Somehow, despite the scuffles, the broken rib, close encounters with the Undying, and high tensions - Rich and the majority of the Mall Rats were still alive, sans one Rebecca Fong. Rich didn't cry for her, as he didn't cry for his daughter, but her name was added to the List of People to give the Undying Hell For.
It was nearing midnight now, and Rich was still unsure of what to do next - The Harbingers had called their truce, and something had happened between them and the faction leaders. Now they were directionless, yet again. Going back to the mall to wait things out sounded like the best option, and maybe Rich could get around to checking out those security access only passage wa-
"What in the blue hell?!" The Officer's bellows were drowned by the sudden roaring from the sky, accompanied by a downpour of sparks and stars. Fireworks? The hell was even --
Shamblers. The Shamblers would go right for that s**t. Why would anyone try to attract those sons of bitches? More importantly, the whole amassed factions would be right in the path to wherever those fireworks were being set off. Rich's breath became bated, legs locking in place when he urged them to run, dammit. His head turned slowly, hands bringing the Stormtrooper mask off his face, and he saw nothing.
Nothing was coming. All this noise and light, and the Undying weren't anywhere to be seen.
"Well, I'll be damned." Rich muttered, and without thinking much more about it, began to follow the rest of the crowd toward the source.
--
The source being one of the biggest, gaudiest casinos Officer Filth had ever seen in his life. Worse than the ones in Jackson, or Vegas. How did the place even afford this much power? Back up generators? Some sort of black deal made with whoever was occupying the power plants? A mole who had access to Delta's power grid? Who knew; and who truly cared right now. The place had power, and maybe it was one of those casinos that had hotel rooms - and that would mean a shower.
God, wouldn't that be nice. A true blue shower. Officer Filth pushed the doors open, marginal hope in his eyes.
Immediately upon entering the casino, Rich slammed into a wall of all too familiar scents, flooring him with nostalgia and bad memories. Cigar and cigarette smoke, Marlboro Reds like he used to smoke in his early days, before Coral. The reek of drunks and cheap beers, whiskeys, and the occasional burn of a terrible vodka. Just like his twenties.
A pretty little thing dropped some coins in Rich's palm with a wink and a giggle, and left Rich to his own devices.
The former officer strode down the aisles of tables and games, eyeing the slots. He'd never had much luck with the slots, mostly breaking even or losing the couple of dollars he'd brought. Blackjack was no good either; he'd always been too reckless - aimed to high. But poker, oh sweet poker was his mistress and her rebuke was soft as a fawn's hide.
Rich sat himself at a table that was just beginning a round, tapping the green velvet to indicate he wanted it. His hand was dealt him, and it turned out to be a throwaway. Rich didn't know these folks, or how well they could call bluffs. Hell, Rich had once known a man to pull his concealed carry out if he caught another man lyin' about his poker hand - which completely went against the nature of the game, but guns were louder than reason sometimes. Rich had to fold, got up from the table, and left it be. Maybe some other time.
OOC
Character's name: Rich Filth Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link:[x] Character's survival stats: [x] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Tall and built like a Kentucky farmer's son, graying hair and beard. Face currently concealed by a Storm Trooper mask.
Of course Rich had gone to the bar after his failed hand at poker, and ordered his typical double whiskey. It tasted like s**t and burned the whole way down his esophagus, but it warmed his belly something good, and gave him the confidence he needed to try another round of poker.
Or it would have, had the officer not immediately fallen off his bar stool with a loud THUD, head swimming and vision a blurred mess of skin colors and disgustingly bright lights.
When he woke up, everything was even more terrible and painful than when he'd hit the floor. Every single muscle ached, and when he tried to stretch to alleviate the feeling, his movements were met with immovable ropes that dug into his exposed flesh. Bright lights scoured his vision for a few moments, an instant migraine upon him and probably the rest of the moaning voices in the room.
The voice coming from the newly viewed speaker system told them they were a part of a game, and they'd eventually have to buy themselves out. What did that even mean? Rich briefly thought of the prize counters at the arcade, and maybe that was just what he was supposed to imagine. They had price tags on their head now, a ransom for themselves to pay.
Rich didn't like the sound of a "dinner fundraiser." Or being auctioned off. In fact, Rich didn't quite appreciate any part of this situation. He'd play the games, of course, and get himself out of hot water - and hopefully get back with the other Mall Rats. Separation wasn't good these days, and isolation only led to death. Rich worried for some of them, wondering if they'd be able to make it out alright.
A time for questions was allotted, and as Rich began to strain against his muzzled mouth to form the words "Why are you doing this", the speaker announced he'd have to pay a toll, and he was very suddenly bodily dragged into yet another room, much smaller, and with two others - a teenaged boy who didn't even look out of high school, and a pretty young lady who looked a bit too much like Lorraine for Rich to be comfortable with.
"Choose." He was told, "If you win, they get out too."
Both looked at him with tears and hopeless eyes. Cringing, Rich tilted his head to indicate he was choosing the girl, which brought forth two opposite screams and shrieks. The girl was set free, unbound, while the young man was dragged off, bleeding, into a room that looked a whole lot like a butcher's kitchen.
"Was in tha roob?" Rich managed out from around the gag. The attendant gave him a look, the girl he'd just freed shaking her head violently. No, don't ask. Please don't ask. "You sure you want to know?"
Rich weighed his options. Being well informed in this new world order was the best chance of survival, the best chance of seeing - or avenging - his family. Ignorance was bliss, but what good was bliss in the apocalypse? "Yes."
The girl's screams would haunt his nights for the rest of his days, along with the buzzsaw, her flailing limbs, and the way the people wrapped her body up with butcher's paper and tied them with twine.
"Better get to playing, cowboy. Don't want to end up like her, now do you?" The attendant smiled, shoving him out the door and back into the Casino from Hell.
OOC
Character's name: Rich Filth Character's faction: Mall Character's journal link:[x] Character's survival stats: [x] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Tall and built like a Kentucky farmer's son, graying hair and beard. Face currently concealed by a Storm Trooper mask.
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