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Brody was a fool. He took not the time nore care that the others had on their way up and he tripped a very simple trap. The fragments of a grenade flew through the air, spraying a deadly arc of twisted metal fragments at him. Letting others know something was happening; but also drawing all the attention of thos blasted beasts in the building to those stairs.

Meanwhile upstairs Fuller was hearing the commotion, gun shots fired; and now, a grenade of all things. Something had tripped a ******** carrying about the sudden change that Owle went through as he didn't see it he hurried his way down the hall and ducked into a room. Taking a different weapon that was propped up against the wall he swung his shoulders, swinging the assault rifel on its strap to lay along his back.

Now in his hands was something much more helpful, a MGL-140, 40mm grenade launcher.

"Bastards make my home a target and now you're going to help defend it or I'll shoot you all myself."

Saul suddenly jumped at the voice in his head. Taking some pride in his sanity the voice took him totally by surprise and some confusion. Turning back to look for someone who maybe was actually talking, he made eye contact with Gabe. Who was, actually talking.

Hopefully this apartment gets a lot nicer higher up.

Giving a nod, Saul slid the 203 launcher on the front of his launcher open and fed in a high explosive grenade. Stairs probably wouldn't hold up against too many explosions.

Hopefully.

Downstairs, the horde was quick behind Brody. A few of the shot zombies climbing back to their feet, seemingly unphased by the nondescript bulletholes that hit them. Even the throat-cut zombie found his feet and continued forward. Ever more poured into the building, all making their way to the hapless victim.

Gunshots from downstairs were a new touch. Zombies didn't, hopefully, use guns.

Then who're they shooting at? Each other?

Giving a short glance back to Gabe and Drake, Saul spoke.
"I'll be back in a second. Hold the stairs." Without so much as another word, Saul vaulted himself over the stair rail, over and down to the next flight down. Landing awkwardly on his good leg, he realized that it was, in fact, like a ten foot drop. Beat taking the stairs all the way around.

Turning to the stair rail again, he threw himself over a second time. Getting down to the ground floor with record time, free hand holding the helmet on his head on the descent.

Only this time, landing on his bad leg. No pain from the complete numbness. Hitting the step with with enough force that the blood surged to the calf and burst the turnicate, allowing whatever was waiting in the leg into the wrest of his body.

"s**t."

((Actually, Brody DIDN'T hear Owle. gonk I specifically said that in my post, if you'd been paying attention. Her telepathy isn't an area of effect thing (it can be but why would she want the zombies hearing?) so she had to choose targets. She sent the message only to Gabe, Tweak, Saul, and Drake. She didn't know Brody was there, so she didn't send the message to him. So Brody doesn't know about the seventh stair, and he didn't hear Owle saying to get the hell up the stairs.))

And Owle suddenly found herself alone. Fuller had gone off in a direction that was closer to the zombies, and everyone else seemed to be at least as far away from her as he was.

So...what was Owle to do? She was going to find a window, dammit, and get out into the open air on the roof. She wanted these people to live but there was nothing she could do. Hive minds didn't respond well to telepathy, and her only weapons were meant for real close range. Closing range with monsters that could burst into a shower of spikes did not seem like a very good idea. So...no, Owle wasn't going to stick around in the combat zone. She'd sit tight on the roof for a while, and if any of her companions survived she'd try to heal them...if that didn't look like it was possible she was flying the hell out of here. Hopefully zombies couldn't fly. Yeah, hopefully.

Drake doesn't seem overly perturbed about the sudden presence of a voice in his head, and he nods almost automatically in response.



Drake: "Aye, commander."

Whether this was said with respect, amusement, or sarcasm was difficult to tell from Drake's tone of voice, but he turns to trundle up the stairs...at least until Saul leaps over the bannister to the landing below. Drake pauses and begins to assess the situation. Then Gabe leaps down the stairs as well. Now Drake is extremely confused and torn between making sure that Owle is alright and helping his new comrades avoid what he was sure would be a terribly gruesome death.

Drake: And if I disobey Gabe, it threatens his position as leader...but his life is also threatened...

Locked in his decision-making, Drake remains where he is, a frown on his face...

((Post underway. Also, you'll have to wait an hour for me to actually post. An hour or so. Class, etc.))

Wiping sweat from his brow, Kalis looked around him. Lot of nothing, you've managed to find... He sat, letting the wind blow his hair around and stewing over his lack of success. Taking his water bottle up again, he started to pull down the scarf to drink and paused.

More gunfire.

He paused and waited. But this time, it didn't stop like before. If they're still firing... then it's not ending right away like before...

"s**t." turning the bike around, he aimed for the direction of the gunfire, blaring the motor as he tried to make the first jump quickly. The movement from roof to roof was rough, jolting him more violently now that he was being quicker and less careful about it, rough on his already torn up body. He was glad he'd thought to wear extra covering; he thought the injuries from the Chaos might actually be getting worse. But none of the violent bouncing was as violent as the jolt when he found what he was looking for, several tops away. Someone standing on a roof; and plenty of blue.

"Hm..." he leaned forward, and the engine roared.

Hitting the roof edge, the motorcycle took off into the air, pulling across the last gap.


The buzz went from quit to loud almost instantly, the engine roar practically overhead.

Turned way over on one side, he scrapped his lower leg across the roof, top leg put forward. With a loud growl, he scrapped the boot against the ground, straining to stop sideways, kicking up sparks off the greaved boots on the roof, turning himself sideways and slowing, edge of the sword in one hand skittering along. The bike slide right past Owle, in front of her, and diagonally on imbetween her and the pursuer.

Done.

Without a sound of aggression, he gripped the sword in both hands, twisting the blade around and angling the tip downward diagonally, and drew it up and to the right; digging deep into the side of the zombie where it slowed, going up through the abdomen and into the ribs, creaking along until momentum and the push of both hands split the rest of the way through, and Kalis skidded the rest of the way along the roof, twisting more as his foot dragged. The wheel bumped against the roofs edge, and he stopped, nearly facing the other two left.

The upper portion of the creature landed with a sick plopping noise on the ground, and stopped moving soon there after.

"Somehow, I'm not entirely surprised." facing Owle, a thick gloved hand came up, catching one finger under the tinted goggles of the now lightly blood spattered face, and drew them down on top of the scarf pulled up around his face to cover mouth and nose, mostly.

Kalis swung one leg around, off the bike, and turned on his heels, toward the last creature.

Lowered the tip of the blade until the claymore went parallel to the ground, long sword pointing on ahead of him.

And rushed it.

The sudden scraping of metal on the rooftop was almost like a signal that Drake had been waiting for. Without a moment's hesitation now that he knows what he's going to do, he leaps down the stairs, following Gabe's route and landing directly next to him. He addresses Gabe as the soldier fires on the undead that come in his sights.

Drake: "If anyone is going to survive, they'll need a leader. In that respect, you're not expendable, Gabe..."

Drake stands from the crouch he landed in, a resolute expression on his face and his katana before him in a one-handed fighting stance.

Drake: "...but I am."

Gabe wasn't in a great mood. Not only had Drake just got done disobeying him, but there was no sign of Saul. Not like Gabriel was in any situation to pull rank on Drake and force him to do something. Probably one of the disadvantages that went along with forming a completely ragtag group of adventurers and entering a situation where they had no objectives other than to survive.

And with the current situation as it was, Gabe was in serious danger of failing that mission.

"Nobody here is dispensible." What with Drake in his way and all, Gabe stood up and attempted to move around the man in order to get a clear shot. Where he had expected a large number of infected people, Gabriel was faced with...nothing.

There was gunfire down below, but no signs of life coming around the corner at that particular moment. Whatever was going down there involved Saul and it wasn't accompanied by the large boom he had expected.

He looked towards Drake, yet thought better of telling him to stay put and instead descended the stairs, making sure that he didn't trip the shotgun booby trap that they had crossed when they first entered the building. Once past that, he jogged down the stairs, turned around the landing, and rose his rifle. A quick assessment of the situation soon followed. Saul wasn't in any immediate danger, ********, when did that other guy get there?

"SAUL!"

He shouted, as if to indicate to the man that he could lower his gun and carry the wounded with two hands, as Gabriel unloaded about five rounds into the chest of one of the aforementioned 'grabbers'.