The Day the Dead Walked (IC)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Hansi The Blind Guardian, Jan 10, 2016.

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  1. The snow fell down heavily, covering the Road as the large white van drove past the oddly empty streets of New York. It was only 4:30 AM and even then the streets shouldn't be as empty as it was. The van stopped at a red light. While waiting, the driver saw something odd; a man, probably a bum because of his shaggy beard and old looking clothing, was sleeping on the side of the road leaned up against the lamp post.

    As the light turned green the van drove on, pulling into a large parking lot that is surrounded by a plaza of stores. The only store that was seemingly open was the gas station, which was open 24 hours. The van pulled up front of the Big Deal's Grocery Store, and out stepped a six foot four African American male. He reached into his large winter jacket and pulled out a set of keys, and unlocked the front door to the large superstore. He walked right past everything and down to the janitorial office. He stripped himself of his regular, every day clothes and pull on his grey jump suit. He zipped up his suit and looked down at his name tag that simply read "Dewayne". He yawned and grabbed his keys from his jacket before hanging it up in his locker and making a fresh batch of coffee. Once his cup was filled he added his cream and sugar. He heard the footsteps and voices of the night guards leaving and the day shift taking over and heading up to the security room. Dewayne walked to the boiler room. He sipped his coffee and then flipped the switch to turn on all of the lights and electronics of the store. He then grabbed his mop bucket and mop, filled the bucket with water and soap, and washed the floors. This took him until around 6 o'clock, which was thirty minutes from opening time. That was generally when the employees started to get there. It takes a lot of people to operate a Super Store. Since everyone would be getting there soon Dewayne got in his van and drove across the parking lot to the Home Depot, and repeated all of his steps he just did (minus the cup of coffee).

    Jared reached the store right as Dewayne left. As the manager he attempted to be there before everyone else. He made sure that the rock radio was playing lightly over the PA system. He never quite got why Dewayne rewashed the floors in the mkenijng; the night crew generally cleans the floors and such. He expected that the days would be easy for Dewayne, but Dewayne took his job really seriously. Oh well, as long as Dewayne got the job done, who was Jared to complain about it? Jared went to the loading bay where he saw that the crew who generally loaded and unloaded all of the food and shipments were already strarting to get there. Things were on a good track, there was to be a new shipment of produce today, not that they were running low or anything, its just always good to have extra food in case it's needed. Jared proceeded to go too his office on the second level. He hung his jacket up and switched from his boots into his black dress shoes. He stretched an yawned. It was always a long day working ast the store, and today would probably be even longer. He had an odd eelin about it.
  2. Briar Rose:

    Briar Rose awoke to the sound of shouting. Mum and dad, fighting again. From the sound of it, over the details of the "family" Christmas Eve party, and the Christmas party the evening after; both public events being held to fete various movers and shakers Mr. Chadbury either had as business associates, or wanted to. By the time she had bathed and dressed, the row was still...rowing. Nervously, she descended marble steps to the dining room, where Breakfast Was Served, 6:00, on the dot.

    "Oh, there she is now, your little whelp. Perhaps this year you could at least see to it that she looks presentable, instead of like some disheveled Dickensian waif?"

    "Really, Theo? Must you bully her at every possible opportunity?" Mum said, "It was ten years ago! If you honestly can't forgive, can't move on and help me try to make this marriage work, why don't we announce our upcoming messy divorce at the party!"

    "Oh come now, dear, would you really want that? Why, she'd become a Dickensian waif, living on the street--and with Christmas on the way, how tragic. We'll manage, just like we always have. But still, things would have been so much better if you'd borne me a son, instead of spawning her with someone else--"

    "Maybe if you could--" Mum cut herself off. The way her eyes flicked to Briar Rose, the girl deduced that the direction she would have headed in was one she did not want to go 'in front of the child.' "Fine. Be angry with me all you like, but you've got no good reason to hate Briar Rose. She's an innocent child, and she'd love you as her father if you'd give her half the chance."

    "Oh, I don't hate her, April. I just don't see any reason for her to exist."

    Briar Rose blinked back tears. "May I be excused, Mum?" she asked, though she hadn't yet sat down. "I'd like to go out for a ride," she said in a small voice. Mum broke away from scowling at Theodoric long enough to sigh and nod. Briar Rose snatched a couple croissants from a silver tray, then hurried to the cloakroom. Between bites of croissant and a bit of "juggling" of croissants and sleeves, she squirmed into her tweed coat. She took her broad knit scarf, striped in browns and autumnal yellows, and started winding it around her head and shoulders. Even after several turns, its trailing ends were still long enough to nearly reach her feet.

    Then she clamped her half-eaten croissant in her mouth while she shucked into her backpack and fumbled with her bike, one trembling hand "free," the other burdened with the second croissant. Finally, she got to the door. With silent efficiency, the butler opened it for her, she gave him a grateful, teary-eyed nod, and she was free. She was also sprinkled with flakes of croissant crust by this time, but didn't notice. She walked her bike for a bit while she finished the first croissant, then mounted up and rode one handed, eating the second croissant while she tried to think of something other than Mr. Chodbury's words, and worries that maybe he was right.

    But wouldn't Mum be happier too, if I'd never happened? she thought as she turned toward Central Park. He probably would never even have known, and maybe they could have fixed things up without me there as a constant reminder-- Briar Rose blinked away tears, which were threatening to blur her vision--a bad thing, when she was riding a bike on sidewalks patched with ice and snow. She came up behind a man in soggy clothes who was walking with an odd shuffling gait. She rang her bell to announce her presence so she wouldn't startle him as she passed.

    Instead of moving to one side or the other, he whirled clumsily--and lunged at her! Briar Rose squealed and swerved, bouncing off the sidewalk and into the street. A taxi's horn blared, but she paid it no mind, ducking under a grasping hand. Without looking back, she stood in her pedals and pushed as hard and fast as she could. What a creeper! she thought, grateful for the sound of the man's arms thumping against the side of the taxi; it meant he wasn't pursuing her. For the moment.

    The light didn't favor her at the nearest intersection. She leaned into a sharp, skidding right turn, accelerating again as she made the corner. What if he comes after me? I'd better get inside somewhere, where there's people. Her 'expedition' to Central Park would have to wait a bit. That Big Deal store isn't too far from here... They've got an Espresso bar! A nice, hot double mocha with whip cream and chocolate drizzle would be just the thing. Not only was it bloody cold out...something about that druggie weirdo gave her the chills. More, she thought, than she would ordinarily feel after such an encounter, which was not inconsiderable to begin with.

    Finally reaching the store, she started to ride for the bike racks, but thought better of it. Instead, she coasted up to the big sliding doors in front and dismounted, walking her bike the rest of the way. The doors did not open for her. She pulled out a brass filigree pocket watch (with 'windows' behind the hands and on the back that made the gears and other inner workings visible) and checked the time. 6:30. Or thereabouts...

    "Open, open, open..." she muttered, looking worriedly over her shoulder. No sign of the creeper, but the sooner she could disappear inside the store, the better.
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