darkSpyro

OOC: Heil, feel free to jump in where you see fit.

OOC: Its hard for me to jump in honestly .. Im super rusty on my role playing .

Chris drove down the streets slowly due to the heavy rain fall, and all the accidents and debris in the streets. He could see several of the undead creatures walking around, looking for their next meal. Chris sighed, and continued as he headed toward the city hall. Chris took a hard right around the street corner to avoid a wrecked, burning car. The smoke was black and rapidly rose upward to the night sky.

"Jesus. It's a warzone down here." Chris muttered to himself.

As he progressed down the street, he was nearing the local hardware store. He decided he would stop and check it out, since it was only a few blocks from where he was going. Besides, the extra supplies to fortify the place would help greatly. Chris grabbed his rifle, and parked the truck. He walked in cautiously, opening the door, to hear the bells jingle. The store looked pretty intact, not showing signs of looting. He turned the flashlight on his rifle on, as he crept down the aisles.

He checked the main sales floor, not seeing a sign of anyone. He grabbed a canvas bag from behind the cashwrap and walked down the aisles, filling it with various tools, such as hammers, screwdrivers, and a socket wrench set. He also threw in several boxes of nails and screws. Chris then got an idea. He walked over the the paint aisle, and threw in several cans of spray paint of different colors. He then began to make an exit for the door as he heard shuffling footsteps behind him.

He dropped the canvas bag, and quickly turned and raised his rifle. He flicked on his light with his support hand thumb, just up from the foregrip. He could hear the steps, but still saw no threat. He walked slowly, and quietely towards the back of the store. The shuffing was louder, and a low moan echoed from the back hall. He flattened against the wall, taking up a breeching stance, and quickly rounded the corner, sticking to the left of the hallway. A lone zombie was wandering aimlessly around, but quickly turned to face Chris.

Chris put the red dot right on the zombies nose, and fired a single round. The 5.56 bonded round ripped the creature's head apart, causing it to fall instantly dead on the floor. He turned his back, and returned to the front of the store. He picked up the bag, and exited. He took one of the cans of paint out, and shook it. He sprayed then on the store front "Alive at City Hall".

"Hopefully, that will get the survivors to us. Strength in numbers." He said.

He capped the can and got into his truck. He threw the bag on the seat with his rifle, and backpack, and continued to drive up the street. Nearing the intersection of Main, and Amherst St, there was a massive wreck involving two squad cars, and fire truck, and one ambulance. Chris got out of the truck, grabbing his supplies.

What happened here? He asked himself.

Chris approached the wreckage, seeing no bodies, and hearing nothing but the crackling of the flames of the wreck. He approached the firetruck, and saw the fire axe on the ground. Blood had stained the wooden handle, and blade. He turned his attention quickly to the ambulance, noticing the rear doors of the box were wide open. He flipped the light on his gun, and looked inside. The cot was missing, and the back was a mess with bloody bandages, and blood pools. He hopped in and quickly grabbed the remaining bandages, and one bag of saline for IV's. He also grabbed a couple bottles of sterile water that haven't been used. He opened one of the lower cabinents, hoping that the drug box was still there, and intact. Sure enough, a large plastic box was present, still sealed.

"Thank God. This will help." he said, as he pulled it out of the cabinent. He took the supplies back to his truck and hopped in. He backed up, and decided he'd have to go around the blockade. Backtracking, he went a few blocks around, and finally managed to get to the front of the massive city hall. He stepped out of the truck, grabbing the supplies. He walked slowly up the large stone staircase with the heavy equipment. As he neared the door, and glanced back to see the ruins of the street. Wrecked cars, cruisers, and small pockets of fire littered the scene. He took another couple of steps, and heard a scream that sounded awfully close. He looked back and saw lone figure running through the darkness. Chris moved further up the steps, and dropped the gear by the doors. He readied his weapon, not knowing what was coming next, as he couldn't see the figure.

Dewey drove along slowly listening to "ain't no grave" by johnny cash. The radio didn't seem to be working but luckily for him he had some old CDs for the dead areas he ran across while traveling. "Dadgum" he said frustrated "I can find the gunshop but not the d**** city hall". A rat-tat-tat rang out along with bullets hitting the side of the truck and the window. He quickly ducked thanking God he had an obsession with invincible trucks and cursing the man who dare harm his precious baby. He quickly put it in park grabbed his rifle and jumped out the passenger's seat and taking cover behind the front wheel. He heard another burst of fire. 'I heard that once at a machine gun shoot. Is that an Uzi' he pondered. Another burst and he cocked his gun "DON'T DO THIS" he yelled "IT WON'T END WELL FOR YOU". He could of swore he heard a laugh. 'He is so cocky with his fully automatic weapon. Doesn't he know its quality not quantity' and with that thought he prayed the lunatic shooting at him would not hit the only unarmoured part of the truck, the wheel. 'Cant hear him reload because the gunfire is making me deaf. I'll have to wait for a pause in between volleys and hope I'm lucky' he thought. The gun fired too fast to count bullets like he usually did with his own guns to know when to reload, so he was going to have to take a gamble.

The next volley seemed to stop short. Instead of lifting his rifle above the hood, he jumped to the ground under the and vehicle and fired at the one silhouette there.

The man dropped to the ground and Dewey stood up. He began to walk towards the man. He checked the tires as he. passed and thanked God again for their safety. As he reached the man he notice he was bleeding heavily. A bullet had gone just to the right side of the center of his gut. "P-please... h-help me" he begged. "You tried to kill" Dalton replied back. "Please I was just trying to survive. I n-needed food. And those t-things" he pleaded. "Don't worry. I understand and I'm not mad" Dewey said calmly. The man smiled and Dewey pulled the revolver from his holster, the injured mans eyes widened. "But this is the only remedy I have for ya" he said leveling the gun to the mans head "No-" BANG!

Dewey made his way back to the truck Uzi in tow. 'I will not make excuses for what I did, it was murder' he thought to himself 'but there is no way could care for him, with the undead closing in'. The zombies true to word had been. multiplying in the area and was quickly forming a horde. He quickly shut the door and locked it. The zombies began to pile around the truck. "The gunshots, the d**** gunshots must've attracted the S.O.B.s" he said frustrated and stuck "guess I gotta wait this one out".

Chris walked carefully down the steps looking for the vanished figure. He heard bursts of gunfire in the distacne. His attention thus diverted. Chris began to walk in that direction, hearing another burst. He picked up the pace, and walked to the end of the block near the wreckage. Chris heard the shots again, and got a fix on the location. Not that far. He could make it to investigate for sure.

Chris began a light run, feeling a pain in his right knee.

"Not now." he cursed.

He continued to move, and made it down a few blocks. Two more gunshots and then silence. Chris was close now, not too much further. He stuck the wall of a building, and moved to the edge, staying in cover. He heard shuffling footsteps near by, but bypassing him. He saw two or three, and snuck past the creatures. Chris moved to vantage point, and climbed up the first ladder of a fire escape. He saw a small horde of the zombies surrounding a vehilce.

"There's got to be somebody in there." he said.

Chris aimed his rifle, and squeezed a shot off. A single zombies head exploded, brain matter smearing all over the winshield. He adjusted his aim and fired again, picking off another zombie. One of the creatures turned to face him after the second shot, and began a slow shamble.

"The sound. IT has to be the sound." he thought to himself.

Chris took down two more zombies, including the one that spotted him. He slid down the fire escape and near the truck, thinning out the mob. He saw a few dings and dents in the body, but quickly shifted his gaze as a lone zombie tried to grab him. He shook the attacker to the ground, and stomped on the creatures head. He turned back to look at the pickup truck, and moved closer, a few zombies still lurking close by.

Dewey sat patiently waiting and thinking. He had already turned off the truck, for the sound of the engine would just keep the undead around.

'I'm only 21' he thought 'and I just killed my 21st man. I'm in the middle of a nightmare and I'm not scared. Those creatures can't touch me. Food is no problem. Like I have always said, survival goes to the nomad. But still it makes me feel less human. And I've killed as many men as Billy the kid. The scariest part is I enjoy it. Still, just another temptation I have to fight daily. I was always a good kid, even now I don't smoke, drink or even get girls. They say I'm missing out on life, and I say they are a bunch of lustful drunkards. But what am I? A murder? A killer? There is a difference. The Bible says "thou shalt not commit murder" not thou shalt not kill. There is a difference. How many of my kills where murders? Well the first man was up in queens. Self-defence, not murder. The multiple shoot-outs in L.A. and the California area. I shot a few men who where on the ground, those where murders. The shootout in that bar in Nevada with some Hells Angels. That was a fight, a lot where hooked on meth and refused to drop, course didn't help their aim either. And that police officer, I put him out of his misery, he wasn't going to make it. Would that be murder? He was okay with it. Assisted suicide?'.

The shot rang out awakening from his thoughts "why is everyone shooting at me" he yelled aloud and ducked. The blood splattered across the windshield and he wanted to cry "why is it always the truck?"

He noticed the man was trying to help him. "That fool I could have waited it out" Dewey said frustrated. He reached over and grabbed his 1911 and shoved the newly loaded and never used mags in his pocket. He also grabbed his lever-action.

The door to the truck swung open and Dewey jumped out firing, with the 1911, at the nearest zombies. As the mags ran out he would toss the empty ones in the truck and put a fresh one, which he already had in hand, into the gun and grab another one from his pocket for 8 rounds later.

After clearing his immediate perimeter he stuck the 1911 into his waist band, much like he had seen many thugs do and he did not approve of it but he would need his .45 close and quick on the draw, and grabbed his fully loaded 1894. Before he had exited the truck he had placed 30-30 shells in his right pockets and 1911 mags in his left pockets. He would have used the ar-15 but it wasn't loaded up, neither where any of the other guns.

"GET YOUR DUMB #** IN THE TRUCK" he shouted at the stranger picking off further away zombies. Priority ranging from closest to furthest from himself and the carbine wielding man he was covering. He counted off the rounds he fired. When there was a bit of a break he would pop in some more shells.

The more he shot the more zombies came around the corner. "QUICK WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME. TRUST ME ITS SAFER IN THE TRUCK. I'LL COVER YOU" he yelled to the unidentified man.

At any time he could have put his truck in drive and floored it through the zombies, but even though he prefers guns over trucks, that 4x4 was his most prized possession. And he didn't want the one thing that could keep him alive the longest to kick the bucket because it got a walker bone stuck in it, whether the tires or the engine.

Clark had been in the Grocery store, collecting all of the unused items. "Where in the world is Alex?" He said, but only the dark air heard him. "Don't tell me the zombies got her." He shook his head and grab his bags and ran. "It can't be helped, she wandered off."


Amouri had been in the Library still, looking at books for survival and other such gun books. She then heard a noise. It was coming from the staircase leading to the lower level of the library. "OH god no. Who's there!?" She asked, and pulled out her gun and proceeded near the staircase. "Please, God, no." She muttered and pointed her gun to a fire escape door. A small rock had kept the door open, the noise was the rock falling down the stairs.
"Thank God." She said, her heart beating fast.

She walked over and saw a few zombies outside, about 4.
"I shouldn't worry about them. They seem far." She whispered. She then went to go search around the library some more.

"Get your dumb *** in the truck!" the man yelled.

Chris obliged, and quickly hopped in the bed of the pickup, squeezing a few more zombies.

"Tex?" Chris asked. "Let's go. The sounds got to be drawing them in."

Chris fired a few more rounds, dropping a closing walker. He shifted right and fired twice more, killing another. Chris then noticed one shambling after Tex as he tried to get into the truck. Tex drew his 1911 and put a .45 round through the walkers head. He climbed in the cab and fired up the truck, smashing the gas.

Chris was thrown briefly, but quickly caught his balance. He did a tactical reload, and placed the half loaded magazine in his belt pouch. He did his best to direct Tex to the town hall, navigating through the wreckage. They pulled up to the front of the building, the extra equipment Chris dropped still there. Chris took a second to notice the amount of weapons and ammo Dewey had loaded into his truck.

"Nice job. I think this should last us, and be enough to arm us for the time being." Chris congratulated him. "I don't know if that last one goes to you or me. But hopefully, we are even."

Tex smiled as he reloaded his rifle.

When Tex had finished loading his rifle he gave a quick spin on the slightly looped hammer "Ya its a lot" he topped off with one more round and slowly dropped the hammer, wild west safety. "But it would only last me about a week" he laughed "I grabbed everything I could, but I don't have a caravan so its kinda impossible". He looked into city all "I know someone else was suppose to be here, but we should clear the building before unloading anything. I would hate to have a stalker on my a** while carrying a case of ammo".

They stepped up to the city hall armed. Dewey had his rifle in his left hand and his governor pointed forward as he opened the door slowly. He pied the room(its like a military tactic where you go around the corner by "pieing" it into sections to where the only parts of the room that could see you you have already checked). When Tex was young and he wasn't shooting, hunting, working, or at school he liked to watch military documentaries and such

Amouri was still investigating the area and noticed two figures at the door. Upon closer inspection, it was Dewey and Chris. She ran over and let them in, then locking the door again.
"Are you two okay?" She asked, taking some things off their hands and setting it on the large table. "The library is clear. I found these things though, but I am not sure if they will be of use." She said and showed the two the briefcase and the Laundromat key.
"I suppose, there could be some clean clothes in the laundromat, if we really need them. But here, your clothes are soaked, go sit by the heater, it has been running for awhile now. You should heat up, I am also making some Coffee in the lounge."

Clark was wondering the parking lot of the pharmacy after looting the remains of it. "Damn, there has got to be a car in here somewhere." He muttered. After searching in the rain, he saw an unlocked car with nothing in it, but an open glovebox with a card deck. "I guess this will bring some fun." He said, taking the cards. He saw keys in the ignition and turned on the car, and drove towards the library, having a rough time seeing through the rain.

Chris helped the others unload the ammunition and weapons from the truck. He placed his rifle next to the heater, and sat down, drinking a cup of the freshly brewed coffe. He decided to open up that briefcase, and browse through the contents.

He looked at a few peices of paper, but nothing really to help the situation. He found a map of the city, which he opened up and surveyed for a few minutes. He took a few sips of the coffee, and lit a cigarette. The sound of a car engine was heard outside. He grabbed his rifle, and put out his cigarette. He moved towards the front of the building. He could barely see Clark outside in the rain, as he ran quickly to get out of the rain.

Clark made it up the stairs, then turned back to see there was a few zombies moving after him. Chris quickly shut the door behind Clark, and barricaded it with a nearby chair, jamming it under the doorknob. Chris then grabbed the bag of gear from the hardware store and began to hammer nails into the door at an angle to keep it closed.

Glass shattered behind him in the library. Chris dropped the hammer, and drew his Beretta, as his rifle was a few feet away. He moved over to it, and slung it over his body, pistol still equipped. He heard another sound of glass shattering, gathering the attention of all the survivors.

"Security breach!" Chris shouted.

Amouri dashed up and checked and locked the doors and helped board them up, keeping her Px4 within easy access. "Alright, we need to hold them off, if we must, we can fall back to the second floor, the office complex." She said and continued barracading the doors, and windows.

Clark pulled out his revolver and fired at the zombies that were close or in the library, throwing the bodies outside. He then noticed a zombie, with flesh-red skin. "What the H*** is that?" He shouted. The zombie was pure red, and it dashed like mad towards Amouri. "Ah, no you don't!" He said and fired a quick bullet, just barely hitting the zombie in the temple, killing it.

Amouri ran over to the zombie. "What is with this one?" She wondered. "It is all red, like the skin peeled right off of it. And the way it ran, that was no ordinary zombie." Well, I suppose we need a name for this guy. How about 'Bloody Dasher' or 'Crimson Sprinter?' Ya know, for when we encounter them."

"I don't know." Clark said. "But we need to finish boarding off this area. "Amouri, is the upstairs unlocked?" He asked her.

"I am not sure. I will go check." She said, pulled out her Beretta Px4 and flashlight and ran upstairs to check the second level. A few moments later, gunshots were head, and piercing cries of crows and ravens were emitting. "Geez, these guys are hard to hit!" She shouted and fired again. She came back down and closed the door but kept a small opening to get it open. "Those crows were pesky, but, I got them. One of them grabbed my hairband, but I came out unscathed."

Clark checked over Amouri's head. "You don't seem to be hurt. That's good. Are all the doors unlocked?" He asked.

Amouri nodded. "Yes, and I didn't see any zombies in there, but don't believe me 100%, I only scouted out so much, I had to run out of fear of being pecked to death. Sorry." She said.

"Don't worry, it's fine, we are almost finished boarding up. Chris and Dewey are doing a bit of both. Let's hurry." Clark said, patting her on the back.

"Right." Amouri smiled and grabbed a hammer and a few wooden boards. The two were constantly pounding the nails into the wood to fortify the town hall.

Dewey slammed the nail down with all his built up frustration. He was usually an easy going guy, but all that anger had to go somewhere. He learned to put it into work, and now more recently fighting.

He turned to his new friend "they can't keep firing off shots like that, we'll get swarmed" he looked around at their handy work "can you finish up here? I need to talk to'em". He nodded his head and Dewey walked off.

Dewey had given up the idea of using a revolver. That squabble earlier made him remember why he carried a 1911, besides he had more practice with it. In what little rest they had he was able to switch out holsters for a similar one built for the 1911. It also had holders for his magazines making it quick and easy to reload. One thing is for sure, he is not giving up his gun.

"Amouri" Dewey said as he approached "we can't keep firing off shots like that. We'll get surrounded. I just barely survived one getting up here. Now don't get me wrong I'm okay with everyone havin guns, in fact I prefer it. But we need to save our ammo and those doors won't hold back a thousand brainless creatures. Trust me I've seen political gatherings. And also I'm not gonna stick around long. I can head out and find survivors, plus gasoline and other supplies. In fact I was gonna get us some CB radios down at this cute little pawn shop I saw". He didn't mention the Civil War antiques and peacemakers that he would love to have. He would use the same philosophy as with the gun-shop: the owner was alive, ask for help; if not, well the spoils go to the victory, or in this case the survivor.

Chris finished barricading up the downstairs, as Dewey walked off.

"You heading out?" Chris asked.
"Yeah. I'll be back shortly." Dewey replied.
"Watch your back out there."

Chris walked over to Amouri and Clark.

"Have you seen that blind girl lately?" He asked.

Amouri shook her head no. Chris held his rifle close to him.

"What kind of gun is that?" asked Amouri.

"It's an AR-15. It's a 5.56 x 45mm NATO round. This one is an SBR, 14.5 inch barrel, flash hider muzzle, quadrail with a vertical foregrip. I have a surefire light, and a laser sight mounted on the rails, flip up iron sights, and an EOTech holographic sight. It has a 30 round detachable box magazine, and is quite accurate. Simply put, this is my baby." Chris replied.

Amouri had no idea how to take in all that information. She just nodded her head.

Chris decided that he was going to check out the upstairs. He walked slowly up, and opened the door at the top of the steps. He walked inside the dark room, broked glass crunching under his feet. He turned the light on, illuminating the room around him. He swept the muzzle side to side, clearing the room. He went through the office complex, trying to sweep the cubicles. On the other side, he opened up a door to the fire exit. There was a large hallway. He shined his light down, and saw a large horde of the undead in there.

"****!" he said, as he raised his rifle.

He began firing hammer pairs into the fast approaching horde. He dropped several of the creatures, but they kept advancing. He continued to fire pairs, cutting them down. There was three or four left standing as his mag ran dry. He quickly pulled out his Beretta 92FS, and then fired single rounds, eliminating the rest of the zombies. He tac loaded his handgun, and did a mag change on his rifle.

"Clear." He said, as he walked back into the office complex.

Dewey was already a bit away when heard the gunshots. 'Should I go back?' He thought 'nah they have an ex-soldier and an arsenal I personally picked out for them, they should be fine'. He had grown up around Marines. Truly a proud group, but they had earned it. He had seen the way they had carried themselves, handled their guns. When you are that trained it becomes second nature.

He had grabbed the m14 before had left. He was loading the magazines when he heard the gunshots. He finished loading them and made his way to the pawnshop in his truck.

He placed the rifle across his back facing it up and across his torso in a comfortable way but not quick to get to.

A chime from the bell came as he entered the pawn shop, knife already in hand and .45 ready to go if required.

As expected the undead owner of the small shop came running around the corner. He quickly grabbed the zombies throat and shoved the knife through the bottom of his head into the brain. The somewhat heavy stalker dropped.

Dewey quickly cleared the small building and then surveyed what was there. He first grabbed CBs like the ones truckers used and then he began window shopping. In extra he made way with a confederate cavalry uniform including saber, flag and a lemat revolver. He also grabbed a tomahawk and placed it into his belt for quick retrieval.

He placed the uniform and extras under the seat where everything hid, including the full-auto uzi.
He jumped into the driver's seat and relaxed. 'I made out like a bandit' he thought 'I almost feel bad about it, but then again who will need the stuff I took'. As he relaxed his eyes became heavy and he dozed off.
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Dewey walked down the alley way seeing his breath in the cold morning air. The ground was littered and people walked down the sidewalks frowns on their faces in a seeming abstract misery.
'I just came from "the greatest city in the world"' he thought 'more like a home for delusional repeating the same process over and over, getting no where. I'd rather be dead'. Somebody bumped passed him yelled a curse and continued on their way 'I don't know whether I should be angry or feel sorry for him. If they saw my home would they try to corrupt it like this one?'. "Give me your wallet or I will riddle you full of holes" said a man behind him. Dewey turned around and saw a man with a revolver shakily pointing at him 'definitely new to the gun thing' he thought 'tis a shame so many gun laws and yet criminals still get their hands on them'. Dewey smiled politely as he could in the situation "don't threaten me with heaven" he said "this is a mistake you should go home, don't do this". The man seemed to both become angry and yet laugh at the seemingly pathetic person before him. Dewey placed his hand on his hip in an almost cocky manner. The man began to shout and wave the gun around with a multitude of curses. As the gun seemed to reach its furthest point from its target Dewey quickly drew his gun, dropped the safety and drop low to the ground firing off five shots and watch as the man moved with each bullet. The man hit the ground in a sickening way nerves firing off causing him to convulse. And then it hit him, he just killed a man.
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Dewey jolted up in a cold sweat as lightening shot across the sky leaving a thunderous roar behind. He looked around quickly remembered where he was. That was the first time he had ever killed and after that it was almost a domino effect.