}{Mass Hysteria}{ [CLOSED]

<p>


Louis Colberton


</p>


<p>


</p>


<p>


The young man started to feel a bit happier, as the older man visibly relaxed a bit. The fact that he still haven’t reached for his weapon gave a bit of hope that he won’t do that either on later… Which would be the ideal. He really didn’t wish for fighting, especially with another living human. Last time was bad enough, and that started with outright hostility from the other party, a bunch of young, aggressive men… most likely some kind of gang members. They all wore similar colour.


</p>


<p>


Now, this older man was clearly behaving peacefully, so Louis was careful to keep his hands visible and far from his weapon. He wasn’t sure he could take on the other if he suddenly lunged at him, but judging from the man’s stance, that was not a real possibility. Most likely, their feelings were the same – relief. Relief about meeting a non hostile human. Louis grinned as the other man, Pete, replied in the same vein as him. He longed for some semblance of normalcy – it was insane how much he missed normal conversations and formalities, although sounded funny now. He took the offered handshake, firmly but not aggressively.


</p>


<p>


“Honoured to meet you, Mr. Macon. Pete. I’m afraid the fine china is broken now, but I do have actual glasses here, if you are willing to accept it. May I invite you to sit down and relax a bit?” he asked, grinning in earnest now, waving towards his hiding spot in the shade. “I was planning to spend the afternoon signalling to anyone who could see it. Care to join me?”


</p>


<p>


The officer felt quite elevated right now, and maybe that showed. He couldn’t stop smiling, especially since Pete was smiling as well. Maybe the sheer absurdity of a peaceful, almost formal exchange of words and polite gestures in the midst of all the madness of the end of their world was really weird, but it still felt entertaining.


</p>


<p>


Besides, a bit of civilization would have been refreshing after the mind-breaking horrors. What is more civilized than a spot of tea and some snacks enjoyed in a summer day, shielded from the Sun, but still surrounded by warmth?...


</p>
 
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Ithaca, New York





It was late at night when Peter's truck finally died on the road in the middle of Ithaca next to an old Catholic Church. He took the opportunity to raid the several small stores around him, taking beans, Vienna sausages, canned fish, and ravioli, his personal favorite. He also looted six bags of pipe tobacco and a pipe lighter. He had never smoked before the outbreak, but he had taken a briar pipe off a dead comrade and he had to admit he quite liked the feel of it.


With the street thoroughly searched, Peter turned his attention towards the old church and entered.


The sanctuary was musky and damp, lit by low electric lights. Pews were overturned and some of the murals of the disciples had been defaced. Peter approached the water basin in front of the door and slowly washed his hands in the blessed water, the blood from his wounded hand staining the basin. He felt strangely...better.


He walked past the altar and into a back room, looking for switchers. All he found was a serene-looking old man in an office chair dressed in priestly robes. Peter felt for a pulse, but that was no use. He was long gone.


He backtracked into the sanctuary and kneeled down at the altar. The rather macabre scene of Jesus on a white horse throwing devils into the Lake of Fire danced over his head.


Peter murmured a prayer, lingered, and tried to discharge his guilt in any way he could. He pressed his palms to the floor and concentrated mightily on his own sins since he had last been in a church house. God could forgive him, but it was a mistake, he thought, to forgive yourself.


He left the church after taking the small wooden crucifix from the priest. Stealing a cross was somewhat ironic, but he imagined that the father would give it to him anyways. Some people in this world rely blindly on faith to guide them, Peter guided himself and admitted he didn't always make the most moral choices. He didn't know what to believe in his heart of hearts, but the church always comforted him.


Peter lit a pipe and walked down the street, looking for a decently high and secure place, a rooftop hopefully, to bed down for the night. Eventually, he came across old Ithaca College and noticed that lights were on in some of the rooms, but not a majority. Just a handful. He had learned that was a tell-tale sign of habitation and not just lights left on. He began marching up the hill towards the dormitories. It was then that he noticed the makeshift tower and fence. Yep, definitely occupied. Hopefully not by pukeface college kids. The thought was almost more than Peter could bare.


He approached the fence and looked around. If he climbed through, they'd probably shoot him. If he hollered out, switchers would come and eat him. It was a unique situation. Finally, he decided he would pull one from the high school girlfriend playbook and picked up a small rock, aiming it at the nearest lit window. He planted his feet and chucked it, missing by a mile. He picked up a small pile and began hurling. Hopefully somebody would notice.


@Soylent
 
Still no sign of life on the radio. He'd switched channels several times to no avail. Perhaps everyone had fallen victim to their illogical ways and died? Wait no, no, that can't be right. The smoke signal from before indicated intelligent resided there. Then how could he attract their attention?


Arkus pondered this momentarily. The radio was likely to be noticed by at least a few people, but then the question there was if they were friendly or not, to which the answer was probably going to be that they were decidedly not, especially now that they also knew he was trapped and in need of assistance. He couldn't really light a signal fire from the top of his skyscraper because the rushing winds would blow it away in moments and even if it didn't, the smoke would be too high up for anyone to notice. He could play around with mirrors and lights during the night, but that would only work if those that saw it knew Morse Code, to which it was unlikely that many people would understand his message. At the very least, it would potentially attract them to his position, but beyond that...


The boy sighed and picked up the flare gun again. The sky was getting darker anyway, so visibility would be low, but not if there was a giant arcing light sent across the sky. Surely someone would notice it and aid him. He fired it out of the window, the flare flying and fizzling out, but the gun suddenly grew very hot. He panicked and dropped it. The flare gun spiralled down to Earth almost sadly, following in the flight path of the last survivor that had left the window in that fashion. Arkus wondered idly if it would hit the body on the floor. He imagined it, the gun landing and fitting perfectly into the dead body's hand. It was a pointless thought, he knew, but Arkus was bored. Very bored. He had already finished that apocalypse survival book several times and had grown tiresome of killing all those Switchers on the top floors. Now he had nothing else to do.


He froze. The sound of a can being kicked across the floor came from the front room of the Chemists. Moving slowly, pistol and taser drawn, he crouch-walked his way to the desk. He then put down the taser and hovered his hand over the button that would activate the generator. In one slick motion, he rose from behind the counter, pistol drawn, finger still near the button, to face whatever it was that had made the sound.
 
Charles William Faulkner


When Chie woke up, the sun was almost at the zenith, pouring down scorching heat to the dead city. The man felt a bit more relaxed, and mostly well rested. He really needed a solid few hours spent in dreamless, deep sleep. He sit up, and looked around, staring at a pigeon which started to harass his poor chargers.


“Shoo!”


The pigeon just stared back at him, with a certain air of dignified annoyance. The man sighed, and knelt up, gesturing more wildly at the bird, which finally took the hint and took off. Thankfully, without any pieces of electrical equipment.


Great. Even the pigeons forgot about people it seemed.


Chie collected the chargers, checking every battery before putting them away. He was satisfied, all of them was topped off… the man quickly changed the batteries in the small, hand-held radio he found in the clutter. Sadly, it was only good for short distances, and only for reception, the best pieces were ruined beyond repair or already taken. Still, it gave a small speckle of hope for human contact.


The man sighed, looking over his equipment.


He longed for someone’s company. The more the better. But at the same time, he knew that his monstrous looks would certainly disintegrate all chances for a normal conversation. If he could actually utter understandable words.


He knew fully well how appalling he appeared now; many mirror windows were still intact. Only a few surgeries went down by the time it happened, and now he looked maybe more horrid than the switchers, only not so bloated. Still, he was practically featureless…


Well. He could try. If he gets shot down, then that’s all. But if not, maybe he could be useful. At least a little. And have a chance to get out of the city. At the training, they kept on telling than in case of war or catastrophes, the big cities have the worst survival rate. They are basically death traps. Too many people, whom could turn into enemies very quickly, too many places for ambush, not enough resources… and epidemics.


Ironically, this started with an epidemic already.


Chie packed back everything carefully, and stood up, keeping his axe on hand, and unlocked the door, descending down the staircase carefully, and quiet as a mouse. No monsters beside him lurked there now, and heading down went significantly faster than climbing up. He didn’t get winded by the time he reached the lobby again, even if it still took a long time.


The man adjusted his clothing to cover up most surfaces. He would rather sweat than give any vulnerable places to an attacker… then, when he was finished, Chie marked the building with a piece of plaster, and took the road again, quietly moving on the dead, empty street, looking for any sign of life or other people.


After all, surely he couldn’t be the only survivor. It was impossible. There must have been others…
 
FIRST LT. ROMAN WOLFE


Location:Ithaca College Breezeway. Mentions:

@McMajestic



?





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Surprised that the woman had snuggled up to him in the midst of his story, Roman stiffened, his mind stuck on the idea of how warm she was next to him. He felt as if he was taking advantage of her in her vulnerability, so he made sure to keep his hands at least a foot away at all times. As much as his natural inclination urged him to wrap an arm around her curled body, he ignored it. Roman's arm extended beside him, laying on the mattress just over her frame, his hand lightly gripping the edge of the bed.


Any avoidance of self-initiated-contact became more difficult as she laid her hands on his chest. Roman ignored the feather-light pressure, the calloused yet welcoming hands, and pondered deeply about her inquiries.


"My mother said that straight out of the womb I had black hair and the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. She named me 'Roman' because of my, and I quote, 'brooding disposition' and the strength behind the name." He thought about Harlow's definition and recognition of the Roman culture, accepted it, and then offered his own opinion.


"The Romans may have been a violent people, but think of all of their accomplishments," he cleared his throat as her hand crept up his neck, tickling his exposed skin ever so slightly. "They were incredibly innovative with architecture and language. The Roman empire was arguably one of the most powerful empires in the world," he explained, squinting the eye that she touched, finding it harder to ignore her advances.


"I think my name resembles strength and creation."


Roman tilted his head slightly, realizing what he had just said. This girl, this Harlow, had just helped him find meaning behind his name. He hadn't constructed the barrier around Ithaca out of terror and desperateness, he had conquered Ithaca with his strength. Roman shouldn't perceive their safety as luck, he should see his work as something he - and his sister - built out of the strength of their hands. He only hoped that their small empire wouldn't fall like the one he was named after.


For someone so young, Harlow was wise and contemplative. He felt her hand fall limp, and he looked at her slumbering face.


"Harlow?" he whispered so softly, that not even he could hear it reverberate in his ears.




11:00pm

Location:Ithaca College Breezeway. Mentions: @Shireling @McMajestic



When the clock struck 11:00pm, Roman had just returned from shutting off all of the lights on campus. For some reason the back-up generator automatically switched them on at 10:00pm every night, alerting any strollers in the area. He needed to find a way to override the generator's command. Perhaps the worst of it all, was the fact that the generator didn't have one switch. He had to run around the campus frantically and shut off every damn light.


Every morning Roman rose at 4:00am and walked the barrier, slaughtering any switchers that had pressed themselves against the fence during the night. He could stick his metal pole between the rungs and stab the strollers' skulls. Another chore that he wasn't keen on doing.


Roman entered the breezeway at exactly 11:01 and examined the two girls in the dim light from the moon. Harlow slept on Roman's mattress, Isabel on hers. Content that they could strike off another day on the imaginary calendar, Roman placed the bloodied pole next to his supply of weapons. He went to the bathroom, washed the blood off of his arms and hands, and returned, ready for a good 5 hours of sleep. Another thought entered his mind: he had forgotten to grab another mattress from the dorms.


Not wanting to wake Harlow, Roman eased himself onto the carpeted ground next to his mattress, police armor still adorned.


That's when he noticed that he had left a light on in the building right next them. He got up and looked outside the breezeway windows. Shit. And that's when he noticed things hurtling at the building and knocking against it. Surely, an attempt to draw attention. He couldn't see who or what was throwing the rocks, for they stood on the other side of the barrier.


Roman grabbed his pistol and the metal pole, kicked on his shoes, and ran outside. He made his way to the building that still had one light on, the stones making a chink sound as they bounced off the windows, and walked towards the part of the barrier that the rocks were being propelled over.


He approached the barrier slowly, the silhouette of a something coming into view, broken up horizontally by the metal poles that secured the fence. When he was about 10 feet away, Roman raised the gun chest height, and hissed at the figure.


"Hey!"


The Breezeway



229efdce6fc750fed49cc29368a48fd6.jpg






The Barrier



This is what the fence looks like, but with metal poles and wooden posts. and taller.


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ISABEL WOLFE


Location: Ithaca College Campus, 4 Hr drive to NYC. Mentions:

@P r i n c e






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Isabel laughed at the girl's flirtatious gesture, a welcoming feeling reverberating in her throat. "You know, I've heard that one a lot." She winked at the attractive girl, "You may have to try harder."


The pre-med student stood up, and offered Rena and Luna her hand. "Come on, I'll show you to your room. You seem like dorm people." Isabel led them to the dorm nearest to the breezeway, opened it, and put them on the third floor. That way they'd be able to see the campus from above.


"You'll find that there are still clothes, toiletries, and cleaning supplies left over. You can use 'em," she explained, "The bathrooms are down the hall at the end, and there is a kitchen stocked with food on the first floor. The water isn't very hot, but it works." Isabel placed her hands on her hips. "I'll let you two get situated. Take a shower and whatnot."


Isabel slipped out of the room, smiling at the girls. The sun was beginning to make its way to the other end of the sky, threatening to be gone in a couple hours.




11:00pm

Location: Ithaca College Breezeway Mentions:​



Isabel slept soundly.





 
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Jamison nodded and turned and continued down the other hall.His flash light fixed in front of him as he crept, keeping his eyes out for any switchers he might come across. As he continued to the other end the smell of death thinned out and another section of windows popped up. From down below he could see the side of the building that the two of them had entered in and could just make out a few of switcher stumbling around below. He was about to turn away when he noticed a small figure dash across the ground to the entrance of the building. His yes widen and he made his way back towards Logan.


"Logan, we have a problem!" he whispered as the man walked out of on of the bathrooms, "Some one just entered the building."Jamison explained as the door held by the pipe budge with force as something hit it. "lets get out of here and clear it later, we can chain the door back up. But we gotta deal with this intruder." Jamison said turning to look back towards the entrance of the section.


@LoneSniper87
 
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Logan nods after coming back empty handed. "Attack only if they are hostile." He says as he jogs back to the bedroom exhibits, putting the mask back on. He felt more himself and comfortable with the mask back on. He waits for Jamison to leave before rechaining the door. "Follow me."


Logan walks down the stairs to the main floor. Slowly sweeping the building for the intruder. Every so often he will get a glimpse, only to find them vanishing amongst the clothes racks. He finally spots the intruder, catching the, of guard as i stand in front if them. He raises the R5. "On the ground, now!" He yells at the intruder. He sounds and acts every part his look is supposed to be, menacing. "If you run i will shoot you!"
 

GAME CHANGER NUMBER 1


[Hello, Friends. The major events that will happen in this roleplay will be called "Game Changers." They can either be tasks that your characters have to complete, or new facts about the RP.]


Let's start off slow, shall we? I am adding two new switchers to the mix.


The Chaser -


Watch out. These buggers are fast. Usain bolt fast. BUT they are quite small in mass. Take them out with a long distance firearm, and knock 'em back with a heavy bat. FOUND in flat areas. So, places without mountains. If you're stuck in the flat streets of NYC, you better be fast.



The Screamers


Yikes, these bad boys are going to be hella annoying. When they lock onto their target, they screech, alerting every other switcher in a 1/2 mile radius. They are found in mountainous areas, especially in caves. So people in Ithaca, beware.


They are the size of the average man. Nothing special. They
do not have extra strength. They are slow.


So, so far you have
3 types of Switchers.


The Original



The Chaser



The Screamer



Who knows where the new ones originated from? Keep RPing, and soon you'll find out.



GM




@Shireling @McMajestic @P r i n c e @Surantum


@Lonelytaco @LoneSniper87 @KingHalliwell @Elephantom


@Destructus Kloud @Bob @Ketringa


@Elizabeth Duchamps @Honourable Louse
 
Peter dropped his pile of rocks and looked around for the source of the shout. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew that the sound had been definite intelligent speech and not the guttural sounds of the undead. He turned and shouted, "Hello?! Anyone there?"


@Soylent
 
"I'll stay high you go low," Jamison said as he jogged over to the banister that over like a good portion of the store.


Jamison turned the second he exited the room and slung the chain in a loose fashion before pulling his bow off his back and notching an arrow. He slipped the flashlight in the the banister and followed Logan with the pin point accuracy. There was som movement among the racks near Logan and Jamison shined his light on the movement see a quick flash of something before Logan started to throw out orders to the intruder.


Jamison started down the stair bow string pulled back to the corner of his mouth and arrow point aimed at the intruders head. Jamison's flash light illuminated a good area but the intruder was just out of range of the light. But they had stopped. And Jamison could just make out the whites if their eyes.


"What is you name," Jamison asked.


@LoneSniper87 @Honourable Louse
 
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FIRST LT. ROMAN WOLFE


Location:Ithaca College Mentions:

@Shireling



?





147008987435626












Roman swore under his breath. This guy was going to get himself killed. He approached the fence, a weathered face coming into his eyesight. Under the moonlight the man looked to be older than 30, but younger than 50.


"Shut the fuck up," he whispered, examining the man from behind the bars, "Who are you?" Roman didn't know what else to ask. How could he let someone in that he didn't know? At the same time, how could he not allow entrance for a tired stranger? He wasn't a switcher, which was quite obvious from his speech and actions. "Quick," Roman commanded in a harsh hiss, his eyes darting the surroundings for any strollers, "Tell me something that'll make me trust you."


Roman knew that survivors could be ruthless people. He had established a rule: do not trust others until they prove themselves worthy. Or, at least a little sane. The pre-cautious measures that Roman was taking surely put this stranger in danger, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He had four girls staying in the base camp right now, and he couldn't risk losing Ithaca to a reckless man.


The Breezeway



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The Barrier



This is what the fence looks like, but with metal poles and wooden posts. and taller.


8194908c84d342bb64ee2f7651974c69.jpg






 
Peter racked his brain. Tell him something to make him trust you? What the fuck does that even mean?





"My name's Peter Yablonski, former NYPD. Let me in and in exchange for not getting eaten, I'll share my Chef Boyardi with you." He said in a projected whisper. "I'm armed." He added on the end.


Peter folded his arms and looked around. He hoped all this shouting could be over with quick. He thought he could see the shapes of several humanoid forms seething in the darkness.


@Soylent
 
Sleep had once been an escape from reality, but as time were on reality slipped into her dreams as well. First, just a blurred prod at the edges, a poke towards dull colors and danger, but then it grew stronger, it grew deeper, and darker, and suddenly she couldn't escape. It drowned her dreams, incinerated what she had once used as a sweet wasteland of indifference. Now it was even worse than the reality her nightmares would force her to wake up to.



Wolves could be vicious predators. River
was a vicious predator. When her father or mother or the other six boys were around, River would place his little sister on his shoulders. He would tickle her, he would laugh with her, he would run his fingers through her hair and gently pull out the tangles. He was sweet, he was kind, he was a gentle chimp and there had been a time that Harlow was naive enough to believe that's all he could be. Until he wasn't.


Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse




She stood in the forest, River standing next to her, screaming, yelling, growling, snarling- a beast. A wolf. Vicious. He was angry with mother. He was always angry with mother. She didn't clean his clothes correctly, she didn't give him enough to eat, she treated him like a child who still needed to hold her hand, and he was taking it on Harlow. The other woman of the house.


"I Fucking hate her. I wanna kill her. She's such a bitch, and you-" His honey eyes turned on Harlow, only they weren't sweet. "You're just as bad you stupid, little girl. You make mistakes, you hurt yourself, you don't know how to stay in line. You're always late. You're gonna get us all killed." River stormed up towards her, unpredictable with rage. What had even caused his anger? He had been so pleasant before, had offered to take Harlow to the river and help her get clean but now he was being destructive. Not a chimp. A wolf.



And then Harlow remembered. River had mention a young woman, with hair the color of gold and eyes that shone like the ocean. Mother had forbid him from seeing her, had warned him not to mention this affair of his to their father. He was in love, and that made him hate so strongly. Before Harlow knew what her brother was doing his large hands were around her small neck and he rose her off the ground, choking her. She coughed and cried, but her tears were silent. She couldn't struggle. She didn't even have a chance.






"Dad's going to sell you off to a man one day. You're going to get love and what about me huh?" He threw Harlow down as if she was a rag doll, slammed his foot against her gut multiple times and then grabbed her by her hair, yanking on it as he pulled her towards the river. "Why does a weak little spec of filth like you get all the privileges? I'm the oldest, Dammit! I work the hardest! I bleed for this family!" He dragged her to the river, far away enough from the house that her loud sobs couldn't be heard.


"You fucking disgusting little girl. You don't deserve anything," he growled, dropping her to the ground and suddenly he was pounding his fists into her small body, kicking and yelling and punching and blood spewed but so did tears and saliva. He was no longer the only one who bled for the family.



When River had his frustrations gone he kicked Harlow hard, sending her into the river to drown, to die, to become the very earth they worshiped and in her agony she thought it wouldn't be so bad. As water poured into her wounds and stung them with mischievous splashes she thought that perhaps death was actually kind, for it must have been a much more pleasant feeling to be dead than to live like this.



End






As Harlow lay lost in a comatose state, slowly being devoured by her dream she began to toss and turn violently, whimpering and weeping in her sleep, mumbling words that were hardly audible but all hinted at the nightmare that she was having- only it wasn't such a thing. It was her reality.



Location: Breezeway

Status: Having a nightmare

Tags: @Soylent
 
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FIRST LT. ROMAN WOLFE


Location:Ithaca College Mentions:

@Shireling



?





147008987435626












Former NYPD. All it took were those two words to get Roman to loan his trust to the man. The name Yablonski did sound familiar, but only a little. There were around 34,000 officers in the NYPD, after all. They must have been stationed in drastically different areas of New York.


"Roman Wolfe. First Lieutenant and also a former NYPD. Lower Manhattan." Roman walked over to the nearest secret entrance and motioned for the armed Officer to follow him, unbolted the metal lock, and swung the door open. He watched the man carefully, the possibility of a threat still heavy on his shoulders.


"How'd you get out of New York?" Escaping from the massive city had been easy for Roman, but only because he had abandoned his duty. Roman had cheated, but in the end, it didn't matter.


The Breezeway



229efdce6fc750fed49cc29368a48fd6.jpg






The Barrier



This is what the fence looks like, but with metal poles and wooden posts. and taller.


8194908c84d342bb64ee2f7651974c69.jpg






 
Peter walked through the entrance and looked Roman up and down before speaking. Even in the dark, the moonlight made Peter's features easily discernable. He looked to be in his early 40's, although that could just be the mark of stress. He was muscular, but not overly so. His dress consisted of black dress shoes, black slacks, a blue button-up tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow, a dingy and blood-stained black waistcoat unbuttoned and a red necktie hanging limply around his neck. Along with it, a wooden crucifix dangled from a long length of prayer beads around his neck. A short-barreled, scoped rifle hung limply from a leather strap around his shoulder and a .38 special was holstered at his hip. He carried a leather satchel bulging with supplies and was puffing ponderously on a briar pipe. His left hand was bandaged with a blood-soaked piece of fabric and apparently still bleeding at a slow rate.


His face was stern and cross, a man who looked as if his scowl was permantly painted on his face. His dark hair was combed to the side, face cleanly shaven. The pipe in his mouth sent a trail of smoke upwards.


"Well," he said, taking the pipe out of his mouth, "I left early this morning actually, taking a yacht out of the East River and up the Hudson. The Hudson was blocked so I detoured down the Mohawk. I got held up in Seneca Falls where I was forced to make a rather speedy getaway. Just landed in town about an hour or two ago."


He put the pipe back in his mouth and took a drag. "Nice to meet a fellow blueblood." He finally cracked a smile. Maybe these people were alright.


@Soylent
 
FIRST LT. ROMAN WOLFE


Location:Ithaca College Mentions:

@Shireling



?





147008987435626












The other officer had taken quite the route, much different from his. Roman would make sure to give him a hearty welcome. After he closed the door and bolted it, he gave it a good tug to ensure that it was secure. This man had character; he held a refined look to him despite the trinkets that dangled from his neck and the blood that stained his simple clothes. Perhaps it was the age, or the pipe that stuck out of his mouth.


"Sure is," Roman agreed with a grin, before noticing the bandaged hand. "Come on, I'll show you to the breezeway. There are medical supplies in there, and you can patch yourself right up."


Roman brushed past his new acquaintance and began to head for the Admissions building. "Welcome to Ithaca college," he said triumphantly, visibly proud of his work, "Or as I like to call it, The Empire." There were still about 5 more minutes until they reached the breezeway, so the Lieutenant decided to tell Yablonksi how they got here.


"After I escaped from New York by car with my sister, we found this place. It was already deserted because of Christmas Break, so we didn't have to slaughter zombified college students. We've been here six months and just completed this barrier, which you've made acquaintance with."


The Breezeway



229efdce6fc750fed49cc29368a48fd6.jpg






The Barrier



This is what the fence looks like, but with metal poles and wooden posts. and taller.


8194908c84d342bb64ee2f7651974c69.jpg






 

Pete Macon


The conversation was, apparently, quite right for the current moment. The two of them weren't jumping at each other, and in the apocalypse, that would just be the least requirement for a 'friendly' relationship, and that was all Pete needed.



"Delighted to meet you too, Louis. I'd be glad to serve as a company here," he paused momentarily, taking a glance at the streets that lay below him, "humane companionship is something that's rare 'round these parts. To be honest, the primary population here are only some deadbeats with a stupid appetite, aren't I right, Mr. Louis?"



He looked back at Louis, his words a tad bit more serious towards the end of his statement. It was just something that rolled off his tongue, he wasn't exactly careful with his words nowadays, society was, whatever another person may think of it as, dead. Completely non-existent. The most forms of society, it's remnants, scattered about NY in the form of sanctuaries, settlements and hideouts. He really did miss New York back in the old days, the Monday traffic, the people, all of it. And as ironic as it might see like, he often used to complain of the loud sounds, that often captivated most of New York's ambience.



To top that off, he also missed the abundance of his preferred food item, the Mac n' Cheese, integrity included, he loved them. However, in a situation like this, favoured food items were the least of his concerns.



His brief trance was interrupted by the sudden noise of a flare being shot, instantly recognizable by its distinct sound. It was possibly close to where they were, or he wouldn't be able to hear them all fine.



Ahem, it's within earshot, Pete. You really take time to realize that?


Quickly rotating to the direction from where the sound came from, he saw a flare making its trip to the sky above, slightly lacking in terms of visual clarity, before proceeding to fall on the accords of gravity. Flares usually signified two things, firstly emergency, secondly that strollers can't, and probably won't, use flares. Although humans always used them. He was rather unsurprised, as odd as it might seem, his first contact to humanity, after half a year, had already occurred beforehand.



The guy was, in all honesty, a bit late. However, there wasn't harm in confirming the credibility of this situation, or his sanity.



"Did you hear that, Louis? Or am I daydreamin' again?"



@Surantum
 
"It's a fine barrier." Peter said as he walked along behind Roman.


"So you were a beat cop?" He asked Roman, cracking his knuckles as he walked. "I worked in Vice for a while before I got on with Major Crimes. I worked the Clinkman case, we might have done some work together. I remember that tied in some guys from the Lower Precinct."


He waved a hand dismissively. "But you probably don't wanna talk about the old days. How many people you got with you?"


@Soylent
 
FIRST LT. ROMAN WOLFE


Location:Ithaca College Mentions:

@Shireling



?





147008987435626












Roman nodded. "Yeah, I grew up in a pretty crime-ridden area. After Afghanistan I joined the NYPD to make a difference there." He thought back, vaguely remembering the Clinkman case, a triple homicide in Lower East Side. His specific squad wasn't called in, but others around the area were. "No such luck," he answered, "But I do remember it." Although they hadn't worked on the case together, it was nice to be walking with someone who he could relate with, someone who had been so close yet so far away. It was nice to be walking with someone alive.


"Don't worry about it, I'd love to reminisce with you. Or at least tell some damn good stories," he assured, before answering his question, "So far we have my sister, a woman named Harlow, and two twins: Rena and Luna." He shook his head incredulously, "We took in three survivors in the matter of a day. And now you show up. Pretty odd, don't you think?"


They made it to the Admissions center and Roman opened the double doors, leading the man up the three flights of stairs.


"Two of the girls are sleeping in the breezeway," he told Peter as they ascended the stairwell, "Be extra quiet. You'll be able to see in the Breezeway because of the moon, but I can't switch any lights on."


The Breezeway


229efdce6fc750fed49cc29368a48fd6.jpg






The Barrier



This is what the fence looks like, but with metal poles and wooden posts. and taller.


8194908c84d342bb64ee2f7651974c69.jpg






 
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Malcolm X BLVD., Harlem





Christella was still breathing heavily, as she stood at the end of the street. When the Switchers first attacked New York City, Christella had gone into hiding in her apartment. The doors and windows were boarded up, and Christella ate her food in rations, wondering when the madness would end.


In three months, Christella had to leave her home. She'd run out of most of her food, there was no electricity, and she was running out of necessities like toilet paper and deodorant. She tore off the wood covering her front door, took as few belongings as she could, and ran. Away from her home, away from the city, away from the Switchers, and into survival.


At that time, it was her decision that Washington DC, would be the best place to be at the moment. They're most likely doing what they can to protect the President, and the people.


Now, it is still her game plan. Her only problem was, how would she get there? She'd have to drive West, through New York City, to Pennsylvania, and South to Maryland. Problem was, how to get there.
 
"Right. That is odd..." Peter murmured, pondering the idea. Four people turning up in a day from completely unrelated circumstances, that was a statistical improbability.


"Well I appreciate your hospitality, but I'm only looking for a place to bed down for the night. I was hoping to make my way north to Canada. Find the Inuits and live with some real people even if I freeze my dick off trying." He chuckled a little.


"So you and four girls? Poor guy. The estrogen's probably unbearable. I guess I just aren't aclimated. My wife and I are separated and I had a son." He looked towards Roman then changed the subject. "Where can I lay my head tonight?"


@Soylent
 
Sarah twirled to face the voice with a startled gasp, taking a half-step backwards before the words completely registered and she froze on the spot. She’d been too focused on her task, the darkness making it difficult to read the size tags, and had only really been listening for the typically noisy switchers anyway.


She brought her palms forward in a placating gesture while she slowly lowered herself to the floor. A part of her mind protested at assuming such a defenceless position, but it only took a brief scan of the situation to see she had no choice; his gun was already trained on her, making it impossible to close the distance before he could fire. And now another voice was calling out from the stairs, asking her name, so there were at least two of them and the one in front of her wouldn’t have looked especially friendly even without the gun. It was probably best not to anger them any more than she apparently already had.


“It’s Sarah,” she answered as she settled on her knees and put her hands on the floor, trying to think of something else to say to diffuse the situation. What could they want? Surely they weren’t robbing her, not with a city full of abandoned stores and homes. Were they the ones who’d cleared the building?


“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble.” She laid on her front and brought her hands to her head. “I was just looking for supplies. If this place is yours, I’ll leave.”


@KingHalliwell @LoneSniper87
 
"Well Sarah, im Ryan, thats Jamison up there. We had to be sure you wrent gonna cause trouble, we have more then enough space for you if you want to stay. Before i lost contact with the military i heard of a last ditch effort to hold a the state of New York, a base out in Ithaca." He lowered his rifle but motioned for her to stay, he took off his mask. "Just incase you were wondering if there was a man behind the mask." He said with a grin.


"Hey Jamison! Come on down she's friendly!" He yelled up to Jamison. "Well Sarah what brings you here?" He asks, curious as to this the second person he found within a few hours, the most in a long time. "And are you alone or with a group?"
 
FIRST LT. ROMAN WOLFE


Location:Ithaca College Mentions:

@Shireling @McMajestic



?





147008987435626












Roman scoffed, the sound echoing in the stairwell, "Hey man, I was just getting used to having another guy in here." He waved his hand at Peter, "Well, if you ever need a place to stay for more than a night, just know you're welcome. I'll send you off in the morning with some medical supplies and rations. You can stay in one of the dorms. Stay here."


Roman opened the door at the top of the stairwell, entered the breezeway quietly, and tiptoed past the sleeping girls. He only stopped once when Harlow emitted a low mumble, and he glanced at her in the moonlight before returning to his task. He gently lifted a first-aid kit out of a duffle bag and made his way out of the breezeway and back to Peter in the stairwell.


"Here," he said, handing the man the first aid kit, "Everything you need should be in there. Let me show you to your room," he offered, before beginning to descend the stairs and leading the man outside. "So you're heading to Canada, eh?"


The Breezeway



229efdce6fc750fed49cc29368a48fd6.jpg






The Barrier



This is what the fence looks like, but with metal poles and wooden posts. and taller.


8194908c84d342bb64ee2f7651974c69.jpg






 
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