Operation Code Name: Down Pour

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Dreaded Sonata, Jun 25, 2014.

  1. USADR (United States Army Department of Research)

    LOCATION: UG 819 (Underground Station 819)

    TIME: 03:30 (3:30 AM)

    DATE: APR 3, 2014



    As the recording flared on the screen Dr. Elwood sighed deeply. "This is day six with the new serum. Mortality rate has lessened, however agression is on the raise." His gaze shifted slowly to his left as a thougtful look crosses his aging face. He slide his hand through his mid length Graying hair. "I am requesting more subjects. Perhaps overhauling the program, and starting over with insects once more is our best option. These rats seem too large a leap. This is Dr. Elwood signing off." The doctor was quick to end the video.

    As he pressed send Dr. Elwood's eyes slowly fell to his hands. He knew that his request would come with ridicule, but was sure to get his results this time.



    TIME: 19:42 (7:42 PM)

    DATE: APR 14, 2014



    Today we had a break through. Not only have the cells begun reconstruction, but have also begun mutation based on environment. I will be refering to this serum as S-382B in all future reports. Currently subjects appear to enter a catatonic state while under going cellular reconstruction. So far subject seem to develop a strengthened exoskeleton, a ten percent increase of strength, and the most intricate hive mind I have ever seen. Allow me to explain. As one subject is exposed to an untimely demise the other subjects seem to feel its "pain", and attempt to travel to its location. I will keep you up to date sir.


    TIME: 13:00 (1:00 PM)

    DATE: APR 15, 2014

    The assistant shifted in his seat. He had just pull a batch of flies whom had been infused is S-382B. To his eyes the prefectly healthy specimens were now still as death. Looking of his shoulder the young man checked to see if he was be watched. Satisfied he turned back, and gave the glass box a violent shake. "If you little shit eater don't wake up I am going to fir....... There's an idea." Quickly he moved to the waste shoot. Discreetly the man tossed the glass box inside, and returned to his work.

    As the box fell down the shoot it bounced from surface to surface. Cracking and popping the glass cage slowly broken open. By the time it reached the trash incinerator the flies had been freed. Clearing the flames some quickly fell due to heat, however a hand full had found the exhaust vent. Raising with the smoke, and heat those flies shot through the exhaust port, and into the open world. They were free, and took to the first wind. Those simple insects flew hundreds of miles carried by the wind. To a large farm before their life span ended in a feeding trough for a group of pigs. Could this be the start of something horrible. Only time would tell. Perhaps had the pigs not been eating then the event to fallow may never have come to pass.

    OK. So this is a zombie thread. My zombies however are not truely the undead. They are infected with a rapidly adaptable virus. Which can develope a means of over coming any situation. I would like the players for the most part to be in New York city. I don't have alot of rules just please at least one post a day, please shoot me a character sheet before joining, and no god modding please.

    TYPES OF ZOMBIES: check back often.

    BASIC INFECTED - Fast, but clumsy. These spread the infection through bodily fuilds. Tend to swarm, and work as one due to the shared mind.







    SKILLS: (would like at least 3)

    BIO: (Optional)

    NAME: Erick Gunler

    AGE: 20

    PROFESSION: Amateur parkor, and street artist.

    BODY TYPE: Athletic with narrow frame. 5' 10"

    APPEARENCE: Jet Black shoulder length hair tied in a pony tail. With Green eyes, and a long cut scar down his left cheek. Due to his narrow frame, and long hair Erick tend to get picked on for having a girlish look to him.

    SKILLS: Monkey (If it can be climbed it probably has been.) Mountain goat (Scaling obstacles by jumping is always fun) Slacker (Looks like you over slept again..... Oh well there is always tomorrow.) Creative (I may not know what it is, but I love it.)

    Rolling out of bed Erick looked at his clock. "Well........ I guess I'm fired." He sighed as he thought about how he could ditch his land lord till he could find another job. He fell back on his bed, and had intended to let sleep take him once more. That is until the sound of an irritable apartment manager could be heard shouting at another tenant. Grabbing the nearest shirt he flung it on while climbing out the nearest window and on to the fire escape. Six flights and he was free until tonight. He stopped, and realized he left his back pack up stairs. "Son of a." Grabbing the rail Erick spun about, and began taking the stairs two at a time hoping to get to his run down crap hole before the Middle Eastern devil of a manager kicked in his door. Coming to his window he was met with dismay as he found the window had locked itself due to the new saftly latch that he felt was put in thanks to his antics. Deciding he had no more time to linger he booked it back down the stairs, and onto the street getting soaked into the crowds. Reaching into his pockets he had hoped for his wallet, however that to was in his home. "What a great day this is going to be..."

    Just a few hours later Erick had hoped to simply swipe a few bucks to eat by simply lightening a few pockets. He never did so from the less fortunate looking lot, but these stiffs would never miss it. He found his first few pockets easy enough, and just needed a few more tens, or maybe twenty. He slide up behind a man in a suit who was leaning on a lamp post. Erick slide his hand up to try for the mans pocket when he felt the clasp of cold metal. "Well look at what I caught." Erick's hand was jurked up, and he was spun about. "Hey come on man it wasn't what you think!" The other clasp of the hand cuffs went around his other hand. "Yeah yeah yeah, let me guess you would never have done it to a cop." "Nah man I was just tryin to feel you-" He was cut off as he was forced to the ground while the officer called it in. The day moved slow from there till he got his phone call. He punched in the only number he could think of. Once he heard the voice on the other end he felt better. "Hey man..... I'm in a bitt of trouble.
  2. Nora had spent her day in a haze of boredom. The blinds to her apartment were drawn tightly shut, the lights all off; save for the azure cast by her muted television. She sat quietly on an unfolded, raged futon; eyes glued to the silent procession of a news broadcast, a cigarette between her lips. She let loose a long, groaning sigh, when her pocket vibrated plumes of gray trailing from her tongue as she finally stood; digging into her pants.

    "What's up Erick," she said, after answering the call, "where the fuck have you been-"

    "Hey man...I'm in a bit of trouble," his voice was the same as ever, but tinged with the bitterness of adversity. Nora took light steps across the room, gathering her black hoodie from the back of her reclining chair. It was a welcome reprieve from her boredom and melancholy, but having Erick in trouble, though, truly, it seemed to happen to the both of them, given their hobbies, was something that always got her anxious.

    "Damn, what happened," she threw the hoodie over her head and pressed the phone close to her face, "and where are you? Did you get hemmed up again? I told you not to go around doing stupid shit in broad daylight!" With a huff she began lacing her shoes, tilting her head against the slope of her shoulder to ensure that she could hear Erick. "...But, look, are you ok? Do I need to come get you?"

    She knew the answer, truly and was already heading out the door.
  3. Hearing her voice was calming enough. Nora was the one person he could count on through thick, and thin. "Damn, what happened?" A fair question after all. "Well... I kinda groped a cop. It's kinda a long story." Looking over his shoulder with dread the officer whom had arrested him was simply leaning in an inpatient manner. In hindsight perhaps this was a horrible idea. 'Man if you would just GO SOMEWHERE. Capt. Hunt would drop this, and I could get back to that bastard of a landlord.' "and where are you? Did you get hemmed up again? I told you not to go around doing stupid shit in broad daylight!" The statement snapped him back to the pay phone. He could hear her huffing, and rustling about. "I'm at the station," Erick peered over his shoulder again. Still there, so he began to whisper. "and I can't find Capt. Hurt."

    The officer came, and stood next to Erick. Surely a reaction from the hushed tone. Erick was not one to be put off by an officer, however this particular gentleman had a look that could to say the least kill. The officer saw that Erick was on edge from him just walking over. Could see him staring a hole into him. the whole while Erick just had a slack jawed look on his face. "Is there a problem?"

    Before he could answer Erick heard Nora on the phone. "...But, look, are you ok? Do I need to come get you?" Breaking the soul piercing stare of the officer he tried to regain his his voice. "N...no .. I'm well... I just...." 'Wow...... just wow Erick. Such calm.... Much composure' He laughed at his own thought before the officer grabbed the phone from his hand, and forced the call to end. "Strike two dumb ass get walking." He all but shoved Erick towards an open room for questioning. "Hey.... HEY! Don't shove me I didn't even get my whole phone call!" Erick stumbled, and turned with balled fists.

    Again hindsight, a horrible idea as a near by officer forced him to the ground, and put cuffs on him. "Oh, this is just golden. I feel like I'm going to make my quota just off you." In truth Erick was going to hit the smug SOB. He had every intention of breaking his nose. I mean it would just take one solid hit to wipe that smug look off his face. As the officers "kindly" helped Erick to his feet they forced him to an empty room, and that's when the clattering of the taser started.


    The downtown hospital had been in a rush to the afternoon. People collapsing in the streets, people passing out while driving, and what appears to be a wide spread coma cause illness everywhere you looked. What's worse is it all happened at once. The whole city seemed to be getting sick, and Then it happened. As a nurse was tending to one of these so called Coma victims she noticed his head move. Moving in closer for the chart she read his name. "Mister Adams? Mister Adams are you okay?" See turned but for a moment. "I need a doct-" She was cut off as "Mister Adams" grabbed her by the hair, and bit into the side of her face. He pulled meat, and veins away. To him she was no of no concern at this point. He leapt from the bed as the nurse fell screaming to the floor. Landing the man wasted no time in his next attack.

    The staff taking quick notice attempted to take action, but no one expected the other patients to begin the same behavior. The staff one by one was bitten, mauled, killed, or sent running as the trauma center filled with patients who seemed to be in a blood lust. As they moved through the hospital infecting everything in their path the hordes numbers went from few to many. From many to hundreds. Outside on the street those that had yet to receive add began to raise. Attacks were happening everywhere, and it seemed there was no where to hide.
  4. Groped a cop, she mused with a heavy sigh, are you fucking serious, Erick?

    "N...no .. I'm well... I just...."

    "Captain Hunt...I'm sure he's around there, somewhere. Look, I'm on my way, just sit-"

    She rolled the name from her tongue with a deep sense of familiarity, perhaps even with some fondness, before the conversation was cut short. Nora glanced down at the phone, expecting to hear the chime that accompanied a dropped call; but, no, it merely indicated that the call had been ended. Nora cocked and eyebrow and shoved the device back into her pocket, slinging her apartment door open and bolting out into the street.

    It was as she expected it to be, outside. Overcast and busy. People moved in throngs, going about their lives like ants spread across a great, abandoned picnic; each taking a small piece as they went. Nora put her heels to the concrete and kept a low profile, opting to walk the eight blocks to the police station. Which, really, had always been a manner of convenience for Captain Russel Hunt; who was something of a caregiver to the 'misdirected youth'. Mostly, that meant, at least to Nora, that he saw potential in some of the kids from around there and took time from his day to look after them. She considered how long she had known Hunt as she slid by a group of businessfolk and down an alley that cut a little closer to where she needed to be. A couple of vagrants turned their eyes up at her passing, but managed only to mumble in her direction before she had moved beyond them.

    "Wait, what," she whispered, stopping at the brick lips of the alley, leaning forward to peer out into the street.

    It was a scream, echoing from far down the road. Nora leaned a little more, trying to focus on the noise. Faint and distant, but still discernible; car alarms and a muted scream. Everything looked normal, so far as she could see, but she wouldn't take time to let whatever was going on slow her down. She broke into a sprint, remembering that Erick was still waiting on her. The troubles of others could wait, for now. The cityscape passed by in a blur as she cut her path carefully through refuse strewn allies and paint-stained brick corridors.

    Soon, she was standing at the doors of the police station; catching her breath with a half a cigarette she'd picked up from the ashtray. Strangely, it seemed that the noise had been growing steadily louder since she'd passed through the first alley.


    Cowboy opened his eyes, slowly, squinting against the florescent glare. His mouth was coated with a film of bile and his eyes fought desperately to close once more. He straightened himself, first, then adjusted his jacket; let loose a long, sharp whistle as he did. Instinctively, he searched for the familiar weight at his hip; but consciously knew that it had been taken a couple of hours ago by one Captain Hunt. Most of the time, he would've fought them; would've pulled the guns on those rotten sons of bitches. But, hell, he'd been too drunk and too tired to put up much of a fight. That didn't mean Cowboy didn't try to fight them with his fists, it just meant that he didn't riddle them with holes. He vaguely recalled catching one of them in the jaw, a fellow with a real mean look on his face and a taser in his hands.

    "No handcuffs," he mumbled, standing from his seat in the room, "well I'll be damned, must be gettin' outta here soon."

    He stretched, issuing a groan to accompany the series of cracks that rolled down his shoulders and spine. Twisting his neck from one side to the other produced another series of cracks, followed by a grunt as he made his way to the door and tapped his heavy boot against it a few times. There was no immediate response from outside, but Cowboy thought he heard the rustling of papers. He stood there, for a long moment, tapping his boot against the door every ten or fifteen seconds before finally kicking it in earnest. Somewhere, down the hall, he heard a door slam and hurried footsteps in his direction.

    "Look here, bastards, I ain't got all day!"

    His foot flew through the air again and connected solidly with the door, a resounding echo moving through the room. He turned and moved to take his seat, propping his feet up on the table and leaning back in the chair; entertaining thoughts of rum and whiskey and a quiet night on the road.

    "Hell," he muttered with great bitterness, "I just need a drink."
  5. Capt. Hunt was lost in shifting through the paper work of the day. More cases were on their way in seemly faster then he could review them. 'Possession, possession, possession..... Oh look another possession... We need a better system for this. Perhaps color coding.' He looked up through the window to his office. The blinds were open so that all could see he was at his desk. Hunt watch as the phones seemed to begin ringing faster then dispatch could answer them. 'Hmmm.... seems like an eventful day after all.' He noticed Detective Miller by the pay phones. Looking down at the files he took note that a large number of the files labeled POSSESSION were his. He also took note that the amount for the time of the month was rather high.

    Capt. Hunt began to set Detective Miller's file to the side, and was about to call for him when he heard a clanging from the speaker he had set up to listen in on the detained. Assuming that the officer over seeing the cells would do his job quickly he began to put the rest of his paper work in a drawer. The tapping continued at a rate that was distracting the more, and more it was heard. He sat his elbows on his desk, and scanned the room for the officer in charge. Hunt could see that the man was clearly more interested in flirting with their new dispatch girl. The dispatch girl who was clearly attempting to do her job while taking little interest in him. *BANG* That was it. Capt. Hunt shot up from his desk, grabbed his keys, and rushed out of his office slamming the door exceptionally hard. "Won't have to worry for your job long Collins if this keeps up!" He yelled at the young inexperienced casanova. Whom jumped to his feet, and hurried towards the Captain. "No! I'll get it. Wouldn't want to bother your busy day. I would recommend that you be in a patrol car before I get back." He didn't even turn to watch what the man did.

    Down the hall to holding he knew of at least three currently being kept. One was a man who seemed to have had way too much to drink from this morning. That man had yet to wake up, and the thought had crossed the Captain's mind to send him to the hospital if the officer hadn't been so sure the man was simply drunk. The other was a trouble making drifter who Hunt had taken to calling "Cowboy". The man's real name was Jack Durante, and had been in town for what seemed like six months now. Hunt was known to buy the man a few drinks on occasion, and enjoyed the Cowboy's company. Other then drinking more then a man should he rarely ever caused too much trouble. This time however the discharge of a firearm was involved, and a bar fight including a handful of his officers..... 'Detective Miller was involved too.' Hunt thought while walking.

    Arriving at the cell door Captain Hunt heard his friend mummer something about a drink. "I think you have had enough my friend. This time is alittle different with the charges against you. Maybe we should have a talk in my office what do you say?" On a normal day Hunt would have told the man he was free to go, and let it be. However he needed to prove a point. He planned to let it slide, but show him the trouble that had awaited him had it not been his men that found him. Captain Hunt opened the cell, and looked at what he considered the most misunderstood man he had ever met.


    Erick fell to the ground as the door closed, and balled up at the pain he felt. This officer clearly did not like him in any sense of the word. To make matters worse he moved to close the blinds as well. "If your just going to lay there I can use the taser again." Detective Miller chuckled to himself as Erick struggled to his feet. Miller motioned towards a chair, and with subtlety ordered Erick to sit. "I am going to turn on a recorder in a moment, and you are going to confess to all charges put against you. Understood?" Being no fool Erick knew what this was. The man wanted no answer, but being the smart ass he was he could not pass this up. "Well..... I have this weird buzzing in my ear, and may, or may not have heard a single word you said. But I can guess where this is going you having locked the door, and all. So I guess I'm ready, but I've never done it with a man before."

    Miller stood up, and slugged Erick across the face sending him to the floor chair,and all. "Listen you little shit! I making the fucking rules here. I AM THE LAW! Little shits like you don't deserve to walk these street, and once I'm done putting all of you away it'll be on smooth sailing to promotion. Now stand your ass back up, and sit in your chair." Erick hit the concrete floor with force. Enough force to rattle his head. The punch itself had made him just want to lay there, but he was now sure that he had a concussion. Knowing how this all worked with just the two of them in the room it would matter little if Erick argued police brutality to anyone. So he got up the best he could, and fell into another chair. Looking at what felt like the devil himself Erick had yet to even figure out his guy's name. "OK.... Fine I'll do it.... only can I get your name?"

    Miller hide the fact that he was pleased with himself. "Detective Miller. I will be the reason for your long stay with three hots, and a cot." He turned on the recorder, and began asking his questions.


    A newscaster arrived on scene at a police blockade. She hurried to get ready for the live feed that was about to start. The scene was of people running past the blockade screaming in terror, but the cause was yet to be seen. The eeirness of the whole thing was that besides the people running there was little else of the streets, except the sound of screams in the distance. The woman turned away from the blockade hoping to settle the uneasy feeling that rose insider her. Every one of her senses were screaming to be heard. For her to run to get as far away from what ever was down that road. "And we're live in." The cameraman held up three fingers, and counted down to one. "We are live here on Broadway, and as you can see behind me the officers of our fair city have set up a road block in hopes of containment. We have little knowledge of what has happened, but have reports of wide spread attacks. We believe it to be cause by-" She was interrupted by clatter behind her.

    In the distance as the camera zoomed in on a man running there appeared to be a large number of people flooding out of an ally way after him. He screamed inaudible words as his pursuers caught up with him. One from the mob tackled him to the ground, and took a large chunk of meat from his shoulder. Others bit into the man else where, and appeared to be feeding on him as the officers at the blockade opened fire. The reporter quickly fled off camera as the horde turned to the gun shots, and ran full stride at the group. more, and more poured out into the streets from joining ally ways, and the camera fell to the ground as it's holder screamed in shock. Hitting the ground the camera rolled, and spun just enough to see the mob surrounding the flank, and the man being torn into before the signal was cut off.