Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Woah, fast posting. On a note, this is just zombie bashing so I'm not really modivated to say anything. Needless to say, once the big stuff comes out its not gonna be this easy.))

Saved at the last moment by flame and lighting, the man in heavy armour clambored to his feet. Tossing the burst rifle asside the trooper switched to the shotgun, and joined in the carnage.

The fly-trap was rended to pieces by the multitudes of attacks, while the cocoons had chunks blown off of them. Unfortunatly only heart and head shots seemd to do anything permanantly, the others charged forward at suprising speed towards the line. Claws and teeth at the ready.

In the distance the rumblings of a second wave began to be heard. More cocoons and some new abberations. Imagine a large spider, only instead of a body there was what appeard to be a biological milssle pod. That was the last thing a sniper saw before one the spiders launched a carapase spike through his skull.

((And now I have to go to bed, go to town with this guys. Just don't cure the city by the time I wake up. XD))

"What the ******** is that! We need to take it out quickly! There is no telling if those bio-missiles have the virus or not!" he yells. He continues chopping the cocoons in half using his katana and at the same time using the razor sharp points of his extensions to pierce the hearts or heads of others. He sees Drake holding a gun and goes over to help him. "Drake, how are we going to take out that freaking huge spider?"

Owle was doing a pretty good job of not being hit with anything. Though she wasn't doing a very good job of contributing to the hitting of the bad things. She had no ranged weapon, for one, except her telepathy, which she didn't like to use...oh, and there was no way in hell she was going up against a collective mind. Even the strongest telepaths couldn't pierce those.

Well, to Owle's knowledge, anyway. The last one she'd heard about trying had ended up gibbering, insane, and assimilated into the collective.

....hey, had Kintaka sent her here with a copy of her medical bag? Owle looked down to her side to check...

One of the giant spiders faultered when the bullet hit a joint, and one of the legs fell off. Getting an idea, Brody quickly took aim at the other 7, and took the remaining shots of that clip to remove 4. Dropping the clip into a pocket and slamming another home, he took out the rest of the first one's legs.

Poor, that was something that had always been a characteristic of the Fuller family. It was fabled that at some far point in the families past they had been wealthy and respected by the community as a whole in the early days of Saint Agrippina; but then something had happened. Some said a sickness in the head had come to the family.

This sickness some said was brought on by the Fuller's knowing too much. They tinkered with things they shouldn't have, they dwelt in things they had no reason to, they knew things they shouldn't and read books that shouldn't be. It is only the literary wealth of the Fullers that remains material to this day.

The sickness, whatever its cause, had wrought changes on the family. Once productive members of society they became a group of nay sayers, crying how the world was doomed.

So it has been that each new generation of Fuller has been of this mind set; and the current is no different.

Gregory Fuller though was ready, others might not had been; but he was proud of his town and nothing would make him leave his home. Especially when he had been proved right, the world around the city had effectively come to an end.

In the suburban area Gregory had lived in a five story apartment and with the initial flee from the city Gregory had remained. He had barricaded each floor from the start and laid crude traps along the stairs.

Camped out on the top floor and the ceiling he had set up water collection units to keep a fresh water supply so he didn't need to depleate his own pre-stocked supply. His food was a large stash of military MREs.

The survivalist trait hadn't been destroyed. Infact it had been refined as Gregory had served in a local militia using a MGL-140. A weapon which he had illegally attained in the civilian life and had gathered ammo for many long years under the table.

Yes, Gregory Fuller had a minature armoury with his grenade launcher, an assortment of rifles; both automatic and bolt, a few H&K SMGs, and enough side arms to arm a platoon. The only question would be whether or not the ammo lasted.

As things were Gregory was sleeping, a network of baby monitors listening to key areas on the lower floors. A heavy thrum of a gas generator churned for a while in another room; providing the building with limited power.

Score! Bag of medical stuff GET!

....or, rather, finally notice it was actually on her person.

Well, at least she could be mildly useful. She was no white mage, but the people currently in danger of bleeding to death would be thankful Owle was there.

And, so, while the others were busy causing massive explosions and other carnage, Owle was looking for those who were injured but still breathing, to help in any way she could. If any fire, friendly or otherwise, came at her, she just curled up into a little ball of armored scales.

"You heard the man! All with heavy weapons including chain guns aim for the head of the spiders!" Somebody finally manage to get some of the Humvees up to the line and they start unleashing the .50 cal. machine gun upon the viral creatures. Another wave of rockets this time joined with a cacophony of chain guns and heavier machine guns fly toward the head of the spider and strike it clearly. "The spider is coming down!"