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This s**t is still going on?

This is the part where someone goes 'lololololol no'.

Or;

Barton was hardly a ruined town. In fact, structural damage as a whole would be minimal, concentrated on the areas where massive power struggles were taking place, smashing the roof of a building or two and collapsing another one or so around the town center.

Civilian casualties were debatable, as the town itself was less of a rampant massacre of everything, but rather, more of a hostile takeover with mass amounts of prisoners and whatnot.

As for the arena. Well, the arena really didnt have a floor anymore. It was removed, because there was s**t underneath it in the bloodworks, and by s**t, meaning 'monsters', if thats what you want to call them; and they bursted out in the surprise attack on Barton. And there was really nothing down there in the way to hinder what they did already, so theres really no point to something magically appearing out of nowhere which did not previous exist, otherwise, none of this would happen, and the hostile takeover would be a bunch of zombies roaming the streets like some horror movie.

Like, y'know, stop beating the dead horse or something.

((Since no one else is posting, either in the good-guy group, or bad guys trying to stop us, and we want to move on with our lives, this will be the final post in the city for the group. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. Feel free to interrupt if anyone deems it necessary, though.))

Once everyone barrelled into the SUV, Rain would finally take his place at the driver's seat. Though for the rest of the group, it looked uncomfortably crowded in there. How do the circus clowns make it look so good?

"Buckle up, folks. We're not stopping til we're outta here!" Rain warned them. He started the engine, instinctively checked for traffic, before slamming down on the gas pedal. Tires screeched as the vehicle took off like a bat out of hell.

Unlike the semi, he would avoid hitting zombies if possible. They would do more structural damage to this vehicle than the former one. But Rain would be driving East, since he knew the exact route to the gate. He would avoid the square though, knowing of the Boneyard and possible Drow that still awaited there. The monolithe was something he hadn't noticed the first trip through, but he figured it was more Drow hijinks.

After circumnavigating the square, he would do his best to avoid the soldiers. No music would be playing (as funny as Benny Hill would be at this time), and Rain would keep his backseat drivers quiet as much as possible, so he could hear out and also avoid those armed soldiers. He wanted to give them a wide berth, and unless they were mounted on a vehicle of their own, or had jetpacks, they probably would not persue.

Once in view of the gate itself, Rain would floor it, barreling through any newly-constructed barricades that might have arisen since he last passed through here.

Assuming all this goes according to plan, he would drop off whomever wanted to be dropped off here, before heading back to Aekea with Joseph Brown.

~Fin~

~I hope~

No man in armor would hinder the fleeing truck. They'd part the street to make sure nobody was in the obvious path of the truck. Of course, there'd be a long, awkward pause with rifles raised and pointed at the truck's cab to be sure no zombies had learned to drive.

Having insured the absolute death of every local offending zombie, each armored individual would filter into buildings surrounding the square. They still had some work to do.

He sat on the roof of the tavern, sipping a cup of tea and observing the spurts of between the Deity Inc. commandos and the undead guards that had been dispatched here to insure that Barton remained under Council control. He had to give them credit, they sure were persistent. Revenants were harder to destroy than zombies, yet they still managed, despite the overwhelming odds.

A message...

...

He sighed, though grumbling under His breath. He didn't see the reasoning behind splitting the prize with mortals, especially when they didn't even participate in the action, except against them. Sometimes He wondered why He even bothered. He emptied his tea cup and tossed it to the street below, then sent a message to His high priest.

Orders were given out through telepathic links between the undead masters. Though Alexander was elsewhere, he still had command of the hordes, conveyed through Him. Deity was to take control. All forces would be redirected into the arena. The Blood Works. They would go underground, out of the sunlight and into the darkness. Just as always.

Hum. Hummmmmmm. She was a little bored... felt like eating... and didn't feel like getting shot. For her knowing so much, she didn't know what these guys were doing here. First things first-- her appearance had to change. There was enough time between here and there to gain olive skin and long hair, while removing the scales and lines that would rather easily identify her. Too bad, because they looked awesome on her. She also took the time to make a temporary dress/cloak thing out of the black cloth she always had about her.

Her part of the occupation was done. Now to see what the bossman had in mind, as thumbs and index fingers touched.

So yeah, Drow leave.

((Might as well. There's no undead presence on the surface anymore. xp ))

Deep underground, in the vast sewer network of Barton Town, a couple of skeletal knights patrolled an empty tunnel. A cold mist clung to the ground, a few inches high, obscuring the floor and the water trickling by down the middle of the tunnel.

"So, how long do you think we'll be down here?" asked one skeleton to the other.

"Hells if I know, I only work here," it replied.

"Man, we should be up there, y'know. Terrorizing the humans, making their lives hard. I thought that was the plan?"

The other skeleton shrugged its bony shoulders. "I only do what I'm told, man."