Fireworks? Who the ******** was shooting off fireworks in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse? ********, ********, ********, he immediately grabbed for his shovel, knowing this was all going to go to s**t in about two seconds when the undead got riled up in a frenzy... His shoulders slowly slumped at the realization that the ******** brain-rotted monsters didn't even twitch. It's like they didn't notice all the goddamn noise and the light.
So what, he wondered, was it that they used to hunt?
Al followed the fireworks, of course. He wasn't a goddamn idiot, and he hoped these people weren't too. Such a fancy display meant they had to have supplies, right?
The sight of the casino nearly floored him. What in the goddamn <********> A casino? Up and running? They had power! That must mean they had communications available! Delta Casino, you were one big beautiful b***h.
Al didn't hesitate to step inside.
Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 3:27 pm
The smell of smoke hit him hard and fast, and Al took such a deep breath that his lungs practically whined. Oh Christ, they had cigarettes. And booze! He'd needed a cigarette over thirty ******** days ago... but how the hell was this happening? There were people everywhere, machines and whirling lights, like the end of the world had never happened at all and this was just a night on the town.
Al could feel his jaw grit warily, unsure of what the ******** was happening and why.
The person approaching him suddenly was enough to make him start, and Al definitely looked a bit wild-eyed until he relaxed a hair. "Seriously?" He asked, taking both the drink and the strange coins. "Y'all don't give a s**t that there's a goddamn zombie apocalypse going on outside?"
The attendant merely smiled and moved on, clearly having other places to be. Al's fingers flexed awkwardly around the cocktail, clearly bewildered as to what was going on.
For a long while, Al didn't move. He didn't trust any of this, didn't understand why these people hadn't gotten the hell out of this place while they could. Maybe, he reasoned, it was because there was no where else to go. They clearly had power. Maybe they saw the news, saw that the entire world had been hit with this goddamn shitty--virus or whatever it was, and decided to make the most of it.
Grudgingly, he could respect that sort of decision. More importantly though, where the ******** was Lola? She was sure to come over once she saw that display, right? If he knew his wife (and he did), she wouldn't be able to resist investigating.
He moved slowly towards the poker table, aware of how he looked compared to the other patrons. Well, ******** 'em. If they didn't like the smell, they could move.
Luck wasn't on his side, and he folded his cards with a grunt. Couldn't win 'em all. The cocktail remained untouched on the table.
50 Casino Coins.
Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 3:52 pm
Eventually, Al hadn't been able to resist the temptation of a cigarette. ********, but it was heavenly. Sweet, sweet nicotine and tar in his lungs, he missed you so much. A while after that, he started to feel...off. Had it gotten hot in here? Why were his eyes crossing? Al tried to stumble to his feet, felt his ankle twist, and hit the floor with a thud.
The room went dark.
He woke with a groan, immediately trying to touch at his temple where he'd fallen--and realized blankly that he was bound to a chair. He wasn't alone, either, not if he was hearing things right. His goddamn ears were still ******** to hell, he swore.
Al struggled and flailed, growling under his breath at his futile attempts to get free. Light flooded the room, making his eyes burn and water, and Al wheezed a curse as he squeezed them shut. Slowly, painfully slow, his vision adjusted, and the big man gave a start when he realized how the room was set up. What the ******** was wrong with these people?
He stared at the speakers, the voice slowly coming into focus. New casino players? What the ********? Were they applauding?
He listened, barely able to comprehend what they were telling him. He had to buy himself? Or end up as ******** dinner?
Oh, Jesus Christ, this was exactly like all of those shitty movies. And now they wanted questions? Yeah, he had a ******** question for them.
Tsunake
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Tsunake
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 4:05 pm
How much do I have to pay to shove your face up your a**? Was the question he wanted to ask, but Smart a** cut him off before he could even get the chance.
Al grunted when his chair was snatched, unable to kick out as much as he desperately would have liked to.
Losing players? Redeem one? Oh, Christ. So whoever he didn't pick got served up on the goddamn menu? Oh Christ. How was he supposed who lived and who died? The man looked uneasily between the two,hating that they were staring at him with wide, pleading eyes.
Eventually, hating himself, he dropped his gaze. "Her," He said, low and ragged.
Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 4:12 pm
The woman's weeping was no balm for the realization of what he'd done, not when the man immediately began to scream and fight. Al forced himself to watch when they cut the boy free. That's really all he was. A boy. And they were going to kill him.
The room beyond piqued his interest for a moment, but Al chose not to ask. These ******** were insane. God knew it was some butchering room--something. They were hauled away to yet another room, and Al stared blankly into the mirror. It had to have been some sick ******** joke. There was no way that they'd... would they?
He was vaguely aware of the woman thanking him, and he stared at her with a dull expression. Soon, she was dragged off, and Al found himself led down a hallway.
After a moment, he pushed open the door and stepped through.
OOC
Character's name: Al Malcom Characters faction: Prison Character's journal link: Characters survival stats:View BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: Al is a rough looking individual, usually sporting a five o'clock. He's a big guy at about 6'3", strong, but sporting a bit of a belly these days. His right arm and the right side of his body is covered in tattoos like so. He sports dark hair and dark eyes, and normally dresses in very casual clothing. You know, when he's not toting that snazzy inmate outfit.
50 Casino Coins
Tsunake
Territorial Friend
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Tsunake
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2015 4:14 pm
He had to get out.
The casino floor seemed ominous now, taunting him with reminders of what he'd seen, what he'd done. Christ. He hoped Lola hadn't come here after all, but knew his heart she probably had. He had to find her, had to buy their way out so they could never ******** return to this place.
To do that, he needed more coins. Al grit his jaw, mentally preparing himself for the task at hand.
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