|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 7:16 am
After a minute of hard riding, he came to a very large intersection, sliding the bike to a stop in the middle so that he could keep an eye out. Most of these creatures weren't after him, but after the noise resounding out from what he could only imagine was eastish. Without a compass, it was hard to discern true direction without sun or stars, just a big, greyish brown haze that was pretty constant.
The old man sighed, releasing his helmet again and taking out the coffee. After all the work he put into the machine, he still hadn't been able to enjoy a god damn cup of joe. FACKING GHOULS.
He got off his bike, leaning against the stationary thing as he began to drink the coffee. He noticed a pretty heavy presence about 3/4 miles up the road ahead and behind him, but it was relatively clear to the sides. Flipping out his pistol with his free hand, he began to spin it and play with it.
That damn whistling was getting irritating. And he had the nagging feeling he was being watched by something that didn't have the intelligence of a rat.
"I just want a cup of coffee, fer-chrissakes..." he muttered to himself.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 7:26 am
The concrete of the road had heated up under the bombardment that it had taken in whatever attack this city had suffered. It looked like a war zone. More dead than alive, except for that persistent whistling. The ghouls left Keira alone, their hungry over ridden by the compulsion to follow the sound that pervaded the area.
She leisurely followed the path that the man on the motorcycle had taken. He had taken off like a bat out of hell, hungry ghoul trying to take his head off for an appetizer contributing to his desire to be as far away as possible from the migration that was taking place.
Plenty of time for him to finish his coffee before Keira would reach him.
She pushed her sunglasses up on her face, snubbing the cigar out on the side of her black leather low riding pants. Pain was an old friend to her, momentary until her genetic make up clued into the damage and repaired it. She'd seen her kind take a lot of damage, and like the ghouls and undead, pretty much the only thing that she'd seen take out a Nothing was having their head taken off.
Everything else repaired itself, replaced itself. She had to blunt her teeth everyday in order to appear somewhat human. Her eyes gave her away, which is why she wore reflective sunglasses. People would be distracted by seeing themselves in her glasses, and forget about seeing her eyes. She thought it was taking advantage of their natural impulses, but she would take what she would get.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 7:38 am
As he finished the cup of coffee, replacing it in the side of the giant machine, he turned his eyes to witness a female walking in his direction. As many humans might, his automatic instincts went to AHSHITGHOULFACK, but he quickly dismissed this.
Tilting his head to the side and continuing to play with the pistol, he curiously watched the woman as she approached, not having seen another (presumably) living thing in the city yet, except maybe a rat or stray dog or cat.
"Hm. May I help you, lass?" he called out, strong Scotch accent becoming evident.
(lazy post, kid is nagging me- sorry)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 8:01 am
Keira looked up, and shrugged at the question that was posed. She leaned to one side, and stuffed her hands deep into the sheepskin lined pockets of her jacket.
"Maybe. What the hell happened here? Everyone is dead. Or mostly dead." she amended, given the steady stream of ghouls that was lined up. Ammo was a precious commodity to those that needed it to fight with. Keira preferred the reliability of her two hands over a weapon that would be useless once it ran out of ammo.
Hell, even a knife would work better. Or a curved blade, better shape for taking a head off. She could siphon some fuel to spark a decent flame that would burn the body parts. She wasn't sure what made these people remain amongst the living after they died.
Burning erased all indications of life, or reanimation.
She shuddered once, hunching her shoulders to rid herself of the tension that it caused there. She looked back to the man perched on the motorcycle, searching his face for answers. Any indication of whether or not he was responsible for this shitstorm of a situation.
((No worries, I'll be able to make one more post before I have to go to my appointment.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 8:12 am
He chuckled, perhaps a tad inappropriately. Perhaps.
He scratched his head with his left hand, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, uh, I honestly haven't the slightest!" he finally said. "I've just been riding pretty hard for a couple of days, stumbled on this gem of a city," he motioned around with the pistol.
"It was all smoke and bleakness when I found it, I swear!" Quinn spoke, obviously in a joking manner. "That aside, what are you doing in this place, little lady? Especially on foot."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 8:20 am
Little Lady?
Keira looked down at her over six foot frame, quirked a brow, and looked back up at him with an incredulous expression. Was he seeing the same thing that she was seeing? That she was a hulk of a woman by any stretch of the imagination. Was he a giant in disguise?
"I came for the food. They don't run very fast, and are already partially digested." she said with a wide grin that showed off her impressive set of pointed teeth.
"I have broken away from my pack, and in places like this, the unnamed like to congregate. If enough of them are torn apart, then a pool forms of their liquid remains, and a new group is spawned. We don't.... well, there are two females in our pack, and we don't reproduce."
She scratched the back of her head, having the good sense to know that this was a topic usually reserved for intimate friends. Only she hadn't any, and he had asked her. She saw no reason to lie, since those nasty things had a tendency to creep back up on you at unexpected times.
"You haven't seen a pool of goo around here have you?" she asked hopefully.
((Last post til later. Thanks for the Rp))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 8:29 am
The man himself was only 5'8'', holding himself in good posture at maybe another half-inch. Short as he was, he had to laugh at her perplexed look when he called her little. Taking a moment to think back, he shrugged and looked around.
"Sorry! No goo puddles that I've seen. Be happy to help you though, if you'd like it."
The grin still on his face, he holstered the pistol, then pulled two rifles out: the first was one propped against his bike, for use while riding, the other was holstered in a secure place along the right side of the bike. As he turned, the long falchion blade became apparent at his back, admittedly an odd place for a weapon that was usually held at the side.
"Eh've got plenty o' friends!" he said. "My ex-wife Tru would be proud!" Quinn laughed fully at that. "She used to tease me about how much I could carry, the silly woman."
He had an odd nature.
(Just PM me when you get back.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 1:26 pm
"Ex-wives tend to be less than supportive, in my experience. If she is proud of you, then I would be worried."
Keira held her hands up in the classic 'just saying' gesture. She eyeballed the bike that he was sitting on, wondering if it could handle the both of them. The weapons that bristled every which way made her leery. A weapon was only as good as the person using it, and as long as it was pointed in the direction of the enemy. Getting out of their way while they were dispensing of the big bad yuckies was another trick that needed to be observed, lest body parts get blown off.
Keira blinked slowly, and pushed her mirrored glasses further up on the bridge of her nose. Was he planning on carrying her? She felt silly asking him, so she let that moment of speculation roll off of her shoulders.
"Ah, what did you have in mind... friend?" she asked, shifting her balance from one hip to the other.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 1:54 pm
"Too true, too true," he said, nearly under his breath, reminded of Tru and their 8 little ones for a moment.
Shaking himself out of it, Quinn noticed her questioning looks.
"Well, I don't need to carry all these things. Betsy can do the carrying for me, I was just doing a little showing off. Happens when you haven't seen a living face for three days."
The grin returned to his face as he restocked his weapons into the bike. The motorcycle was a beast, obviously custom. At almost 8 feet long, it sat a little higher than the normal motorcycle, and the engine was longer and wider, and didn't look like your normal combustion engine. Both wheels were huge, wide, made for heavier terrain, and scattered about the beast was an arsenal, from the two rifles, to Ammo compartments, several blades, and what looked like grenades hanging up along the side near where the rider's leg would rest. More mystery compartments tagged along, their uses unknown to anyone unfamiliar with it, and then of course the pride and joy of the bike:
Under the seat was a coffee maker and a compartment holding coffee essentials, which also looked like it held a small refrigeration unit.
Joy of joys! Quinn nearly sighed at it in love.
"This thing is a workhorse, gets excessively good mileage, and makes the finest cup of coffee this side of Kilmarnock," he said with obvious pride. "She can take me places and I can render you assistance with whatever you need. I've been yearning for some living contact for nearly a week."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 2:08 pm
The whistling stopped. But for only a moment. Tombs stopped to cough into a closed fist, creating a wafting cloud of white dust around his face and hand. Waving the boney claw back and forth to beat away the particles he continued onward.
Still walking in a straight line following a single street in the same direction against all unforgiving terrain and impeding wreckage. Climbing over rubble piles, through collapsed buildings leaning on their sides in the middle of the street. Strangely, no zombies. Only dead structures.
Tombs came along side a half-mangled and overturned dumpster. With all the torn bags and strewn-about filth and waste it could be easily seen that this treasure box had already been raided. Didn't stop the elderly man from picking through the remains.
Seemed to be what he did. Always picking up the remains.
Unseen feet padded through surrounding still-standing buildings with the careless shuffle of the dazed undead. All the degenerative bodies that created an ugly semicircle several city blocks wide hobbled forward together. No rush, or chase, like they might do if they saw something worth eating. Just a more-mobile idle listing, slack-jawed and ignorant of everything around them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 2:28 pm
One step up from the ghouls and zombies, always one step belong human. She found it amusing that he craved living contact, and equated her with that very human need. Keira's impulses were along the animalistic side of things.
She assumed that he meant for her to get onto the bike behind him. She threw a long lean leg over the bike, and sat down.
"We could check the rest of the city for any other living souls, and maybe somewhere to refuel. That would work for me. Beats the hell out of wandering around here alone."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 2:47 pm
"Refueling shouldn't be necessary," he said with a slightly sly undertone, getting on the bike and turning it on. Quinn cracked his neck, loosened his shoulders and sighed. Doing a quick mental check of everything, he deemed himself ready to ride.
"Oh...
"By the way."
Stopping, he turned to her and stuck out his left hand, a half-cocked grin on his face. "M'name's Quinn, mechanic and inventor extraordinaire. And you are...?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 3:42 pm
That left the question as to what it was that this bike burned in order to keep running. Did she want to know? Yes. Did she need to know? No.
She took the hand that he offered, and shook it carefully. She was aware of how strong she was, but she had no idea of how much strength she could use on him before he broke. Humans were fragile. He might not be, human that is. She had yet to develop a defining sense that would allow her to tell them apart from all the other races that were floating around out there.
"Keira, Keira the Nothing." she responded. The edge of her mouth quirked up into a half grin. She couldn't help it, he kept smiling at her like that. Like they were getting on the best ride in the rollercoaster park, and he couldn't wait to hear her scream.
Or something like that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 3:51 pm
As she grasped his hand, it would feel cold as steel, slightly vibrating and in the proximity she may even hear a buzz or whir as the pieces of his hand moved around. He would squeeze a little , but it would feel very tight. Quinn continued to Grin, giving her a little wink as he turned forward.
"Well, Keira the Nothing, where to?"
He kicked it on, then revved the engine. It was lower sounding than the average motorcycle, and the huge monster felt more like riding a dragon than anything, as if the cycle was the thick neck of some great mythical beast.
"Betsy's got all the time in the world!" he cackled over the loud noise.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 4:16 pm
There was a strong metallic smell that clung to him. Keira looked at him closely, his features perfectly put together. He was a robot? That was interesting. She had watched several movies on a series called Star Trek with an android. Ever lasting energy source, and no emotions at all.
Did that mean that the bike was going to turn into a humanoid form, female? Keira tucked her legs around his hips, and clamped them down. She wrapped her arms around his chest. She wasn't coming off of this thing without a fight. Or him.
"Ground zero. Let's wander into the middle of this mess, and figure out what happened." she suggested.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
