between them, and he thrust his foot into the sternum of the creature sending it rocketing back into the wall. It quickly recovered from the blow and dove toward Connor once more, yet in the second he had bought himself he had managed to secure the pistol he dropped and threw it up between the two of them. The Infected dropped onto its prey as he shoved the barrel out and into the things mouth as its teeth gnashed and broke on the steel of the weapon-- the barrel sinking into its jaws low enough to leave its bite just centimeters from Connor's thumb aside the firearm. POP--POPOPOPOP! Five shots rung out as The Soldier frantically tore back on the trigger and blew enough skull and flesh from the creature's head that he sunk into it up to the wrist with the pop of bone and scrape of enamel-- barrel poking through the baseball hole in the back of its skull as the corpse settle atop the pike of his pistol.

"HO-FUCK! OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK!"

The Survivor ripped his weapon free from its maw-- pulling free teeth along with it, and scooted himself along the floor on his ass until he ended up with his back against the wall. However, he remembered the steps and ripped his weapon up to face what was now revealed to be a group of women-- some kids, and an unconscious man-- none of which he recognized. Connor sprung to his feet and uncoiled the sling from around his torso as he faced them down, "Uh, hey! You guys haven't seen a teenage boy around here, black hair-- Tanner is the name, have you?"

Time for answers, hopefully, reluctantly.

Miaow Tool ​

 

[Miaow]

NORTHVIEW HIGH
School Corridor​

"'Course I lived," Haewon murmured, squeezing Minnie's shoulder.

Minnie was hesitant to take the lead. She wanted to get Xander to the infirmary as quickly as she could, but... she didn't want to let go of his hand. What if this was the last time it felt... warm? She swallowed, letting her fingers slip from his.
"Uh, y-yeah," She jogged a few strides ahead, leading the small group towards the infirmary.
"If he lives, I'll kill him myself..." Haewon whispered, watching her sister rush forward.

As gunshots echoed throughout the school, she instinctively shot forward, grabbing Minnie by the shoulder. Down an adjoining corridor was a man, a stranger she didn't recognize. He was thrown against the wall by an infected. She stepped in front of her younger sister, drawing her knife. As he mutilated the undead, she pushed Minnie a little further behind her.
"Keep going-- Get to the infirmary, I'll meet you there."

Minnie was hesitant. The two had only been reunited moments before, she couldn't leave her now... but Haewon was awake, she was on her feet, she could defend herself. Xander, on the other hand...
"This way!" She called out to Connor, jogging down the corridor.

Haewon adjusted her grip on the hilt of her knife, watching the survivor approach her, calling out to her now the infected were dead. Well, re-dead. She let out a sigh as the man mentioned Tanner. No matter how much she hated that kid... she wasn't going to rat him out to a random man. Oh, that vulnerable little boy? Sure, strange man, he's upstairs, second door on the right, if you reach the labs, you've gone too far!

"What's it to you?"

Safton Tool Aegis
​

 

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW
Inside, hallway​

The sound of gunfire drew Connor's attention instantly. Apparently, there hadn't been a sweep-and-clear inside the buildings even as the dead outside were drawn away or obliterated, either due to a lack of manpower or too many hostiles within these walls. Her helmet hitting the floor was nothing in comparison to the too-loud noise of bullets in an enclosed environment, but it freed a hand to pull at......fuck, Sneakers had the bag with the extra magazines, hatchet? Hatchet. Throw if needful, jettison Xander-Dad and go hand to hand with the other hatchet, assuming the first blade hit something even remotely effective.

Hoisting Murder Moron was going to throw off her aim like hell.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Sneakers get in front of Minnie and draw a blade of her own. Good on you, Sneakers, Connor thought. But, as it turned out, their little defensive perimeter in front of the kid proved unnecessary, even as Minnie and Sneakers both urged Madison towards medical. Brown eyes had time to take in a guy that was at least 70% beard, powerfully built and good with a gun, even if he looked to be a sneeze away from outright panic.

Tanner. Alright, that explained it. Looking for a loved one in this zoo entitled him to a little panic. Especially since Tanner was apparently a teenager.

Goddamn but Xander's body seemed to be getting heavier . Following the advice of two wise, young ladies, Madison shifted the weight on her shoulders with a grunt and jerked her chin towards the hallway ahead, even as she began to walk. Her words were tossed over her shoulder, but still audible.

"Nope! Just got here. Medical's this way." Unless Sneakers had something deep to share with the man, an infirmary was as good a place as any to see about a missing person.

Madison dropped her voice down a bit and asked Minnie a relevant question, whether or not the other two followed: "Is Beard with the school or the prison?"

Miaow Aegis​

 

[Safton]

​

Northview High School​

Xander knew the signs of a concussion well. He had received more than one in his lifetime, whether it was on the wrestling mats or during a parachute exercise... the experience was never a pleasant one. That's how he knew that he was currently very, very concussed. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't muster up any sort of resistance as he was hefted up onto a strong shoulders, the feeling of weightlessness hitting him and making his stomach and head lurch -- the latter flaring up with renewed, throbbing pain. His vision swam as he caught flashes of the school's familiar tiled floor passing beneath them.

Everything felt like a dream. A bad one.

He had shot her. Shot Dutchess. He had done it knowing full well that it would likely sign his death warrant. Never in all his years had he allowed his emotions to take hold of him like they did in that moment. His parents -- both coming from broken homes -- had raised Xander to be thoughtful. Caring. Wise. He had tried to live up to that example every day of his life, to pass it on to the Marines he led and to the children he taught, to say nothing of those he was responsible for at the School. And now here he was, a murderer.

***​

His mind had twisted into a wretched void the moment he spotted Dutchess out in that courtyard. Seeing her there alongside Jose, regarding the man like he was so much trash. That's all the School and its residents had ever been to her: a way to get ahead. Pawns to manipulate and exploit for their kindness. She had taken Nari away when not even Cabrera dared to do so. She had taken the love of his life, taken Minnie and Haewon's impromptu mother. She had taken a leader away from the school. The custodian of their defenses.

Their defenses...

Xander's mind flashed back to seeing the chains cut on the back door of the school. The way someone had opened the gates for the dead. Someone. The image of Dutchess holding a gun on him -- forcing him to admit the Samaritans into their sanctuary after disabling their fence and thus making her betrayal known -- was fresh. As if it had happened only yesterday. Now to have another saboteur in their midst tearing their home apart and she was here again? It couldn't be coincidence... could it?

Then Xander watched Dutchess shoot Jose in the back like she was putting down an animal. Whatever threads his rationality had been clinging to snapped. He began marching out into the courtyard. After this there would be no going back, he knew. But maybe that was for the best. What life did he even have to go back to?

Minnie was gone. His fault.

Haewon was gone. His fault.

Nari was gone. His fault. And after what Toni had just told him about her... the rage boiling in his gut coalesced into something far more dangerous: a single-minded purpose as his pistol cleared the holster.

***
​

Xander was snapped from his reverie by a familiar voice. "Please... Mac will fix it, but you have to stay awake, okay?"

Minnie.

He fought, struggling to lift his head from the stranger's shoulder, eyes cracking open to catch a glimpse of her. His daughter, by his side -- features creased with concern. Haewon's angry tone from somewhere just out of sight. Xander saw all of this, wanting to reach out and press a hand to the young girl's cheek to make sure she wasn't some self-indulgent hallucination spawned by the concussion.

No, she was real. They both were. He felt it, knew it, even if he could only manage to lift his head and open his eyes for just a split second. That was enough. It was enough even as he heard unfamiliar voices, sounds of a struggle. Shouts to get him to the infirmary.

None of that mattered... Minnie was right: everything was going to be okay now. Because his girls were here.

As his head settled back into place on the stranger's shoulder, the pain seemed to melt away. The darkness took Xander... but it did so with a smile on his face.

Miaow Bullyboy Squad Aegis Tool Togy NanLia Namazu
​

 

[Aegis]

Northview
Corridors​

Connor was near stunned as the older of the bunch point-blank told him she didn't know but that they were going to the infirmary. As they rushed past, his head turned to follow their shrinking figures down the hallway even as the ice of nerves chained him to the floor where he stood. A white veil settled over his face as the blood drained form his features, but that only seemed to cause him to grip his weapon harder. The idea that Tanner was in the infirmary of all places was one that stuffed his gut full of nausea and terror. Could he--? Was he bit? Could Connor do what he--? Would he even let THEM do it? His eyelids twitched in stress as his face stretched in uncertain ponderance of what he would do. Finally, he seemed to register the other girl approaching.

She seemed like she had a chip on her shoulder the way she swaggered up to him all knives and furrowed brows until she let it out in a sigh, "Well, I'm his dad. That's what it is to me."

A part of him was grateful that she was being cautious on Tanner's behalf. After all, it could've been anyone asking about him, and least of all she'd want him to give his kid's whereabouts to someone like Cabrera. The Soldier gave sigh that emptied out the building stress in his heart as he continued, "Listen, I'm sorry. My name is Connor, and I didn't mean to give you any attitude. It's just... well, look around. I NEED to know if he's okay!"

Connor's pleading hopefully wouldn't fall on deaf ears, but he made no movements that would unsettle the girl before him. The last thing he wanted to do was to get run up on with a knife and have to do something they would both regret. Plus, Connor was sure that she was just looking out for her people.

"Please."

Miaow Tool Safton ​

 

[Miaow]

SCENE ONE
Northview High
​

Haewon raised an eyebrow. Tanner's dad? God, she wanted to give him a piece of her mind. He should've raised his little brat better. He'd created a tiny psycho and, from the way he killed those infected, maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree. How'd they get separated, anyway? She and Minnie were attached at the hip, she'd never let them get separated for too long. She lowered her knife as he pleaded with her, hand on her hip.

"He came to find my sister earlier. Left a bunch of kids for dead. He said he was leaving the school, fuck knows if he actually made it." She murmured with a shrug, "Look, we're a bit busy. You can come with us, if you want. If he fucked it up and hurt himself, he'll be in the nurse's office." Not that she cared where he went, anyway.

She kept her knife drawn, especially now there was a strange man claiming to be Tanner's dad joining their ranks. She jogged a few strides to catch up with Madison, making sure her sister was still in view.

Minnie paused to think at Connor's question, keeping her feet moving as they approached the infirmary.
"I don't know, I don't know who he is," She told her, though her brain was elsewhere. She didn't really care who Beard was, she just wanted to get to the infirmary as soon as possible. She slowed her pace for a moment to check on Xander. He'd gone limp again. Her chest felt tight. Her hands were clammy. She just wanted him to be okay. He'd promised. He promised the four of them would be okay, like they always were. He promised.

"I'm gonna make sure Mac knows we're coming!" She told Madison, running ahead of the group.
"Minnie, be careful!" Her sister yelled after her, watching her disappear around a corner.

Aegis Safton Tool Togy
​

 

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW
Inside, towards the infirmary ​

With every step, Madison was reminded just how much she loathed carrying bodies. Burial, burning, chucking in a pit, or to an infirmary, it didn't matter, they all weighed the fuckin' same, and that was too damn much. Sneakers' words floated up to Madison in bits and pieces, something about kids, something about leaving, and that was about it. Minnie's answer to the hunter's question was far more interesting. If Beard wasn't with the Prison and wasn't with the School, well he sure as shit wasn't with the motorcycle club so....... who?

Sneakers flew back to Minnie's side and then the smaller of the pair flew forwards, reassuring carrier, carried, and Sneakers that 'Mac' would be informed of their oncoming arrival. Stupid goddamn kids and their stupid goddamn overabundance of energy. Youth was wasted on the young. Upon Minnie's departure, Madison could have sworn that Xander got heavier, as though the kid had unwittingly been carrying a bit of the weight, or perhaps had loaned Madison a few years. Madison had felt the man on her back stir earlier, when Minnie had held out a hand for his limp one, but Xander hadn't tried to take a chunk out of Madison's side or reach for veal, so Madison let him be. He'd gone limp again after that. Still no biting, though.

How old was Minnie? It was hard for Madison to tell. Kids weren't exactly her strong suit.

At least the girl by her side was virtually grown. Minnie had already pegged Beard as being not one of the Prison or School folk, and it was likely Sneakers knew what was what. Besides, teenagers were usually shit liars, and any need to lie in the first place would be just as telling as anything else.

"What's the deal with the prison people and the school people? Hired protection? Some kinda takeover? There's no wrong answer and I'm not gonna hurt you whatever you say. I just wanna understand. I'm not with either of them"

The woman spoke at a normal volume, neither loudly nor quietly. Madison was too damn tired for sneaky and her patience for bullshit was wearing thin as spider silk.

Aegis Miaow ​

 

[Namazu]

AND

NORTHVIEW
The Courtyard​

Somewhere off in the distance Weston could hear some of his enforcers calling out to each other as they picked their way through remaining biters, took care of the dead so that they wouldn’t rise, and - if he was being honest - probably finished off a few of the living that were as good as dead already. He wasn’t going to ask about any mercy killings. He didn’t need to know. That faint ’Don’t! Don’t do it-” blended into the background of his mind as he carefully picked his way through the yard, over and around bodies, eyes up and down to make sure he didn’t get caught unawares, hardly paying attention to anything else.

The sight of a young girl sprinting through the yard some feet past him like he didn’t even exist, followed by a slightly older girl, made him pause. He glanced over his shoulder to see where they were headed, frowning as he saw them run towards Madison and the probably-unconscious, maybe-dead man she was hauling. Hauling like the sack of shit he is. Probably better it was her dealing with the kids too, not him. When he turned forward again, he had to do a double take at the grime-covered, injured mess in front of him. The sight was shocking, and he felt his heart drop a bit.

“Ignacio?!” Weston called out, wincing as he broke into a jog to close the remaining distance between himself and where Cabrera lay on the ground. Pain be damned, he dropped to his knees at Cabrera’s side and grabbed the man’s shoulder, squeezing it.

“Ignacio, talk to me - you alright? Tell me you didn’t get bit.”

Ignacio watched the kids go with one eye cracked open. The other closed with the blood stinging it. He kept his hand pressed to the heavily bleeding side of his head, sliced across his temple and down to his jaw. He already ripped the short sleeves and lower hem of his t-shirt off when wrapping his leg. Now left just in his pants, boots and a vest, he didn't have any fabric he could use to stop the bleeding.

Weston's voice rippled down his neck and spine. Ignacio silently welcomed the touch when the other caught his shoulder. It helped to ground Cabrera before his world could shrink into blackness that wavered at the corner of his vision.

"I'm not…" He grunted when sitting down. Wildfire of pain spread across his asscheek and down his thigh where the shrapnel once was. "I don't think I am." He… wasn't sure. But the medics had to check him right? He couldn't be fucking bit...

Weston breathed a sigh of relief that at least Cabrera hadn’t been bitten. Not that he wasn’t still worried, but at least one sure-fire death sentence had been avoided. He let go of Cabrera only long enough to pull a red bandana out of his pocket - the only thing he had on him that was decently clean and not bloody already.

“You kinda look like shit, but you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Weston grinned as he commented, prying Cabrera’s hand off his face so Weston could press the bandana on it instead. “Hold this here,” he instructed, though he kept that hand pressed against Cabrera’s face as if he was reluctant to let go quite so soon. He took a moment to study Cabrera’s face, and to look him in the eye. Despite the relief, Weston still had an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry it took us so goddamn long to get here. Honest to God, I tried everything to get here sooner. I even asked King to use the helicopter and he said no.” He sounded deeply apologetic.

“I’ll tell you all about it a bit later, but - everything that could go wrong, did.” He shifted on his knees, movement hurting his side and making him wince.

“Please tell me this place has some kind of doctor. Fuck, I’d even take a veterinarian or just the school nurse at this point.”

Thoughts rattled and blended in his head like in a cocktail shaker. Cabrera's unnaturally dark eye traced the other's face when they leveled. He exhaled sharply as the fabric pressed to his face and his weaker palm touched Weston's knuckles. There was no anger, just confused relief at the explanation.

"Some strangers... They came to rescue." He slowly glanced down, fixing his gaze on the large stain that didn't look like a splatter of rotten blood but fresh red that sipped from whatever wound was hidden behind the shirt.

"You're hurt." He muttered and began to sluggishly shift, to get his ass up. He had to take the other to the infirmary. Then he would need to see what orders were due and what else he would have to get done. Before he would finally follow the medics' orders and get some rest.

"Yeah. I got shot. Its fine." None of that was fine, but he wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. Not while he was still able to move - he was too focused on getting Cabrera back on his feet. Weston pushed through the pain and stood back up, offering a hand to Cabrera. He'd haul the man to his feet if he needed to.

"I hope you can walk... because I don't think I could carry you there anymore."

Bullyboy Squad NanLia Safton Tool Miaow BeyondDandy Crono Aegis Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat ​

 

[Aegis]

Northview
Corridors​

What was that look in her eye? Even as she spoke, he felt a poison in her words, daggers stabbing out it him from her eyes, her words grating at his stomach even as he was forced to swallow them down. She was judging him. Connor was no mind-reader, but it was clear she felt a certain type of way about him after that; judging by her phrasing, it sounds like she had a problem with Tanner. The Soldier was still sifting through the rubble of his brain when it finally caught up to the fact she said he abandoned kids. That was the first thing she said that got an overt reaction from him in the form of the stunned expansion of his eyes, "What do you mean--"

What does HE mean what does she mean? She just told him: Tanner left some kids behind when this all started. Connor's eyes darted left and right as if shelter from the earthquakes she was sending through his thoughts could be found right there, but nothing even remotely comfortable could even begin to be found-- his eyes stopping to rest on the milky whites of the infected he had just massacred. No, well-- maybe? He was such a nice kid, though. How--?

'You have to be strong enough to survive on your own out here-- either that, or you're dead. I won't always be there for you.'

Connor fell utterly still as that piece of advice bubbled back up into the front of his mind from deep wherever he had forgotten it. Really, it had been months since he had to say it-- ever since the Samaritans tore them off the street. I mean, he's fourteen, he was probably just scare-- no. No. Connor had seen him kill two or three infected like it was nothing, but-- then again, a horde isn't just two or three infected.

Eyes. The Soldier remembered some kind of look in the boys eyes-- it had really stood out to him when Sam had a knife to his throat; there was a hollowness like a puzzle missing a piece-- the big picture was there but it wasn't the whole thing. No. He's a good kid! Chloe said so-- Chloe, the woman who had given him nothing but treats and love, of course he would treat her well. Was there anything wrong with that? Was there anything wrong with prioritizing people? Everyone still alive had prioritized someone above someone else in this hell of a world, but the issue-- as he was gathering, was that he prioritized himself over other children.

Children. If ever there was a sensitive subject in the world, that was it. Did Tanner have a duty to help them because he can do a better job of defending himself? Maybe...

How easy would it be for any adult to defend a bunch helpless kids against the dead? Now, how easy for another kid? Did he even care?

Connor had shot a man in cold blood-- in front of his family, to get medicine for Tanner when it was life or death. How far fetched would it be to abandon a bunch of dead weight to make it back to the ones you love? Really, what kind of childhood was roving around with a disturbed soldier just scraping by and fighting every day for more than a year just to do it again the next day? One where he was still alive-- Connor guessed, but what would that do to a kid?

The Soldier broke contact with the corpses eyes and locked them instead with the knife-wielding girl before him in a stare that was as if he gazed into her soul for an answer that wasn't in his own, "I see."

That was all he could manage-- neutral, diplomatic, undecided. Secretly, though, Connor couldn't be mad at Tanner for doing what he did; if it was him in a room full of unfamiliar, uncapable children with hundreds of the dead between him and seeing Chloe or Tanner ever again, then he might make the same choice. Did that make them heartless, realistic, psychotic?

Connor broke the eyes contact with a shake of his head, "Let's get moving, then. I just hope he didn't get out into that mess."

He followed the girl back up to the others, but kept a healthy distance between them as the weight of the previous conversation hung around his neck in hundreds of iron links of discomfort and doubt. What kind of father had he been? He tried his best...

Fuck, he wasn't even his REAL dad; Connor had shot him. Maybe Tanner needed someone with actual parenting skills-- not just someone who kept them both alive.

Connor's pace slowed even still as they gained on what looked to be an infirmary-- his every step leaded down with the weight of his newfound conundrum. All the while, a pain tore at his heart.

Tool Miaow Safton ​

 

[Miaow]

Northview High
School Corridor
​

Haewon stifled a laugh at Madison's question.
"Hired protection? Does it look like they've done any protecting?" She asked, an eyebrow raised, "Have you seen my sister's arms?"
Minnie had rounded a corner, out of view, but she'd lost Xander's jacket to Cabrera in their scuffle. Beneath was her pyjama top, the sleeves just grazing her elbow. Below that, her flesh was exposed to air, the old scars out for everyone to see. They looked like thick welts, like her forearms had been slashed with a leather whip.
"And this?" She pointed to the scar by the outer corner of her left eye, "The 'prison people' did this. Did all of this."

There were so many things she could say, so many stories she could tell, but getting Xander to the infirmary was the priority.
"That guy outside, the one who grabbed my sister? He's their leader. Well-- Not their leader leader, I'm pretty sure there's someone above him. He was the one that brought all the prison people here, they're called Samaritans because they save people," She explained, keeping a hand on Xander's shoulder. Maybe she could take some of the weight off, get them to the infirmary faster, "so far they've just gotten people killed. Just their presence--"

She huffed, growing frustrated.
"They're assholes. Pervy, disgusting, heartless assholes."

---

Minnie sprinted down the corridor, her one remaining shoe thudding against the linoleum floor. She had to make sure Mac knew they were coming, then he'd be ready. As the door came into view... so did a familiar face.

Well, semi-familiar. She wasn't even sure what her name was. Diedre? Dianne? She wasn't mean, but she wasn't friendly, either. Well, she could walk, so that meant she could help.
"HELP! My dad needs help!" She yelled, pointing behind her so Destany knew where he was coming from, where she needed to go to help them. She stopped just short of Desiree, slamming the infirmary door open with her shoulder.

"Mac! It's Xander, he got beat up real bad," She called out for anyone in the room to hear, "You have to help him!"

Aegis Safton Tool Togy
​

 

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW
Inside​

Madison's stomach twisted at the stifled laughter; it was bitter and sharp enough to cut in whatever direction was required and a sad sign of the times that a sound like that could come out of the lips of someone who should have been going to senior prom and tearing open letters from college saying Congratulations! or After A Careful Review Of Your Application..... Connor felt as though she should apologize on behalf of the fuckin' grown-ups in the room for letting things get bad enough that innocence was squeezed right out of teenage girls like soapy water from a dishtowel..... right up until the detective's eyes caught sight of the scars on Minnie's arms.

Connor's eyes darkened few shades.

There had been armed people, fighting the dead outside, but had they been fighting to save their skins, protect an asset, or protect people? There was only one right answer to that question, though there was a ranking system of douchebaggery if it proved needful. Though she hadn't rightly been paying attention to the kerfuffle between the living as she'd been carrying Xander towards the front doors, Connor rewound the memory in her mind as she walked and played it back. Yes. There had been a bandaged guy, holding Minnie back from getting involved in the violence between Murder Moron here, Scruff McDuff, and herself.

Shrapnel Ass. Yeah. That'd been the guy who'd thrown himself between Madison and the exploding toy, presuming his abs or glutes would be better protection against shrapnel than the armor Madison herself wore (though she couldn't really blame the guy - she'd have done the same). Now that was interesting.

Why would the leader of an invading force go out of their way to help some rando in a helmet, especially if the rando in question had more than proven themselves to be a threat? Instinct? A very misplaced sense of camaraderie? Even astonishing douchebags could prove heroic....... but it was rare. So..... why?

The scar on Sneakers' face got an equally level look, and the anger that flooded Madison's body chased away the exhaustion, and Xander got a lot lighter. Samaritans. That was the name for the Prison People: Samaritans.

In Madison's limited experience, the more emphatically and grandly a person or group tried to proclaim themselves, the less they'd earned it. There was typically nothing to fear from a man who called himself 'Night Stalker' or 'Switchblade Sam' - the dude to fear was going to be named 'Little Fred', and any group calling themselves 'the Samaritans' or 'the Saints' or 'the Gandhis' weren't going to have earned the title.

They're assholes. Pervy, disgusting, heartless assholes.

Was this why Weston had so earnestly asked Madison for the benefit of the doubt a few small eternities ago? Was this why he'd asked for her word? Had he played her? Pegged her for a rube? Gotten her help and her word for a freebie while helping pervy, disgusting, heartless assholes? Fuck, she hoped not. She hoped Weston was better than that, but Madison was prepared to be proven wrong. It was not beyond reason that a teenager was prone to the overdramatic, that Sneakers might have been overstating things....... but the scars on the Minnie's arms spoke volumes.

Madison owed Shrapnel Ass for throwing himself between her and harm, and Weston had wrung a freebie out of her some ages ago. Time would tell how quick the two men would burn through the leeway they had.

The infirmary was as most such things were, after an event like this one, and Madison quickly deposited the wet pile of Xander on the nearest flat surface.

'Dad', Minnie had called him. Sorry, kid. So, so sorry. Madison left the two girls to their kin and put a hand on Beard Guy's upper shoulder, trying to catch his attention and keep it for a sliver of a second.

"They say you're not with the prison people. Tell me what you know of the Samaritans, quickly. Use small words and short sentences. I'm stupid."

Aegis Miaow Namazu​

 

[Togy]

NORTHVIEW
Medbay​

Minnie burst through the medbay doors with a shourt of "Mac! It's Xander, he got beat up real bad! You have to help him!"

Mackenzie nearly fumbled and dropped the instruments he was hastily filing away. Everything was happening so fast at this point that work had turned into two lists of what he had to do immediately before someone died and what he could put off for at least a few minutes. Him and Pandora had had to handle four patients so far today, but that had already stretched the capabilities of their impromptu infirmary-their supplies even moreso.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Mack grumbled, bundling up the medical instruments he'd just tried to sort and throwing them on the neartest tray. A kid from a car crash, Cabrera with shrapnel in his ass, and now Xander was getting carried in after the tragic loss of his good looks. How was everyone finding the time to fuck themsleves over this badly while simultaneously battling the undead? That sounded like too much effort for Mack, he usually just made breakfast and most of his energy was gone for the day.

"Alright, set him down there," Mack said pointing to a bed and moving off to grab a small table to cart next to it just as someone he'd never seen before set Font down on the bed. He didn't look in a good way, but neither had Harry but he'd still pulled the fucker from the great beyond so this could be a sinch. Unless Font was already dead. Mack hoped not, he sort of liked the guy.

"Fill me in," Mack ordered, leaning over Font's limp body and inspecting his head, "What happened, is anything broken, and most importantly, how long has he been unconscious?"

Miaow Safton Aegis Tool ​

 

[Aegis]

Northview
Infirmary​

The girl seemed to barely pay attention to his response as she peeled away and back over to the group from before-- probably her loved ones. Every footfall she took away from him was a widening gap between him and the people here, and perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe he just felt to himself that it was a good thing. He was hurting because these people didn't want him here and not because he was a fuck up and a failure and--

No. This was on him. Connor could've slapped himself in the face for trying to steer the blame away from himself. Whatever it was that was mixing up his emotions with a cheese grater was entirely his fault, and god it sucked the life from him. The man slowed to a veritable crawl as the group from before disappeared into the infirmary. There were shouts, questions, pleas. The Soldier stopped and propped his left arm into the window sill of a large bay window barred over with thick wooden planks-- orange beams from the newly risen sun squeezing through their weary frames. All of the energy and adrenaline had sudden rebounded on him as the adrenaline faded from his veins and left him exhausted, his self-image shattered like a vase across the tile floor of the school, his heart unsure if he should even round the corner and see if Tanner was really there. What good would that do?

For a moment, Connor's head fell slack on his shoulders and he stared-- unblinking, toward the floor as utter blankness conquered his mind. It seemed to him that if he lost that last little bit of fight in him that he may crumbled to the floor and blow away in flecks of dust, so he couldn't dare sink that low. Not yet. Not when just an hour ago he decided that all hope wasn't gone from the world-- that the light of his soul hadn't been snuffed out just yet. Perhaps, this was the universe's way of correcting things; he had pierced the darkening veil of misery that shrouded the world for just a moment, and like Icarus he had flown too close to the Sun, optimism-- the dream of a tomorrow better than this. There was nothing better than this.

God-- if he existed, had slapped him back down into the dirt so fast that his mind spun to steady itself from the self-inflicted whiplash. Damn him. Connor would spit in his face if he could! Fuckin' self-idolizing prick. He used to believe in his good nature-- his plan, right up until he saw an infected for the first time. If God existed, then why was the world so fucked up? Humans had done this all themselves, and he was right there with them, now. What was he thinking? The world was no place for any heroes, and Connor Riley certainly was NO hero.

A touch on his shoulder. A question.

"Huh?"

Connor snapped free from the hold of his thoughts as he laid eyes on the older woman from before, "What did you say?"

The Soldier stared blankly for a moment before he dug back into his brain and processed the woman's request, "Oh, yeah, sure."

The Man gathered himself and his thoughts in order to speak. His face was creased in a colossal effort to separate his previous topic from the information she wanted, blood had dried in his hair and face streaking all the way down to a now-ruined long-sleeve, and his face seemed to have sunken like he had aged ten years in this hallway since they had last spoken.
Connor looked back over his shoulder to make sure nobody unsavory was about to hear what he was going to say. His face seemed to fill with purpose once more, "They're fucking evil-- straight up."

He brought his voice down to a hush, "Gladiator arenas, sex slaves, Feudal power structure-- you name it. Took me and my kid off the street by force and then forced me to fight for their entertainment. Held my kid from me-- he's supposed to be somewhere over here. They lorded him over me so I couldn't resist. The Samaritans beat people down to keep them in line and take what they want. From my understanding, they took this place. Cabrera said he wanted to make it better-- to help them, but they're all only helping themselves."

A sudden wave of shame stormed upon him condemning someone else, and so he seemed to throw himself to her feet in slight judgement even if she probably couldn't tell, "I'm not a stranger to having my moments in order to survive, but I don't make a living of it. I'm practically a slave in their army. I'm only working somewhere half-way decent over there because of an injury they gave me and Weston. Ah-- not that you'd know who that is! He's like their second in command."

Connor drew himself back into the line of information she wanted to know, "They're shacked up at a prison a good ways away on foot-- maybe a few hours by vehicle. 'King' sits on top and he rules The Castle with an iron fist. Listen, take your biker friends and get out of here while you still can. They've got everyone here outnumbered and outgunned. They have a FUCKING helicopter! You can kick, scream, whatever. It won't matter once they've decided what they want with you."

The Soldier's countenance darkened, "You can fight from what little I saw. You--and any other capable chicks, might get to be on patrol, the wall, scavenge. Most of the other women-- well..."

He let her fill in the blanks, "The men will be broken down, and then turned into conscripts. It won't be pretty for anyone. Blood has already been spilled between you guys, and that's the kind of thing that brings punishment regardless of you helping save this place."

Connor's eyes grew wide as he realized just how deeply he had internalized what he had been through and how much they had already broken him down. Despite his best efforts, he was a cog in the machine just like everyone else now, and that only added to twisting of his guts. He was a coward. A failure. A terrible father-figure. A follower.

"That's all I can say, and probably all you need to know. Run."

Connor brushed past her. He needed to flee all these glimpses into himself and find somewhere to-- he didn't know, DO SOMETHING. Distract himself.

The Soldier pushed his way through the doorway and scanned the infirmary. Blood was everywhere-- bodies too. People were scrambling around in either panic or manic attempts to stabilize the growing number of patients. There was a stretcher in the corner with a smaller figure on it; the figure wasn't much smaller, but clearly it was no adult. It was caked in blood that stemmed from multiple headwounds, the white of the sheets stained a sickening red, a weak rise and fall of the chest was the only indication of life. In that moment, Connor's soul fled from his body. He advanced forward across the room with all the motor control of a body marionetted by strings in the awkward jerks of his movement. It was as though his body was fighting to stay away, but his mind powered him forward until he was in full view of the purpled mess of Tanner's face. The Boy's eyes rolled as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

A squeak of horror sounded from Connor's throat as he smashed to his knees in an instant-- his rifle clattering onto the floor simply hung from his sling, as he went slack; the triangle formation of his body pressed backward into his thighs the only thing keeping him upward as he stared at the ceiling in utter shock. This. This was his reward for living: Misery. This was his price to pay for hubris: agony. This was his fault. If only he hadn't fought Cabrera, maybe--

If only he had never approached Freddie, maybe--

If only he had never decided to go North that day, maybe--

If only--

If only.

Then, maybe.

Maybe.

Tool Miaow Namazu Safton Togy ​

 

[Miaow]

Northview High
Infirmary
​

Haewon rushed in behind her sister, helping Madison set their patient down on the table.
Ah fuck, the sit-rep... Her mind raced. She'd heard their medics give a bunch of them, she'd even given Pandora one when her sister was hurt, but that was only one, she hadn't quite gotten the hang of getting it succinct.

"Uhh-- He shot Dutchess, one of the Samaritans pinned him. He hit his head on the concrete, lots of blood outside," She explained, glancing towards her sister. God, this felt wrong. She shouldn't be saying this in front of her, "He's been in and out since."
Shouldn't you be the one telling us if anything's broken... how am I supposed to know?!

"He woke up on the way here!" Minnie told him, anxiously fidgeting with her hands as she watched Xander. She knew she had to stay out of the way, she knew she'd be no help if she panicked, but... she just wanted to hold his hand. She stood by the edge of his bed, squeezing his fingers tightly. He was still warm so that was good, right? She couldn't even recognize his face anymore. He didn't look like Xander anymore. She sniffled, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.
"Wake up... open your eyes, please... It's okay, it's okay... Just open your eyes..." She whispered over and over, her vision blurred by tears.

As their new acquaintance clattered to the floor in the corner, Haewon grabbed her sister. Men like that shouldn't be armed, and now he was having a meltdown in the corner, his rifle still hanging from his broken form. He was dressed like a Samaritan, he fought like a Samaritan, and she certainly wasn't going to give him the benefit of the doubt. That was how you got raped, mutilated and killed.
"Wait outside--"
"NO! I wanna stay with Xander!"
Haewon took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look her in the eye.
"I'll tell you everything I know as soon as I know it. Go outside, please. Just trust me."
Minnie was hesitant, looking back to Xander one last time. What if this was the last time she saw him breathing? She swallowed, squeezing his hand tightly before weaving her way through the crowd of injured patients and worried bystanders.
"Someone get that gun off of him," She murmured, looking to the adults surrounding her. She didn't care who did it, as long as he didn't have the chance to use it.
"I'll help, just tell me what to do," She instructed Mac.

Minnie wasn't sure what to do. She wanted to pace but the muscles in her legs burned, the gash on her ankle stinging with each step... but sitting still felt wrong. She had too much anxious energy to sit still. She wasn't being helpful if she sat still, but she wasn't being helpful at all when she was sat out in the corridor. Her legs trembled as she slowly lowered herself to the ground, her back against the wall separating her from the infirmary. She could hear a soft buzz of what was going on inside, slowly pulling her knees up to her chest as she listened out for Xander's name.

Aegis Safton Tool Togy
​

 

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW
Infirmary​

As one Connor listened to another, understanding grew on the smoother of the two faces, and a look of naked surprise was a breeze across the stormy sky of Madison's features before it returned to its growing tempest. Fury was building there, and incredulity at the frankly astonishing stupidity of three out of three of the compounds she'd encountered or heard of in as many days.

A helicopter? A fuckin' helicopter?

Madison had seen the walking dead keep trucking in the general direction of prey for days at a time, and somebody at the prison complex thought a helicopter was a bang-up idea? Did they think zombies wouldn't notice a big, noisy, unusual, maybe-food thing fly that-a-way? Was this an invisible helicopter? Did they doubt the dedication of the dead to follow the food? What kind of ass-clown thought a helicopter was a decent use of resources and effort when so much in the way of basic, kindergarten-level common sense had been completely ignored?

Someone who was all sizzle and no steak, that was who.

With some effort, Madison stopped herself from face-palming her forehead right off her skull. In these dark days, it seemed like common sense was a superpower on par with laser-eyes or bulletproof boobs.

Morons. God-damned morons.

Gladiator arenas, sex slaves, blackmail, and general slavery, to say nothing of the scars on the kid's arms........ every one of those was a tick against the Samaritans. How quick were Cabrera and Weston burning through the leeway a promise and a saved life had bought them? Astonishingly.

A teenager's word Madison could have chalked up to hyperbole, but the Samaritans were 0 for 2 on being the good guys.

This King of theirs had no leeway to burn trough, no debts to be paid and no promises to be kept. Madison would be sure, had to be sure, but there was already the outline of King's name on a very short list of people Madison kept in a very personal, very fatal roster. That Weston was King's second was....... a rather personal betrayal. Didn't matter. She'd keep her word, regardless of whether or not Weston had kept up his end.

She didn't bother correcting Beard Guy that her 'biker friends'........ weren't. He looked like he already had enough on his plate without adding to the pile, and it was a difference without a distinction anyhow, at least in the moment. The bikers had been around, and though the character of its members varied, the Fallen Angels were led by a psycho who could play tiddlywinks alongside King Samaritan in hell. The fact that the majority of Fallen Angels would follow such a leader spoke volumes on their character or courage or both (or perhaps a sudden psychotic break in their leader).

Humanity had gone from throwing feces at one another to landing a rocket on the fucking moon and both Fallen Angel and Samaritan alike were flushing that heritage down the crapper, acting as though being isolationist pusbuckets was the way to survive. To thrive.

Two of the bikers had even asked Madison to stick around, try to change things from the inside. As though psychos who used zombies as weapons of mass destruction could be reasoned with. As though slavers and tyrants should be tolerated and talked down, as though they retained some special armor that kept them bulletproof........ as though she could ever, ever follow someone whose moral repugnance would make it impossible to look at herself in the mirror.

Madison didn't want to die....... but boy oh boy did people let fear rule their actions. If people like Hank and King could shed wee social mores that kept them from mass murder, what invisible chains were keeping decent folk from doing what was needed? What, exactly, did people have to lose? Brown eyes looked down at her gloves, duct-taped at the seam to her leathers and armor, blackish-red in spots and covered with evidence of death of all sorts.

A keening, despairing noise drew her attention towards Beard Guy, falling to his knees beside a teenager whose face looked like a pound of ground chuck.

Well, that was an answer. One of the few acceptable ones. What did the decent people in the world have to lose by pushing themselves beyond the bounds of what they believed possible? One another. That's what they had to lose.

A memory came to mind, one that Madison looked at frequently, polishing it in her mind's eye until it shone like a mirror, holding her accountable and reminding her why she fought. Her hands clenched, her leather clad left fist making a tiny noise against the rim of her bike helmet.

Sneakers' request for someone to take away Beard Guy's gun was met with a firm shake of Madison's head.

"I wouldn't do that 'less you're looking to get shot. He just found who he'd kill to protect. Might take it personal. Besides - he's not one of the bad guys."

Blood has already been spilled between you guys, and that's the kind of thing that brings punishment regardless of you helping save this place.

Blood did call out for blood, and that was a demand that Madison had followed every damn day since the world ended........ but probably not in the way Beard Guy imagined.

"Hey. Sneakers. Where's my bag?"

It was time to find the jackasses in charge on the local scene and see, exactly, what sorts of men they turned out to be and why.

It was time to find Shrapnel-Ass-Cabrera (He's their leader. Well-- not their leader leader) and Make-Me-A-Promise Weston (He's like their second in command).

Miaow Aegis Togy Bullyboy Squad Namazu ​

 

[Safton]

​

Northview High School Courtyard​

It had taken a moment for Wesley to register just what was happening as Toni approached along with his "crew". Wes recognized most of them, but couldn't muster up the mental bandwidth to remember all their names just now. He saw them lifting Dutchess out from under him, the gears in his head turning as a frown of confusion formed when they began moving... not toward the school, but toward the nearby van.

"Toni?" he asked. The man either didn't hear him or didn't care to respond.

"Toni, what the fuck?!" the Enforcer repeated, more loudly this time. The van's engine roared to life and Weston was up on his feet, staggering toward it. It bucked and kicked off away from him, toward the road. Wes hissed a curse under his breath, moving to double back toward the truck he had arrived in, his heart pounding in his chest. He made it to the driver's side door, fumbling for the keys and dropping them before growling at his own goddamned incompetence as he reached down and snatched the metal things. Wesley climbed in... and stopped.

The van was little more than a distant shape on the horizon now, a dust cloud in its wake. He couldn't begin to imagine why Toni had taken Dutchess. Everything in his body language was wrong for someone carrying someone away for medical attention or... funeral rites. Emmett swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel so fiercely in his palms that he thought he might tear it free of the column. "Goddamn it!" he shouted, his roar echoing inside the cab of the truck as he pounded a fist against the console. Pain and rage, red-hot and directionless for the moment, flowed through him.

That bastard from the School had shot Dutchess in cold blood. And he had let it happen. Wes would settle the score. One way or another... he'd settle the score. His eyes flicked toward the rear view mirror, something catching his eye. A pack... Dutchess's bag. Wes pursed his lips, taking a deep breath before turning in his seat and reaching out to grab the ruck, bringing it toward him. Samaritans were relentless, brutal pragmatists. With news of Dutchess being shot, scavengers would descend looking for the things she had left behind. It was an open secret that she likely had some prodigious stashes of goods somewhere. He would keep this little piece of her safe from those vultures... keep it for himself, even if he didn't have the courage to open it just yet. It wasn't much, but it was something.

NanLia Bullyboy Squad Namazu Aegis Good_Morels BeyondDandy Tool
​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

NORTHVIEW
Outside by the van
​

Pandora skidded into the hallway, watching as Cabrera hobbled around a corner. For a man who'd just had shrapnel removed from his ass, he was fast.
"Fuck sake-- I'm gonna make sure he doesn't get himself killed," She called out to Mac, jogging down the corridor after him. She wasn't sure why she was determined to keep him alive. In her experience, he was kind of an asshole. Maybe she was worried her handywork would go to waste. She'd spent so long picking shrapnel out of him, she wasn't going to let him fill himself with any more.

She somehow lost him in the labyrinth of corridors. Slippery bastard. She huffed, shoving a door open. She emerged into the sunlight, squinting as it stung her eyes. She stumbled, almost falling over a corpse. Christ. She struggled to find any concrete peeking through the bloodshed. She swallowed. The stink of blood and rot was thick... It was days like these that she was grateful for the gross shit she saw in surgery.

She scanned the front of the school, hearing Cabrera's voice, Minnie's screams. She took an anxious breath, wading through the corpses to try and get a better look... Then, ahead of her, a call for help. She ran towards the injured man and his friends slung him over their shoulders.
"What happened?" She called out to them, pulling the penlight from her breast pocket to check his pupils.


Frank was taking care of the situation near the gym and at the back of the school but as soon as he was done he heard the word. About Cabrera being down. Without it showing in his face, the man rushed for the infirmary with a pang of worry. He didn't want to believe the man was dead. He couldn't…

Gone. He heard Cabrera left on his own two feet. What a relief.

DiAngelo marched along the hallway towards the exit when he heard a shot pierce the silent courtyard strewn with the lifeless remains of the defeated horde. He arrived to see the aftermath. He couldn't do much more since the Second In Command was engaged in the incident. So instead he followed the medic towards what could be a threat. The strange van that pulled up with new faces spilling out. The bloodsoaked mess of a man stark against friends that carried him.

Pandora was already there so he sped up and hollered right after her question. "Who the hell are you and why are you here?!"


Wess was still warm, which didn't mean anything but Kit took some comfort in it as they dragged him out of the van. The rest of the camp wasn't so lucky, there had to be hundreds of corpses littering the yard. He narrowed his eyes as he studied one's features; it had to have been lying there for ages to be in that condition. Were they just ignoring the bodies?

Voices caught his attention and made his head snap towards them. "Kit Stryker, Sir, Combat medic" he introduced quickly, the line well rehearsed by now. "Our guy's been hurt real bad, we gotta get him stable. Looks like you've been through hell too." He looked both soldiers up and down, thankfully they didn't seem to be hurt bad.

If he remembered correctly... "I've got orders to help out here until our guy's ok. I'd offer a handshake, but he's bleeding out."


There was a time when Frank wasn't paranoid. Let the wrong people into his home. Into his heart. He would never make the same mistake again.

"I don't care what your rank is, soldier. Or what you were told to do. I don't know you." His hard gaze skipped between Kit and the other man holding the unconscious male. Frank was no longer a friendly guy that his wife called HoneyBee. But he wasn't heartless. "When you're here you don't do anything other than what we tell you to do." He warned. "Or you'll join the mass grave." Once upon a time he'd pray to the father in the heavens, asking why he allowed this to happen. So many fallen. So many scarred. But Frank and God were no longer on speaking terms.

The burly man glanced towards enforcers nearby and ordered. "Keep an eye on these people at all times!" Then he moved from the way to let them pass. "Pandora. Take them to the medical wing but focus on our wounded." Frank paused and his lips parted as he stared at the two figures slowly walking towards the main entrance.

"Cabrera!" He moved towards him and the Second in Command. Both looked hurt. But his gaze was nailed to the man who saved him once. "Boss!"

@MokaChan Togy Safton BeyondDandy NanLia Miaow @SlaughterMelon Crono Aegis Namazu Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Tool ​

 

[NanLia]

On the Road...



Alejandra kept pace astride Kit and Casey as they half carried half dragged Wess towards the main entrance of the school. It was still chaos here, people carrying off the dead, others giving chase. The soldier they’d picked up and dashed off into the school ahead of them and she’d half expected to hear gunfire from the people inside. When she hadn’t, a little hope had managed to wiggle its way into her; Maybe they could get Wess help, maybe there was enough here they wouldn’t lose another..

She watched as someone, a young woman, from the school raced over when Casey had called for help, based on how she’d dressed, Ally didn’t doubt she was a medic of some kind. Much like how Kit carried himself, she had run towards strangers with guns without a second thought. Impulsive and not military trained, she was lucky she hadn’t been killed already. Ally kept her pistol’s safety off but pointed at the ground at her side, Bullet followed in formation, keeping tabs on the people just slightly behind them, ready to move at her signal.

Ally didn’t interrupt as another approached, demanding answers that Kit offered willingly; they were here to help and hearing the stranger give the female medic directions to assist she felt herself relax, she clicked her safety back into place, ready to slide her pistol home, freeing her hands to help move people indoors and away from the dead.

Cabrera! Boss!

Alejandra’s head snapped up at the name, one she hadn’t heard in years - not since her military days. She turned to face where the stranger had called out to, seeing two men standing, struggling towards the school. ” Chico.” she whispered softly and without a second thought she was running for them.

She ran through the muck and gore, her gait uneven with the prosthetic struggling to find purchase. She slipped, more than once, but managed to catch herself before she fell, arriving before the pair but more importantly, her brother. “Ignacio!.” Her hands shook as she grasped his cheeks, bringing his forehead down to press to hers. “Fuck, Chico, how … How have you survived! How are you here?!”




​

Safton Tool BeyondDandy Bullyboy Squad Togy Miaow Good_Morels Fluffy-Kat Crono Namazu @MokaChan
​

 

[Tool]

NORTHVIEW
Inside Corridor & Outside
Collab with Miaow ​

Sneakers' answer to Madison's 'where's my bag' question wasn't the worst answer she could have gotten, but it was less than ideal; Still On The Roof was at least a place where Madison's shit was unlikely to be pawed through by a stray Samaritan, and if bullets had been expended, at least her guns would still be in place (along with the woman's few personal possessions).

On Connor's way out to find the two men who were, hypothetically, in chargeish, Madison's gaze fell on the kid. Minnie had a dad who'd murdered some lady and who, if not on death's door was certainly on death's front porch. Though she might be an engine of endless rage on the field of battle, Madison had a soft spot for kids. A soft, awkward spot for kids, but still...... she had to try.

"Hey, kid. Your Dad's being looked at." The woman took a knee, a knight in black before a pale-faced, peasant princess. This, the innocent and the weary, these gentle hearts were the reason to fight.

"I...... I'm sorry." She shook her head and wasn't wholly sure what she was apologizing for. Sorry for everything, perhaps. "I know it's hard. Can..... Can I ask you a couple of questions?"



Minnie flinched as the infirmary door opened, looking up to Connor with a concoction of hope and fear in her eyes. Maybe it was Mac or Haewon, coming to tell her Xander was awake and alive and would be absolutely fine... or to tell her the speech she'd heard a hundred times from her Mom's favourite medical dramas. I'm sorry, we did everything we could....

She looked away, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. It was just the biker lady... but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She seemed kind of cool, even if they had only just met. She couldn't even ride a normal bike, and her bike had an engine.

Her eyes met with Connor's as she knelt in front of her. All of her energy had gone. There was no running down corridors to pre-warn the medics they were on their way. Her muscles hurt, she hadn't slept, and she had cobwebs and dust in her hair.

"Mac fixed me before, so..." She murmured, mostly reassuring herself rather than Connor. Connor probably didn't care that much whether Xander lived or died. All she'd seen was Xander kill someone. It made her chest feel tight. Xander had killed someone and she wasn't really sure why.

She swallowed as Connor spoke up again. She'd heard that question before, Connor sounded like a cop, and cops were meant to be bad. Cops took kids away from their parents and put them in homes... but Connor didn't seem bad. She hesitated before nodding in response.



Madison nodded. "They looked like they were making your pops a priority. Do....."

Fuck.

"Do you know why your dad would have shot that lady? I-I'm...... not with anybody, and people been talking real bad about prison people, but I'm tryin' to get to the truth."

The fuck was she doing?

"Sneakers in there said something..... Something bad 'bout the prison people. Can you tell me who gave you those?" A finger pointed at the scars lacing the child's arms, a crime if Madison had ever seen one.



Minnie paused to think. All she'd seen was Xander pulling the gun... She shrugged, looking down at her feet as she fidgeted with the laces of her one remaining sneaker.

"She's... the reason the Samaritans are here. She came here before they did. I think she was telling them stuff about us but... I don't know."

She took a breath in as Connor pointed to the scars on her arms. She rested her hand on the back of her wrist in a feeble attempt to cover them but she knew she didn't have enough hands to get them all out of sight. The raised welts in her flesh rubbed against her palm. She was still in her pyjamas, just a t-shirt and some loose trousers. God, she wished she'd put a long-sleeved top on before she left her room. God, she missed Xander's jacket.

Suddenly, that corridor was loud, louder than she'd ever heard it before. Every voice from inside the infirmary pierced her eardrums, all overlapping on top of each other, creating a raging storm in her brain. She wanted that memory to come back, even for just a moment so she could talk about it. She didn't know where it'd gone or why she couldn't see it anymore. She could smell blood and cleaning chemicals and rubbing alcohol. It made her feel sick.

She covered her ears with her hands, staring at the spot where four of the floor tiles converged.

"I don't remember."



The shame flashing along the girl's face and a futile attempt to cover the scars along her arms hit Madison like a white-hot poker to the face, and her hand released the helmet her hand had gripped so forcefully and wrapped the kid in a brief but sincere hug, rather heedless of the absolute filth that covered her body from heel to collar.

"Hey, shhh. It's okay."

Almost as soon as her arms had enfolded the girl, Connor let her go; no telling how a child would feel being held, be it comforted or trapped. Gently, as gently as she was able, the ex-cop took Minnie's hand and gave it a tug to extend those pale arms far, far too young to bear the marks of such suffering.

When she spoke again, Madison's voice was sincere and quiet.

"Now you listen to me. Please." In Madison's world, pleases were a rare thing. With her free hand, Madison tipped Minnie's face upwards.

"Don't you ever be ashamed of scars. Yours or somebody else's. Scars are when the world tried to break you and failed. They're badges of honor. They mean you survived. They're something you show somebody an' say 'Here's where I got hurt, but it don't matter 'cause I made it. I won.' Sometimes scars'll be because you made a mistake and you paid for it. That's when you say 'Here's where I got hurt, but it don't matter 'cause I know better. I learned.'"

Madison's hands let the child go, though she stayed on one knee.

"Okay? Please...... Please try to remember that. S'long as you keep a good heart in you, then scars are never something to hide. Not ever."



Minnie flinched as the biker's arms enveloped her, if only for a moment. She barely had any time to respond, her own hesitation preventing her from hugging her back. The tight squeeze brought her mind back to Earth, back to her own body.

She was reluctant as Connor pulled her hand closer, exposing more and more of her arm as it straightened out. She swallowed a lump in her throat, getting a good look at her skin for the first time in a while. She always changed as quickly as possible, always averted her eyes when she bathed. She knew something bad had happened, something that hurt to think about. She just couldn't be sure of the details.

She felt her face grow hot as her eyes welled with tears. The familiar cycle of thoughts took over. No, she wasn't allowed to cry, what if Connor didn't like that? What if she got mad? She felt something wet trail down her cheek, wincing as the salt in her tears grazed the gash on her cheek.

As Connor let go, she quickly wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, avoiding eye contact.

"An enforcer did it. He came in our room at night," She murmured, "I thought it was Xander, but..."

"Haewon says I stabbed him a few times." God, how proud Haewon had been. In any other circumstance, finding out your little sister had brutally mutilated a man would be horrifying..... but Minnie had stood up for herself, stood up for her big sister.

"I had to sleep in the infirmary for a bit, but Xander stayed the whole time." She murmured, piecing the few details she could recall together in her mind, "He slept in an office chair."

She rubbed her bloodshot eye with her hand, unable to keep still as her body battled with the cortisol in her bloodstream.

"My dad is a good person, I promise. He only hurts people who deserve it. He hurt the enforcer. I don't know what Duchess did but she must have deserved it." She pleaded with Connor, though she was reassuring herself more than her new biker friend.



Boy, but the Samaritans were just racking up tally marks left and right. The Duchess having led the Samaritans here, being the one who introduced predator to prey, it didn't take a genius to figure out who was who in that equation....... it still didn't entirely track as to why Xander felt it needful to kill the woman now, though with the carnage outside and who knew many Northfolk who'd died screaming, maybe Xander had just...... reached his limit.

Still, it was damned irresponsible to murder someone in broad daylight with a couple of kids in tow, deserved or not.

Haewon. Connor suspected that was Sneakers' real name, but she didn't ask, just let Minnie talk, get out as much as she was able. An Enforcer. A title. A rank. That tracked with the feudal system Beard Guy had mentioned. Now, did the buck stop at Weston's feet, Cabrera's, or King's?

A hand took the helmet back in hand, and Connor was quiet for a moment. It wasn't her way to lie to anyone, and she sucked at it anyway.

"Sometimes...... sometimes people make mistakes, and I don't know what the price for those mistakes will be. I don't want you to lose anybody. I'll try to help."

Madison got to her feet and felt very tall, towering over Minnie and gave the girl a weak smile. "If a bad guy came into your room and you fought 'im off, then you did good. You got courage..... and if that's where you got those scars, then.... I get why they might make you feel bad...... but you still won. Good guys who stop bad guys are called heroes, in my book."

The woman gave Minnie a nod and a "See you 'round, kid." before turning and walking away.

Connor's search for Weston and Cabrera was a short lived one, ending with her staring at the VP's wife or girlfriend clutching at Shrapnel Ass like he was a liferaft on stormy dark seas, while Weston did the important work of bleeding by Cabrera's side.

A glance around told Madison that Wess had survived and was being taken inside, ushered in by unfamiliar faces. Good. Wess was as much an idiot as any other Fallen Angel who put their faith and obedience in a mass-murdering-jackoff, but he had tried to be kind. Some Bicep called out to Cabrera, calling him 'Boss' with all the rapt dedication of a squire spotting his sworn Lord. It was gonna be real awkward to breakup whatever reunion this was turning into; grilling Cabrera for answers wasn't going to work out too hot while he was busy being treasured.

Now Weston was a different story, he was a supposed second-in-command who owed her, owed her the truth at a bare-ass minimum. But..... as Madison watched the crowd grow around the Samaritan leadership, the ooey-gooey reunions and mushy introductions...... she decided to leave them alone. Brown eyes watched Weston with a regard not unlike that of betrayal in an otherwise stony face for a long, long moment, before Madison whirled around to find a ladder and get her goddamn bag off the roof.

Miaow Bullyboy Squad NanLia Namazu Good_Morels ​

 

[Crono]

Flashback with Harry Bullyboy Squad

Northview - Infirmary
​

Harry recoiled from the woman. He didn't know her. What was wrong with her?! Didn't she see what those two. What the- What that man- What- The big man was close to hyperventilating when he saw a scalpel on a tray nearby and just hurled his body in that director. Knocking the thing down he got a hold of the weapon, hurting his hand in the process. But he didn't seem to feel the cut, just putting the blade up to protect himself. Or attack....

Kurt watched as Harry reacted to Pandora's attempt to speak to him out of the corner of his eye. "Woah!" Kurt called out as he moved to stand beside the crouched woman, just to be in position to intervene. "Cool it asshole!" Kurt told the man with a glare as Harry held the blade up towards them.

Catching to the thought like to a life line, Harry gasped out. "I know you." He mindlessly pointed his shaky hand with the scalpel at Kurt. "I know you." There was no hate in that tone or the fear-glazed eyes. Just relief of recognition. Of something familiar..

"Yeah, something like that." Kurt said, watching Harry's face contort as the other man tried to figure out why he recognized Kurt. In an attempt to take advantage of the moment Kurt raised his free hand up to show he meant no harm, "Put it down Harry. Nobody's trying to hurt you." Kurt said evenly, nodding towards Harry's own hand, "And looks like you even nicked yourself while grabbing it." He pointed out, seeing the blood dripping from the fist that tightly held the scalpel.

Harry was a shadow of a man that Kurt knew. His face pale with prominent cheekbones, his limbs thin and weak. The blade clinked on the floor when he lowered his hand and let go of it. He glanced at the crimson dripping to the floor before lifting his gaze. "Why are we here? I don't remember.. I don't remember your name... Do you know where is my wife? Do you know her?"

Kurt watched the blade drop and relaxed a little, if nothing else they were headed in the right direction. "I get that you're freaking out. But there's a whole lot of information you need to be filled in on because you've lost some memory, but we can't do it now and we can't do it here." Kurt pointed out, his voice a mix of empathetic and impatience. "But I'm Kurt." Trying to give Harry something, and turns his head towards Pandora, "This is Pandora and she's been looking after you."

​

Miaow Bullyboy Squad Safton Aegis Togy Namazu

​