Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Anglkate, Aug 16, 2009.
Then edit everything but the date of birth out. It's pretty simple, man. :^|
in the sane world it is the sane man who prospers and thrives, in this helish new world, it is the insane who prosper, who judge what is sane, and it is the sane who are locked away, albiet by their own hands.
- Musical Score Yesterday Dont Mean Shit - Pantera
The huge Bloated corpse lurched fowards, thick strands of blood and saliva running from torn and haggard lips, down mountains of fat and muscle, revealed now that the skin had been torn away by rabid animals, before the obese infected had in turn devoured the carrion.
it half waddled half lurched on legs that did not seem able to support such bulk much longer, but the tremendously fat creature had smelled prey, had smelled food, and a sense of hunger that had been prodigious in life was now immeasurably stronger in the half dead state it found itself in.
stubby fingers reached into the darkness and a sickeningly purple/black tongue lolled between filthy, yellow and corroded teeth.
the thing groaned, though something glinted in the shadow, and the creature's eyes fixed on it.
again the flash, this time closer, along with a raspy intake of breath.
the next flash was right infront of the infected man-mountain, though the infected's head lolled back, the flesh and tendons of it's neck severed all the way to the spine.
mewling, the giant creature stumbled and fell, its pitious and dischordant cries had little effect on the figure that crept from the shadows long enough to completely sever the things head.
"thus the weak are proven to be chaff ready for the scythe" the voice, sinister, deranged and certainly insane, belonged to a tall, dishevelled man with long, dirty black hair and an even filthier beard.
his eyes were bloodshot, though even so one could see that around the tiny black specks in the centre, there was a ring of icy pale blue, these were the eyes of a vengeful madman, the eyes of a serial killer.
The cold compassionless eyes of the Corpseman.
the Corpseman Crouched, his leather trenchcoat spilling out around him, his evil looking knife clutched in a dirt encrusted fist as the unmistakeable sound of firearms broke the tense silence, since only the survivors used firearms, it was clearly not the infected, and since it was a survivor, they were either hunting infected, each other or wild animals.
in the case of the latter, that meant that the corpseman could buy, steal or find food.
his stomach growled slightly, the idea of food, even if it was a husk of bread, appealed almost as much as the idea of killing morte infected.
Thbe corpseman leaped from the shadows of the ruined skyscraper, heading off down streets that were cluttered with ruined cars, litter, things of no value and even the occasional corpse yet to be looted or devoured.
Adison walked through the streets in a swift and yet shaky pace. She was trembling and her eyes crazed with her arms crossed. She kept muttering to herself that this couldn't be happening and that this was just a bad dream. That she did not just see her parents being devoured and in there own condo. Things like that just didn't happen. She was a freak'n high school counselor and psychologist for crying out loud. Humans do not mutate like that, in fact they don't mutate at all, that's for the movies and tv shows.
This was reality this wasn't some zombie movie or tv show. This was real life. People around her were dying one by one and there was nothing she could do about. There wild animals in this city and infected people that were killing anything they could get there hands. They could get her if she wasn't care but not like she would go down without a fight. If the pepper spray didn't bother them they would sure get a wake up call from her pistol. Not that she had a lot but enough to hopefully find some more and help along the way.
She couldn't be the only one left. There had to be others like her that manage to avoid becoming infected or mauled by some wild animal. She was about to turn the corner when she stopped immediately. She could hear a soft snarl but she wasn't sure if it was a wolf or one of the infected. They sure made some interesting sounds as they devoured her parents not that she would consider that to be cool. It was disgusting beyond belief. Pulling out her pistol she stepped back cautiously. She even darted her eyes from side to side and back to make sure nothing was behind her.
Tucking herself into an alley way she peeked around the corner with her pistol ready. There was nothing for what seemed like minutes and she felt like she was going insane with each one. She just wanted something to happen. Whatever was coming up the street must've sensed her or something. Then . . .plop went a dead deer carcass followed by the wolf as it continued chewing on the remains of the deer.
Adison gave a quiet sigh relief, which was soon taken away by the unexpected attack of the infected human on the wolf, the wolf clearly stood no chance. The infected lunged for the wolfs neck and imitated the creature in a odd way. Chewing out it's neck it grabbed the wolf by it's legs and ripped them apart.
Adison covered her mouth as she slid back into the alley way and felt the tears sliding down her cheeks. This was just beyond her understanding and not what she wanted. This was supposed to be a day when she could tell her parents about her job promotion and how wonderful it was. Not seeing them dead and seeing how messed up the worlds become. This was the end of days and yet she wasn't ready to die. "This can't be the end." She said over and over with her fists clenched.
A storm was coming, that was never a good sign. The thickening smog was good sign of that, what little sun there normally was would be blotted out. Frowning, Lita hurried forward through the streets as there was a faint rumble above. Pushing her sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose a chill ran down her back as a loud cry rang out over the city. Infected...were they gathering? But they shouldn't be gathering in such an organized fashion, unless...her frown deepened.
As she was turning a corner she suddenly came to a stop as three pair of eyes stared at her from the shadows. Faint growls came forth and she could fell them looking at her, "fuck" she muttered as the three infected slowly moved forward. Shifting her gear on her shoulder, she moved her hands slowly toward her guns "three against one....that's not fair" she said with a smirk. Obviously the infected didn't get her sense of humor. They only growled at her and moved forward. She grabbed her guns and opened fire as she turned and quickly, or as quickly as she could, took off to see what she might find for shelter.
The infected Grunted and growled, prey in sight, they shambled rather awkwardly after Lita, though as she ran she heard a faint chuckle, followed by the sound of something flying swiftly through the air, the next two sounds were wet and sickly, if she turned she would have seen the Lead infected whip backwards into teh air, blood leaking from a bloody rent all around it's neck, dark polluted blood spilled out and the thing mewled in some twisted imitation of pan, a glint of silver flew back into the darkness, and one of the two remaining infected turned to the dark, growling hungrily.
The beast could see him, the Corpseman Knew it, but he didnt care, for there were only three weaklings, a paltry task, and their deaths would sweeten his afternoon, though with a flash of a grin, the manic Vagabond knew that as night fell, the true hunt would begin, and that the flesh of the weak would be torn asunder, their tainted blood spilt.
But that was for later, his mental Soliloquy all but over in milliseconds, during which time the infected had made up its mind and moved to turn back around.
"And thus the weak proove their place as chaff before the scythe" he muttered, leaping from one shadow to the next, chasing down his prey, a long, serrated and alltogether sinister looking knife clutched in his hands, the blade catching the light every time the Corpseman crossed it.
Closer and closer the flashes came, until at last the Infected that trailed it's partner, still chasing Lita fell, some dark shadow plowing into it with yet another flash of reflected light and a gargled moan, the infected fell silent and the shadow melted back into teh growing darkness, a savage chuckle erupted from the darkness, though it mutated into cackling laughter, which echoed from one side of the street to the other, before after about five minutes from the time she had seen the three infected, the last released it's death rattle, a silver knife, now drenched in blood ripped free of it's throat and it's weilder, a man who looked as though he had lived on the streets for years before the Horror began, his clothes tattered and frayed at the edges, his beard matted with dirt sweat and blood still stooped in a crouch, knife held in filthy white knuckles looked at Lita, his eyes seeming to shine from within a mask of dirt and grime
"Why run from the weak when the weak can give chase? better to end their existence than to join them in their misery" he said, almost chiding, the tone of his voice was mostly even, but it sounded dark and almost like a primal growl.
She didn't dare look back, not even after the dark laughter began. Everything else she just let happen, it wasn't her place to see or know what was going on. Her only focus was escape and survival. If the infected were waylaid while she was running so be it, by whatever force of nature was dealing with them. In this twisted time the mind was the limitation. The air became cooler as she went, her breath condensing before her, and the hair on her arms sticking up.
Whatever was going on was happening fast. She'd only been running for about five minutes before the complete silence took over. Once or twice she thought she caught the quick glint of some light off a metal object, but now was not the time to freak out. Keeping her cool she slowed her footsteps a moment before turning to see that she was once again alone in the middle of the streets. Breathing heavily her eyes came upon the death of the last infected. A ragged man who reminded her of some serial killer from the olden days when things were normal.
His clothes were tattered and frayed at the edges, his beard matted with dirt sweat and blood, and a bloody knife was held in filthy white knuckles. The man, if that's truly what he was, peered at her with dark eyes that held a glimmer of some sort. As if a malicious ghost from the past were speaking to her, his lips moved to form words, "Why run from the weak when the weak can give chase? Better to end their existence than to join them in their misery."
Lita remained silent and still as she watched the man/thing with curious and guarded eyes. The meat and other belongings were slung over her shoulder as if she were just passing by, which she was. Making up her mind she suddenly drew her gun and aimed it at him, her sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose some in the process, "I don't know if you will be friend or foe...if you are friend then fine but if I deem you foe then I will end you. Now who are you, and how long have you been in this city?" she demanded firmly.
The woman was strong, no doubting that, and the Corpseman grinned like a hungry predator
"Wether i be freind or foe is related to wether you be weak or strong, though you seem to have much strength when it comes to verbal jousting, whether tht extends to exterminating the weak......that remains to be seen" His voice sounded like some fantasy villan, cold, calculating but at the same time a gruff monotone, devoid of all emotion
"As to your questions, i have hunted these streets longer than the weak have stumbled from their cess pits, though their arrival provided a higher sport, their deaths are my symphony, their blood my paints and this city my canvas, with each of their deaths the strong come closer to prevailing over the weak, with each strike one can create a masterpeice, one day, he who stalks the darkness will triumph over it who hides in death" The Corpseman's mannerisms were eccentric to say the least, his eyes, mouth and hands seeming to twitch with mroe vicour the longer they were in the light of the street lamp, his entire body, swathed in tattered and filthy 'clothes' though the amount of blood and dirt that caked the clothing gave no smell, it made the man seem like some kind of vagrant butcher, though Lita knew that the blood was not that of an animal, but rather that of the infected.
Rising to his full hight, the Corpseman grinned as he stood, the movement revealing that he was of average hight and his shoulders were broad, but not excessively so, through tears and ragged holes in his clothing, Lita could see that his body was made up of corded muscle, that his fram was large, and that almost all of it looked like that of an animal, his eyes, they were his most disturbing feature, for although they were human, in the shadow his eyes looked like the twinlking black pits of a great white shark.
Maggie searched frantically around the reception desk, pulling open drawers and emptying shelves. She paused only to pull curly brown hair from her eyes, and to glance towards the lobby doors, where the shadow was looming. With each second a violent slam echoed through the building.
Something was trying to get inside.
Opposite the reception desk, Maggie's daughter stood trembling. Barely 16, Laura's blonde hair was tied up and her skinny frame wrapped in a flea-bitten coat. She winced as their pursuer threw himself against the door again. "Mum, what are we doing? Mum...!"
"Just hold on, baby!" said Maggie, almost out of breath. Pulling open a final drawer, she reached inside and seized a room key, holding it up in the failing electric light. "Room 204. Come on!!"
She scrambled over the counter and grabbed her daughter's hand, fleeing with her down the corridor just as the hotel doors burst open. A savage growl echoed after them, and Laura screamed. Maggie's heart thumped as she pulled her daughter through the door to the stairwell.
The women hadn't slept for days, and their clothes were scuffed and stained. The cold sweat of adrenaline poured down their bodies as they clambered up the hotel stairs. They had barely made the second flight when their pursuer spilled through into the stairwell, stumbling on the first step, snarling again. They could smell him... hear his ragged breath... every footfall echoing with primal terror.
"Come on!" yelled Maggie again, the maternal instinct giving her more strength than she had ever had in all their days of running and hiding. She pulled Laura through the second floor doors and into the overheated hallway. Wallpaper peeled on either side of them and lightbulbs swung between the drips of ruptured pipes.
They could hear their pursuer's footsteps on the stairs. He was getting closer...
And Laura was getting slower. She had hurt her leg a few days ago and blood was coming out through the bandage. Her mother had to almost carry her as they rounded the corner towards the hotel rooms.
Behind them, the stairwell door burst open, followed by the sound of shattering glass and snarling as their pursuer collided with the furniture.
Laura dropped, falling to her hands and knees as her lungs failed her. But Maggie didn't give up. She pulled Laura up and pushed her through the door of Room 204, pressing the key into her hands.
"Lock the door, Laura."
Her daughter turned, floods of tears and weeping makeup staining her face. "Mum, no... I can't...!"
Maggie's strong hands shook her shoulders. "Laura! Lock the door! I love you."
And with that, Maggie stepped back into the corridor, smashing a nearby cabinet and wrenching a fire-axe from the wall. Whimpering in grief and terror, Laura pushed the door closed and turned the key in the lock, collapsing against the door as she wept.
A horrifying chorus of noise began in the corridor. Laura heard her mother's furious cry, then the shout of her pursuer. There were sounds of struggle, a weight behing thrown between the walls of the corridor. Then her mother's scream, shrill and deafening, cut brutally short by the thundering roar of a gunshot.
Laura put a hand to her mouth, stifling all breath and sound, eyes wide and face pale as she heard her mother's body hit the ground.
For a moment there was silence, then Laura screamed as her mother's killer threw himself against the door once, twice, a third time. The handle jiggled up and down, and the man grunted. Laura crawled back against the far wall of the room, praying for the door to hold.
Then there came another sound... one she was not expecting. The faint and high-pitched bleeping of a digital watch.
The slamming stopped, and the shadow beneath the doorframe became still.
And a soft voice spoke from the corridor. "I'm sorry, Laura."
The girl's hand lowered from her mouth, followed by a stream of drool. She tired to speak, but the sound only came out in a guttural groan. "Mum..." She clutched her stomach as pain shot through her abdomen, and as she rolled over on the floor she wretched painfully.
"I'm so sorry," said the voice from the corridor.
Laura wretched again, her blood running cold and the hairs on her arms and legs raising. Her heart pounded erratically, and she could now only hear the blood rushing in her ears. Another groan tore from her lungs, and her mouth became filled with bile and saliva.
And the wound on her leg... it no longer hurt.
Back in the corridor, Daniel Conway slipped the clip from his pistol and lowered his head, turning off the alarm on his digital watch. As the sounds of Laura's transformation filled the hotel room, he turned and stepped over Maggie's body. The young man holstered the gun and pulled his leather coat tighter, heading back to the stairwell.
He was too late. He had lost another two companions and now... he was alone again.
Lita wasn't sure to be relieved that there was another survivor, or repelled by the way the man looked before her. Then again, had she not witnessed worse in her years of life? Sighing, she lowered her gun, but she didn't holster it just yet. Pushing her sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose, "you are a strange man then...but it seems your intelligent so you must not be infected yet." Sighing, she finally holstered her gun as she turned and began to walk again. Since she wasn't being hunted down anymore she could head for her real shelter, though she doubted she'd make it there before the storm started, but it would have to do.
"There's a storm coming...I can offer you shelter in repayment for your assistance." Even as she spoke there was the distant rumble as the clouds continued to roll in from what seemed like all sides. It was going to be a storm to remember, but if she was safe it wouldn't matter. Keep them out, and stay where it was safe until it all passed. That was the key. As the thought crossed her mind, she kept her eyes out for any weapons shop they might pass on the way back. It wouldn't hurt to stock up on a few things while out, "what is it that I should call you by besides you, dirty old man, or just person?" Obviously she wasn't big on idle chit chat and got straight to the point with what she wanted to ask or say. Why dance around it in a time like this? That was her theory.
With the previous encounter, she also had new data to work with. She would need to get back so she could enter the data and continue her search to find a cure or an end to all of this. The movements and group activity of the infected was starting to increase, and this was going to pose a higher threat. It could just be mere chance, or it could mean something else. She sure hoped that it was just chance or things were definitely going to get harder and harder as time went on.