[SoloRP] In the house, without a heartbeat (Rep)

[Baneful]

Rep knew, from the moment that Mark had told him that he was "immune" to the zombie infection that he would be faced with missions taking advantage of this particular stroke of statistical luck, it was just a ******** matter of time. It was for that reason that when the message came in, so late at night it was early - really ******** early - he wasn't too surprised.

All the text consisted of was was a set of co-ordinates and the statement to "come prepared and alone".

Harrison was informed sleepily about the state of affairs, given many kisses and a long lingering hug, and then Rep was up, getting dressed and heading to the portal. With any luck it would be a short encounter and he'd be back before too long. He dressed for business, bringing everything he could gather in a hurry and on the way to the portal checking out some runic bandages to bring along as well. He had no idea where he was going in terms of climate, but most of the northern hemisphere would still be in the dark ******** depths of winter, so he erred on the side of extra layers, if he needed to, he could take them off.

--

The hunter manning the portal at the lighthouse that night looked like he had drawn the short straw when it came to duty shifts and Rep got a long irritated stare just for daring to walk in. He explained he needed a portal and was informed peevishly it had been pretty ******** busy tonight and that another bunch of hunters had gone through a couple of hours previous. He obstinately wouldn't confirm what division they were from, but had phrased it initially as "more of you assholes", so Rep felt that it was a pretty ******** fair bet that it had been Death. When he finally moved the guy to set the damn thing up, he was informed the cluster of co-ordinates he had requested was somewhere in New Hampshire. He didn't dare risk his pride by explaining he had no ******** idea where that was, he hoped it was England.

After a bit of waiting, he was given the exit portal and stepped through. Beyond it the first thing that hit him was how cold it was, not quite Arctic midnight temperatures but pretty ******** brisk, the cold wind cutting through his denims and prickling his skin with goosebumps. There was also snow, knee deep drifts which fortunately in this immediate area had been trampled down by booted footfalls which led off into the surrounding darkness. Presumably the other hunters had come this way. The only spot of warmth remained the ceremonial dagger at his chest, which maintained a vaguely blood-like temperature at all times, he was glad of it, without his artifact it would have been absolutely ******** pitch black, as it was he could see a few meters around him, a dome of normal vision beyond which there was nothing at all. It always ******** reminded him of some game with low as ******** draw distance, where horrors would pop up out of seemingly nowhere as you went. It wasn't always as reassuring as he could have hoped for.

The longer he stood there in the dark, the more antsy he became, thinking about all the things which could be lurking just out his view, pacing in the blackness. It was utterly silent, the kind of soft absorbent silence one only experienced in thick snow, and no other hunters seemed to be coming for him. It didn't take too long to talk himself into moving, deciding that there was no point lingering awkwardly like a ******** loser and setting off to follow the trodden path as it plunged into the nearby forest of huddled and ominous looking trees. He was glad that he didn't need to forge his own path through the frozen wood, gnarled roots and branches long interwoven into what looked like almost impossible going on either side of the path.

He reassured himself as he went that there wasn't much on the planet right now that could handle him and Tracey in a fight, that even the most horrendous serial killer or psychopath couldn't hope to contend with the axe in a fight. It rang hollow, he knew that out there somewhere there was almost certainly something more ******** awful than anything that originally came from Earth, and that other than the fallen angel, he was alone. Other people would for the most part be liabilities in the depths of a ******** outbreak.

After a good five minute walk the narrow forested path joined with an equally forested road, and here at least stood a figure, weapon summoned, runes glowing in the dark, glancing nervously up and down the street, in her free hand, she held a powerful flashlight.

When Rep spoke she almost dropped it, whirling on her heel with a yelp, brandishing her weapon until she realised she was looking at another hunter. "Oh.. OH. Goodness gracious." she said grimly. "What the hell are you doing walking around out here without a light?" she held up a hand. "In fact never mind, I was told to expect you, just. Go on. Theres a perimeter up ahead, talk to someone up there, they'll tell you what you need to do." Rep made a critical face, setting his mouth in a thin line, but resisted the powerful instinct to tell her she was a ******** idiot and maybe she should try some ******** manners next time.

He wandered onwards, boots making crisp crunching sounds in the powdery snow.

 

[Baneful]

There was a cluster of hunters exactly as the woman had told him, manning what looked like an official barricade across the road, presumably to keep out civilians. There was a mixture of hunter uniforms and civilian attire between them and this time he was spotted well in advance of his approach, though he received the same beration for creeping around in the dark without a flashlight. His credentials were checked and he was informed that what they had was an outbreak in progress at the town up ahead. He was also informed that it was secluded and quiet, the population was low and what the situation called for was complete neutralisation of the threat.

That was his job, they could not afford further infections, those would only be more cleanup in the long run. He was sent on, once more alone, along the silent road towards the small town. He declined their offer of a torch, said he had his own he just didn't need it, and then vanished into the darkness.

He couldn't afford another situation like the last, pursued by the entire horde, but surely this was smaller? More controllable. There were some lights further up the road, a few houses here and there. He passed a sign which invited him to the town and reminded him to drive safely. He rolled his eyes, resenting the thing for making the place more identifiable as a place people lived, it was a ******** place where human beings lived out their daily lived oblivious to the s**t they had to deal with on their stupid island every day. And now they were changed, twisted up and ruined by whatever this ******** virus was.

He was on alert and almost summoned Tracey as a large tabby cat walked out in the road in front of him, looked at him and then meandered over looking for either food or petting. He paused to pat it briefly before both he and the feline had enough and went their separate ways. It had a collar, which to him meant he was likely not too far from actual houses, he found he was correct, wood faced cabin-style houses loomed out of the dark, illuminated - not by his artifact - but with electric light from within. One of them had the door wide open, spilling light out onto the snow beyond.

 

[Baneful]

Inside, the house was empty and with the door open had cooled like a corpse, retaining only in corners and back rooms some of the warmth which presumably must have filled out every part of it. The television was on - and how ******** strange it was to see normal ******** television channel, just playing some ******** stupid ads for stupid ******** s**t as if life was normal. It felt like watching a movie now, some kind of far away world that existed only in screenplays and the imagination. His world was a world of ******** up terrors and of demons that lived in his head, he was on the other side of the ******** looking glass and had been for a while.

Finding the place uninhabited, he left it behind, a gentle pool of golden light and voices from another world entirely and stepped back out into the snow, casting the shadow of a six winged fallen angel out before him into the night.

Further along the road there were a few other houses, but all seemed locked or as the first - seemed to have been abandoned in a hurry.

The lack of people was starting to get to him as he made his way towards the general store, hesitating in front of it uncertainly. There was a sound he realised, the first he'd heard since he left the barricade, a low and frantic sobbing, stifled by the closed door. He tried the handle - locked of course - before calling out. "Oi, anybody in there?" The sobbing stopped for a moment before someone spoke, much closer to the door.

"Are you here to help?"
"Aye, here to help. I'm er. I'm fae the government."

They seemed to deliberate this before opening the door. In the shop was a wide eyed woman who let him in and hurriedly locked the door behind him.

"I.. I don't know what happened." she said. "One minute I was in my house the next minute it was attacked by... by... them." Rep kept his expression flat and neutral. He had a damn good hunch who or what "they" were. His reaction was to immediately turn his attention to the woman herself. He'd seen way, way too many ******** zombie movies to do anything less.

"Did they get you? Did any of them ******** bite you?" he couldn't keep the urgency out of his voice.

She whimpered as he seized her arm, which was wrapped in a makeshift bandage and wilted visibly at the sight.

"Ah ********>" he said. "******** ******** ******** ******** <********>." He didn't let her arm go, even when she tried to pull it away from him. She might as well have tried to push over a mountain for all the good it did. "They ******** did get you didn't they?" he demanded. She made no reply.

Again he found himself in one of these ******** situations. One of these situations where there was faced with on one hand, leaving a ******** bitten woman alive because she was ******** sentient or dealing with a threat at the very root of its cause before it put him in real ******** danger.

Tracey volunteered.

<> he asked grimly.



He hadn't let go of the woman's arm and she was crying now, but it felt as far away as the television in that other house, just noise from another world. He was used to the sound of women crying, he realised, it was sounds from that lifetime before.

"You'll turn." he said. "You'll turn like them." And he picked her up off her feet with the injured arm, leaving her legs dangling, trying to kick him, pleading and wriggling. "There's no cure. It's for your own good."

It was for his own good.

The crying stopped in time to be overtaken by the sound of thumping and scraping on the doors all around him.

She would have turned, he told himself as he moved towards the chaos outside, wiping the blood from his hands on his coat.

 

[Baneful]

Outside it seemed like half the ******** town had turned out at long last, and these guys were unmistakably turned, their eyes glowing green in the night, dripping blood and black ichor from various orifices. Many were covered in snow and ice which no longer melted due to body heat but lingered.

When Rep opened the door he found a lot of eyes on him.

HP:14  

[Baneful]

There wasn't ******** time to grieve for the woman (when was there ever time to grieve in life?) there was just the night, the cold and the gathered monsters intent upon his life. They were so slow and bumbling, and even still dressed as they were in their civilian clothes, they did not feel the same species as him any longer. Humans, particularly civilian humans were distant, slow fragile creatures compared to hunters and it was a lesson that was taught to him time and time again. Dwight had tried to reason that they were still human themselves, that that was the part of them that mattered the most, but he'd consigned it to fear, those who could not bear to look into the abyss they had created, who could at most stand shivering on the edge but were afraid to step forward, afraid to jump.

And jump he did, a leap that cleared meters of snow, Tracey appearing in a flash of bloody runes which stood out stark in the night, this was simple, this was a job. You killed or you ******** got killed, you followed the orders and any moral judgements were the bastion of others. It didn't matter that as the axe embedded itself in the sternum of a shambling man in a housecoat who hissed and tried to bite him that the blood that dripped onto the snow smelled stark, fresh and slaughterhouse tinny. It didn't matter at all, they were just ******** targets and every swipe brought a faint blossom of fear that fed into a ravenous, desperate hunger that seemed to bypass all rationality. Tracey and him both fixed on it, a haze of bloodlust seeming to replace all else. They leapt from one to another, smashing through trees that were in the way, moving through the mob of zombies without heed for the teeth and grasping fingers that tried to halt them.

Rep afterwards found himself realising even if there had been un-turned people present in the mob or around it, he would never have noticed, all that mattered was clearing the area, sapping every bit of raw fear from every zombified creature present, all that mattered was the hunger.

A hunger which had nothing to do with someone elses control and everything to do with his own mind.

When the way was clear, he stood, panting in the blood splattered snow, surrounded by chaos, splintered trees and fractured fences.

A groan came from the street beyond, the place he'd just come from.

It wasn't ******** over.


HP: 54/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 18
Charge: 1/3

Zombie HP: 0  

[Baneful]

HP: 45

In the street was the usual gathering of turned locals, milling around directionlessly until they noticed Rep, until they fixed upon him as their target of choice. But in the middle of them was the first hint of what this particular infection was capable of, a twisted mutated amalgamation of viscera and body parts stood. It had to be nine foot tall, illuminated by the cast light of one of the street lights set to floodlight the car parking spaces.

It turned to look at him and the sound it made was a gargling rumble of air forced through useless vocal chords.
 

[Baneful]

There was that bottomless instant of dread, his stomach dropping and adrenaline once again flooding his veins as the twisted creature turned to stare at him with its many eyes and began to shamble in his direction. The milling figures at its feet followed with groans and hisses of hunger.

"For ******** sake." Rep snarled, charging into the midst of the former humans, letting his shield take the brunt of their collective irritation as he closed in on the tallest of the group. There was definitely an element of panic in his voice however, hoping against hope that this was as bad as their hivemind would get here, that this wouldn't end up in another arm scenario.

HP: 48/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 8
Charge: 2/3

Zombie HP: 37  

[Baneful]

He struck and Tracey bit deep into flesh and sinew, but the damage the axe did was brief, seeming to knit up even around the blade itself as Rep wrenched it free with a hiss of panic. s**t. ******** shitty ******** zombies, ******** monsters. He had never been much of a fan of zombies, humans were downright scary, some of his worst nightmares had been other human beings, he didn't ******** like it.

One of the extra arms, topped with spikes and sharp exposed bones swung around and he was sent flying through the air and painfully into a tree trunk. He peeled himself free and charged back into the midst of them, the runes all across the enormous weapon lighting up one by one.

HP: 42/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 5
Charge: 3/3

Zombie HP: 32
 

[Baneful]

It had been so ******** long since he'd had a charge, so so ******** long. Tracey felt it too, nerves jangling as they braced themselves for the leap. The dagger crackled with energy and they jumped up into the night, up and up, the air chill against his skin.

There was too much ******** energy though, too much and they went too high, the ground below swallowed up by the limits of his night vision. He twisted like a cat finding its feet and brought the axe down hard, plummeting much faster than he had risen.

He missed, sinking Tracey deep into the frozen earth and snow, so deeply he had to desummon and resummon just to get him free again.

HP: 36/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: Miss
Charge: 3/3 - GC used, Artifact used.

Zombie HP: 32
 

[Baneful]

Even as he tried to retrieve the axe he found himself once again beset from all sizes by the clutching masses, hurriedly bringing it around again in an attempt to keep them at bay.

Tracey made a sound of irritated concern, not pleased at all with the state of the shield.

HP: 30/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 6
Charge: 1/3 - GC used, Artifact used.

Zombie HP: 26
 

[Baneful]

Still, despite everything, the dangers, the pain that accompanied every ******** strike from these ********, Rep found that he was enjoying himself as much as he enjoyed himself doing anything at all, it was these moments when there was a very real risk of death that he really, truly felt alive.

He swung again and gave as good as he got.

HP: 24/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 10
Charge: 2/3 - GC used, Artifact used.

Zombie HP: 16

 

[Baneful]

Picked up in a mutant talon he was tossed again, but this time into the air, bracing himself for the collision with the ground as best as he was able before countering with a sweep of the huge hook on the end of the weapon, starting slowly to do damage that outpaced the natural healing of the mass of mutated flesh.

HP: 24/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 5
Charge: 3/3 - GC used, Artifact used.

Zombie HP: 11


 

[Baneful]

Another charge lit up the black steel of the blade as Rep chopped and cleaved his way through the pack of assailants, trying and more often than not failing to land a hit of any significance on the ringleader to whom the others seemed drawn. Every time he missed or did not strike surely enough it repaired its wounds and would also on occasion draw one of the less blackened humans into its grasp, twisting it and adding it to the greater whole.

He was desperate and desperation was the only thing that ever pushed him to use the second fear available to him. The strain it placed upon him physically was immense and the damage it did was unpredictable and volatile.

But needs must as the devil drives.

He closed his eyes, letting the axe drop to the snow and focusing entirely on Tracey and on the darkness that surrounded them. The attacks on his person and on his shield in that moment did not matter, the world receded to nothing but the dark, the heavy absence of light and his own heartbeat. His shadow moved, twitched, flickered and then spread its six black wings and pulled itself from the ground, darting through the baffled zombies in stop motion lethal assault. Blood spilled, limbs were severed all in the space between heartbeats.

In a mere moment Rep felt sick, a thin string put under too much strain slowly about to give under the force exerted upon it.

he stammered in his thoughts, and the fallen angel unwillingly relented. The shadow vanished and the redhead fell to his knees in the snow. Around him, the figures, no longer mobile, followed, wetly slumping to the snow and staying where they were.

He could hardly walk when he gathered himself to investigate what remained of the town, but all was quiet, no further attacks presented themself. (No small blessing, given his state)

HP: 4/60 (Autodamage 6)
DMG: 32
Charge: 3/3 - GC1, GC2 used, Artifact used.

Zombie HP: 0

 

[Baneful]

When he got back to base, rather than any sort of gratitude, he was treated to all of his possessions and clothing being removed for cleaning lest he brought anything back with him and sent promptly - standard issue attire in hand - to the showers.