Left 4 Dead - The Last Escape

[Krieg]

Silence

Whether the Swede could not bring himself to speak in front of the angered blonde sister or that his crippled body refused was another question entirely, but the man standing before the disgruntled firecracker limply looked down. His gaze, underneath the veil of tattered bandages and broken skin was not of apathy, but rather, of acknowledgment. Faintly, ever so faintly, pangs of sorrow resonated in those eyes, yet the elderly man refused to shed tears. Instead, he held his internal agony, his internal upheaval, recollections of a burdensome past resonating in the dark confines of the doctor's mind.

He could see himself walking down the corridors of what once was his hospital, his pride and place of intense study. No souls wandered the white, eerie halls, all the equipment from heartbeat-monitors to movable desks filled with pristine equipment laid scattered about. With each passing step, the doctor looked down, his arms cradling the small form of a child no older than eight. The child, a young boy, rested calmly in his arms, but the doctor knew the truth of his tranquility. Upon entering through those iconic white double-doors, the Swede could hear screams and wails...and with that, his world went white, yet his heart felt black.

Snapping his eyes open frantically, rapid breaths emitting from his mutilated lips, the physician shuddered. He could hear arguments being thrown left and right, something about that rash teenager bent on doing something reckless. Whatever the case may be, the Swede finally moved, albeit slightly, having been frozen in his tall yet broken state, staring back at purple eyes of hatred and spite. Slowly, but surely, the foreigner made his way through the garage, ignoring the others, supporting himself along the rustic and dark walls of the garage.

Nearly collapsing, huffing and heaving horribly, the Swede hung his head down, beginning to utter aloud for his sins.

"I...a-..m...sor...ry..."

What semblance of voice that remained from the Swede was but gone, sounding horridly deep, grizzly, and imposing. It was certainly a stark contrast from the feeble, awkward, and frankly disturbing tone the black-clad man had invoked much earlier. Arising slowly once more, moving his arms lightly, the man stood by the saferoom door, too ashamed to look anyone straight in the eye. Just like the many patients before, the countless souls he was unable to save- the Swede had almost doomed Ruby to a fate worse than typical death.

He wanted to say more, he wanted to plea for forgiveness, like the countless families that had spurned him away, despite all of his efforts and manpower to save people. But, the physician knew that he was the instrument of his own undoing. With an abrupt and sudden move, the barred door to the saferoom opened, the Reborn stumbling out onto the sands of Wells, Nevada.

What he saw shocked him, and for those inside the saferoom, an audible, fierce growl escaped the Swede's lips, trying to alert his companions of the horrid sight he was witnessing.

@OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Kakarot! @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi

---

The El Rancho Hotel was a landmark of Wells, Nevada, screaming of smalltown America, the building more like a shanty apartment complex than a hotel, casino, and diners thrown in all as one. Yet still, there was a certain humble charm to the building, as if this hotel once harbored many close and weary travelers. It was a place to meet others, to indulge in the sins of gambling, yet not loss oneself riches like Las Vegas to the southwest.

Still, as with everything in this wasteland, there was a sinister undertone to it all.

For Dave, the underlying, foreboding message the hotel provided was clear from the beginning. Shattered glass and dried crimson were the first sight, but yet, the eerie lack of Infected screamed of something terribly, terribly unusual. Bodies were laid about the entrance, some of them decayed to the point where they were but a pile of rotting flesh and seared bone. In fact, there an unusual amount of carcasses that looked as if they had been scorched, and the frightening aspect of it all was that it was hard tell if these corpses were Infected or actual survivors. Underneath the grasp of an inferno, there is no discrimination, and for Dave, the sight was, in itself, a grim reminder of something sinister afoot.

If proceeded forward, Dave would enter through the casino, the El Rancho Hotel's only real entrance. Before him, tables and slot-machines were thrown about, only a few resting in their original positions. A handful of Infected awaited him, but like their compatriots outside, their bodies were malnurished and at the brink of death. As such, they limply hobbled towards the fresh meat, almost akin to the traditional zombies seen in Romero's movies or elsewhere. Dealing with them would be no issue, if decided, and beyond this minor band of afflicted humans, the kitchen alongside the front counter would be awaiting.

This was too easy, something didn't feel right.

@Atomyk

---​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

"...Heh."

Her gaze rose up to the sky, for a quiet few seconds. "I don't know about that. The compliment's appreciated but...I mean, I got a decent enough education back home, through high school. It's just...well, other things on my mind really. So average in intelligence I guess." She shrugged. "It's just like I said. I got experience so that helps." Laura added, silence falling as she just observed Yang, not all that different from the way her keen eyes observed prey all those times she hunted.

Yang was caught a little off-guard by the intensity of that "heh" for a few moments, left to wonder if she touched some kind of nerve as she blinked and returned Laura's unnerving gaze without showing the least bit of discomfort or wariness. After a few seconds she smirked and leaned back against the wall, bending her knee to kick her heel up against it and give the other girl a slight smirk as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Smart isn't something you measure by memorizing buzzwords and writing 'em down on pieces of paper. You can struggle in school but still be good at other stuff. What good's an A+ in history gonna do anyone now, anyway?"

She cracked an optimistic grin nevertheless, cocking her head to one side.

"There's one positive about the end of the world, right? No more school!"
​

Likewise, her attention snapped away from her thoughts, drawn by the answer. "Oh please." She snorted. "I wouldn't even ask those if the situation was appropriate for it. It's not." Laura paused, a moment of silence passing before "...Besides, I already know one of those just from looking. Blonde's...nice. Anyway, I just wanted to ask. You've known Logan for...well, however long. What's he like as a teacher? As a man? I mean, not just the stuff I've been able to see from meeting him not long ago. Gruff and all."

@OrlandoBloomers @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Indolent @Krieg

"'Preciated." she replied happily to the first park, proudly bouncing a few of her golden locks of hair with one hand. When Laura asked her question, however, she blinked, glancing back inside the room with a slight tilt of the head as she thought on her response.

"He's... nice. Kinda intense, but I owe him a lot. He sorta reminds me of an uncle of ours." Who knew where that old geezer was now? Probably shooting stuff off the roof of a Walmart with a keg of booze or something. "He cares about people. When he started teaching martial arts, it wasn't just to make a living or avoid going to a job interview where he actually had to shave. It was so he could teach people-- people like me-- to protect themselves. And anyone they care about."

She sighed and crossed her arms, looking back towards the safe room door once again.

"Soooooo, yeah. Why? You lookin' to enroll? I hate to say it, but I think you might've missed the boat on that one."
​

Silence

Whether the Swede could not bring himself to speak in front of the angered blonde sister or that his crippled body refused was another question entirely, but the man standing before the disgruntled firecracker limply looked down. His gaze, underneath the veil of tattered bandages and broken skin was not of apathy, but rather, of acknowledgment. Faintly, ever so faintly, pangs of sorrow resonated in those eyes, yet the elderly man refused to shed tears. Instead, he held his internal agony, his internal upheaval, recollections of a burdensome past resonating in the dark confines of the doctor's mind.

He could see himself walking down the corridors of what once was his hospital, his pride and place of intense study. No souls wandered the white, eerie halls, all the equipment from heartbeat-monitors to movable desks filled with pristine equipment laid scattered about. With each passing step, the doctor looked down, his arms cradling the small form of a child no older than eight. The child, a young boy, rested calmly in his arms, but the doctor knew the truth of his tranquility. Upon entering through those iconic white double-doors, the Swede could hear screams and wails...and with that, his world went white, yet his heart felt black.

Snapping his eyes open frantically, rapid breaths emitting from his mutilated lips, the physician shuddered. He could hear arguments being thrown left and right, something about that rash teenager bent on doing something reckless. Whatever the case may be, the Swede finally moved, albeit slightly, having been frozen in his tall yet broken state, staring back at purple eyes of hatred and spite. Slowly, but surely, the foreigner made his way through the garage, ignoring the others, supporting himself along the rustic and dark walls of the garage.

Nearly collapsing, huffing and heaving horribly, the Swede hung his head down, beginning to utter aloud for his sins.

"I...a-..m...sor...ry..."

What semblance of voice that remained from the Swede was but gone, sounding horridly deep, grizzly, and imposing. It was certainly a stark contrast from the feeble, awkward, and frankly disturbing tone the black-clad man had invoked much earlier. Arising slowly once more, moving his arms lightly, the man stood by the saferoom door, too ashamed to look anyone straight in the eye. Just like the many patients before, the countless souls he was unable to save- the Swede had almost doomed Ruby to a fate worse than typical death.

He wanted to say more, he wanted to plea for forgiveness, like the countless families that had spurned him away, despite all of his efforts and manpower to save people. But, the physician knew that he was the instrument of his own undoing. With an abrupt and sudden move, the barred door to the saferoom opened, the Reborn stumbling out onto the sands of Wells, Nevada.

What he saw shocked him, and for those inside the saferoom, an audible, fierce growl escaped the Swede's lips, trying to alert his companions of the horrid sight he was witnessing.

@OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Kakarot! @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi

As had probably been made apparent, Yang wanted to hate the Swede for what he did. Intentional or not, there was no excusing it. She'd almost lost everything; literally everything she had to live for (well, everything until about five minutes ago), and if there had ever been anything deserving of her wrath she figured this was it. This tall, bandaged monster didn't deserve her sympathy.

But Yang wasn't heartless. On the contrary, it almost felt like her heart was bigger than her skull sometimes. Feelings of rage, spite and frustration came easy to her, but so too did feelings of compassion and empathy; when she saw something as miserable as this, a scarred, broken man wracked with regret for wrongdoing he acknowledged and apologized for, it tugged on what she would've considered all the wrong emotions for dealing with someone like him. Like it or not, and she didn't, Yang felt bad for the Swede.

Despite that, she still wanted to punch him in his ugly face.

She could never forgive him. But... maybe she could tolerate him? Or maybe not. She'd given up trying to predict any given direction her emotions might've taken after all this. As things stood, if she did see Blake again she didn't know if she was gonna hug her or strangle her.

For now, however, she could at least make an effort. His guttural growl caught her attention, and she pushed off the wall she was leaning against to warily approach him from behind, eyebrow raised.

"What's up?"

@Krieg @C.T. @Indolent @Schnee Corp Lawyer​

 

[C.T.]

Yang was caught a little off-guard by the intensity of that "heh" for a few moments, left to wonder if she touched some kind of nerve as she blinked and returned Laura's unnerving gaze without showing the least bit of discomfort or wariness. After a few seconds she smirked and leaned back against the wall, bending her knee to kick her heel up against it and give the other girl a slight smirk as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Smart isn't something you measure by memorizing buzzwords and writing 'em down on pieces of paper. You can struggle in school but still be good at other stuff. What good's an A+ in history gonna do anyone now, anyway?"

She cracked an optimistic grin nevertheless, cocking her head to one side.

"There's one positive about the end of the world, right? No more school!"​

"A fair point." Laura conceded with a nod. "And that's...both an optimistic and pessimistic view at the same time. Weird. No more years spent at a desk, listening as someone drones on...and the end of the world. I hadn't thought of it like that before. I mean, I've heard the reports as I trekked my way down and across the country. None of it painted a pretty picture but...it can't really be the end of everything. Can it?" She questioned, doubt creeping into her voice. Albeit doubt that was quickly brushed aside as Yang answered.​

"He's... nice. Kinda intense, but I owe him a lot. He sorta reminds me of an uncle of ours." Who knew where that old geezer was now? Probably shooting stuff off the roof of a Walmart with a keg of booze or something. "He cares about people. When he started teaching martial arts, it wasn't just to make a living or avoid going to a job interview where he actually had to shave. It was so he could teach people-- people like me-- to protect themselves. And anyone they care about."

She sighed and crossed her arms, looking back towards the safe room door once again.

"Soooooo, yeah. Why? You lookin' to enroll? I hate to say it, but I think you might've missed the boat on that one."​

"...I see." She started impassively, eyes closing for a few seconds as she let that sink in. "Nice. Intense and despite his gruff exterior, he seeks to help people. Self-defense and beyond. I would have asked him directly but...I think my words would have lodged in my throat. Or I would have messed it up in some other way. I'm not as ready as I thought I'd be." She sighed before shooting a smile towards Yang. "Thanks for telling me that at least. And no, not looking to enroll. If push comes to shove, I'm sure I can protect myself as is. It's just..." She rubbed her wrists pensively.

"...not the only boat I missed out on." She finished quietly, a few more moments passing before: "Can I show you something? I just don't--" She cut herself off.​

He wanted to say more, he wanted to plea for forgiveness, like the countless families that had spurned him away, despite all of his efforts and manpower to save people. But, the physician knew that he was the instrument of his own undoing. With an abrupt and sudden move, the barred door to the saferoom opened, the Reborn stumbling out onto the sands of Wells, Nevada.

What he saw shocked him, and for those inside the saferoom, an audible, fierce growl escaped the Swede's lips, trying to alert his companions of the horrid sight he was witnessing.

@OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Kakarot! @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi​

As had probably been made apparent, Yang wanted to hate the Swede for what he did. Intentional or not, there was no excusing it. She'd almost lost everything; literally everything she had to live for (well, everything until about five minutes ago), and if there had ever been anything deserving of her wrath she figured this was it. This tall, bandaged monster didn't deserve her sympathy.

But Yang wasn't heartless. On the contrary, it almost felt like her heart was bigger than her skull sometimes. Feelings of rage, spite and frustration came easy to her, but so too did feelings of compassion and empathy; when she saw something as miserable as this, a scarred, broken man wracked with regret for wrongdoing he acknowledged and apologized for, it tugged on what she would've considered all the wrong emotions for dealing with someone like him. Like it or not, and she didn't, Yang felt bad for the Swede.

Despite that, she still wanted to punch him in his ugly face.

She could never forgive him. But... maybe she could tolerate him? Or maybe not. She'd given up trying to predict any given direction her emotions might've taken after all this. As things stood, if she did see Blake again she didn't know if she was gonna hug her or strangle her.

For now, however, she could at least make an effort. His guttural growl caught her attention, and she pushed off the wall she was leaning against to warily approach him from behind, eyebrow raised.

"What's up?"

@Krieg @C.T. @Indolent @Schnee Corp Lawyer​

As if a reminder about this being a poor time was needed, her eyes shifted over to where the bandaged man stood, growling. Her wariness increased, focusing on being more alert. "Yes, what is it?" She added, trying to follow his line of sight on the lookout for trouble, grip tightening around the stock of the hunting rifle.

@Krieg @OrlandoBloomers @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Indolent​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Whats happening?!" Ruby exclaimed as she bounced back out of the bathroom with squeaky cleans hands and snatched her sword and backpack off the ground once she saw everyone huddling to stare at something that was obviously amazing if it had this much attention

@nobody @this is just me reminding myself I'm here​

 

[Indolent]

A sharks grin flitted across the features of Oroku Saki at that name. His own title, earned through blood among the circles of the Yakuza. If there was any doubt that this gaijin and the titular champion in ages past were one and the same, they were dashed to pieces. And eye to eye, the clawed gauntlet twitched ever so briefly....Before he dropped the imposing posture first, giving a warriors bow of respect, eye contact kept as his fist pressed into an open palm.

He had earned that much at least.

"You speak my true name. And in doing so, reveal yourself in full. Perhaps in other times, we might even now be determining our strengths.... Unless you've eschewed the weapon you made infamous in my homeland since?"

He flicked his gaze in the direction of the children before back to Logan with certainty.

"They do not know you as I do. But in this new world, it will not be humans who survive. It will be monsters. I look forward to seeing yours."

And with the faintest smirk, Oroku Saki retreated. His bearing as proud in his mechanic jumpsuit and tattered red poncho, resembling a cape more then anything as he was in his expensive suit.​

For all the aggression put forth toward the Yakuza in question, his posture maintained the relative, if tense, calm as was his custom. The musculature of his body was taut, coiled and ready to spring at the slightest indication of hostility as he observed the Shredder's bow of respect. For a moment, Howlett thought he was being mocked before realizing the man was serious. Unconsciously, he dropped the not so subtle outward hostility, posture slackening lightly though still noticeably rigid and alert.

"Cuz I ain't got anythin' to hide--drag me out the shadows and yer gonna find that it's you who's exposed. Not me." Though to the last comment, Logan's eyes flickered to where he'd left the rucksack that contained his belongings--he knew well what Shredder was referring to. In fact, the weapons inside were the selfsame items he famously utilized in his quest for love all these years ago. A scowl emerged in his features, Logan's annoyance blatantly made apparent.

"Takes a monster ta kill another, and I'd see that none these kids become one. I don't need to warn you, ya ain't that stupid." ... "And our unfortunate cooperation don't mean we're besties."

Another scowl as he saw the slight smirk within Saki's features, this prompted the need for restraint as the urgent desire to rearrange the man's face burned in his mind. A scoff followed and he turned away, stepping for the supplies now.

"Need him like I need a damn hemorrhoid. My past's coming to bite me in the ass and in more than one way, christ."​

Dean's eyes swept the room during the Swede's absence, return, and disparagement from Yang. Even though he was angry at the Swede for mercilessly abandoning Ruby during the escape, he could see that Yang was on him like white on rice. He also looked like hell, and the guilt that could be seen in his eyes told Dean that he didn't need any more chewing out.

Guy's been through hell. Why give him more?

What his eyes caught was the veritable cache of weapons and supplies that might be needed. The medkits caught his eye and he took one from the wall, stashing it in his duffel. He glanced about, finding the weapons unlikely to come to much use in his hands so long as they weren't a pistol.

He glanced at the Shredder and Logan in their exchange concerning the yakuza. He didn't know much about Japan, other than his masterful (masturful) knowledge of hentai, but he could sense a certain presence of danger about the both of them; they'd seen some shit. Shit Dean was positive he wanted to know about. However, with the Shredder's withdrawal from Logan and the conversation, Dean found that he must wait for a different time.

Hence, he stood to Logan, watching Yang leave and then speaking.

"So, she's the Danny to your Miyagi, huh?"​

"..." No supplies were left--though he'd nab any remnant of ammunition for Laura and Yang's weapons. He was lugging around a saddlebag, and it'd plenty of room to spare.

At Dean's approach, Logan's eyes scanned quickly, taking in the younger man's features, attitude, and posture. Pretty boy thought he was hot shit or something, it seemed like. That kind of confidence would do well in this clusterfuck of a world nowadays, and Logan got the feeling he wasn't a bad sort. Which, compounding all his speeding findings, made for a budding, potential friendship of some sorts.

"Fireball? Eh, debatable. I've had a lot of students but she's one of few that sticks in my memory. I think it's best ta just say yea fer now, don't want her catching wind of me saying otherwise. Probably never hear the end of it, especially with how she lavishes puns into everything. It's a horrible, murderous talent of hers."

Naturally, Logan was joking.

"Name's Logan. What's yers, pretty-boy?"
​

Silence

Whether the Swede could not bring himself to speak in front of the angered blonde sister or that his crippled body refused was another question entirely, but the man standing before the disgruntled firecracker limply looked down. His gaze, underneath the veil of tattered bandages and broken skin was not of apathy, but rather, of acknowledgment. Faintly, ever so faintly, pangs of sorrow resonated in those eyes, yet the elderly man refused to shed tears. Instead, he held his internal agony, his internal upheaval, recollections of a burdensome past resonating in the dark confines of the doctor's mind.

He could see himself walking down the corridors of what once was his hospital, his pride and place of intense study. No souls wandered the white, eerie halls, all the equipment from heartbeat-monitors to movable desks filled with pristine equipment laid scattered about. With each passing step, the doctor looked down, his arms cradling the small form of a child no older than eight. The child, a young boy, rested calmly in his arms, but the doctor knew the truth of his tranquility. Upon entering through those iconic white double-doors, the Swede could hear screams and wails...and with that, his world went white, yet his heart felt black.

Snapping his eyes open frantically, rapid breaths emitting from his mutilated lips, the physician shuddered. He could hear arguments being thrown left and right, something about that rash teenager bent on doing something reckless. Whatever the case may be, the Swede finally moved, albeit slightly, having been frozen in his tall yet broken state, staring back at purple eyes of hatred and spite. Slowly, but surely, the foreigner made his way through the garage, ignoring the others, supporting himself along the rustic and dark walls of the garage.

Nearly collapsing, huffing and heaving horribly, the Swede hung his head down, beginning to utter aloud for his sins.

"I...a-..m...sor...ry..."

What semblance of voice that remained from the Swede was but gone, sounding horridly deep, grizzly, and imposing. It was certainly a stark contrast from the feeble, awkward, and frankly disturbing tone the black-clad man had invoked much earlier. Arising slowly once more, moving his arms lightly, the man stood by the saferoom door, too ashamed to look anyone straight in the eye. Just like the many patients before, the countless souls he was unable to save- the Swede had almost doomed Ruby to a fate worse than typical death.

He wanted to say more, he wanted to plea for forgiveness, like the countless families that had spurned him away, despite all of his efforts and manpower to save people. But, the physician knew that he was the instrument of his own undoing. With an abrupt and sudden move, the barred door to the saferoom opened, the Reborn stumbling out onto the sands of Wells, Nevada.

What he saw shocked him, and for those inside the saferoom, an audible, fierce growl escaped the Swede's lips, trying to alert his companions of the horrid sight he was witnessing.​

"The hell's going on now?" Logan uttered aloud, abruptly exiting the conversation (which could be easily rejoined) as his gaze swung to the direction of the Swede.

@C.T. @OrlandoBloomers @Ivazel @Ringmaster @PeopleIKnowAndCareAbout​

 

[Krieg]

Around him, the Swede saw it all.

Silence reigned supreme in the quiet town of Wells, the Infected still roaming the streets aimlessly, their bodies weary and barely able to uphold their lanky, thin forms. Shattered glass and rubble laid about openly in this small-town, military hummers and sandbags freely thrown about, with some of the buildings having been torn down to simple plies of concrete and debris. Indeed, what had once been a military checkpoint had fallen apart mysteriously, despite Wells being a checkpoint further away from the established boundaries the army had formulated to vainly fend off the Infected for two months. There was so much rubble, so much remnants of the old world, that main street was primarily blocked, the only entrance further into the town being the El Rancho Hotel.

However, this sight of dismay was not why the Swede was growling, far from it, he understood the despair the town had been succumbed even in his more delirious state mere minutes ago.

From few buildings that still stood firmly in this labyrinth of destruction, primarily the El Rancho Hotel, the stiff, lifeless sight of corpses dangled freely before them ominously. There, at least twenty people, with black shopping bags tied over their heads, dangled from makeshift ropes fashioned into nooses. Some of the carcasses were in such a brutalized state, with some missing them limbs, others looking burned, and with a neck almost completely ripped apart. What was frightening is that, in the midst of all of this arguing, the moans of the Infected, and the cawing of vultures, these mysterious corpses were not here before their arrival.

Which only meant that someone, or some people, in very short span of time, had hung roughly twenty people on the rooftops of these buildings. What was even more disturbing was that some of the corpses, to those with medical knowledge such as the Swede, did not look Infected. Outside of the obvious pale skin and overall lack of color, these unfortunate souls looked mix, with some of their bodies not carrying blemishes, discolorations, or abnormalities that would scream Infected. Indeed, there was no discrimination in the town of Wells anymore, only death and the cawing of overhanging crows.

Arising onto his feet shakily, the foreign physician stared about, cocking the hammer of his revolver. The only path readily available was through the El Rancho Hotel. Whilst the vehicles looked unharmed, the sheer destruction such a small town faced meant transportation outside of bikes would be literally impossible. Until the rubble could be removed or another path was cleared, moving about outside of foot would not be a vital choice. Realizing this, the Swede limped his way towards the hotel, staring at the ominous bodies briefly, only to abruptly (without looking) end a hobbling Infected's life with a .357 round into their cranium.

"S-Som...eth...i..ng...no..t...w...ell..."

@OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi @Atomyk @T.O.M. ​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

Yang's eyes were wide and her mouth was agape with sheer horror and at least a little undisguised fear at the sight they were met with, almost too stunned to react for a few seconds as she stood stock-still, words frozen in her throat and body frozen mid-step. How... how did... who would... They hadn't even been in the saferoom an hour. Was this set up for them? Who the hell was responsible? Zombies didn't know how to string people up... or tie knots.

She didn't wanna look. She really, really, REALLY didn't want to look. But she had to, her strangely-hued irises skimming across the entire row of bodies, searching for any glimpse of familiarity as a ball of dread formed in her chest. To her morbid relief, however, she didn't know any of the people up there... at least, she didn't think she did. It was obviously tough to tell when there were plastic bags tied over their faces. If Blake were up there with them, though, she was pretty sure she would've recognized it from the way she dressed and the shape of her body; five months wasn't enough to forget.

And even beyond that... she just would've known. She'd have felt it in her gut.

When Ruby's voice brought her out of her stupor, though, all other thoughts were shoved aside as Yang reacted on pure heat-of-the-moment instinct, practically tackling her little sister as she came out of the saferoom and scrambling desperately to cover her eyes.

"Please don't look up there."

@Krieg @Schnee Corp Lawyer @C.T.​

 

[C.T.]

"...Oh." It was a far more dead sounding oh than the one she had uttered when the shotgun got taken before she could grab it herself.

She just...didn't know what else to say. Or if anything really needed to be said. The mangled and hanged corpses spoke for themselves. Even from this distance, she could tell limbs were missing, bodies burned. At least 20 of them, black bags covering the primary means of identification. However...they had not been present when we arrived. That leaves a very narrow timeframe. Done for us? Maybe. Without moving her head, she scanned the entirety of her vision for any hint of movement. The only question is the purpose. A message of warning, to get the hell out now? Or...bait? A lure. A typical hunting trick. The path is narrow, ideal for an ambush or trap. Snares? The corpses are testament to the fact whoever did it had access to plentiful makeshift rope. Perhaps even herding? Use Infected in place of dogs, try to force survivors in one direction. Or...maybe it is just a psychotic trying to satisfy his or her urges. She shot a glance over her shoulder to make sure it was pretty clear, of Infected or otherwise.

"...This was bound to happen sooner or later. An apocalypse will bring out the worst in certain people, no way around that." Laura commented, lowly. Before immediately stepping forward regardless of anyone else, heading straight for the El Rancho hotel. She may not be able to help the ones already dead and gone, but she could help make sure it didn't happen to anyone else by stopping...whoever.

@Krieg @OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Ringmaster @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi @T.O.M. ​

 

[Ringmaster]

Shredder looked on in silence, mouth twisted in a frown before he directed his question to Logan as he asked without preamble.

"How good is your stealth?"

It was obvious what the Shredder had in mind.


@Krieg @OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi @T.O.M.​

 

[Jeremi]

Around him, the Swede saw it all.

Silence reigned supreme in the quiet town of Wells, the Infected still roaming the streets aimlessly, their bodies weary and barely able to uphold their lanky, thin forms. Shattered glass and rubble laid about openly in this small-town, military hummers and sandbags freely thrown about, with some of the buildings having been torn down to simple plies of concrete and debris. Indeed, what had once been a military checkpoint had fallen apart mysteriously, despite Wells being a checkpoint further away from the established boundaries the army had formulated to vainly fend off the Infected for two months. There was so much rubble, so much remnants of the old world, that main street was primarily blocked, the only entrance further into the town being the El Rancho Hotel.

However, this sight of dismay was not why the Swede was growling, far from it, he understood the despair the town had been succumbed even in his more delirious state mere minutes ago.

From few buildings that still stood firmly in this labyrinth of destruction, primarily the El Rancho Hotel, the stiff, lifeless sight of corpses dangled freely before them ominously. There, at least twenty people, with black shopping bags tied over their heads, dangled from makeshift ropes fashioned into nooses. Some of the carcasses were in such a brutalized state, with some missing them limbs, others looking burned, and with a neck almost completely ripped apart. What was frightening is that, in the midst of all of this arguing, the moans of the Infected, and the cawing of vultures, these mysterious corpses were not here before their arrival.

Which only meant that someone, or some people, in very short span of time, had hung roughly twenty people on the rooftops of these buildings. What was even more disturbing was that some of the corpses, to those with medical knowledge such as the Swede, did not look Infected. Outside of the obvious pale skin and overall lack of color, these unfortunate souls looked mix, with some of their bodies not carrying blemishes, discolorations, or abnormalities that would scream Infected. Indeed, there was no discrimination in the town of Wells anymore, only death and the cawing of overhanging crows.

Arising onto his feet shakily, the foreign physician stared about, cocking the hammer of his revolver. The only path readily available was through the El Rancho Hotel. Whilst the vehicles looked unharmed, the sheer destruction such a small town faced meant transportation outside of bikes would be literally impossible. Until the rubble could be removed or another path was cleared, moving about outside of foot would not be a vital choice. Realizing this, the Swede limped his way towards the hotel, staring at the ominous bodies briefly, only to abruptly (without looking) end a hobbling Infected's life with a .357 round into their cranium.

"S-Som...eth...i..ng...no..t...w...ell..."

@OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi @Atomyk @T.O.M. ​

Armor King would look up at the bodies. Disappointment was the only thing he felt, man should strive to be better than this. Even in times of crisis. "Polvo eres y polvo serás." He didn't speak much higher than a whisper before he continued on after the Swede stopping as the old bandaged man shot down another infected.

"There is darkness here...the air is thick of decay and misery." Much like the man he was standing next to, but there wasn't a point to say that aloud. "What are the options for us?" Rubble could always be removed, but considering the circumstances if they couldn't clear it quickly and quietly then they'd just have more guest swarming over them.

@OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Krieg @Atomyk @T.O.M. ​

 

[Ivazel]

Oh, shit.

"Christ."

Dean blinked and turned away a moment, sparing himself the torture of having to look at the bodies any more than the first moment. This... this is what the apocalypse was supposed to look like. He'd thought he'd been prepared for this--he'd been expecting this to happen for some time now. But he was wrong.

He struggled to turn back around, to face this blemish on human existence, but he did, leaning on the wall for support. Even then he closed his eyes in an attempt to obscure it from view; however, when he closed his eyes they still were there, like a mural on the backs of his eyelids.

"I'd listen to your sister, kid," he remarked toward Yang and Ruby. "You don't want to see this."

@Krieg @Indolent @Schnee Corp Lawyer @OrlandoBloomers @C.T. @Jeremi @Ringmaster @others​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Ruby's frown just grew as all the people who weren't 5'3" saw what was awaiting them out there and almost immediately told her not to look. Not that it was ever gonna be a surprising line coming from Yang in particular, but the way her sister's voice got so small... It was scary. Not a Yang voice at all, and it was almost enough to get Ruby not to look.

Almost being the key word, as she finally managed to squeeze her way next to the door to get a peek outside.

...Oh.

She didn't sink into a depressed state, gasp in horror, well up with tears of sadness or anger as she saw what awaited them out the doors. Just stared. It was just so... bizarre. This wasn't something that should have ever existed. This was something out of a horrorr game. Something she'd see in Resident Evil or Dark Souls and snicker at, because of how obvious and campy it was in an attempt to scare its player.

This... this wasn't something that could actually happen could it? Right? This was fake. Some persons sick idea of a security system, the equivalent of a scarecrow for humans. Thats what it had to be. Those bruises were just well done paint jobs, the dried blood probably from an animal. Thats what it was. It had to be what it was. This wasn't something that could have possibly happened.

"That's.... thats... fake right?" She finally voiced, and almost laughed at herself immediately after. Why did she sound so unsure, so scared? She knew the answer, that had to be the answer. So... why didn't her voice let her say it that way?


@Krieg @Indolent @Ivazel @OrlandoBloomers @C.T. @Jeremi @Ringmaster @others

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[Indolent]

Right, that wasn't rude whatsoever. A scoff erupted from the diminutive man, a frown gracing his features now as he slung over whatever bundle of ammunition he collected for the girls' weapons. Maybe Pretty Boy had a reason, maybe it was something to do with that outcry from earlier, Logan didn't know. He just knew it was bizarrely rude and he never got a name in the exchange. Eh, alright, he'd just be slightly passive aggressive about it and refer to the boy as pretty boy, never by name from here on out. That should suffice.

He followed out after Pretty Boy, bag slung over the shoulder, as he grunted out an annoyed remark. "Alright, what's the prob--"

The sack nigh dropped to the ground were it not for Logan maintained his fast grip, the look on his face going grim in response.

"Don't look at it, girls. This ain't good and I know that's clear as day but...," Logan uttered, his free hand brushing against his brow as a heavy sigh followed, "It ain't the Infected, obviously. Wasn't there when we arrived. Somebody's playin' a sick game. Odds are we aren't goin' anywhere fer yer purposes without encounterin' these unsavory sorts, Fireball."

Logan's eyes went to Yang as he uttered the last sentence, before inclining his head Ruby's way. "As much as I'd like ta lie to ya, yer a smart girl and ya'll figure it out. It's real. I'm sorry ya had to see that. Stay with your sister at all times, aright?"

Laura seemed to be right on the money and handling it better than the others, hell, even the girl looked like she was contemplating the possibilities. For now though, Logan could only stare on ahead, viewing the dangling bodies in the distance... before he noted the Swede's actions. What was he doing? Never mind that, Oroku's words caught his attention.

"I haven't practiced sneakin' around for years, Saki. Ya know about me, ya should know I spent my years traveling then cooped up in a dojo. Maybe it's passable, could be like riding a bike. But the important thing ya better realize is I ain't leaving the kids here by themselves."

@C.T. @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Ringmaster @OrlandoBloomers @Krieg​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

As ardent as she normally was, Yang's warning was less an order and more a quiet plea. She could wish otherwise as much as she wanted. There was nothing she could do to stop Ruby from looking; and honestly, even if there was... Yeah, because ignoring a huge gigantic problem always did so much good. This was crazy and messed-up and awful but it was a thing that was happening and to pretend it wasn't just would've been even more dangerous, so... she had to look. And Yang had to let her.

Which wasn't to say she didn't hate everything about this, because she totally did. It was just the way things were now. They could let it push them around and probably die horribly at some point or they could stand up to it and keep on going, and she knew which option she preferred. Stupid apocalypse... they were not letting this beat them.

They were gonna beat it.

She quietly fell in beside Ruby, at a complete loss for what to say in spite of whatever shaky internal bravado she might've been conjuring. Ugh. Why couldn't she think of anything? What bad joke or heartfelt reassurance could possibly make this any better? After a moment, she settled for just reaching down to take her sister's smaller hand in her own, regarding her with eyes that seemed far less alive than usual before closing them, sighing, and letting her head droop to lean against Ruby's. Maybe she sucked at her job, but she really had nothing else; honestly, this was as much a comforting gesture for Yang herself as she hoped it was for her sis. This, all of it, it was just... more than she was equipped to handle. Way more.

It was another few seconds of silence before she finally spoke up again, addressing the others as a whole.

"There's... there's only one question we need to be asking right now. Who's going in and who's staying?"

She opened her eyes to flick them around expectantly, the purple pupils going to Dean, Laura, Logan, leopard guy, helmet guy and the Swede in turn as she squeezed Ruby's hand.

"Anyone can be a little sneaky, fellas, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say whoever did this prob'ly already knows we're here. The road through town's all cluttered up, and there's nothing good waiting if we go back the way we came, so... I think we should split up into two groups. One checks out the hotel, the other keeps watch here and cleans up the road for when the rest get back. There's a bunch of us, so dividing by two doesn't really hurt the whole "safety in numbers" thing, and no offense to anyone but I think things might get a little tight if we all go marching into the three-story backwoods hotel with our guns out like the local redneck rally. Plus we need the road clear if we're ever gonna get the cars through, and I'm not so big on the idea of jogging all the way to California."

She took a deep breath and shrugged, one hand running through her curly blonde locks.

"So. Who's going and who's staying?"

At the end of the day, her answer was simple. She was going wherever Ruby went.

@Schnee Corp Lawyer @C.T. @Ringmaster @Krieg @Jeremi @Ivazel @Indolent @the rest​

 

[Krieg]

Meanwhile, as the exiles from Salt Lake City huddled outside the confines of the El Rancho Hotel, a certain hockey-stick survivor would be greeted with the sight of more and more Infected beginning to swarm towards him. Once again, an unusually large proportion of these Infected were nothing more than shambling corpses, barely able to support their bodies underneath their malnourished state. However, there were a few exceptions, as some Commoners broke into their deadly, murderous sprint, flailing and foaming at the mouth. Still, given a little experience and a rush of adrenaline, they should pose no normal issues for Dave. However, if he so choose, he could retreat to the only exit and entrance to the facility, getting back onto the streets for a more open combat environment.

Outside of that, his two options still rested before him, and faintly, he could hear the creaking of rope and the soft, unsettling cracking of bone from the multitude of mutilated, disfigured carcasses hanging freely off the rooftops of Wells, Nevada.

For the main group, the option rested if they wished to split into two groups. The blockade of rubble from crashed buildings and other debris was narrow enough to allow people through if they so desired, but judging by the El Rancho Hotel, a more comfortable, and arguably less risky path awaited them. Still, if the survivors choose, they could be united through the hotel, or divided, breaking up into teams to scout and scurry this abandoned hub of smalltown civilization. The choice rested in their hands, and for those standing outside, no choice could be better made as they hear Infected becoming disgruntled in the hotel, being urged on by something (unaware of Dave's presence).

In the faint distance, between all of these crucial decisions, sounds began to echo against the beaming skies of Nevada, rattling off the endless sea of sand and dust. These sounds, faint although, sounded like music of sorts, very harsh and brutal music to be exact. However, it was hard to tell any sort of beat or rhythm, as if its echos masked it's lone identity. If anything, the only notable trait of it was the fact it seemed to originate around the town square of Wells, directly pass the El Rancho Hotel and wall of rubble blocking the vehicles. Not only that, but given the hung corpses, it undoubtedly proved that someone, something, or some people were inhabiting this village still.

They were not alone, far from it.

@Atomyk @OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @T.O.M. @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi
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[Ringmaster]

Logans response while not unexpected, was at the same time illuminating. He kept that in mind as he nodded reluctantly.

"Your worries are honorable. Though I suspect they have their own ideas and desires to assist."

Yang and her words and Lauras actions for example coming to mind. Shredder would follow immediately, his posture shifting in midwalk as he cautiously, followed in a silent side step. If there was anyone here? He at least would stay out of sight, as he used available cover and watched for movement.

@Krieg @Indolent @C.T. @Anyone else

 

[Jeremi]

Meanwhile, as the exiles from Salt Lake City huddled outside the confines of the El Rancho Hotel, a certain hockey-stick survivor would be greeted with the sight of more and more Infected beginning to swarm towards him. Once again, an unusually large proportion of these Infected were nothing more than shambling corpses, barely able to support their bodies underneath their malnourished state. However, there were a few exceptions, as some Commoners broke into their deadly, murderous sprint, flailing and foaming at the mouth. Still, given a little experience and a rush of adrenaline, they should pose no normal issues for Dave. However, if he so choose, he could retreat to the only exit and entrance to the facility, getting back onto the streets for a more open combat environment.

Outside of that, his two options still rested before him, and faintly, he could hear the creaking of rope and the soft, unsettling cracking of bone from the multitude of mutilated, disfigured carcasses hanging freely off the rooftops of Wells, Nevada.

For the main group, the option rested if they wished to split into two groups. The blockade of rubble from crashed buildings and other debris was narrow enough to allow people through if they so desired, but judging by the El Rancho Hotel, a more comfortable, and arguably less risky path awaited them. Still, if the survivors choose, they could be united through the hotel, or divided, breaking up into teams to scout and scurry this abandoned hub of smalltown civilization. The choice rested in their hands, and for those standing outside, no choice could be better made as they hear Infected becoming disgruntled in the hotel, being urged on by something (unaware of Dave's presence).

In the faint distance, between all of these crucial decisions, sounds began to echo against the beaming skies of Nevada, rattling off the endless sea of sand and dust. These sounds, faint although, sounded like music of sorts, very harsh and brutal music to be exact. However, it was hard to tell any sort of beat or rhythm, as if its echos masked it's lone identity. If anything, the only notable trait of it was the fact it seemed to originate around the town square of Wells, directly pass the El Rancho Hotel and wall of rubble blocking the vehicles. Not only that, but given the hung corpses, it undoubtedly proved that someone, something, or some people were inhabiting this village still.

They were not alone, far from it.

@Atomyk @OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @T.O.M. @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi
​

Armor King had made his decision and he hoped that the rest of them agreed with him. "Divide and death will come to us much easier. Luck might grant us a possibility if we investigate the hotel." He didn't wait for any disagreements, he was no leader and they could think for themselves. With heavy steps and his shotgun ready Armor King would make his way to the entrance of the hotel and push the door open.

@Atomyk @OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @T.O.M. @Indolent @Ringmaster @C.T. @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Krieg​

 

[Indolent]

Whenever the grizzled Canadian eyed Yang, oft it was memories of his time training her that flooded into place; the giggling of a little girl that livened his day as she learned the basics to the final lessons, with the girl repleted by a strong young woman. Much as he'd liked, with the utter compulsion derived from his history with the blonde, Howlett knew he couldn't babysit her 24/7. Not his job, it never was; he'd already done right by the lady, taught her most of what he knew. Needless to say, there was a sense of pride for his former charge, his protege. As fucked up as the world was now, he still had no doubt she could take care of herself, no doubt she would take care of Ruby Rose.

Though if she ever asked for it, he'd gladly render his assistance and bring all that he could bear against whatever mired her. For the things that mattered, it required no less than your best effort he thought.

That aside, there was another point of concern, another girl he'd consider taking to watching over, perhaps uninvited. Yet there was a sense of kinship with Laura, something about her. Logan didn't bother paying much mind to the minor details, especially not now with the current situation, with the girl going for the hotel.

With Oroku Saki, the Shredder, at her back.

No way in hell. Forget his history, bloody as it was, the Shredder was worse than he'd ever be and that alone merited keeping a close eye on the Yakuza. Suffice to say, Howlett had more than enough reason to tag along, to keep an eye on Laura, and by extension, on Saki.

"Right, I'll go with Laura. I'd like ta stay with ya Fireball but ya don't need me to watch over ya. You got lil' Ruby to take care of. That and I don't trust Shreddy there, not his biggest fan. Not with what I know, not that I wanna share. It ain't pleasant stuff, stuff I wouldn't dare spill even after a series of hard liquor. That bad," A sharp sniffle followed, as Logan brushed the base of his nose with weathered knuckles.

"Gimme a moment so I can get out the ammunition I collected fer ya girls; I'll take the rest since the leftovers'll just be for Laura's gun."

With surprising ease Logan fished out the magazines and extraneous bullets, moving quickly. That was if Yang and Ruby weren't coming along. Well, if they were... cue sheepish, if rough, look from the short yet stout fella. Soon as the others took them he'd depart posthaste, making sure to keep up with the black haired girl, while casually tossing Saki the hairy eye.

"Well, onward to stoppin' the wicked. A shame it's come ta this," Logan muttered, while fishing for one of his cigars. Not to light but to chew on, a lit source inside would've just coerced unwanted attention, though that might've been moot since it seemed common knowledge that they were here.

@C.T. @Ringmaster @OrlandoBloomers @Schnee Corp Lawyer @AnyoneElseIMissed





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[Chewy Rabbits]

I wasn't really sure what had come over me. Was it fear? Had everything that had happened finally registered with me? I killed the guy who was supposed to drive me out of this mess. Suppose there wasn't much choice given he was just a few moments away from trying to claw my face off but stuff like that doesn't fade away easily. Then the whole cluster of shit I've gotten myself knee deep in after meeting up with these guys. For all the wars I'd covered, I clamed up. Didn't say much until we arrived at what I guess is our destination to be. Didn't exactly seem too inviting. But given everything that's happened, finding a place where you're not set upon by hordes of people that want to tear you limb from limb? Almost anything would seem desirable in comparison.

As I made my way closer, every inch of my body began to shudder. The sights you heard about in war were often exaggerated. Often to make the other side seem more like monsters or something. It helped garner public sympathy. But this..This was just messed up. Shakily reaching for my camera, I snapped a quick photo. If just to confirm that no, my eyes weren't just having a seriously messed up prank pulled on them.

"Ugh!"

After seeing the photo, my first inclination would have been to just delete it. But my body had other plans on the menu. Turning away from the group, I ended up wretching for what felt like a good long while. Just some sights you can stomach and others you can't. That just so happened to be one of them. Still, for as messed up as it was? If I just stayed out here puking my guts out, I'd likely end up far worse off. Maybe even hanging up by my ankles like those poor guys. Wiping away whatever strands of vomit lingered on my lips, I headed off after Armor King. Guy may have wore a mask but he still seemed to have a pretty good head on his shoulders.

@Jeremi @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Indolent @OrlandoBloomers @C.T. @Kaykay @Krieg @Ringmaster​

 

[C.T.]

Logans response while not unexpected, was at the same time illuminating. He kept that in mind as he nodded reluctantly.

"Your worries are honorable. Though I suspect they have their own ideas and desires to assist."

Yang and her words and Lauras actions for example coming to mind. Shredder would follow immediately, his posture shifting in midwalk as he cautiously, followed in a silent side step. If there was anyone here? He at least would stay out of sight, as he used available cover and watched for movement.

@Krieg @Indolent @C.T. @Anyone else

Not quite the backup I had hoped for, but appreciated nevertheless. She thought, nodding at Shredder--
​

With Oroku Saki, the Shredder, at her back.

No way in hell. Forget his history, bloody as it was, the Shredder was worse than he'd ever be and that alone merited keeping a close eye on the Yakuza. Suffice to say, Howlett had more than enough reason to tag along, to keep an eye on Laura, and by extension, on Saki.

"Right, I'll go with Laura. I'd like ta stay with ya Fireball but ya don't need me to watch over ya. You got lil' Ruby to take care of. That and I don't trust Shreddy there, not his biggest fan. Not with what I know, not that I wanna share. It ain't pleasant stuff, stuff I wouldn't dare spill even after a series of hard liquor. That bad," A sharp sniffle followed, as Logan brushed the base of his nose with weathered knuckles.​

Her confidence in this little scouting endeavor going satisfactory shot skyward, immensely reassured by having Logan by her side. "Pleased to have you here, d--dude." She winced internally at how forced and awkward that last moment swap sounded coming out. "Your distrust is wise. We might have need of smarts like that."
​

"Well, onward to stoppin' the wicked. A shame it's come ta this," Logan muttered, while fishing for one of his cigars. Not to light but to chew on, a lit source inside would've just coerced unwanted attention, though that might've been moot since it seemed common knowledge that they were here.​

"Agreed. In a perfect world, we would not require such things. But this world's changed, even more crazy than it used to be. And the people begin to follow suit."

@Krieg @OrlandoBloomers @Indolent @Ringmaster @Josh M @Verite @Ivazel @Schnee Corp Lawyer @Kaykay @Jeremi @T.O.M.
​