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"Umm..." Yeah, he was not completely sure, as could be seen by him tapping on his bottem lip and glancing around nervously. His idea had been to rely on the signs present to tell him what was where. With the tipped over cars and occasional burning objects he should have known better.

...Well s**t.

"Lets see, it should be like right...there!" Pointing at a single shop in particular. "That just has to be it! ...Or maybe that one?" The store across the street. Shrug to follow up as he glanced at the group. "Either way it is one of those two, so we can just check them both. Not going to take that much time. Pop the door and glance inside y'know?"

...Did you really think it was going to be so easy at this point?

Sometimes, people do stupid things. Like setting something on fire in a flammable building, not buckling their seat belt, threatening someone armed with a plastic look alike weapon, going off waterfalls in barrels, or visiting cities full of zombies. Kalis had so far only done one of these today. He was about to do two.

He stopped his motocycle on top of one building, keying it down and cutting the power. Popping out the headphones, he looked at his little MP3 player as it buzzed and flickered. Heading to the side of the building, he leaned over and checked the sign on the front again. He pulled himself back up from leaning way over it, gnawing on a lip and looking around the street speculatively. Right- no zombies.
Left- no zombies.
Down the street- no zombies.

"Hrmm."

He scratched at his back, stretching, left, then right, bending backward, touched his toes. Yawn. Drink of water. The neck, the wrist, the ankles, yawn again.

"Hm. I'm out of batteries."

This was the beginnings of a bad idea.

"I'll go look inside."

This was a bad idea being put into action.

He plodded down the steps lightly, humming to himself as he came to the bottom of the stairwell and took a minute unlocking the door in the dark. The other side still had the usual service hour lights on, how nice.
Eh. Maybe not so nice.
Kalis closed the door, turned around, and ran up a couple of steps.



The not-so-tough metal door was looking rather worn.

"She-it."

Moving back to the door, he was reassured to see no holes clear through it, just awfully nasty looking dents, and locked it before the handle could start turning.

Sounds bothering at the handle came vervently on the other side, agitated more as he took the heavy sheathed sword off his back and smashed at one side until the hinges busted. Grabbing the door, he took the sword in one hand, drawing it and putting the sheath over his back again, and took the door handle in the other. He paused a minute and laughed at the zombies trying to push the door open on him.

"It opens out, stupid," and a heavy metal door sent two armed zombie men rolling over the floor. Stopping, Kalis felt the thing bounce violently in his hand as another gunshot rang out, and he stabbed at the two downed zombies, hugging the wall.

Ducking around isles and hopping counters, he kept this up a while, and eventually there were five zombies hacked to peices on the ground, one seriously ******** up door bent around his arm's gauntlet cover. He pried that off irritably, letting his tower shield clunk to the floor.

He stocked up on batteries liberally, stuffing a few in his coat pockets and cleaning the sword on some hanging camo clothes. Go figure, he was facing urban combat and it was a general hunting and woodsey goods store.
Still, it's not so bad...

He kicked a heavy boot through a vending machine, hauling it back out and kicking again, this time sodas and water falling out all around his leg. Careful not to step on any, he picked up a water bottle, ignoring all the available Coke products while he trotted back over to browse the gun shelves while he gulped out of the little bottle.

"Er-hrm... hrm... nah..."

He was very specific, for someone who knew extremely little about guns.

Shot gun, and a fair deal of bullets for it. He grabbed a second despite himself, and hauled ammo up to his pack, back down, and took more up. So, he strapped one gun over the bike, and loaded the other one, putting it over his back with the safety on.

Then he popped the batteries into his MP3, setting it to radio and plugging the headphones in.



With a discouraged sigh, he hit the shuffle and waited for music to play again while he turned the key in the ignition.

Drake moves next to Owle as they walk towards the first of the two buildings the twitchy one had pointed out.

Drake: "What did you see?"

He asks this in a soft voice. Not so the others couldn't hear; they could pay attention if they wanted. Drake merely didn't want to disturb them.

Tweak never really moved far. Closest window, not even one of those he pointed out, which happened to belong to an old jewelery store. Unfortunately the front window had already been totally smashed out. This meant everything inside was gone, something he confirmed with a single glance across the place and a sigh.

At Saul's call the purple haired teen took long enough to mutter a, "******** looters," before turning and addressing the military freak. "What? See something or find the place?" With his curiosity on the state of this store checked out he moved back closer to Saul for better hearing.

He was getting nervous hanging around here too long. It did not help the feeling at all that they were camping out in the middle of the ******** street. It was in his instincts to take to the alleys, roof tops, and the ******** rafters when in danger. Many a time had he hidden in the rafters of buildings to avoid cops, his fellow thugs, and a few loan shark hitmen.

((*usurps GM throne for the time being
/set Gabriel to NPC
/set Owle to NPC))

In the distance, dozens upon dozens of feet hit the asphalt of the road. A fair distance away, nearly five blocks away. In a straight line, the shambling figures of bodies could be seen down the way.

Owle made mention of this, alerting everyone to the incoming presence.

Gabe moved up and readied his rifle.

Remembering the woman saying something about somebody being up Saul didn't want to stay on the ground. If someone had survived up there this long, there was a chance they were secured.

Hate to do this, but it's their problem too.

Stepping forward, giving the antique shop door a good kick with his numb leg, it stayed upright and in the frame.

That would have hurt if I could feel it.

Stepping into the door with a charging hip check, Saul was reminded about how long it had been since he last breeched a door. Sure could use a ram about now.

Closer and closer, the horde of wandering mutants seemed to know where they were going. Still blocks away, but ever more visible.

Taking a couple more steps back, Saul charged the door and hit it with shoulder and hip, forcing the locking mechanism free of the frame. Door's open, no time for looting. Following a slight hunch and considering that this shop was built into a larger building, they had to be connected.

If not, they were ******** into the shop, Saul ran into the corner of a half empty shelf. Various items and glassware clattered and fell on their sides.

"Come on!"

Things had gone so smoothly up until that point. They were so close to just up and leaving the cursed town. God dammit. Why did everything have to go so wrong when they were just about ready to leave? Even worse, why did it have to go wrong right in the middle of their escape route?

Gabriel had dropped to a knee a good five feet in front of and to the left of the door. His rifle was raised, gum pushed against his cheek by his tongue. Once he could tell that the approaching figures weren't human, he opened fire. Since he was pretty much the only one firing, Gabe was playing an interesting game of Space Invaders. The monsters closest to their position were targeted and shot first. Initially, the cocoons didn't seem to do much about this. They just dropped and crawled over one another.

"Any time would be great right about now!"

Gabe shouted over his shoulder as Saul made his second run at the door. A couple more rounds buried themselves into the shoulder of a coccoon, and it broke into a sprint. The others weren't far behind.

The sound of a door's lock breaking, accompanied by Saul's shout, got his attention. He quickly rose to a standing position. Everyone else had to get inside first.

"Inside! NOW!"

Gabe backpedaled slowly, emptying the last of his clip into the face of the wounded semi-human creature. He dropped out the empty container, slapped a new in place, and leveled it at the next one. He wouldn't get a chance to fire. By then everyone should have been inside if they weren't suicidal, and Gabe was quick to turn heel and run into the antique shop. His shoulder caught the same shelf that Saul had run into, and he bit his lip, cursing beneath his breath. But it gave him an idea.

No time to really worry about it, he slung the rifle over his shoulder as quick as he could, slammed the door as shut as it would go, and then tipped the shelf over, where it crashed against the door and propped it shut, for the time being.

Hustling through the shop, Saul was moving ahead of the pack hoping those bringing up the rear would take care of not leaving the door open. Weaving around a table and a shelf that looked too heavy to rush through, Saul caught glimpse of a door, behind a countertop, complete with cash register. Not slowing for a second, Saul vaulted over the countertop and landed neatly behind it.

Glancing back for a moment, Saul raised his rifle and blasted the door with several rounds. Splintering the wood around the handle and lock, severing it completely before shouldering it aside.

The door slammed openned to reveal a long hallway lined with doors on either side. All of which were heavily boarded shut. Down the other way was a staircase.

"Come on, this way!"

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, holding his helmet on his head with a free hand. Several barricaded doors later, Saul threw on the brakes and forced himself to a stop. Throwing back a stiff arm to stop whoever was following closely. Which likely would have been Tweak, who after all of this could probably run faster than Saul at this point.

"Wait!"
Shouting, staring intensely at the fishing line that ran across the third step up. Not something anyone would have noticed, but Saul dealt with Guerilla tactics before. And, sure enough, off to the side of the step just out of sight, was an old German Stielhandgranate. An antique, no less.

Owle, in all good senses, kept with the group's venture inside. Not caring to be left outside with the horde or leave the sight of someone with a gun.

Outside, dozens upon dozens of zombies threw themselves against the door. The lack of organization spread them out against the face of the building, flailing stupidly at the barred windows and jammed door.