Futuristic The Always Winter

[king5ter]

When it's always cold, warmth is no longer needed to survive.


Fifty years after a nuclear war obliterated most of humanity, the world is still stuck in a permanent nuclear winter. Mutated creatures known as Remnants rule the streets, zombie-like creatures with amazing intelligence and an unprecedented thirst for blood. In the streets of New York, a group of teenagers are doing anything they can to survive. But they are overwhelmed and divided among themselves. Survival is all that matters now.


Nothing else is important.


So yeah hi guys!


Just some basic rules:


- Decent grammar and spelling.


- No one-liners, minimum of 3 sentences.


- Don't control other players' characters unless they ask you to or they have given you permission.


-Any questions or general chat must take place in the OCC.


- Violence, strong language and romance is allowed, but anything too graphic and fade to black.


- No godmodding or metagaming.


-And last but not least be creative and have fun!

 

[king5ter]

Damien stared out at the horizon. It was lonely and yet beautiful, like a dead rose that still had it's thorn. The sun was just setting, not that you could really see it. It was hard to tell the difference between night and day anymore. All Damien knew as cold. So much cold.


The screech of a Remnant echoed across the empty streets. Damien sighed. It was time to move. They couldn't stay in the hotel any longer.


Night was always the most dangerous time to move, but they couldn't afford to wait until the day. There was a supermarket not too far from here that Damien knew was still packed with supplies, but the route was infested with Remnants, too many to fight. They could try going around, but there was always the chance they had more watching the side alleys. The only real option was to head back they way they'd come, back towards Brooklyn.


He grabbed his rucksack and headed out of the hotel for the last time. They wouldn't be able to get to Brooklyn through the streets. No. They'd have to go underground, through the subway network.


Damien walked out into the night, ready to face anything.

 

[Busen]

Busen would've placed himself on the counter of the reception and looking over the big room of the lowest floor after woken up from a slumber he took behind the counter. The 'bed' behind the counter would mostly be made of gathered and cut out pieces of the cushions from the sofas in the opposite section of the area in the reception hall, the hall Damien would walk by as he went out. Busen hold his head still, his face free of any gasmask; as it was coupled to his waist with a small metal hook on the gasmask's bottom. It would hang down on his thigh, whilst his legs where over the counter as he sat on it outwards facing.


As the door opened and you stepped out through it, it wouldn't close; the hinges had rusted to much for it to move much but being opened and closed. The windows beside the door stretched along the whole section of the huge room's wall which was facing out to the street. With that, the windows would be clogged with grey concrete dust and hardly see-throughed. Windows that were broken, shattered pieces on the inside floor from break-ins would be sloppily boarded up with what looked like ca 50 years old wood.


The grey camouflaged dressed person would get his right hand to reach up and behind his back to the arrows in the quiver, pulling one up and forwards to his face, he let it fall and pushed up his right hand to grab the end; setting it right under his eye at the cheekbone and checked it. The arrow was straight, being a thin carbonfiber rod with the end of it; was a titanium tip for head. The feathers close to his face were black like the coming night, and three would be placed around it extremely precise. The echo of a horrific outcry by the remnant awakening of the changing light of day would send chills through his spine, turning his head to the side whilst he squinted and let the hands holding the arrow fall to his lap for a few moments. He sent it back again and put the hands to the counters edge, pushing himself of and onto the floor with a hard landing to the boots. He took his bow and put the left arm in through it, letting it strap to his back with the string across his chest.


He moved on and pulled his hood up, going towards the chilling breeze the door would leave open passage for. Pushing it open more, and that of the dusty ground of a collapsed building above them, the one they sought shelter in would build up a pile of by the door's lower edge that swung open furtherer with a creak. He stepped into the smooth surface made by the door scrapping the most of the dust, his second step would although go into the dust and let the light particles fly up a few inches. Following the tracks of Damien and soon catching up with the person, he would give a slight suggested look of suspicion, his words were calm and his steps matched Damien's pace


"Are you going out on a scouting round?"


Busen would turn his face forward.


"It's been pretty much the whole day right? I've been sleeping, have you been up?"


The many questions came, not to be rude in his intentions. He put his arms to bend and hands with gloves would go to and grab the string over his chest, gaze looked where they were heading.

 

[king5ter]

Damien found that Busen was walking along with him, asking a bunch of questions. He wondered where everyone else was. It was too early for anyone to be going to sleep. Although sleep was a rare indulgence in the wasteland. Without others to watch you, you were always in danger of being mauled by a pack of remnants. And that wasn't a nice way to go. Damien had seen it happen too many times. Careless survivors sleeping alone with no protection, waking up to a remnants tearing them apart. It was one of Damien's skills. Telling how people had died. Not that it was usually that useful.


"Yeah." He said to Busen. "We need to move. I'm scouting out a route." He noticed the cloud of gas ahead of them and pulled his mask down over his face. Luckily his skin was covered. Going into the gas with skin on show caused it to burn and blister, and it spread between people like a rash. There was no cure, and often it was fatal. Damien made his way through the gas cloud and pulled his gas mask off as he emerged from the other side. It was sad, seeing the streets so lifeless and abandoned. Places that had once been full of joy were now empty shells, devoid of all life. Most of humanity had been killed during the war. Those who survived died off, from the cold, the mutants or the gas. Only a select few roamed the streets, and they usually kept out of each other's way. But sometimes there were the bad ones. The ones who took everything you had, and then some. They were few and far between. but they were there.


Damien glanced ahead. He was sure that there was a nest of Remnants in the shop just ahead of them. He began to creep forward, trying not to make a sound. As he reached the shop, his suspicions were confirmed. A pack of them were inside, feasting on some animal carcass. He pulled out his gun and prepared for battle.

 

[Busen]

Kept up with Damien's speed, his eyes were fixated forwards as he turned towards you. A moment later left the ongoing street with his gaze and looked back at you as you finished talking "I can come with you for a-" he stopped, seeing the giant gas cloud infront aswell; he stepped back and starred upwards, stopping in awe.


"You know in second thought, I think I left the door wide open to our shelter. I'mma.. Go back and alert them to the.. Giant toxic cloud coming our way~" he turned around as the cloud was closing in, his head stayed to look up at it; as it was somewhat bent over us to the fact that the wind moved faster as higher one would go. He took a look back down at you and, not yelled, but rather spoke loudly so you could hear.


"Be careful, don't do anything stupid alone now!" Which Busen thought was somewhat clear either way.


You vanished quickly in the cloud and Busen took his head back to go forwards, though as he did, he was sure to check the roof tops of the side of the buildings he went past. Uncoupled his gasmask from the side of his waist, taking it up and strapped it on. He screw on the mouthpart to let filtrated air in and pulled up his scarf working as a hood, tucking it in to cover all facial exposure before getting to a jogging pace. He would then go about to let his hands down and fingers extended, like a knife cutting butter, they would cut through air; he was soon up in running and closed in to the hotel with a great deal of speed. The cloud, was coming in a greater one, filling broken down cars inside by the cracked windows; flowing under them and over as it consumed all and everything in it's burning, probably radioactive particles.


Finally getting to the front of the hotel, he would get to a lower stance when about to reach the pavement at the door. The dust gave a particular good slide as he went down on his side at a smooth motion, sliding with his left foot forwards; his right leg bent. As he passed the door and slid in through the opening; he took a grab of the lower edge of the door and hooked the glove covered fingers on the outside. Pulling the door with a slam shut after having his fingers removed just enough to not get squished between the door and it's frame.


Gliding to a stop, he pushed his upper body up and elbowed the ground. His head looked through the plexiglass of his gasmask, and through the lower window of the door which had nothing to show but a light through the thin dust layer stuck to the outside of the glass which in a moment vanished completely. The darkish cloud of gas would slam against the building's front and leak through the small crannies of boarded up windows, filling the room from floor and up. The gas walked along the floor in a slow, heavy fashion.


Busen got up quickly from the floor, and kneeled before pushing himself of to his legs with one hand; and another to his knee. He walked towards the inner section of the hotel, clapping twice as he calls out: "Everyone up! Gas is here, we need to move!" he shouted muffled from his gasmask, getting to the reception disk and leaned over. He took the bell in his right hand and let himself ring it, the sound of it would bounce around to get anyones attention in the local room and nearby. Pushing on it, and walking along looking for any and everyone in the group.


"Got no time, it's not a drill, get your gasmasks on" He continued.

 

[Sora San]

Sora was alone. Just how he liked it. He found a nice spot to sit with his AK-47 he found in someones locker with about 4 mags of bullets and a magnum .44 he stole from someone earlier on in the winter. The Winter. The one place were Sora now actually had some meaning. He had been alone before the coming of the winter, and he still was alone now. No change, and Sora wasn't sure he wanted it to change. Suddenly a noise. Sora pulled out his hunting knife from his old nike high-tops which he modified to fit a knife pouch in, but still be comfy. A noise again this time louder. Remnants. Sora peered over the sofa he was using for cover in the abandoned house. Two remnants had made their way up the flight of stairs.


Two remnants were nothing for me. Sora had been training and realised I could take on a maximum of four remnants at once with a knife, one time Sora ran into 7 remnants, that was the first time Sora had to used the magnum, hopefully the last. Sora prefered a knife, it's quiet, stealthy and light. The Ak-47 was stealthy strapped onto my back now, and the knife was tucked back into it's usual spot in my shoe. The two remnants were approaching the sofa now. They must have heard me somehow, maybe it was when I almost fell down the stairs. Closer they come... Closer... Closer.


Bang


Sora springs out into the open and slices both of their necks before they have a chance to do the screeching sound they make to alert others. But there was another one making it's way up the stairs. Too late. The screeching fills the air as Sora throws his knife and it plunges in the remnants head. Time to run.

 

[Kainzor99]

Kaine peaked over from the checkout. He saw Damien and peaked his head back down. He put his hood up and his surgeons mask on. Rushing towards the remnants, Kaine stabbed one in the head and the other next to him. The other two immediately came at Kaine. He realized they where to close to get both and climbed up on the aisle out of sight.They came around the side out of sight as well.A few moments later silence filled the air in the shop.

 

[king5ter]

Damien heard Busen yell something which he couldn't quite understand, and then he turned back. He worked better alone anyway. It allowed to think better, and it meant he didn't have to protect anyone else. Busen knew where they were going, so the others would soon catch up. The Remnants were still eating. It was time.


Damien swung round into the shop and pulled out his revolvers, firing round after round at the monstrosities. They shrieked, trying to get close enough to attack him but blown back by the impact of the bullets. Damien started walking backwards while he reloaded. A Remnant leaped at him, howling, but he quickly reloaded and put a bullet through it's skull. Black blood spattered across the wall. The rest of them swarmed towards him. Damien took them out one by one, until there was only one left. He quickly went to reload.


The final Remnant bounded towards him and, taken by surprise, Damien was thrown off of his feet, his guns lost in the process. He was lying on his back on the floor, the Remnant on top of him. He reached out for his gun. The Remnant shrieked and moved to bite him. With a millisecond to spare, Damien pushed the gun into the creature's mouth and pulled the trigger, sending it's brains out of it's head. He pushed the carcass off of him and got up, picking up his other gun. That was too close for comfort.

 

[Kainzor99]

Kaine saw Damien from around the corner.He thought "Shit hes armed. Better pretend like hes surrounded."A older mans voice said"Don't move kid we got you surrounded and we ain't afraid to shoot ya"In a younger voice he said"Yea man,we like wont hurt you as long as you put your guns down."Kaine came out with his knife slowly. In his voice said "Better do what they say,they crazy"He looked scared of his 'friends'.

 

[Uncultured]

"FOUR" yelled Salem as he crushed the golfball with the large driver. The shot was beautiful and it arched slowly through the air as it descended from the rooftop that Salem found himself upon.


Salem bent over in a fit of laughter as he watched the shot impact one of the mutated creatures through a pair of worn binoculars. The shot impacted the roamer squarely in its head sending the creature back several steps before it fell on its backside in a state of rage and confusion. Salem laughed to himself for several seconds before placing the binoculars over his eyes once more.


The day was young, yet it was a prosperous one for the lone scavenger, he had cleared the building he now stood atop of and he had found several items of note. A jewelry set that would sell for a hefty sum if he could find an affluent buyer, a few electronic gadgets and most importantly a stash of pills and pharmaceuticals that he had accumulated from the abandoned building. Sure, most of the pills were expired and most of the expired pills were largely useless as their active ingredients had lost potency, but he could always find suckers who would pay for the pills without having an understanding of how and why a bottle of fifty year old ibuprofen or viccatine wouldn't do a damn thing.


Salem's half breed wolf dog mix sat idly next to Salem, wagging his bushy tail as his master surveyed the city through his binoculars. Salem patted the mutt's head a few times before launching another golf ball from the roof.


He had found the golf clubs and balls in one of the apartments and he was making full use of them as he slammed another golf ball, this time it was targeted to hit a windo on one of the opposing buildings, if he was going to make it out to his old snowmobile without having to fight through an army of the roamers he would need a distraction and the noise of the shattering glass performed with flying colors, sending the horde of mutants in a fenzy to the base of the other building.


Salem acted quickly, he dropped the club on the roof and grabbed his bag of loot before making his way to an old fire escape. He didn't know if it was in a good enough state to support his weight but he needed to get down to his snowmobile within the next couple of minutes before the horde figured out that there was nothing worth hunting for in the building opposite of Salem's. With his canine companion, Hunter at his back he rapidly descended down the first five levels of the fire escape. The building itself was eleven stories high and the escape cut off one floor up from the ground so in a sense he was halfway to his destination when the fire escape came loose from the building.


The bearings at the top of the metal structure had given up after fifty years of decay and the entire fire escape system leered hard to the side, against the odds, one of the middle supports and the bottom set remained in their foundations and Salem and his half wolf partner found themselves held up and supported precariously by the rusty guard that ran upon what had been the side of the fire escape. As pieces of brick cascaded around Salem he grabbed the bars that had functioned as guards for the steep stairs that ran down the middle of the fire escape.


They only had a few seconds before the entire thing came down and to make matters worse he could see the horde as it turned their collective heads towards the sounds of the collapsing fire escape.


Salem grabbed Hunter by his collar and with his other arm he pulled himself and the dog up to the now horizontal staircase, as he did so the anchors on the bottom of the metal structure burst from the brick wall and the fire escape, along with Salem and his half wolf companion fell to the ground.


The structure impacted onto the ground, Salem's back slammed against the rusted metal handrail and he felt the wind leave his lungs as the wind was knocked from his chest. After a dozen seconds he recovered and crawled from the horizontal stairwell, climbing out of the structure and half flopping onto the street in his state of disorientation that had hit him as a result of the massive fall and physical trauma that his body had survived. His companion had already bolted to the snowmobile and Salem followed suit with the newly engaged horde on his heels. As he ran he withdrew his handgun and fired the .45 Colt Military Special with reckless abandon, even downing a few with lucky shots as he blind fired with the old weapon. As the clip ran dry he flung himself over the seat of the snowmobile. His canine partner had alread sat upon the trailer that Salem had tied to the back of the snowmobile and Salem quickly threw the bag of loot into the wooden trailer he had built and attached. All that was left was to turn the ignition on. Salem took the key from his jacket pocket and placed it into the ignition slot, turning the key as soon as he felt it reach the end of the metal slot. The engine sputtered but didn't start, Salem muttered several curses under his breath as he tried it again, but this time he pulled his automatic rifle around his body with his free hand. Using the handlebars as a place to rest the barrel of the gun to provide accuracy as he fired with one hand he mowed down several of the roamers at the front of the pack with his old Bushmaster assault rifle, but there were dozens more behind them and if the engine hadn't started at that exact moment he might have died right there on the street at the hands of the horde.


As the engine roared to life he screamed a pair of explative words in his exitement before sticking up a pair of middle fingers at the incoming horde. Without a second to lose, Salem pulled a tight uturn, spraying the forefront of the herd with a mist of snow and ice before speeding down the snowcovered road in the opposite direction.

 

[kallecroft]

Rick's heavy breathing echoed throughout the subway tunnels, his legs burning like an overheating machine. Every muscle began to ache, the pain rapidly travelling up his body as an elevator would have once traveled up the side of an office building in the distant silhouette of Manhattan. He turned corners (some of which he hadn't recognized), crawled through debris, and smashed through windows as he ran from the white cloud of radioactivity that seemingly clung to his heels until he let the darkness of an unlit corridor consume him before the cloud had so itself.


The Geiger meter, attached to the upper left side of the chest on his jacket, slowed its monotone beeping as the radioactive levels dropped, though not as quickly as he had liked. His hands fell to his knees as he attempted to catch his breath, followed by slipping on his gas mask and turning on the flashlight mounted to the top of it.


Clicking in a new filter, he pressed onward; dust particles fell from the cracks of the concrete ceiling of the tunnels, which were at that point collapsing from a lack of maintenance. Dead weeds hung from the cracks, for a moment Rick reflected the idea of Earth's renewal, how nature was meant to reclaim its land as it had long ago, or so he had read in a piece of literature one time.


He removed the compound bow from his back along with an arrow from his quiver and nestled it in just the right place, like swaddling an infant, and held it so he could easily shoot. Cautiously, he looked around in hopes of a safer place, it was only a matter of time before the cloud caught up with him, he still felt the slight burn in his legs. A spark flew in the distance, scattering and dissipating into the air. A train, he thought to himself.


Still with the bow ready for action, he dropped his means for cautiousness and hurried toward the door, he was right. A member of his previous group of journalists once told him that the glass in New York City trains were reinforced to prevent bullets from easily penetrating them, he hoped that it would hold off a nuclear cloud, too.


A large amount of energy was exerted as he slid open the rust infested door; the metal's shrieks reverberated across the large, open tunnels. The sound sent shivers down his spine, it reminded him of the Remnants.


He bent down to pick up his bow when a ferocious beast tackled him, both of them rolling down the aisle of the subway car. The creature's talons sliced through a side of Rick's arm, tearing through a part of the jacket, as he resisted the Remnant's strength, its face just centimeters from his own. He could smell the nauseating scent of rotten flesh as a piece skin hung loosely from its tooth. I wonder who it belonged to. He said silently. No, shouldn't be focused on that at the moment.


He managed to reach one arm to his right and grab the arrow he had placed next to his bow, impaling the side of the Remnant. It let out a bloodcurdling scream reminiscent to that of the metal door's, and pushed it off of him and rolled backward and onto his feet, still in a crouching position. His hands felt the winter touched .50 caliber pistols holstered on the back of his waist on his fingertips and swiftly pulled them out, pointing both at the beast and shooting.


The smoke of the gunpowder rose to the top of the train car, the scent of war filling Rick's nostrils. He dropped both firearms and dragged in his bow, placing it back around his body and closed all of the doors. A tight grip was placed on the arrow as he pulled it out of the Remnant's rib cage, his right leg placed next to it as leverage. If he was careful, he could harvest its blood and use it on the arrows as a poison.


In a few minutes, his bag was unpacked, a sleeping bag sprawled across the car floor and he patched up his wound with what little supplies he had. There was nothing outside of the the car to see but the smoke of the radioactive cloud hugging all sides of the train. He attempted to rest, but to no avail as the sound of disintegrating material kept his eyes from shutting. He tried focusing on the Remnant corpse, once again thinking about the skin in its teeth. Flashbacks of his parents becoming one flashed into his mind involuntarily, yet they were gone like a flash of lightning in the stormy nuclear sky.


He exhaled and watched his breath condense onto the gas mask's cover, rolled over, and reached for a shard of glass he kept in his messenger bag. He pulled himself up and stood on a seat, cutting the wires of the light. If he were going to die like this, he'd rather it be in darkness.

 

[Busen]

Busen swung his right arm down as he entered the hall of which had the staircase up to second floor. As he swung his arm down, he limply released the bell he had been ringing to get the groups attention; with no response at that. The dome of copper that rings would bounce on the floor, into the wall at which it made a resonant 'ding' with its inner bell. Soon enough, it was wobbling on its rounded side at the floor. Busen extended his right arm and placed his hand on the railing of the stairs before swinging in a curve to his walking path and stepped up on the first slab.


As he continued to slide his right hand along the wooden railing and heading to the first floor from bottom one. He took the steps carefully whilst the wood creaked underneath him. stopping to look back at the huge lobby room and spotted the gas cloud coming through the boarded up windows and cracks of the glass panels, those few that was fairly intact held the gas back. The gas spread itself like a wave over the floor, soon to be higher and higher by the heavy particles the cloud contained. It would be a time before the whole room was filled as the cloud hadn't same force as outside, seeing how the wind was kind of blocked and stopped by the muddy window panels and wall.


As he looked at it, he shook his head and let out a quiet sigh with following words


"Not going back that way, I hope I don't need to jump from the house.."


complaining slightly at the misfortune. He began to go up the stairs again, reaching


the middle space between the two floors. It would leave him no rest as he made a small


half-circle to start walking up at the stair beside the first one in the zig-sagging staircase.


Getting to about halfway up, he hears faint gunshots that would bounce the downstairs room.


The shots weren't from inside the hotel, but rather were he left Damien to gather the last of the group.


As the shots went on, they sounded like a familiar gun, Damien's ones and even more so, the shots were only


of that kind. It would get silent for a bit, to improve his ears capabilities he let himself to freeze in place.


A foot below the other one on the steps, a last shot was heard and he took this as a sign that his leader


whatever was fought. He continued and took the last steps.


Getting up on the first floor and the long hallway that lead on his right side, he looked to his left to see a wall but nothing more. He released the railing and took his right hand to the back of his head. Pulling his scarf down and then, hooked his right hand's index and middle finger into the elastic band to the gasmask. Sliding it up from his head and took the left hand onto the gasmask's front, gripping it and elevating it off of his face. The clean air he breathed was no more and his lungs would instead be filled with the fair bit of 'chokeable' dust-particles that flew lifelessly around the passageway.


Busen did this to save some of the filter in his gasmask and with that, let his left arm with the gasmask down to hook it at his left side of his waist. His other hand in that left the backside of his head and made a easy gesture with it over his head to give his mouth and nose to breath through the arms of his clothing, his elbow pointing straight where his head was facing.


The eyes of him began to tear and small sniffles came from him as he squinted his eyes to look through the fog of dust, which was quite thick in that aspect. He could only see ten meters into the hall he was now stepping up to face and with a beginning silent step, he took his way inwards the seemingly endless hallway.


He faced away though it didn't do much difference, having coupled his gasmask about now; he let that arm to extend out to the left wall of the hallway and guiding him forwards whilst he walked. The ruffled flakes of wallpaper and sponge like surface would easily be felt through his gloves fingertips.


The dark hallway would only be lit up in a green and yellowish tinted light by the end of the long passageway that connected doors of apartment, this light would leave no shadows and so; the two darkish figures of coming forth within Busen's sight would only have only their silhouette to show. The first thought of him was that they were his group, coming out from the apartment, though they looked hurt..


He got to a stop, just to get a better look with squinted and blurred eyes of his by tears at the two humanlike silhouettes, seeing them wobble back and forth as they were walking towards him. He soon found out, through the smell both of raw and decayed flesh; that these human gestalts were, no humans at all. These were Remnants.


They must have been close and by the ringing of the bell, come to look what it was. One of them made a very low-pitched growl which sounded like several clicks, the other one turned to an open door and gently as it was, went into it and vanished behind the frame of that door. They seemed not aware of Busen being present, and at that note, he went to the left in a low-profile crouch. Sneaking into an apartment with an smashed opened door, the upper hinge had been snapped and loosened from the door; with the door standing leaned to the side.


The apartment smelled of something dead when he got in, his gaze was awfully focused on the door opening and the blood-sloppy footsteps coming down the pathway of creaking wooden floor. Busen pressed his back up against the wall just inside the apartment, a drawer to his right leg as he did so; and the frame of the door covered him slightly from the passageway outside. He let his right arm which he had been covering his mouth and nose with to fall down flat against the wall, going down to the drawer as he looked the same way.


He felt a small rod of wood, at furtherer examination it would be clear to him it was a pencil. He gripped it with the right hand and clinched his fist around it, he held it upside-down, as to hold a knife the other way; this was to be his shank if anything would go wrong. Looking upwards from the drawer as the steps became louder, he looked into the apartment and was soon to realise, this was their hideout. The groups hideout.


The bodies, corpses if one may, laid on the floor and had been teared apart whilst the two; Damien and Busen had been gone. He would glare at it with disbelief and then turn his head with it lowered facing the floor at his feets, squinting together hard with closed eyes. Managing to come over his emotions rather quickly as the threat approached and, strangely passed him by. Upon looking at the monster, Busen could notice several characteristics of it. Its twitching head which was as if it had a problem with its neck, snapping from one side to the other as it bit its own teeth and jaw with a powerful and resounding clack.


Holding his breath to both dust and to keep himself silent as the thing went past him. He starred at the awful looking creature and then made his move, with the Remnants back turned to him, he slid out from the hiding spot and relaxed at first he began to step faster and faster and getting up to speed. Soon enough, a silent run was to let him go past doors upon doors. The brighter light would assure him that the end of the passageway was soon over. The Remnant he thought had been fooled, wasn't quite at that. Smart as Remnants was, it would see the floor upon where Busen had walked. Following the footsteps with its gaze and turned around, the Remnant soon gave away a glass shattering callout and at that began sprinting following the steps in the dust at the floor.


The second Remnant came quickly out of the apartment of which he had been searching for the ringing sound of the bell. It soon caught up to what happened and followed the first. They were quite fast, even, faster than Busen who would be in good shape for a run; even in the conditions and environment not allowing much air to his lungs and muscles. Finally entering the light at the end of the tunnel which had been the passageway, he covered his eyes to the quick change of light. The dust around was almost non-existient out in the cold weather of the outside. This part of the hotel had collapsed, the floor had fallen down with rubble at the pavement below.


Busen gave a halt and stood at the ledge of the second floor, looking down at the ice and snow covered road below. Taking a quick look over his shoulder reassured him that the two zombie-like fellows were still following him to his heels. He looked side to side and spotted a convenient slope to his left. This one would be made of the floor that had fallen, being quite vertical but still a steep slide. He turned running towards it but stopped at a few sudden shots, this shots were not from his friend; infact the opposite direction and screech could be heard from that bearing too.


He continued, not knowing what this shot was. It sounded like two pistols of roughly the same size of caliber, but then again, to make it even more difficult to understand the situation; shots from an assault rifle was present soon afterwards. This baffled him, and taking it to the next level, a furtherer audible sound of a motor was heard. Along this as he ran it happened, and getting to the tilted down floor that reached all the way to the street below. He threw himself forwards with legs first and landed on the slope.


With his left hand, he let it steady him as he slid laying almost, down to the road. Shooting away from it just a few feet from the ground, he came to about halfway into the road and stopped on the slippery underneath in a small skate. The sound of a motor was now clearly present and turning towards it let him see a cloud of snow shooting up from behind a speeding snowmobile.


[below is dedicated to @HunterJJ and a response to his roleplay post]


He wiped his eyes in his right wrist's cloth, before letting both of the hands throw up in a wave to halt the vehicle. He would seem desperate, even from far away; and the howls of two Remnants echoed the street. They would be uncertain whether to jump or go the long way around to the slide. Turning to each other, one jumped and fell onto its feets before tipping over at the force of the fall, having broken bones but wasn't stopped, it would try and crawl towards Busen, and the other went around to go the long way down.


The young male didn't notice the crawling one as it slowly went towards him, but just looked at the one running and then at the incoming; possible threat or rescue. Seeing he hadn't much other choice as his aim with bow would be rather bad with his out of breath from running in the conditions inside and his eyes still teary by dust and lost of friends alike.


As he waved, having the pencil in his right hand still; he would give out a shout


"Hey! Need help over here!" he let his arms stay in the air "I have no guns, just my bow!"


And with that, he awaited for the vehicle to come closer and pick him up, or drive past.

 

[Uncultured]

"The fuck does this guy want?" thought Salem to himself sarcastically. This was either a setup or an opportunity to flip a profit for Salem, and although he knew it could be a trap he had a feeling in his gut that the guy was trustworthy, and he had an extra filter for a gas mask, something that Salem actually needed. Salem thought it odd that the man used a bow as he pulled up in front him, a bow in a world where guns and ammo are plentiful is slightly too rustic when talking life or death situations, nothing could really beat an automatic in terms of remnant killing power. Salem's .45 Colt Military Special was already drawn and pointed towards the chest of the person as he skidded to a halt on the snow covered road, spraying snow particles over the shins and feet of the guy who had stopped him. "I see you got an extra gas mask filter, you want a lift, that's the cost, and last time I checked you are pressed for time" said Salem, gesturing behind him with his off hand towards the large pack of remnants that was now coming around the bend behind them. They had been following Salem since he had left the apartment and what they lacked in brains and weaponry they made up for in speed and athleticism. "And, by the way, if you choose to take the offer, you're getting in the trailer with Hunter, you try anything and he'll take an arm off so I advise you to not try and hijack me" said Salem and he motioned his head to the wood and metal sled-like trailer that was tethered to the back of his snowmobile, his half wolf, half husky mix glared at the stranger with intent, although it wasn't a violent glare, simply an analytic one. Hunter was a smart animal who rarely missed anything and if there were others watching and waiting to hijack Salem, his companion would have started barking and howling loud as day, for now at least, the intentions of the stranger were pure and most likely motivated by survival instinct alone.

 

[Busen]

Busen stood infront of Salem's snowmobile as it slowed to a stop with his arms raised in the air and fingers opened with just the pencil between his right hand thumb and index fingers base. Being at gunpoint, something he wasn't used to would make him quite so uncertain; he did though understand the precautions that someone would take upon meeting another of course. The thought of stealing didn't cross his mind, and so on; he gently put down his left hand to his gasmask, noticing first now when the crawling remnant to his left side towards the ruined hotel came out from the shadows. It was only a ten meter away or so, crawling with a speed that was as a limp walking; maybe even slower.


The remnant would clack hard together with it's teeth when it clawed forwards on it's belly, the disturbingly bent legs from cracking of the fall would loosely follow it's blood soaked path. The smell of it would disrupt the cold winter dawn's one, the slow exhale of Busen gave away a mist of his warm breath. Listening closely and upon the hint, gave a slight tilt to the right as to see behind the snowmobile; his eyes widened as he saw the horde of blood thirsty.


It wouldn't take long before he looked back and made nervous smile, he nodded and unscrew the filter of his gasmask; walking forwards and stretching it out past the left side were a windshield would sit to Salem for him to grab. He later reassured his action with "Y-yeah, I got a spare" before he tried to walk past to the canine which was watching his every move, feeling somewhat intimidated by the animal as his only interaction with them was to read about 'good dogs' in child books as little; whilst he was still covered by shelter walls. Occasionally hearing all about how bad dogs were outside the shelter when he was younger, and remembering bites from 'gatherers' that came back from looting; those who later were deceased and put away to rotten.


He looked at the dog a short moment before turning away quite distressed at the sentence that described the dog to be able to tear a limb off, whilst he looked away; he noticed the crowd of nearly undead behind them and even the one that had followed in his path which was now the leader infront to sprint towards them from behind. Busen put his left hand to grab the ledge of the trailer facing backwards before swallowing as he stepped up, giving his right hand to go up to his throat; pinch a grasp of the grey scarf he had around his neck to pull it over his mouth and ultimately over his nose. A muffled through the cloth "We should get going" as he was about to sit down in it, minding not to anger the canine at that.

 

[Kainzor99]

*Void last entry*Kaine went up ontop the shop to see the snow mobile in the distance.The Remants gathered up the fire escape. "FUCK!" He grabbed the ledge and looked down. He never learned how to wall run down the side of a building. "The snow may be thick enough." He felt a cold hand grab his. He let go and fell into the snow. He felt dizzy slowly got up and stumbled to his motor bike. "Must...Follow...People..." He got on and revved it. The snow traction tires took some time to get a grip he put his hood over his head and adjusted his surgeon mask.He pulled up next to them. "Mind if I tag alone?" He noticed the gasmask. "Busen? That you?"

 

[kallecroft]

Rick lay there, kept awake by both his memories and the pats of bullets hitting the sides of buildings above the tunnels. He tossed and turned, putting his sleeping bag over his head in attempt to suppress the noise, but as the mechanical heart of his watch ticked further, everything seemed to be amplified.


"I can't do this." he told himself as he pulled himself up out of the sleeping bag, which had him wrapped like a caterpillar in a cocoon just before undergoing metamorphosis. He looked at the Remnant, the cold corpse still on the even colder metal floor of the train; the beast's blood filled the cracks of the anti-slip floor until the thick liquid met with the door. "The remnants of a Remnant," he began, "And I was sleeping a few feet away from it."


The teenager grabbed his quiver of arrows that he had leaned against one of the seats (most of the cushioned seats were knocked onto their sides and rusted all along the side) and pulled a dirt covered handkerchief from his messenger bag, grazing his fingers above the initials sewn into it. He knelt onto the floor, at first wincing at the sharp pain that shot up his leg from the cold. Rick folded a part of the handkerchief and stuck it into a crack filled with the Remnant's blood and watched the blood climb up the fabric. He then took each of his arrows, one by one, and rubbed the blood onto the end of each arrowhead.


When he had finished, he regathered all of his things, throwing his backpack onto his back and the messenger bag over his soldier, followed by the bow on his back and the quiver to go along with it. Some of the cloud had dissipated by this point, but even still, his field of view was limited to about fifteen meters. He was running out of filters in his gas mask quickly, down to two more, a supply in which would only last a few hours.


He placed the gas mask back around his face and hesitated before opening the door again. This could possibly be one of the worst ideas that he's ever had, sprinting through a cloud of gas that could eat through your skin faster than he's ever seen any Remnant do before.


A familiar yet somewhat foreign sound could be heard coming from the streets above the tunnels. Not foreign in the sense of unknown, but as though it was a distant memory of his. An engine.


All fear of disintegrating in the acidic cloud had eluded his thoughts as he pulled open the door, another rusty shriek sending shivers down his spine, and dashed through the smoke. He felt sick, he felt his muscles weaken and most of all, he a horrible itch in his throat accompanied by a strong taste of copper-filled blood. This did not stop him, the surge of energy raced through his body like a power surge pumping through his veins. He felt his heart in his chest beating to the sound of his watch, it could be counting the seconds until he dies, but it was this sense of the unknown that kept him going. He could be saved in a few minutes, that is if the smoke didn't burn through him before then.


"What are you doing?" he questioned himself as he raced up the stairs of the subway station, the sound of a motor growing louder and louder as he reached the surface. He had seen the group of journalists he was with growing up suffer from not only disease, but also tortured by raiders, all of their supplies had been sacrificed to save their lives but it was no use. The more they lost in terms of supplies the more starved to death, the food was rationed for the youth of the group. "They could be cold heart killers up there, we all want the same thing, not friendship, not loyalty, all we want to do, all we have to do is survive." he finished as he reached the gate to the exit outside, a padlock preventing anyone from entering.


He pulled out a pistol, the motor vehicle sounding as though it was only a few feet away, and shot the lock off. Rick stuck the pistol back into the holster on the back of his waist and pulled out his bow and an arrow, readying a shot toward where he heard the vehicle and walked to the center of the road.


The headlight became visible, though the cloud was gone, it began to snow heavily. Rick was now able to identify the vehicle as being a snowmobile; he pointed the arrow directly where he assumed the driver's head would be, in hopes that he or she would slow down.


The cloud he ran through down in the subway tunnels had eaten through a part of his pant leg, the cold air hit his skin feeling like an icicle had been forced through his leg with a considerable amount of force. The pain pulsated until it became numb.


The snowmobile was now completely visible in the storm, Rick perfected his aim. If anything were to happen, he could end it right now with a poisoned arrow through the cranium. He hoped it wouldn't end that way, but he has come to an understanding that trust is not a valuable asset to survival.

 

[Uncultured]

"Look I don't know who you people are but this, this is fucked where are you all coming from" said Salem as he revved the engine. The remnants were coming towards them at a rapid pace and he didn't have time to straighten things out with the other survivors, it was suspect to say the least but he didn't have the time to figure out who was who. The snowmobile quickly accelerated from its stationary position, spraying snow in several directions. The vehicle moved rapidly down the street past several more buildings, passing abandoned cars, rubble and broken in storefronts, long since picked clean of any items of value. The cross street that Salem approached was packed full of rubble on both sides, broken down cars littered the cross street and a horde of remnants populated the right hand side of the street they were crossing, the only option was to go straight but the road was heavily cluttered with abandoned vehicles and large pieces of rubble, it would be difficult to navigate through the cluttered street to say the least. "This might get rough, hold on back there" shouted Salem over the roar of the engine.