Lockdown

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by OlympusBlood, Sep 17, 2014.

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  1. You've heard of the zombies. No matter how many episodes of The Walking Dead have been created, nobody was ready for the real walking dead. You've been raised in a small village that was recently invaded. Not by zombies, by zombie exterminators. You know everybody around. You've all gone to the same school, or maybe you're a bit older, and you work in the busier places: the shops or maybe you're a bus driver. Who knows.

    ((Your character must be 13 or older))
     
  2. Maybe it'd be better, they said. Maybe you'd cheer up, they said. Maybe it'll give you independence, they said.

    All that Bart could do was sigh and brush his black hair out of his face as Mags, as she was commonly called by everyone who knew her, reloaded their guns. They weren't related but were often mistakes for being so.

    "Stupid zombies coming here," she muttered, shooting out a pathway. She was slightly nuts now that everything had gone wrong. Bart ran through, ducking. Watching zombie films was nothing like being in one. Except this wasn't a film.
     
  3. (Salina Beau, age 16)
    Zombies. Salina loved everything about that word, especially those demented monsters who lost a grip of reality a long time ago. But she hated to kill the zombies. Every time she saw one die, she wanted to rip her hair out, and sacrifice herself for them.


    Today, she was on an adventure with her "friend" Bart.

     
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  4. "Hey, where's Salina?" Mags said when they were took back inside. They didn't call it lockdown for a reason.
    "Oh yeah. Forgot," Bart strugged. "Hey, Salina? You coming to spill some undead blood?"
     
  5. Salina looked down at her shoes, that were ripped apart by zombies. She stuck out her tongue. "Hell yeah, I'm coming!"
     
  6. "Right. This sucks but...where's all the x-boxes now?" Bart snatched one of the guns from Mags, and began shooting a zombie on the other side of the fence. Mags, being the braver of the two, began climbing up the fence that protected them.
     
  7. Salina watched, as Bart shot a zombie. She was disgusted, as she saw the guts of the zombie fly out. My babies!
     
  8. "Come on! Help me out!" Bart groaned. He didn't get her head. She was weird. Mags was crazy but at least she hated the brain eating things.

    On the subject of Mags, she had gone to shoot some zombies when she was ambushed.
    "Forget me, help Mags!"
     
  9. There's a small mob of rotting, shuffling once-men making their way down a narrow road of the village.

    If this fact is of concern to Lumm, the stick-thin sixteen year-old they're shuffling towards, she's not really showing it.

    Hell, you could probably make an argument that she's encouraging it, given the chunky boom box dangling from one hand that's belting out Iron Maiden's 'The Trooper'.

    As the monsters advance, Lumm slowly moves back. The expression on her face floats somewhere betwixt irritation and indifference, nary to leave either. As Bruce Dickinson belts out the song from the boom box, Lumm leads the creatures down an alleyway coming off from the road like the most fucked up interpretation of the pied piper you've ever seen.

    Dead end, wire fence cutting off escape.

    Doesn't really seem like the action of someone bent on self-preservation, but Lumm doesn't seem overly phased by this.

    Reaching the back of the alley, she cuts Dickinson off mid-scream and deposits the boom box on the ground. A few more of the undead have joined the trio at the mouth of the alley, and are slowly but incessantly bearing down upon her. Next to where she stands, a scavenged lever device has been hastily embedded into the wall, a complex mess of wire and tubing running out from it and up the brickwork. Lumm waits next to it casually, until the monsters coming for her move over a spot on the alley floor marked with an X in spray paint.

    Then, with a casual motion, she tugs the lever down.

    Seemingly out of nowhere, a battered old truck held up by an improvised pulley system comes rocketing down from above like a rusty Sword of Damocles, slamming into the mob of zombies and mashing them against the asphalt. All but one of them are crushed instantly, but the final was just for forward enough to only half it's bottom half caught under the truck. With a shrug, Lumm unslings a sawn-off shotgun from her back and wanders forwards casually, placing the barrel of the weapon against the trapped creature's head. Her expression doesn't change as she squeezes the trigger.

    In the ringing silence that follows the blast, Lumm withdraws a handheld tape recorder from the pocket of her cargo shorts, holding it up to her mouth.
    "Grigori Device Mark 2 a success," she notes, her voice almost as unenthusiastic as her expression. She looks over at the crumpled wreck of the truck that's now blocking the alley. "Not entirely sure how to explain what happened to the car to dad, though."

    Lumm shrugs. "Will cross that bridge when I come to it."
     
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  10. Mags tried to scramble back up and successfully reached the top. "Note to self: never go across the gate," she announced. Up there she saw a girl, "Hey, remember Lumm? She's over there!" Mags shot the zombies below her before jumping down.

    She landed badly. "Oowwww."
     
  11. The scene unfolding before Salina's eyes amused her, to say the least. Mags? Yeah, more like old Hags.
    She deserved it, Salina thought, not pitying the girl one bit.
     
  12. Bart frowned at both the girls. "I will never understand girls..." He pulled himself up, "Come on Salina!" before also noticing Lumm. "Hey! Lumm! Hey it's me! Bart!" he called out, before jumping more professionally down to Mags and giving Salina the thumbs up. "I'm fine," Mags was insistent as she opened a flask and downed the liquid inside, "Now I'm fine."
     
  13. As Mags comes careering over the fence and into the alley she's been using as an improv testing centre, Lumm snaps around with the sawn-off at the ready. Upon seeing that the new arrival is decidedly still breathing, however, the weapon lowers.
    “Interesting fact for you,” Lumm informs the girl in a tone so bored it could put mathematics professors to sleep, “the majority of deaths after the initial outbreak actually came from injuries sustained from stunts like that. Jump a fence, hop a wall, you mess your ankle up.” She turns back to the wreck of a truck that she's just created, “Rather hard to outrun the undead with a damaged leg. I tried to calculate the odds once. Not high.”

    Another body manages to jump the fence, and Lumm spies a third figure on the other side as well. She grunts by way of greeting, moving over to the rigged-up contraption she's set up on the alley's wall. “I propose we get off the streets. Likely going to be awash with walking corpses soon, what with all the noise. Best we can hope for is that other townsfolk distract them, keep them away from here.” Reaching into the messenger bag at her side and slinging the sawn-off over her back again, Lumm retrieves a well-used flathead screwdriver and pries off the panel of the central piece. “Possible to reverse the motor's direction if things are swapped around a bit. We can use the truck to get up onto the roofs.”

    Lumm turns about to the other three and frowns, as though something is only just registering with her. “Tell Salina to get over here quickly. She will find it difficult to get on the truck from behind there. Besides,” she notes as she turns back to the motor, “Safety in numbers. They say. I've yet to see the stats on that, and I'm not entirely sure who they are.”
     
  14. "Hey you used to be fun," scoffed Mags, but still she glared at Selina, get over here or else. Bart sighed, he wanted to explain it: Mags lost her marbles. He didn't think she felt anything. Anyway, this was her freedom. Her parents were dead. Bart's father was still alive, which sucked. He wasn't sure who was scary, zombie or father? After all, Mags was scary enough. She'd laugh every time he'd asked the question. Call him names. Tease him. Not like an eighteen year old at all. Not even like a fifteen year old like him. No, Mags wasn't mature in that way.
     
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