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 Posted: Fri Oct 19, 2012 10:52 am
asso
“ үσυ мιgнт ωαηηα вυcкℓε υρ, үσυ кησω ғσя sαғεтү. ”
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The tumultuous influx of air was deafening, the blades of wind slick and blinding. The sun shined as brightly as ever, and the vultures above laid down a shadowy curtain of perpetual dread. Heat, splaying forth from a searing gaze in the path of the battling cars was incorrigible, steadying at a burning temperature . The white corvette, like a unicorn in flight from those that hunted it, barreled down the highway at nigh unmatchable speeds, its engine revving as its acceleration continued to rise. Like a knife cutting through butter, its streamlined shape cut a path ahead of its pursuers who chased almost vainly at the blindingly fast vehicle drafting as they struggled to maintain their speeds. The driver of the aforementioned speedster was a woman, with a implacable look on her face as she sent forth her challenge to the enemies that trailed behind. Next to her sat Eric, his bewildered eyes darting back and forth as his hands gripped his seat, white and quivery. With each swerve that was attempted he let loose a small yelp for fear that the movement would dislodge him from his seat and send him flying out of the open window. He looked behind them at the pursuing cars, the lead of which being a menacing black hummer with a bearded man screaming guttural maledictions at its front. His partner, lanky and crow-faced, stuck the upper half of his body out of his window as he gripped an automatic shotgun, spraying bullets at their car, its shiny white body dented by continuous strikes.
Next to him, Ysa remained defiant, although Eric himself was not sure that the outcome of this would inevitably fall into their favor. It was three against one, and that was only speaking of the cars. Counting occupants, they were vastly outnumbered. Still, in that brave and inspiring stubbornness that he had come to admire, Ysa fought on and she watched as she continually drove that pursuing vehicles back with each tilt of the wheel. He watched as she looked into the rearview, looking deep into the faces of their would be killers."Take the wheel." she told him, much to his surprise.
"I-I don't-" he stammered, his fingers shaking in his bewilderment, but before he could protest any further, she had let go of one hand and procured her gun. Her remaining hand also let go of the wheel to his growing horror and darted forth, clutching his own and placing it where hers had been. By instinct, he gripped the wheel, trying in a panicked furor to keep them on the road and prevent the car from tipping over on its side, effectively killing them. "Ysa!" his voice cautioned, shaking with every syllable. He didn't know how long he could maintain their trajectory, what with his anxiety riddled state. It appeared she didn't hear him as she went about doing something he could not see. He didn't want to look away from the road, but out of intense curiosity, he shot her a speedy glance, and immediately noticed one horrifying fact: she was no longer wearing her seatbelt.
"What are you doing!?" he asked her, raising the volume of his voice so that it conquered the deafening roar of the wind in their ears. Again, she seemed preoccupied and went about her ways until finally pulling herself up out of the window and tossing a dark object at the red truck that revved angrily nearby. The object burst with a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass was quiet but definitely noticeable. Eric looked into his rearview and watched with horror and amazement as the vehicle burst into flames and was quickly engulfed in a raging inferno. He turned to Ysa, his mouth wide with shock. "You threw a--" he started before she cut him off, grabbing the wheel. "time for you to practice your shooting," She told him swiftly, handing him a gun. "But do me a favor and buckle me first," she added, her face again positioned forward, momentarily tilting to look up at the rearview. Eric did so, making sure that the straps supported her body fully. He then stared at the pistol that was in his hand, his mind lost in a drunken stupor. He was jolted awake by the sound of a bullet as it pierced the body side molding of the car. Time seemed to slow as he began to remember a single phrase: Live Free or Die Hard.
He steadied his resolve and clenched his teeth, looking at the gun again. He disengaged the safety, pulled back the slide of the barrel and--in a quick motion that went against all that he stood for--unbuckled his own seatbelt. With a single breath, he breathed "Yolo." before pulling himself up out of the window and firing like a madman. His spray caught the driver and passenger of the grey car who let out coordinated screams as their chests ruptured in fountains of blood, which sprayed the cracked glass in front of them. The car veered to the side, tumbling out into the grass. Eric watched with horror before he felt a thud as his own body was jerked backwards into the car. The pain immediately followed as he began to gasp, his face growing paler by the second. He took a horrified glance to his left, where a dark red spot continued to grow, and the scene began to fade. "Ysa..." he croaked weakly as the sounds around him began to dull. Behind them were still the black truck, whereas the red truck had tumbled away and lay in a burning mound some distance back.
нєαʟтн [100 %] || sтαmιиα [50 %] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Cricket Bat] || ιиvєитσяy [Survival-y Stuff] || σuтғιт [x]
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Posted: Fri Oct 19, 2012 7:37 pm
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xxxxxxxxxxxxуѕα cαмєяσи gєиєνєνє
Ysa was idly aware of the jolting that occurred each time she was forced to throw the wheel just to stay on the uneven roadway. In fact, flipping the vehicle was the last thought on her mind. The gentle whines of her companion were drowned out by the wind blaring through the windows. As soon as she heard him fire the weapon she began to speed up. Her eyes almost seemed to glow as she watched a second vehicle be thrown off the road before directing her eyes back ahead of her, and just in time. For ahead of them laid a broken down vehicle that had been waiting to take some sort of prey down when they weren't looking. Geneveve jerked the wheel again, unaware of her partner's current state. There was a loud scraping sound as the edge of their car barely made it to safety away from the other one. The truck however made a loud crash as it smashed into the lone car, throwing it to the side like a rag doll as it continued it's pursuit of the two. Once more she found her eyes in the rear view mirror, locking them with those of the opponent. One look and she could tell that these men, whoever they were, had no interest in anything Eric would be able to give them. Ysa wasn't about to let them murder the one friend she had in this world.
She turned her head to speak to him, only to realize that maybe it was already too late. He'd been struck with a bullet, possibly while leaning out to shoot as she'd instructed. The guilt set in fast as she began shoving blame onto herself. Ysa reached a hand out touching his shoulder and spoke to him, "stay with me Eric," she began, "I'll get you all fixed up." He didn't know, but she was actually told she did a good job at pulling bullets out of people. Was she a doctor? No. Was the procedure a bit back alley? Yes. Still, she had to save him, she needed him. Eric was the only thing keeping her alive if he was gone...
Her eyes when back to the rear view mirror, and she stared at the person behind her. Her hand shot over to down all the windows completely and then took the wheel as the other grabbed the gun from Eric's limp hands. she said, taking a few deep breaths and making sure her seat belt was on. She flipped the safety on the weapon, and then tucked it into the front of her waistband. Ysa reached over grabbing Eric's seat belt and yanking it hard so it would lock itself in place, then did the same with hers. she repeated again. The large truck was practically about to pull up next to them as Ysa swerved back in front of it, then in a swift possibly stupid move, slammed on the brakes.
What followed was faint to her. She opened her eyes moments later, her face resting against a deflated airbag. Ysa groaned, her side was screaming in pain. Her hand lowered, undoing her seat belt. She turned her eyes to Eric. His own eyes were closed. Geneveve gasped, reaching her fingers to his throat and feeling for the pulse. It was there, but it was gentle. Her ears rang idly and she groaned softly as she brought and arm to the door, tugging on the handle. A sad noise was let out when the door swung open as if it too was crying for medical attention. The woman stumbled out, putting a palm against the jagged crumpled metal of the car frame. Her hand went down retrieving her weapon and flipping off the safety. Ysa approached the back of the 'vette slouched, and with another hand holding her right side. Seeing the scene she knew she'd be proud had she not been so pissed off at the moment for her presumption was correct. They were not wearing seat belts. The driver was ground into the rocky ground, not moving, not even heaving in a struggle to stay alive. The passenger however, was laying on his back, possibly after rolling himself over. The male heaved, the side of his face also torn, so were his shoulders, and palms. Ysa approached, looming over him. His hand twitched to try and reach his gun near him, but she only brought her foot over, kicking it just a few inches too far away.
"Please..." he wheezed, "have mercy." The man only stared at her as she stood hunched over and raising her weapon at him. "Never heard of it," she replied pointing the gun at him and pulling the trigger. Click! the weapon jammed. The male opened his eyes back up and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Ysa squinted, thinking he was rejoicing far too early as she slowly brought herself down then began bashing his skull in with the gun. When she felt satisfied enough and could feel that her face was wet from something that wasn't sweat she stood, bringing a hand up to wipe her face and dropping the gun aside. It was useless now anyways.
Ysa pushed herself along to Eric's side of the car, pulling open the door and leaning in. Se groaned as she bent over undoing his seat belt and grabbing the lever to lower the seat to be laying down. The car was a mess, but she couldn't afford to pull him out and move him around at this point. Geneveve had to push and throw herself around a bit but eventually managed to get to a spot where she had everything she needed and could get to his wound easily. She'd reclined the driver's seat as well, and was using the last of their alcohol to her dismay on cleaning the wound after sanitizing it she dug into her own bag pulling out a bag full of sugar, and began putting that around, and in the wound. Ysa hoped he'd stay unconscious for the time as she began to sew up both sides of the bullet hole considering there wasn't much else she could do but close and bandage it.
Minutes turned to hours. She'd covered him with a blanket and pulled the corpses to the side of the road. Currently she was sitting hunched with her face now cleaned for the most part, and a bit of stitching done above her eyebrow from a wound she guessed she got after hitting the airbag somehow. She had her machete and was staring out at the road, waiting for anyone who dared come by while she was in this mood of angst, and worry. Like in any situation, she found herself smoking.
| ooc |
нєαʟтн [80 %] || sтαmιиα [100 %] || αιʟmєитs [n/a] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Machete.] || ιиvєитσяy [Matches, stolen supplies, flashlight, cigarettes] || σuтғιт [x]
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magneto was right Captain
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 12:02 am
asso
“ үσυ мιgнт ωαηηα вυcкℓε υρ, үσυ кησω ғσя sαғεтү. ”
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The wound in his shoulder seemed to Eric larger than it actually was. He couldn't actually see it, as his hand covered the hole, nor was he brave enough to allow it to be revealed, but instead, he imagined the severity of it. A gaping hole, dripping with blood which formed a warm pool at the base of his seat. The pain was great, but he wasn't the type to yell. Whimpers escaped from between his clenched teeth and his face, sweaty and pale, formed a deathly mask. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell as he attempted to regulate his own breathing. Now was not the time for panic, he realized. He tried focusing on other things, on the sounds of the rushing wind, on the gunshots that seemed so very far away, and on the revving of engines as the two vehicles adjusted their speeds. Next to him, he could make out the blurry outline of Ysa, she had not noticed his plight yet and hoped that she wouldn't. At least not for a while. He felt that he could hold off for a bit longer and he didn't want to worry her and cause the both of them to be killed. In the relatively short time that they had been together, Eric had come to know Ysa as a person with a good heart and he wanted to protect her, as silly as that may sound.
However, much to his feverish bewilderment, she did notice his injury and he in return noticed the guilt that appeared almost instantly in her eyes. Seeing her feel guilty made him feel guilty and his pale face somehow managed a slight pink tint. He tried to protest when she approached, wanting to tell her to focus on the road, but he only managed a feeble croak followed by a small yelp as her hand touched the raw flesh of his punctured shoulder. She spoke comforting words to him but his mind was in a frenzy caused by pain and the anxiety that accompanied the feeling of pointlessness, that his struggle to survive had all been for naught. To him, she seemed genuinely worried, and while he was touched, he was also worried that the attention she was focusing on his injury would detract from the attention she paid towards their pursuers. Oh was he ever more wrong.
In a burst of either genius or manic stupidity, Ysa slammed on the breaks. What happened next was incomprehensible to Eric's pain-dulled mind. He remembered a crash, the sound of twisting metal, and a piercing scream. His face was buried in an airbag, and so was Ysa's. The sound outside the car was shockingly muted, seeming more like The Road than it did The Fast and The Furious car chase from mere moments behind. His vision began to fade again as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness. He remembered Ysa's fierce eyes just before she took the gun from his hands. The world sank into silent blankness after that.
When he next awoke the sky had begun to form a pale orange. The vultures had disappeared and a cool breeze wafted across his face. He was covered in a blanket, and while his fever still persisted, he felt much better than he had hours before. His shoulder no longer throbbed as it once did, and he actually felt fairly comfortable, the pain only a minor annoyance. He turned his head, viewing the faintly illuminated form of Ysa as she smoked her deathstick. Eric frowned upon them but acknowledged the reasons for their use. He tolerated them more in these days than he did in the past. "Ysa," he croaked, his mouth surprisingly dry. He looked to the side, spotting a canteen. He reached for it and let the water spill sloppily into his mouth. The feeling was refreshing and he poured a bit over his face to amplify it. It was a waste of water, so he poured only an ample amount. He tried speaking again, and found it much easier than before.
"Ysa... thank you." he managed, finally. The fact that they were alive meant that their pursuers had been taken care of. He looked again at her, this time his eyes filling with sorrow. He guessed what she had to do, and believed that even in times like these, the taking of another life would still weigh heavily on a person's soul. Himself, he could still see the faces of the two men he'd killed, their mouths twisted in grim agony as their chests erupted with flashes of blood. "We shouldn't stay here." he blurted, attempting to stand. A shot of pain ran down the left side of his body and he thudded to the ground. He groaned, small tears forming in his eyes. "It's getting dark." he said in between gasps. "We should go before we get caught by the Infected."
нєαʟтн [100 %] || sтαmιиα [50 %] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Cricket Bat] || ιиvєитσяy [Survival-y Stuff] || σuтғιт [x]
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 9:39 am
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Ysa had broken her one rule. She'd let herself get attached. After so many years of never feeling the connection, to even more forcing it to not occur, she had fallen. She'd fallen so hard, and fast that she wasn't sure how she was going to pick herself back up. It was strange how the emotion felt, as if he was going to rip apart at any second. The nicotine helped as he blew smoke in the air occasionally plucking the cigarette mournfully from curvy lips. Ysa hardly noticed Eric moving about inside the corvette as she gazed sorrowfully at its bumper. While the demise of the vehicle was brave, she knew she'd still miss it. If she were able to, she'd bury it. Geneveve and the white sports car had been through a lot together, and now it was time for them to part ways.
Her eyes shifted to Eric as she heard his weak voice call out, just in time to see him slump and writhe in pain from moving about. She wasn't sure what he thought he was doing moving around with a bullet hole in his shoulder. Geneveve nodded at his words, and pushed herself up jumping down into the bed of the truck, then out of it altogether. Ysa landed on the ground but stumbled as the jump sent a shockwave of pain up her side. She gasped, and it only made it worse. Her hand gripped the bed, and she pulled herself to a stand evening out her breath and dismissing the fact that it happened at all. "Alright. I think there should be a town up the road," she stated recalling seeing some type of sign as they were being chased. Her fingers ran over her ribs where the pain was coming from. "I'll get the stuff," she told him not leaving it open for him to protest about helping with the carrying.
The woman when to the car reaching inside the carcass to begin pulling out their bags which she set on the ground. When they were all out she held onto them herself eyeing him. Sure it was heavy, but her shoulders were in far better condition than his. "Just... gimme a minute," came her voice one more as she placed a hand on the car and lowered her head. Ysa had gotten attached to the vehicle. She closed her eyes and frowned a bit sighing before patting the frame and turning towards the road. Ysa glanced behind her to make sure Eric was following as she began lugging herself, and their items towards the city. "And don't worry," she began, "I already looted their truck." She knew that would make him feel better. Eric was crazy about looting.
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нєαʟтн [80 %] || sтαmιиα [100 %] || αιʟmєитs [n/a] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Machete.] || ιиvєитσяy [Matches, stolen supplies, flashlight, cigarettes] || σuтғιт [x]
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magneto was right Captain
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 6:21 pm
asso
“ үσυ мιgнт ωαηηα вυcкℓε υρ, үσυ кησω ғσя sαғεтү. ”
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They walked down the road into the city, passing by the monolithic buildings that stood guard at its fringe. This city, like all cities, was deserted and its streets were covered by the corpses of the slain, which seemed to turn their heads towards the two, boring into their souls with bottomless eyes. Their bony fingers pointed in the direction behind them as the air carried a low wail. Be warned, they seemed to say through rotted yellow teeth. Danger lurks in the shadows around here, and death awaits to strike from the darkness. The wicked wind stirred up dust in the intersection up ahead, swirling it around the pair as they walked, Eric with his bat which he used as a makeshift crutch, and Ysa with the bags that she carried, her face showing noticeable strain. They'd been walking for hours, and the breaks that they took were short in duration. Time was currency in the new world.
The walk into the central sections of the city was silent, as both the male and the female were tired. Their recent ordeal was harrowing, and they were on the brink of exhaustion. Dust clouds formed as their heels dragged against the floor and sweat slid down their faces like saline streams flowing down the sides of a cliff. The intense glare of the sun only added to the despair that lingered strongly in this place. Everywhere they looked bore signs of destruction and the skeletons littered about told stories of the gruesome scenes that had unfolded in the moments of their passing. One in particular was lying face down with its arm outstretched towards a splintered, half-broken, barricaded door. Its other limbs were missing, The entire place made Eric's stomach lurch and his feverish mind wanted nothing more than to pass out and wipe this world from its conscious touch.
He looked up at the skies, forcibly tearing his gaze away from the corpses. It would be getting dark soon, and their cover under the sun would soon disappear. Nights in the cities were especially perilous. They needed to find shelter, and they needed to find it fast. Looking to Ysa, Eric motioned silently with his head towards a more crowded area of the city, probably downtown. With the use of crowded, he was referring to the amount of buildings. Words that often referred to people no longer referred to people. You would need a subject to refer to, and humans ceased to be viable in that respect. "Let's go over there." he whispered, nodding in the direction of the buildings. Their massive forms cast darkening shadows on the area before them. One of the buildings was a bar, aptly titled "Johnson's" Its no longer luminescent sign was cracked and faded, though the outline of crossed bottles could be seen.
He walked towards the door with a limp, using his cricket bat to help carry his weight, though the action caused pain to spike from his wounded left shoulder. In the distance, where darkness had overtaken the streets, piercing screams could be heard. If there were any kissers in the building they would surely be doomed, trapped between two murderous forces. He plodded over to Ysa, unzipping a pocket of his bag and took out a flashlight. Because he was slightly more mobile than she was he decided that he should be the one to lead. He opened the door slightly, and quickly flashed his light. In the milliseconds that the room was lit, he did not see and infected. He opened the door wider and kept it propped open with his foot. He allowed Ysa to go first and then followed her in, cricket bat in hand. His left held the flashlight at a low level, as lifting his arm proved to painful for him to manage. He flashed it several times more to check every corner for kissers. There were none to be found. Satisfied, he set down his cricket bat against the side of the bartender's counter. Walking over to Ysa, he reached into one of the bags and pulled out a lantern, lighting it, and placed it in the center of the room, keeping it sufficiently illuminated. He quickly hobbled over to the windows, covering them with dark curtains that conveniently decorated the bar. "I think this place is fine for the night." he said, peeking out the windows. Shadows darted in the night. "But we should keep a watch, just to be safe."
нєαʟтн [60 %] || sтαmιиα [25 %] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Cricket Bat] || ιиvєитσяy [Survival-y Stuff] || σuтғιт [x]
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Posted: Tue Oct 23, 2012 11:30 pm
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Needless to say she was glad to have the strain of the bags off her. The bar was a welcomed sight, after all a drink did sound good even though drinking in this world was never a bright idea no matter where you were. They were easily inside and she didn't like that he went in first when he was clearly in worse condition she allowed it for now. Once the bags were off her she turned and started to be sure the doors were locked and all the windows were intact before even speaking with him. If there were any creatures they would have shown themselves by now. "We can sleep on the floor probably behind the bar would be best," she said turning to look at the bar. It was connected to the wall and had a good view of the whole room. Plus it would provide good cover should anything happen.
He spoke about needing a watch and she nodded, "I'll take first shift, you rest then you can go after me." Part of it was true. Ysa however wouldn't wake him unless he woke naturally. She was fine with staying up through the night should today call for it. He had been shot after all and she doubted that had ever happened to him before. Speaking of which, "We need to clean and redress your wound first thing in the morning as well," she told him moving over towards the bar to check what things were behind it. Once there Ysa began pulling bottles of vodka and whiskey up to rest on top of the dusty counter. She eyed the dust suspiciously "You going to do any sanitizing?"
Ysa hoped she could get him onto a topic he liked so he'd ignore the fact that she was incredibly run down. Lugging the bags was difficult work, not to mention keeping an eye out for the blonde with the hole in his shoulder. They needed to be sure he didn't get an infection. Geneveve didn't want to have to kill him already it seemed to soon and unfitting. She wasn't sure if she'd even kill him, or just leave him to roam about searching for food. Ysa eyed the male as he did his own thing before turning her gaze back to the bar as she scavenged tiredly through it. She'd kill him.
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нєαʟтн [80 %] || sтαmιиα [50 %] || αιʟmєитs [n/a] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Machete.] || ιиvєитσяy [Matches, stolen supplies, flashlight, cigarettes] || σuтғιт [x]
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magneto was right Captain
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Posted: Wed Oct 24, 2012 2:34 pm
asso
“ үσυ мιgнт ωαηηα вυcкℓε υρ, үσυ кησω ғσя sαғεтү. ”
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"Filthy! Filthy, filthy, filthy, filthy!" Eric grumbled as he hobbled back and forth past the counter. His eyes darted from place to place, from the ramshackle furniture that littered the floor, to the patina of dust that coated every surface. It was all so overwhelming, this great big accumulation of mess. The neglect was apparent. This place had not been used for a very long time. Eric wondered if that was a good thing. There were, after all, splinters and dents on the wall, and the floor near the doorway bore a curious shade of red that he could only assume to be blood. If such was the case, then this bar may not be as defensible as he initially thought. The front door seemed sturdy enough, but there must have been other methods of getting in that the previous patrons weren't aware of. And speaking of the previous patrons... Eric turned, casting a sweeping gaze around the dimly lit room. Where were their bodies? He took a closer look at everything he had previously inspected. The door, to start, seemed sturdy enough, though a few marks close to its center spoke of battering from within. The 'maybe blood' that stained the floor also seemed to smear away from the bar and towards the outdoors and the chairs and knocked over tables were also splayed in a fashion where the vast majority of the dismembered artifacts clustered towards the exterior of the room, as if some lethal event occurred at the epicenter and radiated towards the fringe. These were clear signs of attack, yet the signs of actual habitation prior to the attack were not so clear. This thinking made Eric's head spin, and he swooned where he stood. He brought up his right hand and touched two of his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
He limped over to a table, resting his arm on it for support. When Ysa spoke of the sleeping arrangements, Eric nodded, his eyes still closed as he waited for his mind to recover. "Let me get my kit." he mumbled as he walked over to where their bags were laid. By kit, he meant his cleaning apparatuses and solutions which he carried with him wherever he went. They had saved his life many times, of that he was certain. However, he was running out of various solutions and only had an ample amount of sodium bicarbonate remaining. He used it to remove the smells from their clothes, and unless he found another supply, they would soon be at increased risk of attack as their clothes would act as a beacon for any Infected that wandered or rested nearby. "We're going to have to raid a Walmart or something." he told the Ysa as he swirled around his bottle of isopropanol, a chemical used to dissolve a wide range of compounds. Putting on his gloves, he added an acceptable amount of the isopropanol to a cleaning cloth along with a solution containing other chemicals that aided in cleaning a variety of things. He immediately got to work on scrubbing the floors that she had indicated to be their location of rest.
"I don't think that's a great idea." Eric replied as she told him of her intention to take the first she shift. "No offence, but you look dead on your feet." he looked up from his cleaning at her face, where the signs of weariness were apparent. "You've spent the past few hours lugging around a pair of bags after a high speed car chase where you also sustained a few injuries. Sure, I got shot, but atleast I had a good bit of rest afterwards." At his own mention of his wound, the hole in his shoulder began to prickle, as if annoyed at the off-hand tone with which Eric associated the injury. "Let me take the first shift." he insisted, as he turned his attention back to his scrubbing, biting his lip as he fought a stubborn piece of dirt that clung to the floor like a leech. He nodded with a pained smile as she spoke of redressing his wound and looked at her with an exasperated grin when she asked if he was going to do some sanitation, as if it were an actual question that needed to be asked in the first place. "You know me, Ysa, he grunted, "there's absolutely no way I'm going to bed until I get this place tidied up. Look at the state of it! Despicable."
нєαʟтн [60 %] || sтαmιиα [25 %] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Cricket Bat] || ιиvєитσяy [Survival-y Stuff] || σuтғιт [x]
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 9:47 pm
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Ysa watched as he began to clean. She pulled off her jacket and started to loosen up the weight that was on her shoulders basically. With the bags off and her jacket she rolled her shoulders. She wasn't going to take off her sweater because it was far too cold to do so. Geneveve kept herself straightened up even though it caused her pain. Eric was trying to take charge and tell her what she was going to do, when he was the one who'd gotten shot. Her eyes slit and she eyed him walking over and stopping him from cleaning for a moment. "You listen here Eric. You just got shot. I had to carry around some bags. So what. I'm taking the first shift. You're resting. Got it? If you don't so help me I will cut you with my machete," she was serious, and she knew he knew that she was serious.
She stared at him for a moment longer licking her dry lips and turning away. "I'm going to the bathroom," she told him before grabbing up her machete off the table that their bags were rested on. Ysa glanced around for a "restrooms" sign, and upon finding one she headed in that direction. She turned into the women's restroom, pushing open the door slowly. Ysa tapped on the wall a few moments with her blade just double-checking to see if any creatures were inside. After waiting awhile she went in all the way deciding it was clear. A window on the far end leading outside was the only source of light. It was dim in the bathroom, but she could still see rather well. Ysa went over to the mirrors, setting her machete down on the counter. She stared at her appearance for what seemed like the first time in... in at least months. Short messy hair, dirty face.
Ysa brought her hands down, lifting up her sweater and shirt to get a look at her side where the pain was coming from. She winced at the sight of it. Ysa's right side was practically completely bruised. Ysa brought her hand down to feel it, wincing every time she pressed too hard. She slowly moved the clothing back down sighing shakily as she did so. Ysa turned her eyes back to her face.
She needed a bath. Ysa shook off the thoughts of a warm shower that she knew would never happen. She brought a hand down towards one of her pockets where she kept a flask of water. Since they were in a bar she figured there'd be plenty of water, or club soda, or something they could scavenge. She unscrewed the flask and poured some water onto her hands washing dirt and blood off them. Ysa dried them off on her pants then held her head over the sink and began to pour water onto her hair, wiping it around into her face once it dripped down. She began to wipe her face clean. Geneveve winced as water ran over the stitching by her eyebrow, doing her best not to touch it too much.
Her face was lowered to the sink when she heard a noise. Ysa lifted her head flinching at the figure that stood behind her. She reached out to grab her machete but as soon as the hammer clicked back on the attackers gun she stopped. "Don't try anything," his gruff voice said. Ysa took a deep breath staring at the man, "those are never loaded," she muttered. The taller man brought a hand up gripping the back of her neck tightly before bringing the gun around to show her it in fact did have bullets in it as he popped out the revolving chamber. She didn't dare move now. "Are you alone?" he asked obviously having not heard her and Eric talking when they came in. She nodded slowly. "We're going to have some fun," he stated. She blinked a few times, "fun?". He only grinned nodding.
Ysa started to pray that Eric wasn't so focused on cleaning that he couldn't tell something was wrong by now.
| ooc |
нєαʟтн [80 %] || sтαmιиα [50 %] || αιʟmєитs [n/a] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Machete.] || ιиvєитσяy [Matches, stolen supplies, flashlight, cigarettes] || σuтғιт [x]
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magneto was right Captain
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 11:35 pm
asso
“ үσυ мιgнт ωαηηα вυcкℓε υρ, үσυ кησω ғσя sαғεтү. ”
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The scratched, formerly-dirty surface of the square tile that Eric had been relentlessly scrubbing was now shining as it reflected the lamplight above. Similar tiles sparkled next to it in a dazzling array of lights that shone as if the stars in the sky had descended upon them. The sight was so wondrous, so pleasant, so appropriate. If only he could disperse such magic across the world. He looked upon his work ruefully. Perhaps if things were cleaner, the world would not seem so menacing. Perhaps its was dirt and mess that allowed the infected to thrive. Such musings continued in Eric's mind as he went from tile to tile until nearly a third of the tiles in their designated sleeping area had been cleaned.
Looking over his shoulder, Eric glanced at the hallway down which the women's bathroom was located. Inside that place was Ysa, who had gone in some moments before, but not until she had finished shooting down his desire to have the first shift. He understood why she felt that she should be the one to go first, but Eric was aware of his condition and was also aware of the fact that he'd be able to handle the first shift, because really, it's not like his shoulder would magically heal in mere hours. It made no difference whether he went first or second, his shoulder would still hurt like hell, and now that it had been drenched with sweat from their long walk, it hurt even more. He doubted that he'd be able to get much sleep anyways. The pain would keep him awake and prevent him from feeling rested at all.
Spraying his Windex bottle several more times, Eric took his cloth and began to scrub another tile, watching with a satisfied glint in his eyes as the grime was swept away. He sprayed another. And another. And another. And was about to spray a fifth when he began to feel an unnerving chill. He turned to look over his shoulder once more, down the hallway where Ysa had gone. It was empty, and the door remained closed. No sounds could be heard coming from within. Eric frowned as he picked himself off the floor. She was taking an awful long time, he thought, as he walked towards the now-ominous looking door. Somehow, he doubted that she was in there applying makeup. He decided that it wouldn't hurt to check on her. He wouldn't go in, but he could call out to make sure that she was okay. It could be her time of month, in which case he did not want to ignite her wrath.
Stopping at the door, Eric pressed his ear against it, closing his eyes to better focus his sense of hearing. There was nothing. No voices. No movement. Nothing. He frowned. Then he heard it. A click. Faint, but clearly there. It was a click he'd heard a million times while playing violent videogames. The click of a revolver's barrel as it was being turned. Eric's eyes widened. Could it be? He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. Were they ever going to get a break? He began to sweat. Now was the time for action. The longer he waited, the higher the chance that Ysa could be hurt.
Taking a deep breath, he thrust himself through the doorway, spotting the back of a tall, scruffy looking man who loomed over his friend, gun pointed at her head. His burst possessed the element of surprise, so he had not yet turned towards him, giving Eric an opportune moment to strike. He ran forward, raising his arm, before stopping. His eyes widened as he stared at his weapon: a half empty bottle of Windex spray cleaner. The blue solution sloshed around as he held it in his hand. At this point the assailant had turned around, looking at him with a shocked and surprised stare that immediately turned into a glare which in turn transformed into a murderous smirk. "Bad move." he growled, bringing up the gun towards his head. Eric stepped back, screaming "No!" in defiance as he sprayed the man's face with the Windex. His would-have-been killer staggered away, clutching his face in agony. Eric continued his relentless assault, pushing him towards one of the stalls. After a time, it seemed the man had had enough of games and began firing his revolver blindly. Three shots roared from the gun, and one of the bullets struck the wall in a location mere inches from Eric's face. After a surprised, and oh so very scared yelp, Eric rushed forward and front-kicked the man in the back, causing him to stumble onto the toilet seat. At this point Eric pulled away and grabbed Ysa's arm. He grimaced as pain shot up from his shoulder. "We need to get back to the bar!" he told her as another volley of shoots shot from the stall where the attacker had been. Mirrors broke as they were struck by bullets. From inside the stall, the sound of thrashing could be heard. The man was recovering, and he was recovering fast.
нєαʟтн [60 %] || sтαmιиα [25 %] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Cricket Bat] || ιиvєитσяy [Survival-y Stuff] || σuтғιт [x]
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Posted: Wed Nov 28, 2012 7:47 am
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Ysa was at first wary of the fact that Eric would come save her. She began to hope that whenever this man was done with what he planned to do that he'd let her live so she could kill Eric. He'd begun to reel her in closer. The man ran a hand down her side causing her to flinch at the pain. "You'll get over it," he cooed darkly. She grimaced trying to see a way for escape but with the gun to her head she saw none. He'd began to pull at the edge of her shirt; she could feel his rough hands. Both their heads turned when the door flung open. Ysa let a sigh of relief escape her lips as her savior, the scrawny ginger holding Windex came to her rescue. Anyone who didn't know Eric would think him useless, but Ysa knew he'd be able to do something.
The man raised his gun to Eric giving Ysa the opportunity she needed. She jerked her arm sending an elbow flying into his gut. Her gasped his aim on the weapon wavering leaving him open to Eric's glass cleaner assault. Geneveve rushed to get away and grab her machete. Once it was in her hands she turned to see Eric backing the male into a stall. She too yelped as the shots rang out, ducking down as one shattered the window behind her. She eyed Eric seeing he too narrowly escaped. She held her side idly gasping as he grabbed her around the arm and pulled her out of the restroom while shots still echoed. How much ammo did the guy have?
The bar was the perfect place to take cover. It was dark, so outside was no option. Her first thought running out had to do with Eric's cleaning abilities. The place looked how it would have before the outbreak. It always was a bit of a shock to see things so clean while he was around. He let go of her and she vaulted the bar, painfully coming to a land on the other side. Ysa contained a whine gripping her side again. Soon, Eric was beside her and they just stared at each other. "We have no guns," she told him. Nothing. They had no ranged weapons.
The car chase wasn't nearly as horrifying as this. She found herself thinking what was probably the most ridiculous thought she'd ever had cross her mind. What would Larry do? Her eyes directed to the lower part of the bar. Bottles and bottles of alcohol. Sure any explosion just might ruin the place they'd set up here, but was avoiding doing such worth death? She reached over grabbing a bottle and then searched for something to put inside it. Napkins. Her hand found a stack behind her retrieving them as she unscrewed the lid of the alcohol with her other hand. She stuffed the napkins down the neck of the bottle setting it on the ground. Ysa peeked up over the bar having not heard anything for awhile but ducked quickly as a shot rang out.
He was there, approaching them already. The woman fumbled for matches trying to light them quickly as she could. Once a flame was going she put it to the napkin. Geneveve turned and looked at Eric. They both knew someone had to get above the bar to throw it. He opened his mouth as if to volunteer but before he could speak she stood and recoiled her arm then threw. A shot rang out before the impact hit. Ysa fell back to her rear reaching to grab something on her way down. Her fingers clamped the side of the bar stopping her from hitting her head on the hard floor. Pain. Pain in her head. Her fingers shot up, feeling where the bullet had grazed her temple. She groaned softly under the sounds of yelling the man gave off as fire crept up him.
Eric had started to try and be sure she was okay but she smacked his hands away, "Go deal with him first," she commanded. Why could this guy harass some other group of travelers?
| ooc ta-da.|
нєαʟтн [70 %] || sтαmιиα [40 %] || αιʟmєитs [n/a] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Machete.] || ιиvєитσяy [Matches, stolen supplies, flashlight, cigarettes] || σuтғιт [x]
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magneto was right Captain
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 10:35 pm
asso
“ үσυ мιgнт ωαηηα вυcкℓε υρ, үσυ кησω ғσя sαғεтү. ”
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Eric Brooks was nothing if not cautious. Cautious for signs of danger, cautious for avoiding apparent danger and cautious about preparing for the possibility of future danger. As a very cautious man, it was not surprising for him to scream like girl while in the presence of a Molotov cocktail that was currently being lit. He understood the danger of the moment, but would it not be better if they just hit the gunman over the head with the bottle instead of setting it on fire which could result in also setting themselves on fire? Would not it be more prudent to not use a bottle in the first place and just throw a piece of wood? The leg of a chair maybe? Or even better, was it not more sensible to just try and 'talk things out' so that no one could get hurt? Then the sound of a gunshot cracked against his eardrums and his brain loudly protested "NO IT WOULDN'T!".
Okay, okay! Eric turned towards Ysa and opened his mouth to tell her he'd throw it. But in the millisecond that their eyes met, he knew that she wasn't going to let him. Before he could argue with her she stood and threw the cocktail in the direction of the man with the gun. As the bottle left her hand, a sound ripped through the air, shaking the room. Eric's heart nearly stopped. His knees grew weak as the sight of blood erupted before him. "Ysa!" he shouted, turning her towards him, half expecting to see a giant hole where her face was. When he saw that the bullet had only grazed her, he felt a grateful feeling of relief, followed by concern. Blood trailed down her temple like a stream, dribbling down the curves of her face. It looked bad, but Ysa didn't think so as she smacked away his hands and redirected his attention towards their burning assailant and his incoherent screams. Eric nodded his understanding.
Picking up his cricket bat from its resting place against the side of the counter, Eric scrambled towards the man, his skin pricking as it began to feel the heat from the spreading flames. The man's figure had become grotesque, his face a molten mess, his hair ashes, and his screams were reduced to a gurgling cough. Eric knew what to do. Rushing forward, he swung his cricket bat downwards, striking the nape of the kneeling man's neck and immediately, he fell silent, and his writhing ceased. Eric stepped backwards, horrified at the sight. The fire continued to spread, but he was paralyzed. "Wh-what have we done!?" he stammered. Tears began to form, but as they slid down his cheek, they evaporated as the temperature began to rise. The sound of wood crackling filled the air. They needed to get the fire out, or go out themselves, into the dark, where death waited. But he was paralyzed, the burned man's final gaze a petrifying spell that invoked upon him a curse akin to Medusa's wrath. He was a bad man. He tried to kill me. And the horrible things he was about to do to Ysa. But he didn't deserve this. As if in response, the man's charred corpse seemed to turn it's head to him, as if it knew it was being thought about. My God, what have we done? Had they finally crossed that line between man and beast?
нєαʟтн [100 %] || sтαmιиα [50 %] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Cricket Bat] || ιиvєитσяy [Survival-y Stuff] || σuтғιт [x]
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Posted: Sat Jan 05, 2013 11:51 pm
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Ysa just sat there pressing her fingers into the bloody flesh of her scalp. She was thankful for her shaved hair knowing it'd make getting to the wound easier when they were stitching it. Geneveve watched as Eric began to scream then got up and took care of the man. At least, she guessed he did from the stopping of the noises. She pushed herself up her hand dripping blood and leaving it in its wake as she moved along the bar. Yes. Yes the man was dead but now they had a bigger problem. The fire. "Don't just stand there!" she shouted at him. Clearly this was his first time killing... anyone that wasn't behind a screen. He looked at her dumbfounded and in shock. There was something horribly unique about Eric and right now it was just showing the horrible part.
Grunting Ysa went for one of the tables pulling off the table cloth. She grabbed onto it then began to move around smothering the flames with the thick cloth best she could. It took awhile and there were some points where she thought the cloth itself might catch fire but eventually the flames were able to simply be stomped out. She groaned a bit trying to decide what hurt more, her side or her temple.
Her assault on the fire only got her heart beating faster, which only made her blood flow faster. The side of her face seemed like it was covered in it. The girl stumbled back into the bar collapsing to a sit. Too much for one day. She breathed heavily trying to calm herself down. Her eyes went to where the table cloth covered the death body and prevented some of the stench that it gave off. Only some. Her nose still wrinkled at it or perhaps it was just wrinkling in pain. Ysa whimpered slightly looking to Eric, he'd know what to do. He'd know what to do... Right?
| ooc |
нєαʟтн [56 %] || sтαmιиα [20 %] || αιʟmєитs [n/a] || cuяяєит ωєαρσn [Machete.] || ιиvєитσяy [Matches, stolen supplies, flashlight, cigarettes] || σuтғιт [x]
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magneto was right Captain
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