Meltdown || Literate Zombie Survival RP--ACCEPTING

Zombie strippers?

...Wut?	0.0%	[ 0 ]
I'm game. *shrug*	42.9%	[ 3 ]
HELL YEAH! BRING ON THE NAKED ZOMBIE BITCHES!	28.6%	[ 2 ]
I'd hit that...with a METAL BAT!	28.6%	[ 2 ]
Total Votes:			[ 7 ]

[NicGuy]

Hell, if Frank knew this was going to happen, he would have taken his sick days a few days sooner.

Frank was trying to attain Zen, but it was very hard to do so in the airport bathroom...with a very loud shitter next to him. He wasn't using the bathroom himself, but was just sitting in the handicap stall, trying to find his artistic eye before he went to flight 203 and took pictures of the Evens family.

"They better buy the damned things. I mean, they are bringing the cameras, setting up their own photo shoot, Ect..but having to sit around this God forsaken place? Extra, ********".

Frank tried to think, but the man next to him was getting louder..sounding like he was moaning or something. "He must have some chick in there, geting his rocks off before a flight.'Honey, I'm scared..can we have sex?' "

He laughed a bit, but stopped. He heard a crashing sound..a banging noise coming again from the next door. He'd be damned if this guy was going to ruin the moment. It takes hours to find himself. To be able to give you a photo so great, so..unexpected, that you'd be forced to thank him. He's not an easy one to thank, this Frank.

"Hey, a*****e." the noise didn't stop. "Hey, you mind keeping it down in there? I'm trying to think!"

Frank wasn't having it today. Something about the way the air smelled, or the way the air tasted..something queer like that. Any which way, Frank was about to knock his neighbor's door.

Frank got up slowly, for he had time to move slowly. he was going to catch the guy off guard. He flushed, even though he hadn't used it (again, to confuse his victim). He moved to the main hall of the bathroom, and found the noisemaker's stall.

For all the time Frank was thinking, he forgot to think as he kicked the door, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't..in fact, it was barely closed.

Frank kicked as hard as he could, but found the door to be unpleasantly light..

He fell on his aging face.

He expected to get a reaction of some sort out of is "victim".Maybe a scream, a laugh, or a kick to the teeth. he didn't get any of the above..instead he got the sound of water being drunk, and the sounds of the moaning man.

He stood up to see a shredded suit on an even shredded looking man. As he pulled himself up, he heard a loud buzzing- it was the intercom.

"-QUARANTINE. WE REPEAT, WE HAVE RECEIVED REPORTS FROM THE MILITARY OF A STRANGE VIRAL OUTBREAK AT THE ST. HOPE PLANT, AND HAVE BEGUN QUARANTINE MEASURES. "

Wrong ******** move, Frank.

The..the thing at the toilet stopped making noises, and looked up at the wall. Frank thought he should have used the toilet a second ago, because he was about to use it now.

The shambles turned his head slightly, but Frank could see his eye. It's cold, glossy eye. Something out of a..Poe story, or something. Frank, moved..and frank moved fast.

Out of the stall and towards the door.

"Please god, may there be SOMEBODY OUT THERE!"

He slammed open the door...

[Kriemhilde]

Mars stared blankly at the owner of the arm now slung around Bunny-Boy's shoulder, nonplussed. He looked from one to the other, then back again. His head didn't hurt from the collision - enough headbutts to ugly drunk, unsuspecting skinheads helped. He had been clutching the Mag-Lite tightly in his big fist - tight enough that his dark, scarred knuckles stood out white against his olive-coloured hand - like a sword, or a baseball bat. He did not loosen his grip. He never seemed to realize until the moment was over that this automatic reaction may have been seen as threatening, but ********.

He was pretty ******** scared.

In a voice that wasn't quite lowered, and not quite breathy, Mars spoke, sounding almost amazed.

"What the ******** are you guys, from Vegas?"

A momentary pause. Confused and awkward. He put his available palm on the back of his neck and rubbed, glancing off at the crowd that was surging, screaming around him. It was almost like a scene from some dark comedy. Here he was, just sitting there and conversing with some random guys (They look a little queer. They act a little queer, from what I can tell, but whatever.) as s**t hit the fan all around them.

"What the ******** goin' on here man." It was much more of a rhetorical statement than a real question. "They're acting like it's ******** Godzilla or Dawn of the Dead or some s**t."

He realized then that the one man had asked him a question. Mars made it his policy to be an a*****e to kids who deserved it, but these guys seemed okay, especially under the circumstances. He should probably answer the question.

Yeah.

"Ah. The uh, the hoodie," he said, feeling more and more awkward as he spoke. The hand still on his neck wiggled its fingers and kept on rubbing. His nails scratched at his skin. He actually kinda liked the thing, but...

Ah, hell. At the rate of this panic, nobody'd even remember he asked.

"If you can get it for me in a zip-down, that'd be cool."

[Phantasm of the Orchestra]

Chrys tried hard to bite back her resurging anger as she yanked open the bathroom door, but didn’t succeed. “What the frick kind of airport was this? As an airport, the building should be one of the most secure in all of St. Hope. What use were all the state-of-the-art cameras, security guards, metal detectors, checkpoints, luggage limitations, constant identification, regulations against weapons, liquids, shoes, bombs, terrorists? All for show; they don’t know what the hell they’re doing. Just trying to look like they know what they’re doing while they waste our time. And where do the dumbasses want us to go? Sit down in a big circle in the lobby and sing campfire songs while we go through another Chernobyl?” She tried not to think how a virus from a power plant got all the way to the airport, because that might mean considering the possibility of the virus running rampant throughout the entire city. She chewed her lip furiously, and forced herself to calm down. Still standing in front of the shut door, she scanned the crowd, watching as frantic mothers gripped their children closer to them and an old couple pushed their trolley around aimlessly, lips trembling with suppressed panic. She didn’t see any of the smiling, magical staff, soothingly ushering the crowd in the right direction, spotless gloved hands gesturing for emphasis. No flashing neon lights pointing to safety. No clearly marked exit doors with inflated slides to slip away on.

And Max.

Max should definitely be in the building by now, and with something as serious as quarantine without prior warning, she knew worry would eat him alive. Heart softening, she had just barely reached into her coat pocket for her cell phone when she heard the commotion. Hand gripping her phone, she swiveled to face the muffled yelling, and soon following it, the disheveled looking man bursting into the hallway like a desperate patient out of psych ward.
“Are—are you okay?” she asked him, eyes wide and completely nonplussed.

[NicGuy]

Frank jumped out of the restroom door, and almost fell on his face again. He was out of breath, and out of Zen. Way out of Zen.

When he got out of the restroom, he say that a woman was coming out of the ladies rest room. He thought she was cute, but way too many layers to undress her mentally. Even in this heat of the moment, like that song, he could still be a bigger pervert then Walt Disney.

'Are you OK?', she asked, but he didn't here it. He just screamed.

"G-get out o ere, lady!" it was hard to speak, who so little air was feeding his lungs. "I swear I saw Something in a stall in there..Something..just ******** up."

She stared at him. I don't think she was listening, just watching Frank dance nervously, while screaming like a mad man. He sopped, so that he could catch his breath, and make sure she understood his, and everyone's problem.

"Look, you don't want to be here right now. I suggest you head towards to populated areas..maybe the mall? Security should be there. Just get the ******** out of here!"

She might have been offended, be he didn't care. He just wanted to get as far away from the john as possible. Hopefully, he could escape with a pretty, layered girl in hand.

He began to pace very quickly away from the restrooms, only to look behind him and see the woman, who's eyes said, "don't leave me here, a*****e"!

"You coming or not?"

[James Phobos]

The whole conversation is just so abnormally normal, or at least as normal as it gets with Sol and random strangers, Zeb gives a grin. It's still twitchy and nervous, but it's a grin. "Don't ask me," he says, and his hands rise up defensively, palms out. "Cabin fever, I guess?" It's all he got, really, and as if just reminded of their current situation, he looks around. Just to make sure no one else stumbles into him and gives him a concussion, you know...

It's then that he notices something weird, and Zeb pauses, temporarily blocking out the conversation the two other men are having. A couple of people are starting to run from one direction, and the ones who aren't are either starting to form some kind of... big group, or whatever, and a rare few others are getting curious and starting to venture closer. It takes him a second, but then he realizes that they're staring at something.

Do I even want to know?

Oh, who's he kidding. It's in human nature to be suicidally curious, or at least his nature. Good thing he's not in a horror movie, although the people around him are starting to definitely act like it. With a big, falsely optimistic grin, he turns back to Sol and lies through his teeth, really, seriously hoping that Sol is not feeling best friend omniscient today. "Hey, Sol, why don't you and-" Was a name given? Ugh, he has to start paying attention. "-this guy go over to the food court? Trade addresses or whatever, for the hoodie. I want to go check something out real quick, it'll only take a second, I swear." He's already twisting and moving through the crowd before he can really be convinced otherwise, and Zeb raises one arm to wave above the small lake of people that's now between them. "Remember, food court, be there in a bit!"

Then, he's tripping over his own feet, and everyone else's, too, as he tries to get to the small crowd. By this point, everyone's beginning to back away, the more panic-prone ones already shoving past, and it's like trying to swim upstream. The only nice thing is that working in the shop has meant lots of chances to learn new and interesting curses, and Zeb now finds he has the chance to grumble every single one of them. Oh, life's little pleasures. Suddenly, he breaks through the wall of people, only for his foot to catch some abandoned purse. There's time for one last curse-

You gotta be ******** kidding me-

And then he's trying to regain his balance while still stumbling forward, only to suddenly fail epically. In his attempts at not falling flat on his face, his fingers grab for whatever they can get, which turns out to be clothing, warm, almost stinging, and wet. With a yelp, Zeb collapses to the ground, and drags along the poor sap who he tried to grab onto.

[Homie G Luxory]

Why the hell does he keep coming? was the main thought occupying Max's mind, followed by Why the ******** is everyone just standing around staring at this guy as he barrels down on me? The empty cups had been chucked like feeble ammunition at the crazy guy's head, but if hot coffee to the face wasn't stopping him, neither were flimsy paper cups. Max noticed the guy stumble on the heavy snow coat he had dropped, and thought maybe he was going down, but no cigar, the crazy just stumbled forward a few feet, slowed, looked a bit lost, and then re-focused on Maxwell like Max had a ******** homing beacon attached to him.

Two things happened at once; Max's a** bumped into a kiosk hard (bags of chips and bottled drinks clattering to the ground in a snack avalanche), and there was a break in the crowd of people around the scene as some kid pushed free of the onlookers--before tripping on a purse and taking the crazy down with him. Well, he wasn't really a kid, he looked around the age of most of Max's students, but did it matter? Maxwell was zeroed in on the crazy, sprawled on the ground under the kid, eyes still rolling, teeth opening and clamping shut rhythmically in a chewing motion. Holy s**t, holy s**t, it was a running mantra in Max's mind as he watched those jaws open and shut, realizing with horror that the guy wanted to bite them.

He picked up a metal chip rack off the ground, one of those constructions of thin metal rods. Probably wouldn't do anything but slow the guy down, but he felt slightly better--he felt nauseous and disconnected from his surroundings, yes, but slightly better. Now to rescue the kid.

((edited))

[Adnella]

Livi Stood in front of the sink looking at herself in the mirror. "you can barely tell by looking at me that I'm fixing to be 30..." She thought, absent mindedly pressing out lines in her forehead with her palm. The bathrooms florescent lights weren't helping her trying to convince herself of that.

Taking care of two kids she wasn't going to be making enough to stay in her apartment right out of Vegas. She decided she was going to move to St. Hope, where it was much cheaper to live, and take care of Abby and Brent. Wouldn't have to change schools. Keep the same friends. Yeah. It was defiantly for the better. It was just really hard for her to take all this in.

"Rock... what happened to you? You were always the one ready to grow up, and making fun of me for my little apartment. I... knew you wanted me to grow up... But not like this. Please come back. Your the only family I have left."

Tears started to sting her eyes when suddenly there was an announcement.

"-ASK YOU TO REMAIN CALM, AS WE ARE SECURING THE PREMISES AND WILL BEGIN QUARANTINE. WE REPEAT-"

Her head perked up as she listened intently. Crazy man? Mad cow?

"VIRAL OUTBREAK AT THE ST. HOPE PLANT-"

"The plant?? WHAT?!" her heart jumped. The St. Hope plant is where her brother and his wife had worked before... they went missing.

She listened for the rest of the announcement. Heart pounding and in a cold sweat. Her knuckles turned white as she grasped the edge of the bar that surrounded the sink.

"what... the hell?" She gritted, feeling herself become angry. She had to get out of there. She had to get Abby and Brent. She had to get them and get the hell out of this town! She felt it in the pit of her stomach that this had something to do with her brothers disappearance. She needed out. NOW.

She stormed out of the bathroom, giving the trash tin a nice kick on the way out. She felt sorry for anyone who crossed her path. Going to the near wing to grab her one suitcase, since the actually move would take about a week, her slight fury faded at the realization that her bag was no where near where she left it.

"What the ********?!" She jerked her head around and actually took in some of the scene. Mothers cradling their children. Everyone and their mother on a cell phone calling loved ones. Teenagers stealing stuff from shops and unattended luggage. Even two teens trying to break into a vending machine.

"LOOTING ALREADY?!?!" She knew she wasn't going to get her suitcase back... It was just clothes anyways... really really nice clothes. but she had all that she really needed in life in her purse anyways. "really... some missed jeans are the least of my priorities."

With that she stomped through the maze of people in her way. Hand Grasped on the pepper spray in her purse. "I knew I shouldn't have worn a skirt..."

[Seven VII]

"MmHm, alright Zeb, anyway, that's great!" Most of Sol's attention had been focused on their sudden new acquaintance, so, for the first few seconds, he hadn't actually been paying attention to what the blond had been saying. He had a one track mind, what could he say? Almost oblivious, he continued to chatter, a specialty of his. "I'll probably need to get your size, tho, because-" Aaaaaannd then it hit him. Suddenly, his eyes widened and Sol whirled around, mouth flopping open and closed as he stared after Zeb's retreating figure. "H-Hey, wait a minute!" Unlike Zeb, Sol didn't possess the ability or height needed to shove aside people who were pushing against him. He took a moment to envy the lucky b*****d as he jumped up in a weak attempt to see over the crowd of people.

Man, they had to go to the ********' crowded airport, didn't they?

It took no time at all before Sol gave up, and turned back to Dreadlock Guy, as Sol had taken to calling him in his head. "Survival hint number one says go hide out where the food is?" he offered weakly and trying to fake casualness. It was a doomed attempt from the start, since he couldn't stop looking back to where Zeb had disappeared and practically bouncing in place.

[Kriemhilde]

Mars looked back after Aryan Nation boy, puzzled. He had stretched to his full height, and could, for the most part, see over the heads of the oncoming crowd. They were still coming, like a river filled with people and luggage instead of water or fish.

Mars wasn't claustrophobic or anything, but he was starting to feel that way. "Food Court sounds fine," he said automatically. He spoke in an autonomous way, starting to feel pretty worried. Where were the security guards? The people who were supposed to be in control? The flight attendants, desk clerks, even shopowners were spread out in the crowd of people, all scurrying as madly as the rest of the sheep to get away, get out, get...

What were they running from?

Gunther had run directly at whatever they were trying to get away from.

(His name's Gunther now, because he never told me, and he looks like a Hitler Youth in some pseudo-sexual fetish getup.)

Mars usually would have grinned at his own joke, but his mind was automatically concerned with whatever it was that everybody was running from. Mars didn't have a hero complex, but that kid seemed all right. And as a sound as loud and sharp as a gunshot rang out over the crowd, Mars grabbed the other man's arm without thinking, and dragged him upstream.

"Rain check on the Food Court. We're gonna go get yer friend."

What the ******** was that s**t? Did some ******** Security Guard shoot at something?

At someone?

Whatever it was, the panic's even ********] worse now. That kid's gonna get ******** trampled.

The man that looked like he should be locked up in a Vegas show hall with a top hat and wand didn't protest much as Mars dragged him through the crowd whose terror pitch had reached the ultimate crescendo. Or if he did, Mars didn't notice.

[Homie G Luxory]

Helen cranked up the volume on her iPod, the Cranberries drowning out the ambient noise of the airport. She rested her head on her arms, crossed on the small table she had grabbed in the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. All she wanted was to get out of St. Hope, get back to her nice safe apartment, away from all the childhood memories and her sister Roisin’s insistences that she visit more often. But of course, things couldn’t go smoothly, not in ******** St. Hope, and her flight was grounded indefinitely until weather conditions improved. Helen had snorted at that—she grew up here, she knows how long this shitty weather is going to last.

So she had found some place to eat, to sit down and really order a meal, cause a bag of pretzels and a Dr. Pepper weren’t gonna cut it. And she really didn’t need to start in on the chocolate bars just yet. A nice Caesar salad, a bowl of cheese and broccoli soup, and a piece of lemon pie—that would settle her and give her something to focus on outside of her dire need to get the hell out of St. Hope. Then she would have to decide whether she ought to stay at a hotel, spend her hard earned money to actually stay here, or go live with her sister until the blizzard blew over. Not something she wanted to think about--Helen loved her sister and her two nephews, but she was just done with it.

She cranked the Cranberries up a bit louder to drown out the sudden crackle of the PA system, ignoring the message completely as the singer vocalized in your head, in your head, zombie, zombie. It was probably just the airport staff sucking up to all the pissed off passengers anyways, promising accommodations for the stranded or something. And seriously, where the ******** was her soup and salad, she was really starting to get pissed, how long did it take to toss some lettuce and heat up some soup? She ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration.

[Kriemhilde]

Margot had scalding coffee all over the stomach of her most cherished white sweater.
She didn't really notice. She had been knocked by the waiter as he ran past her pell-mell, his eyes as wide as the saucer her cappuccino had until late been resting on, cooling. She was staring after the man's face. The side of his head was a mass of blood and a twisted expression of shock, agony and mortal terror. He looked like he had been scratched. He looked like he had been scratched and...

Bitten?

Margot was once what she liked to call a 'Gore-Whore-Officionado'. She had seen enough zombie movies in her lifetime to write The Complete Zombie Reference And Compendium, if she ever got around to it. Those marks on the side of that uppity waiter's head had sure as hell looked like bite marks.

She thought Dawn of the Dead.

She thought Grindhouse Productions: Planet Terror.

She thought of Hannibal Rising.

She shivered hard, and visibily. She had just been sitting there at the cafe when the stupid announcement had come on. She had sipped her drink with a feeling of ennui, thinking it wouldn't affect her much.

A little quarantine. It'll be like the Fire Drills on campus. They round us up. They'll probably check us for whatever sick's getting out, make us sign a waiver, and let us go. Maybe even refund a little of our flight money.

She had taken another sip, smiling to herself at this prospect. she was fine, she was set. She was making a pretty penny in her part-time position, sending those short stories in to that magazine. And nobody read it anyway, so she was golden. All those long, emotive drawls about rage, about nature, about whatever the hell she wanted to write about, people actually paid to read her stuff. And now, moving to this cute little town (after much Wikipedia and google, she had decided that this quite little bitty town would be ideal to get away to) she could afford her own place, afford her own stuff. She would be free from the stress of good grades, the torment of feeling so very solitary...

And now she was cowering under the long-legged little table at the cafe, guitar case clutched to her narrow chest like a shield in a Spartan defensive formation.

Something had run at the man sitting at one of the tables to her right. She couldn't tell what it was. I mean, it looked like a man, but Sweet Deity if it didn't act like one. Even she, in slight shock and moderate discomfort, felt a great amount of pain at having coffee all over her stomach. And this dude had run straight at the guy, not even flinching as the skin of his face rose up in bright red welts.

Something crashed into the burning creature.

Something with Bunny Ears.

Margot had, quite literally, laughed out loud as she began to comprehend the situation. A man much taller than her, wearign a gleaming white hoodie jacket with rabbit ears attached, was now wrestling with a burning monster with coffee dripping from its features.

The short, terrified sqwawk of a laugh that had erupted from her lips was over as soon as it had started, and she felt a need to help the man. She didn't know what she could do...

She suddenly seemed to feel the guitar case in her arms much more than she had before. In a single moment, she had stood up, the table clattering uselessly to the side, and rasied the case over her head with both hands, bringing the guitar down on the coffee-soaked creature's head with a sound that she had only ever heard in Saturday Morning cartoons.

The creature slumped to the side, and the man in the hilarious jacket stared up at her.

She couldn't resist. She had to do it.

She stood the guitar on its end, and held it out from her body at an angle. She pointed directly at the Bunny-Man, and yelled in a loud, booming voice she didn't know she had.

"ELLLL KA-BONG!"

[Seven VII]

Once upon an itty bitty time, Sol remembered going to the ocean with his parents. Like every other kid who first saw the ocean, he'd gleefully had a field day with the whole thing and been properly amazed. Hell, he'd even dove straight into the water and learned the hard way that it wasn't a smart idea to drink salt water, or else you threw up. Come to think of it, he'd been kind of stupidly optimistic then, too, and had just gone right in once his dad had told him how to keep his head above the waves. No one had told him about the seaweed, however. It had gotten tangled in his legs and he couldn't get away from it because it had seemed like the tide was controlling his every move. Pretty quickly, he'd gotten tired, and terrified that he wouldn't be able to keep his head up any longer and then he'd drown. It had seemed like a long time, don't they always, before his dad had finally picked him up and taken him back to shore.

The panicking, surging crowd felt a lot like the ocean. He'd been trying to put on a good act, but as he felt himself be shoved and stepped on, just mostly his toes although it wouldn't be long until he got slammed to the floor, Sol went pale. Off in the distance, behind all the yelling and screaming and general crazy a** hell that was going on, he thought he heard glass breaking. That was overshadowed by the sudden gunshot, and Sol suddenly found it really hard to breath. Caray. Caray.

Probably should've taken that medicine after all-

He didn't really have time to think anything else, because some one's elbow suddenly rammed into his stomach and Sol stumbled back, trying to grab a hold onto something to keep him steady. The effort wasn't really needed, because some one suddenly grabbed onto him, and started fighting against the tide. Sol shook his head real quick before he realized it was Dreadlock Guy. Stumbling over his own feet, he followed, coughing a quick 'thanks' before trying to wiggle through the crowd as well. "My name's Sol!" he offered, not quite sure why the ******** that mattered and hey, he already did it, who cared.

Now to find Zeb and his retarded self.

[Adnella]

Livi was storming through the crowd when she heard it.

"ELLLL KA-BONG!"
Following that she heard a noise that made her stop in her tracks. The sound of a guitar singing the song of death. A Gibson, she thought. Or no, maybe a Fender strat. She Couldn't tell, it had been far too long since she had seen her ex-boyfriend in college, who played guitar whenever he had spare time.

She looked in the direction it came from, one floor below, from the above view, she saw a small circle of a few people, surrounding them, a much larger circle of scared onlookers. She made her way to the escalator quickly to try to go down and see what was going on, Both directions of the escalator were crowed with people going up. Frantic. Dangerous.

"If they want to get out of, why the hell are they going up?!?!"

She stood beside the mouth of the escalator, ignoring the shoulders grinding into her frantically getting past. She looked over the edge, only about 10 feet, if that. She took off her heels and slipped her hands into the straps, again regretting the fact that she was wearing a skirt she grabbed the ledge and hiked a foot on the beam and launched herself off. Bent her knees preparing for the impact, she knew it was going to sting on the hard cold floor, and now in mid land she worried her hosiery will make her slip when she tries to land.

She landed on the upper part of her feet first, to prevent breaking her ankles on contact "HAAAAAAAAOOOOUUUCH" she though, she pain lessened as she planted her feet down completly and dropped her arms sturdily to the ground. Poised in a crouch she lifted her head. "I still got it" she thought, starting to straighten, first step she took, she almost stumbled. "dammit... the same damn ankle"

She cleared her mind quickly about how rusty she had gotten when she got a closer look at what was going on. She saw who had been attacked by the guitar. An ugly S.O.B. who looked like he really needed a medic, even before he got his head smashed by a guitar, that seemed to be harassing what looked like... a person in a bunny suit? ... No, no a bunny hoodie? The guitar owner seemed at this distance to be a tiny pixie of a girl who packed quite a whallop.

She walked closer to see what was really going on.

[Kriemhilde]

Mars didn't look back, but he had heard the man, Sol now, and what he had said. Mars kept his grip firm on Sol's forearm, nudging people out of the way with the Mag-Lite, forcefully but not violently. "Mars," he called back, not even realizing the kid might not understand that he had been given a name.

He could see a platinum blonde, thoroughly drenched in coffee and holding a guitar case to her side, standing over Gunther. Some man in a ratty suit was lying unconscious, maybe even dead, on the floor next to him. The girl looked back at him with big green eyes. She was very slight, and looked like a ghost, other than the large brown stain.

Mars noted a man that looked older than he was standing off by a vending cart. He was holding something weaponlike.

Mars immediately lifted his Mag-Lite slightly, in a motion of defense.

"What the ******** goin' on?" He asked the older man, loudly so that he could be heard through the crowd (They were thinning, he noticed. Ever so slightly, the vast river of crazed people seemed to become a stream instead.). "What's with this guy lying here?"

[James Phobos]

(EDIT)



Ooooww, what the hell did I just trip-

The guitar case is crushing him, which is really an exaggeration because this kind of s**t has happened before, and the guy underneath him keeps wiggling. Probably to get out from underneath him , Zeb realizes rather belatedly. He mutters out a vague apology, but the words aren't even halfway out his mouth before everything just seems to get worse. Suddenly alarmed, he scrambles off, somewhere to the side. He can't even get onto his feet properly, for some reason, and he quickly glances at the guy he fell on. That's when animal instinct (intuition, sixth sense, a rare spark of intelligence, whatever ) suddenly screams at him. Wrong. There's something wrong, with the eyes, with the noises coming from this guy (thing his mind corrects him automatically, thinking late night movies and stale popcorn ), and his mouth is snapping like a dog deprived of a treat.

Zeb has no idea what to do for two seconds, and just tries to get on his damn feet. After all, this whole thing is just too ridiculous. No. Nuh uh. Jesus Christ, he was kidding when he thought about zombies! Those two seconds are filled with those kind of thoughts-

Then a guitar comes flying out of nowhere and BOINK!
No more crazy coffee guy.

Of course, that's not the noise at all, but it feels as if some one took a movie reel out of his head and edited all the bad bits so that the theater wouldn't get sued by pissed off parents. Zeb refuses to follow that train of thought any longer, just now noticing the little thing wielding the guitar. Relief and gratitude would normally flood him at this point, except she's staring at him crazily and he's staring right back, and why does he really not have a good feeling-

"ELLLL KA-BONG!" suddenly comes booming out of her mouth, and Zeb jumps because, well, holy s**t. The girl has some lungs. It's at that point that his brain tries desperately to press the 'pause' button, but apparently the batteries are out. There's a sudden urge to yell 'OLAYYYYEEEE!'. The night can't get any weirder, after all. That would mean losing some sanity, probably, so Zeb does the next big thing.

He makes a manic gesture and practically yells, "Great, I'm hallucinating!" Really not that better. It really isn't. Slapping his own forehead, Zeb gestures at Ms. Hallucination to help him up, right as hell decides to just open the floodgates and people just start freaking out worse, although now away from them. Zeb can understand how they feel. Seeing a rabid guy (not a zombie, not a zombie ) get smacked in the head with a guitar that's wielded by rather nutty looking girl hasn't done his feelings of calm any good either, although things like the gunshot he thought he heard are worse.

Suddenly, he sees the guy from before dragging Sol along and it's like there's a trigger that's been released that let's his feet work right. He's standing before he even knows it, and he makes a strangled noise. "Did I not just say go hide out in the food court?" he groans, even as he starts shoving Sol to the little group huddled around the kiosk. Safety in numbers. Safety in numbers. Besides, they look like the only calm ones.