DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(1x1 RP between myself and TheCreator)
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The World's End
- Thread starter DrTrollinski
- Start date
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
New Hampshire, August 23rd, 2015.
The news reports were true. He was driving, driving faster than he was allowed to be. Whirring police sirens sped right by him and went off to some other emergency. The news reports weren’t false, for once. They weren’t rigged or staged, and this wasn’t going to turn out to be like the Ebola scare. This was going to be worse.
Richard Rovling was a therapist. Or an ex-therapist. His sister saved his life after he fell down to nothing when one of his younger patients died of suicide. It was too much – he was successful, and every patient he’d had, had made a full recovery overtime. When one of his youngest patients died at the age of fifteen, it was too much for him to take. He quit his job and fell into severe depression. If it wasn’t for his sister, he’d probably be dead as well.
He knew she was in trouble, though. She didn’t answer her phone.
He had his gun in his passenger seat, the Desert Eagle. It was the weapon he initially planned to shoot himself in the head with, that was until his sister found him, hugged him, and muttered four words into his ear.
‘It’s not your fault.’
**
There she was. He was stood over her body, her throat torn clean out. There was blood everywhere. Richard wanted to just vomit everywhere and collapse onto the floor – he didn’t do the first part, but he did indeed fall to the ground in front of her. He was sobbing. He was dead. The pain he was experiencing just broke his heart – he couldn’t believe it. The person who had essentially saved his life so many times over was dead.
He felt himself snap. He lost it. He slowly rose up and went outside to his car. He looked up at the sky and just roared and screamed in fury and heartbreak – this wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been. Was this really happening? He held the gun tight at his side and then snapped it to the side of his head – he pulled the trigger, and there was a click. He hadn’t chambered a round. It was a sign – from that point on, he didn’t feel like he had to die. He had a purpose. He didn’t know if it was now or in five years, but he knew there was something. He sobbed as he walked to his car and hopped into the driver’s seat. He decided that he’d go to a gas station or general store and see what he could do – get some whiskey, drink, cry for a while, go over regrets, vent problems to himself, and then sleep in the back of the car. It was better than nothing, right?
Tomorrow, he’d make a move. Leave the state, find a little house to sit in for a while, and then make a decision to either move elsewhere or stick around. The world was falling – every state, the country, the government, army, and the people. The people were the ones that suffered most. They just didn’t know it yet.
The news reports were true. He was driving, driving faster than he was allowed to be. Whirring police sirens sped right by him and went off to some other emergency. The news reports weren’t false, for once. They weren’t rigged or staged, and this wasn’t going to turn out to be like the Ebola scare. This was going to be worse.
Richard Rovling was a therapist. Or an ex-therapist. His sister saved his life after he fell down to nothing when one of his younger patients died of suicide. It was too much – he was successful, and every patient he’d had, had made a full recovery overtime. When one of his youngest patients died at the age of fifteen, it was too much for him to take. He quit his job and fell into severe depression. If it wasn’t for his sister, he’d probably be dead as well.
He knew she was in trouble, though. She didn’t answer her phone.
He had his gun in his passenger seat, the Desert Eagle. It was the weapon he initially planned to shoot himself in the head with, that was until his sister found him, hugged him, and muttered four words into his ear.
‘It’s not your fault.’
**
There she was. He was stood over her body, her throat torn clean out. There was blood everywhere. Richard wanted to just vomit everywhere and collapse onto the floor – he didn’t do the first part, but he did indeed fall to the ground in front of her. He was sobbing. He was dead. The pain he was experiencing just broke his heart – he couldn’t believe it. The person who had essentially saved his life so many times over was dead.
He felt himself snap. He lost it. He slowly rose up and went outside to his car. He looked up at the sky and just roared and screamed in fury and heartbreak – this wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been. Was this really happening? He held the gun tight at his side and then snapped it to the side of his head – he pulled the trigger, and there was a click. He hadn’t chambered a round. It was a sign – from that point on, he didn’t feel like he had to die. He had a purpose. He didn’t know if it was now or in five years, but he knew there was something. He sobbed as he walked to his car and hopped into the driver’s seat. He decided that he’d go to a gas station or general store and see what he could do – get some whiskey, drink, cry for a while, go over regrets, vent problems to himself, and then sleep in the back of the car. It was better than nothing, right?
Tomorrow, he’d make a move. Leave the state, find a little house to sit in for a while, and then make a decision to either move elsewhere or stick around. The world was falling – every state, the country, the government, army, and the people. The people were the ones that suffered most. They just didn’t know it yet.
furo
learn and let die
Frantic Finnick dug his elbow onto the car windowsill, wounding his fingers through his sandy blonde locks, clenching his fingers into a fist as he racked and combed his brain to find options. Options. Where could they go? He couldn’t bring himself to briefing his endeared wife on what was bringing the world to shambles and rubble; he wouldn’t be able to swallow the guilt of causing the expression of desolation he could picture in her face. The problem was, however, she had begun frequenting her questions, and he was blank as to weaving a subtle way of explaining it.
Finnick’s sweaty palms were stuck to the wheel, and to only increase his pressure, the traffic jam was on a stalemate. There were no authorities that could at least make a rough attempt to lead the vehicle circuit –the streets were utterly packed. There was space for no soul.
“Let’s… see what’s on the radio…” Mallorey mumbled, shifting uncomfortably behind the seatbelt. She had ceased to wonder whether they had packed the appropriate things; everything else, they’d left back in the house. In the house they’d never return to, unlike what Finnick had told her. It was slipping through his fingers, and he regretted masking the truth from her.
Nothing but white noise was casted from the radio station.
A sigh escaped the man’s nostrils. He quickly bolted upstraight to see the endless rows of vehicles gradually beginning to scram. A swarm of heat roamed inside his chest and his blood pumped fervently through his veins.
He’d always known this was going to happen, but he was never brave enough to man up and accept it. Studies shown it clearly, one of his closest friends, a scientist, had proven him multiple times. Scientists themselves had simply stuffed the research into drawers and kept it there, hidden –in denial. Humanity wasn’t ready.
Patients nearly flooded out the hospitals’ windows, and nobody didn’t know where to go. Finnick did, though. They were headed south; Nashville, Tennessee.
Finnick’s sweaty palms were stuck to the wheel, and to only increase his pressure, the traffic jam was on a stalemate. There were no authorities that could at least make a rough attempt to lead the vehicle circuit –the streets were utterly packed. There was space for no soul.
“Let’s… see what’s on the radio…” Mallorey mumbled, shifting uncomfortably behind the seatbelt. She had ceased to wonder whether they had packed the appropriate things; everything else, they’d left back in the house. In the house they’d never return to, unlike what Finnick had told her. It was slipping through his fingers, and he regretted masking the truth from her.
Nothing but white noise was casted from the radio station.
A sigh escaped the man’s nostrils. He quickly bolted upstraight to see the endless rows of vehicles gradually beginning to scram. A swarm of heat roamed inside his chest and his blood pumped fervently through his veins.
He’d always known this was going to happen, but he was never brave enough to man up and accept it. Studies shown it clearly, one of his closest friends, a scientist, had proven him multiple times. Scientists themselves had simply stuffed the research into drawers and kept it there, hidden –in denial. Humanity wasn’t ready.
Patients nearly flooded out the hospitals’ windows, and nobody didn’t know where to go. Finnick did, though. They were headed south; Nashville, Tennessee.
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
20 Years Later
Over the years that went by, humankind only plummeted in numbers by the day. People lost the ones they loved, their homes, their livelihood... Their lives. It was a sad and depressing two decades that went by, no doubt - People had come together after the first five years and they'd made the effort to bring life back to everyone. Food and supply productions began after they found ways to restore power to major places. This lasted for only ten years, but by then, humanity had a little bit more of a chance at surviving - bottled water was given out in major places in only some states, but people traveled miles to get it - the water was gathered from fresh-water streams and boiled and bottled, and canned food became a thing for that amount of time as well. Canned food could last for long over five years if you stored it correctly, and that's what a lot of people did, but of course, with every success comes a failure - the failure was murder. Most of the main factories were destroyed - everyone inside them were killed. Shot. Stabbed. Hung. Gutted. Burned. Drowned.
Humanity had indeed turned on itself.
One notable thing was the discovery of bio-fuel. Well, not discovery, but they figured out how to produce it in the masses. Everyone carried bio-fuel with them. It was made of ethanol from corn that still grew on reserved farmlands of communities and small towns that had been sanctioned off from the apocalypse - everyone had at least one Jerry can of the stuff. It was just the rule.
The undead seemed to get worse over time. They had what people referred to as the walkers and runners - the names speak for themselves - then there was the bone runners - infected that had chewed their hands and forearms away and had sharpened the bones with their teeth. Their teeth were screwed, but that wasn't a problem. They walked up, and gave their targets the impression that they were slow. Once they were up close, they ran - they impaled their target and waited for them to die - and then, when they had the time to sit down and eat, they'd slowly cut and eat the dead body. When they were killed, any blood left in their system rushed to their heart - it expanded, and then eventually blew up, sending putrid, rotten blood all over the person who'd managed to kill them - the killer had a five second delay to get out of the blast radius. The stuff didn't have an effect unless you got it in a wound or in your mouth, then you were fucked. The Impalers were a specialist breed that seemed to be evolved walkers. Easily identifiable by the holes in their skin. They got up close, locked their arms around the target, and then impaled them with small bone-like spikes that came out of the said holes. Not only did this infect them, but it killed them and made them easier to eat as well. Here's the catch - if you killed one, the spikes ejected from their body after a short period of time and cut through whatever was in its way (As long as it wasn't a solid surface, of course). Finally, their were the leeches and the Hunters. The leeches jumped up, clung onto you, and planted eggs under your skin which eventually traveled to your stomach and hatched - this resulted in the vomiting of dozens of tiny leeches. Now, when the mother leech bit into the skin, it didn't just suck blood, it physically ate the flesh - unless you amputated the limb, you were done for.
The Hunters, on the other hand, were a different story. They didn't give you even a fighting chance. No heart, a brain the size of a golf ball, a thick skull for defense from (mostly blunt) weapons, and were permeable to bright lights. That meant they were nocturnal - with claws the size of a young child's index finger, four legs, black eyes, and teeth that were only slightly shorter than their claws, they were the most dangerous creatures out there. They didn't have proper skin, and a lot of muscle and tendons were exposed, but they were still strong - body shots would only slow them down. They were smart, too. They knew how to work in packs, and they knew how to mentally torment someone before they went in for the kill.
Let's move onto a different part of the story. The last and most important part to note would be the one radio station that broadcasted from Mont Waumbek in New Hampshire. There were numerous satellite dish points spread out across the country, all hand-built, but it got the signal through, and it allowed those with radios or cars to tune in. This guy was a conspiracy theorist, a radio DJ, and a guy that generally did his best to try and lighten up the mood as much as he could. A lot of people appreciated it, surprisingly.
**
Richard had left New Hampshire a day ago and he was heading further south. Crammed into the back of his car was his crossbow, his rifle, a spare shotgun, some food, water, fuel, and an extra pistol - he still had his trusty Desert Eagle from twenty years ago, and despite all of his badass gear, he was far from a badass. He just liked to look threatening - sure, he knew how to use all of those weapons, but could he take down five guys with just a crossbow? No. In fact, he wouldn't even take on five guys alone.
He left a little group in a Police Station that had been there since the start. They'd renovated, reproduced, and even had their own food supply. The leader there had started it all off with just his younger brother, who was eleven at the time. He took a few kids in, who had grown up to be sophisticated and well-mannered. He considered them all to be his own, because that's the bond he had with them. He was in his forties now, and the kids were all in their twenties and thirties, but they still had other children dashing around.
He just wanted to head further south. Somewhere new. He was doing alright at that, but then he saw black smoke rising up over some trees. Usually, he wouldn't risk it, but today? Today he felt adventurous. That purpose he felt he had twenty years ago? For some reason now, it felt like it was finally kicking into play. The world has a funny way of throwing the unexpected at you, doesn't it?
Over the years that went by, humankind only plummeted in numbers by the day. People lost the ones they loved, their homes, their livelihood... Their lives. It was a sad and depressing two decades that went by, no doubt - People had come together after the first five years and they'd made the effort to bring life back to everyone. Food and supply productions began after they found ways to restore power to major places. This lasted for only ten years, but by then, humanity had a little bit more of a chance at surviving - bottled water was given out in major places in only some states, but people traveled miles to get it - the water was gathered from fresh-water streams and boiled and bottled, and canned food became a thing for that amount of time as well. Canned food could last for long over five years if you stored it correctly, and that's what a lot of people did, but of course, with every success comes a failure - the failure was murder. Most of the main factories were destroyed - everyone inside them were killed. Shot. Stabbed. Hung. Gutted. Burned. Drowned.
Humanity had indeed turned on itself.
One notable thing was the discovery of bio-fuel. Well, not discovery, but they figured out how to produce it in the masses. Everyone carried bio-fuel with them. It was made of ethanol from corn that still grew on reserved farmlands of communities and small towns that had been sanctioned off from the apocalypse - everyone had at least one Jerry can of the stuff. It was just the rule.
The undead seemed to get worse over time. They had what people referred to as the walkers and runners - the names speak for themselves - then there was the bone runners - infected that had chewed their hands and forearms away and had sharpened the bones with their teeth. Their teeth were screwed, but that wasn't a problem. They walked up, and gave their targets the impression that they were slow. Once they were up close, they ran - they impaled their target and waited for them to die - and then, when they had the time to sit down and eat, they'd slowly cut and eat the dead body. When they were killed, any blood left in their system rushed to their heart - it expanded, and then eventually blew up, sending putrid, rotten blood all over the person who'd managed to kill them - the killer had a five second delay to get out of the blast radius. The stuff didn't have an effect unless you got it in a wound or in your mouth, then you were fucked. The Impalers were a specialist breed that seemed to be evolved walkers. Easily identifiable by the holes in their skin. They got up close, locked their arms around the target, and then impaled them with small bone-like spikes that came out of the said holes. Not only did this infect them, but it killed them and made them easier to eat as well. Here's the catch - if you killed one, the spikes ejected from their body after a short period of time and cut through whatever was in its way (As long as it wasn't a solid surface, of course). Finally, their were the leeches and the Hunters. The leeches jumped up, clung onto you, and planted eggs under your skin which eventually traveled to your stomach and hatched - this resulted in the vomiting of dozens of tiny leeches. Now, when the mother leech bit into the skin, it didn't just suck blood, it physically ate the flesh - unless you amputated the limb, you were done for.
The Hunters, on the other hand, were a different story. They didn't give you even a fighting chance. No heart, a brain the size of a golf ball, a thick skull for defense from (mostly blunt) weapons, and were permeable to bright lights. That meant they were nocturnal - with claws the size of a young child's index finger, four legs, black eyes, and teeth that were only slightly shorter than their claws, they were the most dangerous creatures out there. They didn't have proper skin, and a lot of muscle and tendons were exposed, but they were still strong - body shots would only slow them down. They were smart, too. They knew how to work in packs, and they knew how to mentally torment someone before they went in for the kill.
Let's move onto a different part of the story. The last and most important part to note would be the one radio station that broadcasted from Mont Waumbek in New Hampshire. There were numerous satellite dish points spread out across the country, all hand-built, but it got the signal through, and it allowed those with radios or cars to tune in. This guy was a conspiracy theorist, a radio DJ, and a guy that generally did his best to try and lighten up the mood as much as he could. A lot of people appreciated it, surprisingly.
**
Richard had left New Hampshire a day ago and he was heading further south. Crammed into the back of his car was his crossbow, his rifle, a spare shotgun, some food, water, fuel, and an extra pistol - he still had his trusty Desert Eagle from twenty years ago, and despite all of his badass gear, he was far from a badass. He just liked to look threatening - sure, he knew how to use all of those weapons, but could he take down five guys with just a crossbow? No. In fact, he wouldn't even take on five guys alone.
He left a little group in a Police Station that had been there since the start. They'd renovated, reproduced, and even had their own food supply. The leader there had started it all off with just his younger brother, who was eleven at the time. He took a few kids in, who had grown up to be sophisticated and well-mannered. He considered them all to be his own, because that's the bond he had with them. He was in his forties now, and the kids were all in their twenties and thirties, but they still had other children dashing around.
He just wanted to head further south. Somewhere new. He was doing alright at that, but then he saw black smoke rising up over some trees. Usually, he wouldn't risk it, but today? Today he felt adventurous. That purpose he felt he had twenty years ago? For some reason now, it felt like it was finally kicking into play. The world has a funny way of throwing the unexpected at you, doesn't it?
furo
learn and let die
Days go by numbly as Hazel grasps tighter at the raw sprouts of her being. It’s one of the only things she has left. Life at the Underage Educational & Disciplinary Reformatory of Memphis (U.E.D.R.M) is not much different than a military academy, but it’s no less than the best type of lifestyle a child can ask for in these times. It can be even considered… a quality life. You’re taken care of, physically trained, educated, and often enjoy of leisure time. All of this discloses children raised in educational and disciplinary reformatories are fortunate to be fed (almost), able-bodied, literate and cultured and have spare time at their disposal.
However, there cannot be a thread of light without darkness. Social grouping is an instinctive trait human beings seek for, thus it becomes unavoidable no matter the decades that have passed since society has been torn apart. Hazel hasn’t still found her way into those. Yes, she might get along with a few fellows here and there, as well as bearers of different ranks of the military who bail custody of the reformatory.
All teenagers of this era are bound to be troubled teens. As they reach around the thirteen years of age, they define themselves –they prefer to become bullies more often than not. Victimizing the weaker in order to grant themselves ‘bravery’ and ‘reputation’ seemed to be the easier way to safety and confidence. Those two luxuries meant everything during young blood years. Hazel herself… she was off in her own world. Of course, keeping away from a life of continual bullying and intimidating others, she found solace elsewhere. Knowledge, learning, becoming as acquaint as possible with former times. Life prior to dystopia.
The resources she needed were often found at a library downtown, outside of the reformatory, and inmates who have presented an acceptable behavior within a week’s time are allowed a furlough. Hazel was permitted a furlough virtually every week.
Books, for Hazel Royce, had the world collected in a range of twenty seven letters and sheets of paper.
Hazel was determined to use her next furlough, which she had deliberately weaved for –with excessively passive behavior and obedient attitude towards the lance corporal Healy (who was primarily responsible for the allowance of furloughs) –to be of two days, to go find who she had to. She had to find her brother. After thorough research of foreign reformatories, rummaging through stolen confidential folders, she had spotted her brother’s name on the Underage Educational and Disciplinary Reformatory of Nashville conscription list.
Hazel was aware she could not do it on her own, but it was worth a try. With only a rucksack stuffed with essential resources, she worked through her plan consisting of escaping from the soldier who’d bear custody during her furlough, and guiding herself out of Memphis and into a safe route towards Nashville. The getaway went out without a hitch, but later, she was spotted by someone she really wouldn’t have wished you. Not an authority –oh no… much worse than that.
However, there cannot be a thread of light without darkness. Social grouping is an instinctive trait human beings seek for, thus it becomes unavoidable no matter the decades that have passed since society has been torn apart. Hazel hasn’t still found her way into those. Yes, she might get along with a few fellows here and there, as well as bearers of different ranks of the military who bail custody of the reformatory.
All teenagers of this era are bound to be troubled teens. As they reach around the thirteen years of age, they define themselves –they prefer to become bullies more often than not. Victimizing the weaker in order to grant themselves ‘bravery’ and ‘reputation’ seemed to be the easier way to safety and confidence. Those two luxuries meant everything during young blood years. Hazel herself… she was off in her own world. Of course, keeping away from a life of continual bullying and intimidating others, she found solace elsewhere. Knowledge, learning, becoming as acquaint as possible with former times. Life prior to dystopia.
The resources she needed were often found at a library downtown, outside of the reformatory, and inmates who have presented an acceptable behavior within a week’s time are allowed a furlough. Hazel was permitted a furlough virtually every week.
Books, for Hazel Royce, had the world collected in a range of twenty seven letters and sheets of paper.
Hazel was determined to use her next furlough, which she had deliberately weaved for –with excessively passive behavior and obedient attitude towards the lance corporal Healy (who was primarily responsible for the allowance of furloughs) –to be of two days, to go find who she had to. She had to find her brother. After thorough research of foreign reformatories, rummaging through stolen confidential folders, she had spotted her brother’s name on the Underage Educational and Disciplinary Reformatory of Nashville conscription list.
Hazel was aware she could not do it on her own, but it was worth a try. With only a rucksack stuffed with essential resources, she worked through her plan consisting of escaping from the soldier who’d bear custody during her furlough, and guiding herself out of Memphis and into a safe route towards Nashville. The getaway went out without a hitch, but later, she was spotted by someone she really wouldn’t have wished you. Not an authority –oh no… much worse than that.
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
Richard drove towards the smoke very slowly, but for some reason he had a sense of urgency. He took a deep breath and flicked the radio on to see if that cranky radio DJ was airing. He was. He went by the name of 'Airway', and he was nuttier than a pile of squirrel turds, but it was nice to hear a voice on the radio after so long.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MOOOOOOOOORNING, USA! This is your one and only host, Airway, and today I'm here to discuss another constant problem which has constantly been left in my pigeon hole for me to read out - This talk of children in the world is a disgrace! Who ever said that children couldn't live in this world? Hell, I bet half of you beautiful little survivors were all children when this started, anyway - Some of you probably weren't even born when this happened, and I even bet that SOME of you can't even wipe your own asses any more.
I've had a letter posted to me by a certain 'Chandler Tillman' - He said the following in regards to the opinions on children I discussed last week - 'It absolutely fucking infuriates me when I hear that people think it's not worth having children in this word. I'm thirty-three, was almost thirteen when all this started, and now I've got one son of ten and a son and daughter of five years old. If anything, they've saved my life, and they've contributed more to our community than half of the people here have. People need to pull their heads out their asses.'
Thank you, Chandler from Virginia!"
Richard sometimes couldn't stand this radio host - regardless, there was stuff he had to do. He looked towards the smoke and saw that there was a car that had evidently been shot up. Better yet, he heard crying. Two tiny voices were screaming out for help, and Richard the purpose he'd been waiting for finally trigger. He sped over there - he saw a few things there. Bone runners, mostly - they were clawing at the windows and trying to get into whoever was inside. From the angle he was at, they seemed to be two children. Richard practiced as a therapist in every single group he'd been in, so his profession never died with everything else when this whole thing started.
He instantly sped up and ran down two of the Bone Runners by the car. They growled and screeched as they bounced along the road and eventually fell still - after that, Richard decided he was going in a little more quietly to deal with the rest of them. He took his crossbow from the back of his seat and loaded up a bolt before stepping out and aiming at the head of the nearest bone runner - he quickly pulled the trigger and shot the bolt into its head. He was using regular iron bolts - he had 0.5lb steel bolts in the back, but he only used those for killing the bigger specimens. He pulled the bolt from its head and then instantly ran up and drove it into the remaining one's eye - he didn't expect to be so quick and healthy at this age, but after twenty years on the run, life has a habit of doing that to you. He went to the back and saw two little children - both of them were pale and looked sick, but neither of them were bitten. They were covered in their own feces and urine, though, and their clothes were ruined. They were sobbing, but looked relieved at the sight of Richard. How long had they been here? There was blood all over the front seats, and their were no parents in sight. A bullet had indeed hit the engine block which had caused it to smoke, but why were these kids still alive if they were being attacked?
He got them into his car and then started speeding towards the nearest gas station to get them to a bathroom and help them get cleaned up. They had running water in the toilets and sinks, but that was only because people had come together to work the sewage plants and sewer system, as well as the water works. The water wasn't safe to drink, though. Unless you boiled it, of course.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MOOOOOOOOORNING, USA! This is your one and only host, Airway, and today I'm here to discuss another constant problem which has constantly been left in my pigeon hole for me to read out - This talk of children in the world is a disgrace! Who ever said that children couldn't live in this world? Hell, I bet half of you beautiful little survivors were all children when this started, anyway - Some of you probably weren't even born when this happened, and I even bet that SOME of you can't even wipe your own asses any more.
I've had a letter posted to me by a certain 'Chandler Tillman' - He said the following in regards to the opinions on children I discussed last week - 'It absolutely fucking infuriates me when I hear that people think it's not worth having children in this word. I'm thirty-three, was almost thirteen when all this started, and now I've got one son of ten and a son and daughter of five years old. If anything, they've saved my life, and they've contributed more to our community than half of the people here have. People need to pull their heads out their asses.'
Thank you, Chandler from Virginia!"
Richard sometimes couldn't stand this radio host - regardless, there was stuff he had to do. He looked towards the smoke and saw that there was a car that had evidently been shot up. Better yet, he heard crying. Two tiny voices were screaming out for help, and Richard the purpose he'd been waiting for finally trigger. He sped over there - he saw a few things there. Bone runners, mostly - they were clawing at the windows and trying to get into whoever was inside. From the angle he was at, they seemed to be two children. Richard practiced as a therapist in every single group he'd been in, so his profession never died with everything else when this whole thing started.
He instantly sped up and ran down two of the Bone Runners by the car. They growled and screeched as they bounced along the road and eventually fell still - after that, Richard decided he was going in a little more quietly to deal with the rest of them. He took his crossbow from the back of his seat and loaded up a bolt before stepping out and aiming at the head of the nearest bone runner - he quickly pulled the trigger and shot the bolt into its head. He was using regular iron bolts - he had 0.5lb steel bolts in the back, but he only used those for killing the bigger specimens. He pulled the bolt from its head and then instantly ran up and drove it into the remaining one's eye - he didn't expect to be so quick and healthy at this age, but after twenty years on the run, life has a habit of doing that to you. He went to the back and saw two little children - both of them were pale and looked sick, but neither of them were bitten. They were covered in their own feces and urine, though, and their clothes were ruined. They were sobbing, but looked relieved at the sight of Richard. How long had they been here? There was blood all over the front seats, and their were no parents in sight. A bullet had indeed hit the engine block which had caused it to smoke, but why were these kids still alive if they were being attacked?
He got them into his car and then started speeding towards the nearest gas station to get them to a bathroom and help them get cleaned up. They had running water in the toilets and sinks, but that was only because people had come together to work the sewage plants and sewer system, as well as the water works. The water wasn't safe to drink, though. Unless you boiled it, of course.
furo
learn and let die
The slumbering girl’s foggy eyes fluttered open; she was unfamiliar with the environs. She was huddling near the corner of a narrow ledge between two iron walls, which apparently was the same material the ledge was made of, due to the tubby rusty sound enacted from what was below her as it dented slightly with the shift of her weight whilst she dug her elbows to sit up. Disallowing her movement forward was her left arm, tugged by the wrist. As she turned to find what was going to make all thoughts sink and crumble into dust and hopelessness was going to reign supreme within her unfathomable emotions.
Hazel was handcuffed to an iron pipe in the wall.
She has never been a girl to cry, no matter the situation. If she were to recollect the times tears had trailed down her face –for real –they could have been counted with her fingers. This would have summed up as one more of those, but her eyes were dry of tears. She wanted to cry. Images of the short future she was bound to came flashing in front of her eyes.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die here, crippled and starved. What are the odds someone finds me before some infected do? Or before I dehydrate and starve to death?
These words sneered, spelling out as fast as lightning strikes –she couldn’t possible imagine a worse death. Slow, painful. Her skin would shrink and shrivel up until her skin hugged her bones. That’s when tears trickled out of her clenched-shut eyes, and weeping noises crept out of her throat.
Abruptly, she started jolting and tussling violently as far as the chain of the cuffs allowed her. She shook desperately like a leashed rabid beast. The turmoil soon ceased; all energies had drained out of her. She felt impotent still.
Only one thing could prevail that she could still hold onto: hope. However, she had a strong hunch it would eventually run out. Oblivion. In a world like this, contemplating the most preferable way to die was a promising subject for debate. Hazel strongly doubted this could possibly be one close to preferable. She could almost feel her brain ache at the thought, and she couldn’t get it out of her head. The hopelessness and helplessness. She couldn’t do anything –she was cuffed.
Hazel was handcuffed to an iron pipe in the wall.
She has never been a girl to cry, no matter the situation. If she were to recollect the times tears had trailed down her face –for real –they could have been counted with her fingers. This would have summed up as one more of those, but her eyes were dry of tears. She wanted to cry. Images of the short future she was bound to came flashing in front of her eyes.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die here, crippled and starved. What are the odds someone finds me before some infected do? Or before I dehydrate and starve to death?
These words sneered, spelling out as fast as lightning strikes –she couldn’t possible imagine a worse death. Slow, painful. Her skin would shrink and shrivel up until her skin hugged her bones. That’s when tears trickled out of her clenched-shut eyes, and weeping noises crept out of her throat.
Abruptly, she started jolting and tussling violently as far as the chain of the cuffs allowed her. She shook desperately like a leashed rabid beast. The turmoil soon ceased; all energies had drained out of her. She felt impotent still.
Only one thing could prevail that she could still hold onto: hope. However, she had a strong hunch it would eventually run out. Oblivion. In a world like this, contemplating the most preferable way to die was a promising subject for debate. Hazel strongly doubted this could possibly be one close to preferable. She could almost feel her brain ache at the thought, and she couldn’t get it out of her head. The hopelessness and helplessness. She couldn’t do anything –she was cuffed.
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(Whereabouts is she so I can put more detail down when I find her? Also, I'm going to be posting on here tomorrow morning as I'm currently on my phone and I want to write a detailed post. See you tomorrow 
)
)
furo
learn and let die
(( Oh, right. To be exact, she's stuck at a shelf-like ledge in the underground floor of a mall, right next to the whole electric power control. ))
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(( one last question before I sleep, what state/city is this in?)
furo
learn and let die
(( Memphis, Tennessee. ))
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
He didn't know why, but he felt most sorry for the little girl he'd found. He left the boy sitting on a toilet in the next stall along, and he made sure the door was blocked close by at least something. They were both crying, and Richard knew that they were both utterly terrified of him, but were somehow accepting of him seeing as he'd saved them. He was helping the girl get cleaned up first, because he assumed that the boy could manage some of it himself - it was safe to say that he didn't. Richard wasn't used to wiping asses and human waste off of people, but he'd seen and smelt things far worse, so he couldn't care less at this current point - he'd never been a father, so all of this was new to him.
".. What's your name?" He asked the girl in the most gentle tone he could, although his voice had been made quite rough from all the consumption of whiskey and other strong alcohol. The consequence of becoming a raging alcoholic was almost dying, so he stayed away from heavy drinking since then. The consequence of stopping? Becoming a hardened survivor who had the aspiration and desire to live on and help the world become what it once was.
The girl didn't answer.
".. Is that your brother in there?" He gently knocked on the wall on the side the boy was sat at. She nodded a few times. "Okay... You don't need to be scared of me... I'm a friend, okay? I'm not here to hurt you." He added, she said nothing. With a sigh he continued cleaning her up until every last bit of muck was away from her. At least she looked in better shape now. He flushed the toilet behind her and then sighed. ".. Wait in here. I'm gonna' go clean your brother up." He said, she nodded again and he left her in there - as soon as he went into the stall with the boy and ducked in front of him, he burst out into tears again and put his arms around Richard's neck, as well as putting his head on his shoulder. It went to show that the boy was a bit more trusting than the girl - he was sobbing. His sobs were painful to listen to, and the desperation behind them was completely unbelievable.
**
Once they were all cleaned up, he got them both wrapped up in some blankets and then got them into his car. He flicked on the radio and smiled in a relaxed way when he realized that the DJ, Airway, had started a track that he hadn't heard for so long. Darius Rucker's 'Wagon Wheel'. He loved that song - He still didn't know the names of the children, nor were they speaking to him, but he had to drive further South for a day or so so that he could locate a store where he could get some clothes for them - most clothing stores had been emptied, whereas a lot of shopping malls were so crammed with the undead that no one went near them. That was a good place to start. The only problem was now, he needed to find a mall that was relatively quiet, and he actually needed to, you know, find a mall. They had a long drive ahead of them.
".. What's your name?" He asked the girl in the most gentle tone he could, although his voice had been made quite rough from all the consumption of whiskey and other strong alcohol. The consequence of becoming a raging alcoholic was almost dying, so he stayed away from heavy drinking since then. The consequence of stopping? Becoming a hardened survivor who had the aspiration and desire to live on and help the world become what it once was.
The girl didn't answer.
".. Is that your brother in there?" He gently knocked on the wall on the side the boy was sat at. She nodded a few times. "Okay... You don't need to be scared of me... I'm a friend, okay? I'm not here to hurt you." He added, she said nothing. With a sigh he continued cleaning her up until every last bit of muck was away from her. At least she looked in better shape now. He flushed the toilet behind her and then sighed. ".. Wait in here. I'm gonna' go clean your brother up." He said, she nodded again and he left her in there - as soon as he went into the stall with the boy and ducked in front of him, he burst out into tears again and put his arms around Richard's neck, as well as putting his head on his shoulder. It went to show that the boy was a bit more trusting than the girl - he was sobbing. His sobs were painful to listen to, and the desperation behind them was completely unbelievable.
**
Once they were all cleaned up, he got them both wrapped up in some blankets and then got them into his car. He flicked on the radio and smiled in a relaxed way when he realized that the DJ, Airway, had started a track that he hadn't heard for so long. Darius Rucker's 'Wagon Wheel'. He loved that song - He still didn't know the names of the children, nor were they speaking to him, but he had to drive further South for a day or so so that he could locate a store where he could get some clothes for them - most clothing stores had been emptied, whereas a lot of shopping malls were so crammed with the undead that no one went near them. That was a good place to start. The only problem was now, he needed to find a mall that was relatively quiet, and he actually needed to, you know, find a mall. They had a long drive ahead of them.
furo
learn and let die
Minutes turned into long hours, and Hazel fell into unbidden irregular periods of REM, thus she couldn’t keep track of time. Besides, considering how distorted the sensation of time ticking by becomes when one can only attempt to fathom their hazy thoughts, at times she could have felt days went by, when it was only an hour or two. To make it even worse, the room she was in, which she’d had enough time to identify it as the boiler room of the mall, her deduction being based off of the obsolete electric switchboards, remainders of circuit breakers, and dangling pieces of distribution frames strewn all over the place. Somehow, the majority of the light tubes on the ceiling were working for some strange reason.
It was insanely silent; it even had Hazel frantic for a moment or two, believing she might’ve gone deaf. She could hear her organs functioning. Her heart pumping feebly, lungs filling with oxygen and ejecting carbon dioxide.
The arrival of sound startled her. She bolted upright and saw what brought lost threads of hope back, but not for very long. “H-help! Up here, please, help me!” The throbbing pain of her left wrist –which was swollen and bruised due to the friction and pressure of the ruthless cuff –was ignored as she tugged strongly at it, attempting to ensure the man who’d dashed into the room would hear her pleading for aid.
Soon, however, she was disappointed, as well as terrorized. Stepping on the man’s heels came chasing a runner. More than one. The guy tripped to the ground as the runner swooped onto him, promptly champing onto his neck, earning a loud scream of pain from its victim. Presently, three of the undead were viciously feasting on his guts.
Hazel flinched and staggered, quickly creeping back to the corner of the shelf-like ledge and huddling against the corner, hugging her knees to her chest tightly as not to be seen. With wide-open eyes in apprehension, careful not to even breathe a decibel too loud in fear of drawing the runners’ attention. She trembled furiously.
Thankfully, and to her profound relief, the voracious threesome sauntered out of the boilers room after browsing and scrounging around the entire floor for another meal. A deep exhale of relief escaped Hazel’s nostrils a few minutes after they’d left, just in case they were still nearby and she simply didn’t know it.
The fear of death beckoning still pierced her fragile core. She was too young.
It was insanely silent; it even had Hazel frantic for a moment or two, believing she might’ve gone deaf. She could hear her organs functioning. Her heart pumping feebly, lungs filling with oxygen and ejecting carbon dioxide.
The arrival of sound startled her. She bolted upright and saw what brought lost threads of hope back, but not for very long. “H-help! Up here, please, help me!” The throbbing pain of her left wrist –which was swollen and bruised due to the friction and pressure of the ruthless cuff –was ignored as she tugged strongly at it, attempting to ensure the man who’d dashed into the room would hear her pleading for aid.
Soon, however, she was disappointed, as well as terrorized. Stepping on the man’s heels came chasing a runner. More than one. The guy tripped to the ground as the runner swooped onto him, promptly champing onto his neck, earning a loud scream of pain from its victim. Presently, three of the undead were viciously feasting on his guts.
Hazel flinched and staggered, quickly creeping back to the corner of the shelf-like ledge and huddling against the corner, hugging her knees to her chest tightly as not to be seen. With wide-open eyes in apprehension, careful not to even breathe a decibel too loud in fear of drawing the runners’ attention. She trembled furiously.
Thankfully, and to her profound relief, the voracious threesome sauntered out of the boilers room after browsing and scrounging around the entire floor for another meal. A deep exhale of relief escaped Hazel’s nostrils a few minutes after they’d left, just in case they were still nearby and she simply didn’t know it.
The fear of death beckoning still pierced her fragile core. She was too young.
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(I need to sleep so I'll post in the morning
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(Plus I'm on my phone so I can't write a lot. Anything I post on atm isn't as detailed as I like it to be, but I promise I'll have something up here tomorrow)
furo
learn and let die
(( No worries. ))
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
Pretty Much Dead Already
Seventeen hours. That's how long it took him to find a decent place. It was a seventeen-hour drive, and yet, he didn't stop. The only time he stopped was for piss-breaks, to refuel the car, to stop for the kids to get out and pee, to get himself and the kids something to eat and drink, or to clear out a small area so they could continue going. He didn't sleep. He didn't even feel tired - He felt dedicated. He wanted to get these kids some clean and warm clothes.
He'd learned their names once they'd stopped the car to share some food. George and Jessica, or Jessica and George, whichever sounded best. They were cute kids, he'd found - They were his purpose now, his reason to continue fighting, and his reason to keep pushing forward and get up in the mornings. These were the guys that kept him strong, that made him feel alive. He just kept driving for their sake - running off of no sleep wasn't easy, but on this one particular set of days, it had felt like the easiest thing in existence. It was a good thing that Richard was well-acquainted with 'all-nighters' - He'd stayed up for three days in a row one time. Why? Because he didn't have any alcohol to fall asleep with.
By the time they'd arrived in Memphis, the kids were long gone into a world of slumber - snuggled up together under their blankets and fast asleep. Richard could tell instantly by that that they were a close pair of siblings. He'd found out their age, as well. Four years old. Recently turned four, as well - he'd had a record of the date. They said their birthday was on August 14th - It was September 22nd now, and things were going to start getting very cold in the country - On the upside, with the apocalypse, the world's state sort of recovered in terms of global warming and greenhouse gases, but everything else was pretty much dead already. Wildlife had flourished, with ninety-nine percent of animals being immune to the virus. Incredible.
He had to keep driving, on and on and on. He went to numerous malls, easily four or five, and yet he didn't find a single place that wasn't crammed full of the undead that had been there for the most part of twenty years. He was tempted to drive to Wisconsin, but he knew that the kids needed some clothes as soon as possible. It wouldn't be long until they needed to start walking around with him outside, and they couldn't do that without clothes, could they?
And then finally, a star within the darkness, and accordingly empty mall. He got them both up, helped them out of the car, and then walked them inside. He had his Desert Eagle with him, and his crossbow over his back; this place didn't seem right, and the metallic smell of fresh blood filled the air. Someone had died here, and quite recently. Such a shame, such a shame. He walked in with them both cowered behind them, and with the order for them to be quiet, they progressed onward - when they got to the top of the stairs, Richard saw three of the undead. Runners, their bodies weren't as torn up as walkers' ones were, and one of the guys there looked recently killed - that must have been where the smell came from. He pulled his crossbow free, aimed up, and then shot at the nearest one - it took him down with ease, and then he pulled out his Desert Eagle as the other two came running. Three. Two. One.
Two gunshots, loud, they echoed around the mall, but when nothing else came running he could only assume that that was the last of them.
Seventeen hours. That's how long it took him to find a decent place. It was a seventeen-hour drive, and yet, he didn't stop. The only time he stopped was for piss-breaks, to refuel the car, to stop for the kids to get out and pee, to get himself and the kids something to eat and drink, or to clear out a small area so they could continue going. He didn't sleep. He didn't even feel tired - He felt dedicated. He wanted to get these kids some clean and warm clothes.
He'd learned their names once they'd stopped the car to share some food. George and Jessica, or Jessica and George, whichever sounded best. They were cute kids, he'd found - They were his purpose now, his reason to continue fighting, and his reason to keep pushing forward and get up in the mornings. These were the guys that kept him strong, that made him feel alive. He just kept driving for their sake - running off of no sleep wasn't easy, but on this one particular set of days, it had felt like the easiest thing in existence. It was a good thing that Richard was well-acquainted with 'all-nighters' - He'd stayed up for three days in a row one time. Why? Because he didn't have any alcohol to fall asleep with.
By the time they'd arrived in Memphis, the kids were long gone into a world of slumber - snuggled up together under their blankets and fast asleep. Richard could tell instantly by that that they were a close pair of siblings. He'd found out their age, as well. Four years old. Recently turned four, as well - he'd had a record of the date. They said their birthday was on August 14th - It was September 22nd now, and things were going to start getting very cold in the country - On the upside, with the apocalypse, the world's state sort of recovered in terms of global warming and greenhouse gases, but everything else was pretty much dead already. Wildlife had flourished, with ninety-nine percent of animals being immune to the virus. Incredible.
He had to keep driving, on and on and on. He went to numerous malls, easily four or five, and yet he didn't find a single place that wasn't crammed full of the undead that had been there for the most part of twenty years. He was tempted to drive to Wisconsin, but he knew that the kids needed some clothes as soon as possible. It wouldn't be long until they needed to start walking around with him outside, and they couldn't do that without clothes, could they?
And then finally, a star within the darkness, and accordingly empty mall. He got them both up, helped them out of the car, and then walked them inside. He had his Desert Eagle with him, and his crossbow over his back; this place didn't seem right, and the metallic smell of fresh blood filled the air. Someone had died here, and quite recently. Such a shame, such a shame. He walked in with them both cowered behind them, and with the order for them to be quiet, they progressed onward - when they got to the top of the stairs, Richard saw three of the undead. Runners, their bodies weren't as torn up as walkers' ones were, and one of the guys there looked recently killed - that must have been where the smell came from. He pulled his crossbow free, aimed up, and then shot at the nearest one - it took him down with ease, and then he pulled out his Desert Eagle as the other two came running. Three. Two. One.
Two gunshots, loud, they echoed around the mall, but when nothing else came running he could only assume that that was the last of them.
furo
learn and let die
(( Just a second. I'm a bit dizzy; did many days go by or just the seventeen-hour drive, plus the ones that took him exploring other malls? ))
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(( He didn't explore others. He checked to see whether or not they had a lot of undead in them, and if they did, he left. Seeing as they all had undead, he left. In total he spent about nineteen hours travelling to the mall you're at, not numerous days Sorry for any confusion.))
Sorry for any confusion.))
furo
learn and let die
(( It's okay. T'sall clear now, thanks. ))
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(( Np. ))
furo
learn and let die
Hazel dropped into several lapses of unbidden slumber, each and every time waking up weak and weary, startled by the cuff that bound her to her imminent slow death. She folded her knees and stared down at the gap between them; the boiler room remained the same. A big blood splatter smearing the concrete floor next to a big distribution frame. Silence.
Her grubby delicate hands went to her neck and held the roundel of the chain she carried always. Always –no exceptions; even showering. She had to. Her eyes fixed down on the streaked black thin lines that wrote ‘I HAVE NARCOLEPSY’ on the no-longer-white roundel. Hazel exhaled with fatigue. She feared being shot or spotted by the undead while unwillingly being under the mercy of sleep. However, there was inner dispute. Maybe it was for the best to die unconsciously –painless. Though, she wouldn’t ever know when would be the last time she’d be awake. She didn’t want to die in such unworthy gutter.
Hazel decided to start doing what always picked up her mood and others’ as well. She remembered the bonfires. “Lady, running down to the riptide… Taking away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man…” The sound of her voice, although soft and euphonic, startled her. Any sound would do. “I love you when you’re singing that song and, I got a lump in my throat ‘cause you’re gonna sing the words wrong…”
Gunshots. She bolted upright. Her heart picked up speed –it raced. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again; she wasn’t going to scream for help. Observation came first. The shootout was followed by prompt bellowing and outcries from the undead. Hazel still waited –there could be more of them. Or whoever was brave enough to confront them could be taken down. Crying was heard; children, young children.
Hazel was puzzled at how clearly it could be heard, considering how humongous the mall was. But, of course, the many walls were torn apart, and with the decades, the layers of the flooring abraded.
“Help –please help me! I’m down here!” It just escaped out of her mouth like tidal winds caught up in a pipe. She didn’t even think it through. Her voice clamoring out scratched her throat, but she did not come to a halt. Hazel didn’t realize it, but she was jolting again, lugging at the cuffs like there was something she wanted to reach.
If any undead were to storm into the room, she would mimic what she did the previous time –huddle up in the corner and stay as quite as it was possible. They wouldn’t see her up there; and in case that happened, they wouldn’t find an effective way of climbing up, if it wasn’t by the famous ‘piling’, but they couldn’t possibly that many.
“Hello?! S-someone, please!”
Her grubby delicate hands went to her neck and held the roundel of the chain she carried always. Always –no exceptions; even showering. She had to. Her eyes fixed down on the streaked black thin lines that wrote ‘I HAVE NARCOLEPSY’ on the no-longer-white roundel. Hazel exhaled with fatigue. She feared being shot or spotted by the undead while unwillingly being under the mercy of sleep. However, there was inner dispute. Maybe it was for the best to die unconsciously –painless. Though, she wouldn’t ever know when would be the last time she’d be awake. She didn’t want to die in such unworthy gutter.
Hazel decided to start doing what always picked up her mood and others’ as well. She remembered the bonfires. “Lady, running down to the riptide… Taking away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man…” The sound of her voice, although soft and euphonic, startled her. Any sound would do. “I love you when you’re singing that song and, I got a lump in my throat ‘cause you’re gonna sing the words wrong…”
Gunshots. She bolted upright. Her heart picked up speed –it raced. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again; she wasn’t going to scream for help. Observation came first. The shootout was followed by prompt bellowing and outcries from the undead. Hazel still waited –there could be more of them. Or whoever was brave enough to confront them could be taken down. Crying was heard; children, young children.
Hazel was puzzled at how clearly it could be heard, considering how humongous the mall was. But, of course, the many walls were torn apart, and with the decades, the layers of the flooring abraded.
“Help –please help me! I’m down here!” It just escaped out of her mouth like tidal winds caught up in a pipe. She didn’t even think it through. Her voice clamoring out scratched her throat, but she did not come to a halt. Hazel didn’t realize it, but she was jolting again, lugging at the cuffs like there was something she wanted to reach.
If any undead were to storm into the room, she would mimic what she did the previous time –huddle up in the corner and stay as quite as it was possible. They wouldn’t see her up there; and in case that happened, they wouldn’t find an effective way of climbing up, if it wasn’t by the famous ‘piling’, but they couldn’t possibly that many.
“Hello?! S-someone, please!”
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DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
Richard heard the plea for help and instantly hushed the two children. They held each other in their arms and then eventually walked up and clung to the bottom of Richard's jacket. They still sobbed weakly after the gunshots, but that was something they were going to have to get used to - it was almost as if the shots echoed around the mall endlessly. Richard couldn't see anything else, so he needed to make sure that the kids were safe in case this was a trap - he walked them to the restrooms and then pushed open the door of the Disabled Bathroom. One toilet, one sink, and handles on each side of the toilet - it was a little 2x2 room, so at least they'd be safe in here, and by the looks of the rest of the mall, they'd be safe. Richard quietly stepped in with them and crouched in front of them - if it wasn't for the blankets, they'd be completely naked and freezing cold as well.
".. I need you two to wait here." He whispered, they both instantly burst into tears - the boy flew forward and wrapped his arms around him.
"You can't go!" He sobbed, Richard sighed and quickly patted his back and gently inched him off of him.
".. I'll be right back, okay? But as soon as I leave, you need to lock this door, okay?" He said, they hesitated for a moment but both nodded in agreement. He patted them both on the head and gave a gentle sigh before standing up and stepping outside the door; he closed it, and then waited for the lock to engage. He could hear them sobbing, and he felt bad for them, but for the first time in twenty years he felt like he had a purpose, and that was these two children. He couldn't let anything happen to them.
He walked out and went to the place where he heard the screaming; he had his crossbow at the ready as he stepped into the dark generator room. He saw the blood on the floor, and he assumed that that only meant trouble. He was more on guard now, and despite his age and how worn he was by alcohol, his senses were on cue and felt more refined and ready for whatever might jump out at him. He'd gotten used to that happening since this started. He'd trained himself mentally and physically, even if he did have a liver like a French goose. He walked in, slowly, quietly, silently. His breathing wasn't even audible - it was subtle and gentle, and he was moving at snail pace, scanning every dark corner. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness once he'd reached the darkest part of the room - once that had happened, he made his way in, scanning every corner. And then he saw her.
He didn't realize that she was chained up at first, and he instantly shifted his whole body to face her, his crossbow pointing directly at the center of her skull. He didn't say anything. Now it was time to observe - it was purely dependent on what she did and how she acted next that determined whether or not he shot her and made a run for it, or if he listened to her and took her word. He'd been in situations similar to this one, and for all he knew, that man that had recently died could have fallen into the same trap.
".. I need you two to wait here." He whispered, they both instantly burst into tears - the boy flew forward and wrapped his arms around him.
"You can't go!" He sobbed, Richard sighed and quickly patted his back and gently inched him off of him.
".. I'll be right back, okay? But as soon as I leave, you need to lock this door, okay?" He said, they hesitated for a moment but both nodded in agreement. He patted them both on the head and gave a gentle sigh before standing up and stepping outside the door; he closed it, and then waited for the lock to engage. He could hear them sobbing, and he felt bad for them, but for the first time in twenty years he felt like he had a purpose, and that was these two children. He couldn't let anything happen to them.
He walked out and went to the place where he heard the screaming; he had his crossbow at the ready as he stepped into the dark generator room. He saw the blood on the floor, and he assumed that that only meant trouble. He was more on guard now, and despite his age and how worn he was by alcohol, his senses were on cue and felt more refined and ready for whatever might jump out at him. He'd gotten used to that happening since this started. He'd trained himself mentally and physically, even if he did have a liver like a French goose. He walked in, slowly, quietly, silently. His breathing wasn't even audible - it was subtle and gentle, and he was moving at snail pace, scanning every dark corner. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness once he'd reached the darkest part of the room - once that had happened, he made his way in, scanning every corner. And then he saw her.
He didn't realize that she was chained up at first, and he instantly shifted his whole body to face her, his crossbow pointing directly at the center of her skull. He didn't say anything. Now it was time to observe - it was purely dependent on what she did and how she acted next that determined whether or not he shot her and made a run for it, or if he listened to her and took her word. He'd been in situations similar to this one, and for all he knew, that man that had recently died could have fallen into the same trap.
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furo
learn and let die
“Here, please! I–I’m up here! I’ve been– I-I’m stuck up in here!” Hazel pleaded desperately. It was clearly visible something was holding her bound to the end of the ledge, which couldn’t be reached within the field of vision of somebody at ground level. Her eyes spoke for themselves; they were swollen up with impotence and despair. For all she knew, this could be her last thread of hope for an opportunity, and she couldn’t let it slip away. Screaming in such way couldn’t be the wisest thing, due to the uncertainty of other undead that might be lurking around. She halted for just a moment to collect herself –she huffed. “Please…” Hazel’s voice crept out only a decibel over a whisper, sharply resembling the sound of a sob. She feared he might leave, or worse, be eaten by the undead like the last unlucky one who’d come into the boilers room.
(( I'm so sorry it's only one paragraph, but I really depend on your response to keep on writing; expect this to happen more than once. I didn't want to just keep going around the same thing redundantly. Btw, I sketched what the ledge thingy would look like: http://i.imgur.com/CsZzfvV.png ))
(( I'm so sorry it's only one paragraph, but I really depend on your response to keep on writing; expect this to happen more than once. I didn't want to just keep going around the same thing redundantly. Btw, I sketched what the ledge thingy would look like: http://i.imgur.com/CsZzfvV.png ))
DrTrollinski
Don't let the name scare you.
(( don't worry about it, it's not a problem. I'll reply tomorrow as j really shouldn't even be awake right now.))
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