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 ]

[Kriemhilde]

Margot, who simply stood there with a vapid smile on her face, shook her head at the jacket. Her mind was slightly foggy. I've never been in shock, but I've read about it. Mostly Stephen King books. Like the beginning of Cell. Hahah! Speaking of zombies, that was some crazy s**t. Oh well. Maybe I'm in shock.

"I don't... I... no thank you," she managed to articulate around a mouth that felt as if it were full of cotton. She couldn't wear clothes right now. She didn't even feel like wearing her pants. Indeed, she had absentmindedly hitched a thumb into the rise of her jeans, needing to have a little more control over the current situation; losing the garb as not to go Ape-s**t Crazy, paradoxically.

At home she and her smelly hippie friends (as Father Dearest would call them in his old grumbling voice, looking down at her from across the breakfast table) would get together at the end of the school/work week and strip to their underwear, just to chill in a big field on the side of the dirt road near her old high school (Maybe smoke us some ganja, but hey. What the folks don't know won't hurt 'em.). On stressful days, they'd strip down to nothing at all and go running, hooting and screeching like monkeys through the thick woods behind her house. That was how she dealt, how she coped. She went nekkid as a jaybird.

But now, looking around at the men (And now two women, she noticed) that seemed to have accumulated in the immediate vicinity, she took her hand from the rise of her jeans and slipped it into her front pocket instead. She shook her head at the older man (Could be my friggin' Sociology Teacher, I swear) who had offered her his clothing, and smiled. "Really, I don't need it. It's not cold in here."

Mars, hands still occupied by The Star Youth Of Vegas, Sol And Gunther, motioned over to the light-haired girl with his chin. "It'll get colder I bet, honey," he said, slightly bemused at her refusal to wear clothes. Hippie chick, whatever. She'll be thoroughly boned when some ******** screws up, breaks a window or trips a switch. "You might wanna take it just in case." He wasn't quite ignoring the guys, but he wasn't quite listening to the gentle murmurs exchanged (Jesus H.; definitely homo.)

Not that he really wanted Hippie Chick to put something on. This was going to be an ordeal. She said ********' zombies. He could use a little something pretty to make it better. Besides, Mars had a thing for the delicate.

What the hell was her name, anyway?

"I'm Mars," he said quickly, addressing not only her, but the rest of the small group gathered around. "This number's Sol, and Hitler Youth over here is called--"

"I'm Margot. And already acquainted with Mr. Cottontail," Margot cut in, her small smile splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. "Peter, was it?"

Mars already knew he would like this girl.

[Seven VII]

Like ******** he was going to say jack s**t. Sol just glared at Zeb for a moment at the obvious hint to confess to his, ha, 'little problem'. It wasn't that big a deal! He'd be fine, just... Just had to get away from the corpse. That was the problem here, it wasn't him! The professor guy had thrown up, but he didn't see any one freak out over him! So when it suddenly became "Pick on Zeb" time, Sol was more then relieved. That would keep the attention off him.

"You actually look a lot like a Peter," he commented, more than eager to join in. Karma, Zeb, ol' buddy, is a b***h, and so not yours. "I mean, it's a lot more normal then 'Zebedeo'. Are you sure your parents aren't a little crazy?" He gave a small chuckle as he pulled up the bottom of his scarf to cover his mouth.

[James Phobos]

Stubborn little ********] Zeb thinks as he glares right back at Sol, and has half a mind to just grab him by the ear and make him confess. Now is not the time for denial! (Although, really, everyone's kind of doing it already, by not looking at the zombie. Ha, zombie, oh hell- ) Before he has a chance to do such a thing, which would really just turn him into his father, it's suddenly role call time.

Or, as Zeb will spend the next few minutes bitterly calling the event, "Let's make fun of Zeb while there's a zombie invasion going on!" time.

It's the "Hitler Youth" comment that gets him riled first, and he whips around to glare at Mars. Oh, he has half a mind to just kick him, right there... Except he'll probably get bludgeoned with a flashlight, the other half of his mind reminds him. That would be a rather piss poor way to die, especially during a zombie invasion. If he's going to be in a living horror movie, then he'd rather not be the guy who dies looking ******** stupid. So, instead, he just makes a bunch of enraged, not-quite-coherent curses and tries not to kill some one. One's a suicidal choice, the it's just a girl, Zeb, just a girl, hitting girls is bad- Ok, that's it! "I'm shoving you two towards the next zombie we run into!" he snarls. "And dammit, Sol!"

Like any sane person, Zeb isn't exactly proud of his full name. The very mention of it earns Sol a hard punch in the arm. "It's 'Zeb'!" he corrects, glaring at the rest of the group. "Now, are we going to get out of here or just stand around like ducks?"

[Homie G Luxory]

Max stopped unbuttoning the jacket, though he gave Margot a reluctant look. If she'd rather walk around without a shirt, he's not going to tell her to cover up--he wasn't her dad or anything, he was just some guy she met during a zombie invasion. Oh God. Well, he'd keep it on and, if the power did go out like this guy Mars was suggesting, he'd let her have it if she got cold. Max just hoped to god the power didn't go out, ‘cause if it did, the heating was gone too, and the weather was not playing nice right now.

He was thinking while the two kids bantered--Zeb and Sol, he picked up--trying to think of a good place to hole up for a bit. Max would have suggested a gift shop, but the nearest ones he could see were being looted. Of course, if they chose one of the shops further into the airport...stupid, but probably their only option. Max looked up at Zeb's annoyed question. "I think we need to head further in. I know that sounds crazy, but I was up front by the entrance when they gave the announcement; even if we could fight the crowds, there's no way anyone is getting out, 'cause they've pulled down metal shutters and everything." Max shook his head. "There might be a shop further in where we can hole up for a bit, somewhere with food and medicine, while we figure out how we're going to survive this. And if we go now, we're more likely to find somewhere that isn't being looted yet." He looked around, waiting to see if the others were in agreement. s**t, hell of a time for his calm, authoritative, "I know what I'm doing" teacher persona to kick in. This was a zombie attack, not a classroom, and Chrys was out there, possibly alone. Did he really want to be making himself responsible for these strangers?

Did he even have to ask himself that? His ex-wife had been right; he was too goddamned nice.

[Adnella]

Livi steadied her walk as she stared toward the small crowd. Still observing the scene. "That man... who was hit oh-" She saw his face. This discoloration. It hit her that he was the one that the announcement was about. "Oh god. If it's SARS I need to get them away from him. Now." Two steps into her slightly more brisk walk she noticed something else, Missing chunks of flesh, and that only a corpse of at least 14 hours old would have. That's when she caught the last word spoken out frail girls mouth

"Zombie..."

She stopped mid stride to try to take this all in. "A zombie...?! " A cold sweat shilled her to the bone. I mean yeah,... this girl looks like she might have a subscription to Fangoria... but... can it be true? It would explain the decay, and a lot of things that no epidemic known could have caused.
Clouded with thoughts she didn't even notice the man off to her side. She heard a mumble directed towards her at. Too scared and sick to her stomach at first to respond it was a long while before she was able to answer to any degree.

" I.... I uh, I have pepper spray. Not sure what that's going to do me now..."

Slowly starting to come back to the real world she started to feel more scared she had in her whole life. She glanced at the man who had asked her a question. He seemed kind. Even offering his jacket to the young girl who seemed to be disgusted with her own attire. Each one of them seemed to bring something to the table.

She wasn't sure where everyone was going. But she was going to stick around.

[Homie G Luxory]

Pepper spray? How'd she get that past security? Max shook his head; it doesn't matter how the woman got it in, because he's pretty sure it's useless against these zombies. "I don't think pepper spray is going to help much against zombies. I threw two cups of hot coffee on...on that one," he made a vague gesture in the direction of the corpse with his hand, "and it kept coming like I blew it a kiss or something. I don't think they feel pain--or if they do, it must not bother them." Max looked around, noting that the area they were in was pretty empty, just a few stragglers and looters, most people having fled towards the exits or the upper floor. "But I think you oughtta keep it anyways--with this kind of situation, the hysteria, you never know what kind of people we might run into." He fidgeted a bit, ready to get out of the open before another zombie attacked them. "Let's head out?" he asked a bit anxiously, jerking his head in the direction of the food court and the shops further in. "And, uh, what's your name?" was an absent addition.

[Adnella]

"oh, Olivia Jett." She said. Feeling a strange relief that someone would know her name. If anyone eventually made it out of here... "but um... You can call me Livi, she said with a small smile and a nervous "heh."

"Other than the pepper spray..." She dug in her purse "I have... a check book, an ipod, mints, and a fountain pen- Ooh! that may come in handy..." Ignoring the growing sickness she felt in the pit of her stomach was getting harder and harder.

"I'm starting to think I should have stayed in Vegas."

[Kriemhilde]

The tall dark man and the pale short woman both chuckled at Rabbit Boy, now Zebedo, repectively. Mars then regarded the older man with a severe expression that probably looked meaner than he meant it to. He seemed all-right. But deeper...?

"How long ya think we gonna be in here, though?" he asked Max, releasing Gunth-- releasing Zeb's arm and scratching the back of his neck. He let go of Sol's, too - he didn't want any lover's trysts over him. He might lose it. "I mean, they's supplies at the food court an' all. We's should head that way anyway, right? What do you guys think?"

He addressed the small crowd that had gathered together as he spoke: the Vegas boys, the Hippie, the Teacher-type, the Woman Holding her Heels. There was Sol and Zeb, Margot, Max and now Livi. And of course, Mars himself, old God o' War namesake the Flaming Fathers had given him.

Margot smiled over at Livi. "I've just got a guitar, so we're about equal. If anything, hit them with the can?"

She looked around.

"Oh hey, I just noticed. Everybody's gone."

At a glance, it was mostly true. The once-panicked crowd of people was now thinned to the occaisional slow-y shuffling away, terrified. A strange wind blew through the terminal; the kind you hear when a plane lands.

Only no plane landed. Margot suddenly felt very cold, and her shoulders erputed in goosebumps. And there were sounds, albeit faraway. They sounded like...

"Let's just move," she said, trying not to sound panicky.

They sounded like shuffling footsteps.

[Storm Aether]

"Where is everybody anyway?" Victoria asked with a tinge of genuine concern, looking at the back of the detective's head as she kept a constant two paces behind him, and he refused to acknowledge her presence.

"Probably already found the safe zones," He responded coolly, momentarilly forgetting his silent vow to never speak to that girl, probably due to her sudden change in tone.

Reaching a T-section in the floorplan, the detective stopped suddenly in his tracks and glanced to the left. The girl, distracted by looking over her shoulder and anxiously chewing on her lip, nearly ran into him, but stopped just short. Looking right, he spotted a group of three people... they appeared sane.

"Saint Hope PD," He announced to grab their attention and flashed his badge, approaching them with the same long, powerful stride he had employed to no use earlier.

"Are you all right?" He questioned with intensity. He couldn't admit, of course, that he had no idea what to do or where to go, so instead he would pretend to be perfectly in control just because he was a cop, and that was how he thought.

The captive remained in tow. She did not speak yet, but the handcuffs were clearly visible holding her wrists together in front of her, exposing her status as a lawbreaker more than enough to make others uncomfortable.

[Homie G Luxory]

Vegas? Max’s heart did a funny little dance, and he bit back the urge to question Livi, see if she might know where Chrys was. Now really wasn’t the time to start on his personal quest; they really needed to get the ******** out of the open. He listened as Mars questioned, writing off the tough looking glare—he figured it was probably 50% zombie invasion. “I’ve got no idea, and I really don’t want to speculate how long we’ll be here.” Max frowned; their options weren’t great, as far as he could guess. “But I figure it’s better to prepare for the worst.” He fell silent for a moment, and then Margot brought up the emptiness of the area just as it hit him fully.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he shuddered. There was a sound; it made him think of walking past a narrow gap between two buildings when a strong wind blew. Following it was another sound that his suddenly fumbling and terrified mind could only call ‘zombie shuffle no. 3’. He gripped the chip rack tighter, raising it in a ready position. “Yes, let’s move. We’ll have to pass through the food court whether we decide to hole up in one of the other shops or not.” Max took a few tentative steps, watching the others; he wasn’t going to leave any of them behind.

Helen turned, completely forgetting the grizzled guy’s existence at the magic words “St. Hope PD.” Her face lit up as she spotted his badge, and took in the cliché trench coat (but a welcome cliché, it cemented him in her mind as a cop). She barely glanced at the girl behind him, taking in the green Mohawk and the obvious handcuffs. “Doing great now that you’re here. So, officer, what’s going on here?” He was a man of the law, a civil servant, a guy with a gun. He had to know what was up.

Helen had a flash of hope that this guy would channel Dirty Harry Callahan, pull out a .357 Magnum, and explain everything in a sexy Clint Eastwood voice. He would explain everything was cool, the quarantine was just a big mistake, and they were all free to leave.

Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Helen, she told herself with a disgusted sigh at her own foolishness. If it was all a mistake, they would have made another announcement, right? But at least the guy oughtta know what was going on. She gave him a hopeful look.

[Phantasm of the Orchestra]

”Police! Everything’s okay now.” was Chyrs's first initial thought, a small rush of relief coursing through her veins. Brain inflamed, she hopefully searched his face for answers to burning questions. Standing shoulder to bicep with Helen, she tried to ignore the inner critic whispering in her ear, insisting that she appeared foolish in direct juxtaposition against the Greek Goddess. Venus embodied was wrapped up in a sweater that looked like a patch of cloudy sky had peeled away from its centuries-old position, if only to protect her flawless skin. Fiery tendrils curled softly about her face, and even in a moment of almost-panic, her lips were formed in a perfect frown. Chrys thought she belonged on the runway, or the covers of fashion magazines, whereas she herself belonged in a drug store pulling such a magazine from its twins, leafing through it dumbly as needles of envy pricked her skin. Still, she listened to Helen’s words, eyes locked on the man, who…seemed to be hesitating. Silently, she reprimanded herself for biting her lip, which was starting to peel, and her eyes slid over to the girl. She felt an instant surge of liking, as her eyes lighted on the green fringe crowning her head and the handcuffs dangling casually from her wrists. She thought there was something pixie-like in her facial features, and Chrys felt a strong urge to show the girl her tattoo.

“Oh!” She started suddenly. Having been lost in her momentary reverie, she had completely forgotten about the disheveled man and his proclamations of “something just ******** up”. ”Did that mean somebody with the virus was in there?!” Heart leaping into her throat, she anxiously swiveled around to the guy, with the intention to ask for clarification. The other three hadn’t seen his panic, and she had the nagging feeling they were all underestimating the danger they were in. In fact…were they the only ones in the hall? As far as she could see, empty benches and an abandoned set of soda machines were their only, quiet company. Chrys instantly felt like it was her first day at college all over again: wandering around empty halls, her neat binder pressed to her chest with trembling arms, tears fighting to leak out. “Where did everyone go?”

A familiar screeching noise met her ears. A few feet away, a dusty speaker crooned, and the woman’s message only intensified her alarm.

[Phantasm of the Orchestra]

"MAY WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE. PLEASE REMAIN CALM AS WE BRING YOU THE FOLLOWING UPDATE: IT HAS BEEN CONFIRMED THAT THE VIRAL INFECTION HAS BEEN BROUGHT INTO THE VICINITY OF ST. HOPE NATIONAL AIRPORT. OUR TRAINED MEDICAL STAFF ARE WORKING TO CONTAIN THE SOURCE. IN THE MEANTIME, WE ASK FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING. ADDITIONALLY, COTS WILL BE SET UP IN THE FOOD COURT AT 9:30PM, AND A COMPLEMENTARY MEAL WILL BE PROVIDED ON BEHALF OF THE AIRPORT STAFF. WE ASK FOR YOUR COOPERATION, AND WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVIENCE THIS MAY CAUSE. THANK YOU AND GOOD EVENING.....MAY WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE. PLEASE REMAIN CALM--"

[Kriemhilde]

The entire group jumped significantly as the ghost of an announcement sqwawked to life overhead. Possibly in panic, Mars acted before he thought. Rather than grabbing Zeb and Sol again (they had migrated around this half-assed little circle as not to be standing next to him), he reached for Margot's wrist instead; she was closest. His big hand swallowed her arm as if he were holding a pencil, and he gave a gentle tug to start the party moving. As he walked, he glanced down at his watch. The little electronic face read 19:47. There would be people gathering at the food court even now, waiting for their meal and their beds.

"Ahright, it's almost eight. Let's get goin'. I was theah earlier - It's this way. If we get theah quick, we can get away from whatevah was making that weird sound."

Mars didn't look back to make sure if anybody was following him; either they'd come, or they'd stay and get to meet whatever was making that creepy noise. Even as he pictured that (Oh God, every zombie movie I ever seen coming back up in my head in a spray of blood) he felt a small wave of relief wash over his stomach as the sound of footsteps - normal ones, not whatever terrifying, shuffling ones the weird things in the distance had been making - pattering quickly along behind him, trying to match his pace. Mars took long strides, trying to move quickly. Those shuffling noises scared him more than he could say.

Margot was nearly pulled off her feet as the Sherman Tank of a man wrapped his snowshovel-hand around her arm. She clutched the handle of her guitar case instinctively, and half-carried, half-dragged it behind her. For a minute her feet dragged instead of walking, but after that she found them she tried to keep up with the man with a brisk trot that would have had her out-of-breath if she hadn't spent the last few weeks in South Dakota hiking through the mountains with her "dirty hippie friends" (in the words of Father Dearest, his bulbous nose just brushing the rim of his beer can as he still managed to look down at her from his sitting position in the recliner).

She chanced a peek up at the man she was currently attached to (she assumed she, at least for the time being, had no say in the matter). His dreadlocks bounced against his shoulders as he walked, and she saw herself hanging from them and being pulled, only in her socks as they slid across the linoleum, as if by a team of sled dogs. She stifled a giggle with great difficulty.

She looked back at the group behind her, and supposed, with her "author creativity" taking over, that they must seem to be some sort of distorted Abbey Road; one with two extra people in a now darkening hallway.

"Are they turning out the lights?"

Just beyond the group was the dead - really dead this time - zombie she had El-Kabonged out of unexistence. The dark halo of blood circling his head looked black and eerie in the remaining light. And just beyond that was the noise.

And a shape.

It wasn't a normal shape, but you could tell what it was. One had been bad. This looked like three our four, maybe five - not many more. And they were making that sounds, only it was magnified now. There were more and they were closer.

The sound of thudding, scraping, and now, moaning.

"Oh hell," she said weakly. "I can see them."

Mars broke into a jog.

[This Is Zen]

Phillis Evan Wesker was a normal man with a normal life and a normal marriage and a normal family. He had normal pattern baldness, he had a normal work job, he had a normal beer belly, and he normally voted Republican. He normally taught his kids his best at how to be productive members of society, and he normally watched football on Fridays with work buddies. And he normally had to deal with stress, which had sent him on a normal vacation to Hawaii. A normal vacation location.

What he didn't know at this point, was that something had exploded while he had been gone, and that this vacation may very well have saved his life. What he didn't know, up until a few moments ago, was that something had gotten out, that something was infecting people. What he didn't know at that point was that, in a few minutes, he'd be dealing with that thing that got out. He didn't know he'd be standing over a corpse with one of those metal poles they used to create the ribbon lines leading up to security or a night club.

And so, when that quarantine announcement, the first one, the thing he did was rather abnormal. He went into a nearby bathroom, feeling that thick ball of stress he'd been trying to escape back in the pit of his generous stomach, and he changed clothes. The flower-print "I'm a Hawaiian tourist" shirt was gone, replaced with a typical white, button-up shirt. He didn't put a tie on, but it just felt... well, he felt like he needed to do it, for some reason.

Moments later, Phil was standing outside security, having hoped to find someone there to talk to amidst the panic. A security officer, someone who would know what was going on, y'know? When no-one was there, he'd put in a call to his wife to see if she was alright.

No answer.

Now, that just tightened the ball of stress, and a bit of panic entered his mind. It was silly, she probably just missed the call, he'd get a call back with an apology in a little bit. But a seed of doubt was a powerful thing, beyond any typical human reckoning. A very powerful thing, and once planted, it grows roots far more than it grows leaves.

And those roots can find buried frustrations.

However, for the moment he was just panicking like anyone else, although considerably more calm. A viral outbreak, a quarantine... it didn't seem as urgent, as terrible as the looming possibility of unemployment. Silly, right? Maybe, but that silliness let him keep his cool.

It was probably that bit of detachment that saved his life a few moments later, when one of them (it wouldn't be until later that he stopped the cliche and started calling them what they were) found him. When all it took was a quick glance, the sound of a moan, the site of a bleeding corpse behind it, to summon up visions of horror movies. Of Dawn of the Dead, like probably everyone else was thinking.

It was pure animal instinct in the next moment that drove his actions, but what made his arm strong was twenty-six years of living in this small town, living a normal life with normal friends at a normal job that was normally going nowhere with normal hopes that...

It vanished in a sea of red and white, and when those red and white splotches tuned back in, he realized he was standing over some shell of a man, staring at the tiles just behind what had once been his head. Staring at gobs of pus and infection mixing in with blood, with bone matter and gray matter. With fragments of teeth. With bits of scalp, hair still attached, torn free in that moment of singular aggression.

Phillis Evan Wesker, the Normal Man, locked his jaw even as he went deathly pale. That recognition others had felt, that this wasn't human, it was what kept him from vomiting at the sheer thought of what he'd done, not even the gore he was witnessing.

It was what let him free that ribbon pole from the ribbon, and heft it up over his shoulder like some sort of blood-splattered war hammer. It was what let him walk away with that set jaw and troubled expression, even if he was deathly pale. That and the shock of the moment. It was probably the only way he made it to the mall, even if that was a silly thing to do.

The security section was empty. He needed to find people, and it was clear he couldn't leave. So he'd find people.