Marc Firewing
Zombie Hunter
The Chicago Typewriter
Zombie Hunter Extraordinaire.
Posts: 227
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Post by Marc Firewing on Jun 3, 2010 7:01:12 GMT -5
He was about to protest, Marc was, but before he could the woman began to scream and lose it. That was it. That was his chance to shine. Well, then again, was there any shine in taking another person's life? Marc watched as the girl struggled, and watched as Wrey climbed upon the girl and Marc unholstered his Silver Ghost in a quick moment. Pulling the trigger as quick as he'd removed the weapon and suddenly, her body was lifeless and unmoving. Breathing ceased, and blood poured out of the new found hole within her temple. Such quick efficiency and seeming no remorse. Marc holstered the weapon.
"Problem solved."
Closing the laptop and stuffing it into his backpack. He already knew the dead were going to be coming. Lifting his shotgun, Marc was almost dead inside and killing that girl didn't help his conscience. Opening the door and looking out, Marc stood outside as he looked back towards the room.
"Let's get going Wrey, while we can."
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Post by Winters on Jun 3, 2010 18:21:08 GMT -5
"Damn, that aint easy to do..." Even Wrey himself done it plenty of times, he pretty much lost count. It was the one and only thing that got to him, but they couldnt do anything but shake it off and move on. Reaching inside Kerrys shorts, he pulled out her wallet, and stuffed it inside is own pants. Jumped off onto the floor, Wrey followed Marcs lead, picking up the shotgun and moved into the hallway behind the man. He was thinking about it all happening again in the past, only he was the one who had to pull the trigger. Honesty, Wrey didnt even wanna have to do it again, but knew that it would come to it at one point or another in the future.
As the pair entered the waiting room now, this time through the eastern hallway, the infected had all been piling through into the emergency wing from the opposite side. They could already sneak by, little lone worry about any of them getting in the way, but just when things seemed a little too easy, the elevator doors opened up behind them. In that moment, a large number of the infected began to pour out onto the floor, some making their way toward Wrey and Marcus already. Blasting his double barreled shotgun twice in succession, the crowd slowed down, maybe giving them enough time to get outside and to the truck. "Lets go, son!"
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Marc Firewing
Zombie Hunter
The Chicago Typewriter
Zombie Hunter Extraordinaire.
Posts: 227
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Post by Marc Firewing on Jun 4, 2010 11:17:52 GMT -5
Marc began to reminisce but that reminiscing was cut short. Attention focused back on the zombies that were following them, Marc scoffed and looked on ahead beginning to jog back to the waiting room. A soft exhale of breath escaped his lips and the sudden gentle ding of an elevator reaching its floor stopped him dead in his tracks. Marc looked over to the elevator and suddenly they were pouring out. Cursing, Marc lifted his shotgun and began blasting them over and over until Wrey shouted for him to get moving. Marc nodded back to him and began running back towards the door as the group slowed down. Marc piled into the truck when available and shouted.
"GO! GO! GO!"
Marc held on as he didn't want to go flying forward and being hit when they got out of there. Sticking his head out and holding onto his Silver Ghost, the Firewing unleashed a set of rounds into the zombies that were piling out of the hospital while they were driving away.
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Post by Winters on Jun 4, 2010 21:07:35 GMT -5
Wrey and Marc had run from the hospital, dodging or shooting as many zombies as they could on the way out. By the time he had jumped in the truck, Marc was already in the back shooting at the infected that moved closer and closer. Wrey didnt drive too fast, but he kept a high enough speed so his buddy could hold on in the back well enough without falling off. They had a supply of lumber, a supply of medical equipment, and ammo that lasted them until they reached to safety zone. It would be an easier path if they cut across the field, instead of dragging along Church Street, so with that Wrey swerved the truck onto a dirt road. Opening up the back window of the truck, Wrey yelled out, and moved the bag from the passengers seat. "Come on up here, its gon be a bumpy ride, boy."
[Marc and Wrey now at the Northside Checkpoint]
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