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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 23, 2010 8:02:38 GMT -5
The Northside Checkpoint of Florence Mississpippi is the well guarded, well secured area of the whole town. Nearly fifteen larger households have been walled off from the outside, and towers have been built to watch over those walls. The northside consists of mainly homes, but the local gunshops and grocery stores were fully ransacked and used to supply the survivors inside the checkpoint with weaponry. Currently, the Checkpoint is working on a plan of action to rescue the survivors in the Church. This section has been occupied by not only the locals, but a handful of military units that found their was to Florence during the first of the outbreak, and had been keep control of the checkpoint since then. Nobody gets in or out without them knowing before hand, strictly for the purpose of keep the risk of infection zero.
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Post by Winters on Jun 4, 2010 21:27:07 GMT -5
The truck pulled up off the dirty road, and eventually hit one of the streets. A number of lights could be seen off in the distance down the long road, this meant that they were close to the checkpoint. Wrey had to slow the truck down, keeping an eye out for anything that might be near them, and then slid to a stop in front of a large gate positioned in the middle of the road. While still keeping the truck running, Wrey leaned out the window, and yelled out loudly. "How many times I gotta tell you, Jimmy, watch the damn gate!"
"I apologize, Wrey, ill unlock it for yall..." A younger voice responded over the truck engine. Within that time, the gate had begun to swing up, and the vehicle drove at a moderate pace inside. It slammed shut behind them, giving the clear to park and finally relax. Looking over at Marc, Wrey turned the truck off, and then spoke out in a friendly voice. "Welcome to Florence, kid. Might not be much, but its all we got left..." Wrey jumped from the truck, and then opened up the back hatch. From there, two more men came to the side of the truck, and began to grab handfuls of the lumber, carrying it into a storage area not far down the street. As for the shotgun cases, they remained in the truck, but Marc knew he could help himself to them.
Looking around the place, seemed they were getting less and less people here everyday. They all want to move on out, try and find resources, and end up not returning. They have established a small community, with less then fifty people living inside the walls. Most are civilians, no younger then 25, and no older then 35. Wrey was the oldest one, and proved to still be an able bodied worker towards the community. There was also about ten or so military officials who just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but theyre hardly ever inside the walls. Most of them are out exploring the town, and the surroundings town, but youll find a handful around the community. "So, Marc, what do you plan on doing? Do you have anywhere you need to be?"
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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 5, 2010 18:31:09 GMT -5
Marc fell back into the seat of the pick up truck from shooting out the zombies. In truth, he'd always wanted to do that since he'd seen it from the movies. A soft sigh of contentment escaped his lips as he felt the sudden turning to the left, holding on as he looked back at the now speck of what was the hospital. A smile falling over his lips, he hadn't felt so relieved in his life. Looking on ahead as he leaned back into the seat. He tried his best not to fall asleep but that failed miserably. Suddenly jumping awake from the shouting and noise, Marc hopped out, backpack slung over arm and shotgun in hand. All he wanted to do now was get some sleep. Rubbing his eyes, Marc looked about, jumping when Wrey spoke and turned.
"Oh...Uh...I heard they had a B.S.A.A. office in Florida, my original plan was to head there but I couldn't get much of a ride. I've been in New York for the last year before this outbreak occurred. I thought I'd head to Florida, or find a secure location. I heard Vegas and Hawaii were a good set of choices...But I haven't slept so right now my plans kinda fuzzy. Any chance in helping a weary soul get some shut eye for a few hours? I haven't slept in about thirty-seven hours or so."
Marc laughed somewhat as he rubbed the back of his head, the bags under his eyes more apparent now than ever. A loud yawn escaped the man's lips as a hand covered the yawn. Scratching the back of his head, the exhaustion was really starting to beat Marc to hell it seemed.
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Post by Winters on Jun 6, 2010 14:47:59 GMT -5
Wrey looked at Marc speaking, pulling off a very disturbed and shocked look. The look that said he wasnt too pleased about coming all this way just to get some sleep, they had plenty of work to do, and it was all going to waste but just letting him sleep here. His eye showed disbeleife in Marcs words, and Wrey had conveyed this very clearly. But then suddonly, he grinned out of nowhere, and spoke himself after a good laugh. "You got it all figured out, dont you?" Wrey looked down the street. The place wasnt nearly as active as it was in the daytime, the majority of the checkpoint had already been fast asleep. It was going on two in the morning, so they couldnt really do much at a time like this, anyway. Whats one night off?
"Haha! Yeah, that there sounds like a plan to me. You can stay in my room, the guest housing is pretty much crowded. Here, ill take you there..." Wrey lead Marc down the street further, stopping at one of the closer houses. It was very small, and seemed to be secluded from the rest of them along a dirt road. Sounds of the infection could be heard over the large wall, but it was assured they wouldnt be able to get through, unless they had some C4 charges or something. Opening the door into the small house, Wrey tossed his shotgun into a sofa chair against the wall, and then motioned for the couch. "Cheya, there she is. Take a load off for the night. Youve earned it, soldier. We can work on a plan tomorrow. Getting you to Florida shouldnt be much of a problem, so long as your willing to contribute to our community... Sleep on it."
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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 6, 2010 17:48:33 GMT -5
Following Wrey, Marc hadn't noticed much on his change of face. Marc was really just too exhausted to care even so. Trudging his feet across the dirt road, Marc's eyes fought the exhaustion to stay open as he was shown the house with the distant calls of the undead. A sigh befell his lips, but Marc didn't complain, he just placed his guns on the floor beside the couch and let the laptop be pulled out as he laid on the couch finally. It was uncomfortable, but he was so tired that he didn't care. Opening his laptop and typing a bit somewhat, it was his last post of the day and he barely got to finish it before he began to drift to sleep, shutting the laptop.
Eyes heavy and finally, Marc was out. It was probably the fastest he'd fallen asleep. His body hurt from lugging the lumber around, then all the running...It was finally good to catch some shut eye for a few hours. He was going to have to repay his debt to them in the morning. His dreams, they were all the same, fighting off the zombie hordes. He almost missed him being a kid and not having much of a care in the world. All these thoughts overtook him during his sleep as this was probably the longest lasting sleep he'd gotten in days. Insomnia was a big feature on him but when exhaustion finally took its toll, it would really hit him hard.
Even with the sun pouring in from the day's windows, it didn't wake him. He laid there, sleeping in as long as he possibly could to catch his body clock back in on how much sleep he could get.
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Post by Winters on Jun 6, 2010 18:08:19 GMT -5
Shutting the door to his own room softly, Wrey placed the shotgun on the bed, and sat down beside it. Looking around the place, its been quite a few days since he was even in here, it was a change of scenery from the outbreak aftermath. Ammunition crates lined his walls, ranging from 9mm bullets to even rare finds like .44 magnum rounds. Another part of his room contained a liquor cabinet, which stored plenty of mixing tools various glasses. Removing his vest, Wrey slung it onto the end of the bed, feeling the weight of all the shotgun shell bandoleers on the inside. Sitting up, he stared at the cabinet, tempted to drink himself to sleep. Its been so long since he had a drink, his body was craving it. Finally after staring for a good five minutes, he stood up, and gave into his addiction.
Sipping down a class of fine whiskey, Wrey felt the burn on his old throat, and closed his eyes for awhile. He got through about four more glasses after that, and within an hour, he was finally put the glass down, and opened the door back into the living room. Wrey angled himself forward, and fell into the chair, holding his face in exhaustion and fatigue. Laying his head back, he raised up the nearly empty bottle, sucking back the last few mouthfuls, until he didnt have enough energy to even hold the flask up any longer. Wrey was fast asleep in the chair, empty bottle still in hand. The bottle fell from his hand, shattering onto the hardwood floor below the table, and in turn waking up Marc from the couch that morning at eleven thirty five AM.
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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 7, 2010 0:40:57 GMT -5
Glass shatter, eyes were wide open and hand had already instinctively reached down and lifted the handgun to aim. Eyes red from exhaustion and alertness. Heavy breathing escaped his panicked lips, heart was racing faster. He had been aiming at Wrey, whom he'd luckily didn't pull the trigger for. A soft exhale escaped his lips as his breathing relaxed, lowering his gun as he rubbed his eyes to clear the semi-blurred vision from the light. Looking out, Marc sighed in relief, he had been so alert all night he was kinda happy to get some shut eye. Looking at the passed out Wrey, Marc couldn't help but laugh as he shook his head, what a man. He got up and walked over to the table to look out the window.
"So bright...Guess I better go help out."
Marc left his shotgun on the couch, picking up his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder once more. Marc holstered the Silver Ghost in his waist-line holster and stepped outside as he looked about. He decided to walk around and see if he could do anything to help people, which he managed to do because some 'kid' was trying to lift and carry a set of lumber on his own. Marc jogged over and helped him out, deciding to pay the community back for the courtesy they've shown him in giving him shelter. Marc spent the remaining hours of the morning helping out wherever he could help out and putting in extra to help out in place of Wrey while the man was out cold.
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Post by Winters on Jun 7, 2010 21:05:29 GMT -5
After a good four or five hours, Wrey had awoke from his sleep, and jumped up from the chair holding his head. There was a hangover afoot, and the crunching sound of glass filled his ears as he stepped into the broken bottle along side the chair. Opening his eyes to stare art at the shards of glass on the floor, Wrey kicked them under the chair, it wasnt possible to keep a place clean during an outbreak, so he didnt even bother to try. While he walked to the bathroom, his steps were very, very slow. He took his sweet ol time getting to the sink to wash his face up, hr still head a minor headache from drinking the night prior.
Wrey splashed a few handfuls of water onto him, and it refreshed him enough to get out of the house for a bit, see what Marx was up to. The kid was hammering away at a shelter fence, and seemed to be doing a mighty fine job at that. Wrey walked toward Marc, and watched him for a good ten minutes before he realized he was even there on the lawn. "Its a god aweful shame you gotta leave, boy. You certainly know how to put in some work around here, the town could use a guy like you. Always room for one more hard worker, always room for one more tough soul to look over this place. I aint gonna be around forever..."
This was the truth, Wrey was coming on fifty years of age at least, and in todays society, that was a record age. Sure, fourteen years ago he could get by just fine on his own, but over time, he just grown weaker and weaker. He was honestly glad to have met Marc, a helping hand gathering the lumber and medical supplise probably saved him time and effort he wouldnt wasted on just resting his tired bones. They made a good team, regardless of what the word meant. "...But if you gotta be on your way, least I can do is take you out of the state. Whatya say...?" Wrey spoke in a friendly tone, much like the way he would speak to his own brother. That is, if he even had a brother to call a brother.
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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 9, 2010 10:41:11 GMT -5
Marc had spent the day helping out everyone. Keeping the place as secure as he could with everyone, and he really only allowed himself one lunch break. And that was just merely two ham, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. Lucky for him, they had clean crops within the borders so they weren't going to go hungry yet. Marc exhaled a sigh of relief as he finished hammering up the fence he was working on. The feeling of eyes watching him made Marc turn around before noticing Wrey there, a smile on his lips as he laughed.
"Wide awake now are we?"
Marc began putting the tools down, having gotten experience from his father when they were kids. His father always made him do work on the house so learning was vital in surviving those long days...He was almost ready to go into a flashback but distracted himself by Wrey's conversation on keeping him around. Looking around for a moment, Marc had to think on this. It was a pretty nice place but it wasn't really a place to call home. Not only that, Marc wanted to try and help the world as much as he could, when needed. Marc took a seat, his mind began to wander. It was a critical decision. Out there he had a chance of dying. In here he had a chance to survive. And he could save a lot of people by doing most of the errands...Marc shook his head as he looked up at Wrey.
"I think I might stay here for a few more days. See how things work out. Besides, I still need more sleep to catch my hours back to their optimal capacity. I'd rather not go out on no sleep unless I really have to. That is, if that's okay with you of course Wrey."
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Post by Winters on Jun 9, 2010 19:33:56 GMT -5
"So long as you put your work in, you can stay here as long as it-" Wrey was speaking, but he was interrupted by another voice. It wasnt like he noticed a town mayor approaching from down the road, now would be a great time for Marc to get an introduction. "...Still letting newcomers in here, Marcus? When will you all learn... Oh! Mr. DeWolfe, owner of the DeWolfe Estate just outside of Florence." Wrey watched as Bill had shaken Marcs hand, it was pretty rare occurence when he came out of his hole too bother the town. It wasnt that they didnt all get along, it was the fact that the DeWolfe family had been outcasts of the town ever since they let a group of survivors die on the front porch of the estate. They never contributed anything towards the town, other than being a pain in the ass.
"Charles, what in f*cks name you doin here? Huh?" With the semi hostility from Wrey, Mr. DeWolfe had stepped back from the pair, and put on a pair of sunglasses. It was his sigiture, whenever he felt unwanted somewhere, he would hide his eye from the public until things blew over. With a nod and a wave, the man bid his due, and walked deeper into town. Wrey had no real idea what kind of business Charles had in this place right now, but normally when he showed up at the gates, it meant we was looking for supplise. Wrey hated the mans guts, and wasnt afraid to come out and show it, either. Pretending the little scene never happened, he spoke to Marc in a very annoyed manner. "I swear, if i had my shotgun..." But he let Marc use his imagination for the rest.
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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 12, 2010 4:36:34 GMT -5
Marc had looked over to the Mayor, shaking his hand and about to shake the other man's hand before Wrey freaked out. Marc blinked somewhat, a soft laugh escaping his lips before looking over to Wrey and patting him on the shoulder and holding him back somewhat so as not to go ballistic on the guy. Looking back over to the Mayor, Marc would ignore the DeWolfe family member for the time being. Finally deciding to simply ask straight up.
"What is it you want? I'd rather get this work done and not be zombie food tonight. And the DeWolfe estate? I've heard you had a pretty sealed manor, why be here?"
Marc blinked, a little puzzled. He'd heard a few things but no one felt like explaining further in detail. Marc decided he was going to ask Charles straight forward, what would be the point in them coming to this safe-haven and bugging the people when he had a perfectly good estate. In truth, Marc had a handgun but it was empty, the clip was in his pocket but it couldn't be told the difference between an empty or full pocket. So it was a safe gun to hold...for now.
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Post by Winters on Jun 12, 2010 14:26:24 GMT -5
When Marc had asked the question, the man didnt respond to him, just continued to walk away until he was out of sight. Wrey looked back at Marc, and then spoke in a simple manner. "Save your breath, Marc, he aint worth sh*t... He just come in here to leech off us for medicine, and ammunition on the rare occasion. But, is suppose if your really curious..." It wasnt like Wrey was thrilled about telling the story, but Marc was the newcomer, and keeping anything from him would be pointless none the less. Wrey and Marc began walking in the opposite direction, away from other people, toward his own gunshop. They would have a nice chat along the way, and could make a plan of action when they got there.
"Some people will tell you different stories about the family, most of the not truth, but others could pass for an explaination at least. The medicine he comes for, its always some random things, and judgding by his condition its stuff he doesnt need. But one of the rumors is that he wife is sick with the virus, and hes trying to keep her alive. Theres a reason he ignored you when you asked why he was here, theres a reason he ignores everyone. We cant just shake him down for answers, hes no causing any harm, just a headach for the townsfolk..." This was true, but come to think of it, there was definitly something going on with the guy. Maybe now that Marcus has an able body partner, he would mind doing a little investigating. "...Say Marc, how about later on this evening we pay them a little visit?" He spoke in a crazy but honest.
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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 12, 2010 17:20:10 GMT -5
Marc would watch as the guy walked away, thoughts came over his mind about how suspicious he was. However they were lost when Wrey distracted him with the 'Not to worry about it' statement. Marc sighed reluctantly and nodded to Wrey, what other choice did he have? Although...He really wanted to find out exactly what the problem was with the DeWolfe family. And if anything, he could pull of a solo mission, they were easy in the video games...right? Shaking his head, Marc chuckled a bit at the thought before walking with Wrey and listening to the story.
'Creepy...' Marc thought as he shook his head, but then the question was raised to find out exactly what was going on. Marc's expression was from 'Silence' to 'You crazy old sonuvab*tch.' and then finally a 'Smile'. Marc brought his hands to his sides as he walked, with Wrey. Finally he decided to answer.
"I was thinking you'd never ask. I'm game."
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Post by Winters on Jun 14, 2010 1:48:28 GMT -5
"Haha, there we go, son..." Wrey nudged Marc on the shoulder, and then lifted his the shotgun behind his neck, resting it closely. If they were going to do something like that, they would have to prepare first. "Alright, well, lets head on over to my gunshot, and then well see what we can do. Follow me." The both of the spent a good five minutes returning back to his old gunshop, Wrey opened up the door, and closed it s*** once Marc was inside. The place still housed all of his remarkable firearms, all of them in working condition. He had everything from small arms, to machine guns, to crossbows.
"Take whatever you think youll need, and as much ammunition for it as you can carry. Might wanna just take your own, but if you see anything that catches your eye in my shop, you can have it. I think you can also find some other fancy equipment, but I dunno what most of it even is, really... Just take what you want."
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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 15, 2010 6:29:04 GMT -5
Marc followed Wrey as they walked towards their new destination. When they reached it, Marc was stunned by the amount of weaponry and ammunition. Marc felt like a little boy at Christmas, and couldn't help but grin widely. Marc placed his backpack on the counter and began stuffing it full of shotgun and handgun rounds, grabbing a few spare clips while he was at it. Marc had stuffed half his backpack full of ammunition and clips, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he lifted the heavier backpack onto his back. Patting it somewhat, Marc looked about as he almost wished he had an iPod, that would've made him happier. "You wouldn't happen to have an iPod or something lying around would ya? Kinda hoping to raid some stores and whatnot but most of the electronics stores I raided were robbed of everything so I couldn't get myself one." Marc looked about the gun shop still, In The Air Tonight began playing in his head as he was quite glad he'd saved most of his music before the apocalypse started. The internet was practically nothing these days. He'd been posting the blog messages for only a day now, but he was hoping that someone out there would be reading. Marc looked at several different handguns and compared them to his Silver Ghost, however nothing seemed to fit better, but he did find a much cooler shotgun to fit his tastes. The Benelli M4 Super 90, but Marc didn't know that. Although the first words that came to mind were 'Riot Gun'. Marc hated to leave the Bittersweet Sundown out of this match but this shotgun was going to be an upgrade for the adventure. "I'll borrow this for the adventure, it's a lot easier on the shoulder. And quicker to raise." Marc was already testing out the empty shotgun, aiming in several different places and moving from crouching stance to standing. The shotgun was lightweight, and it didn't hurt too much on the shoulder or neck. However, he wasn't entirely sure of the kickback just yet, though he didn't exactly have any time to test it out. He would have to brace himself and expect the worst. Lowering the shotgun, he looked over to Wrey with an assured nod that he was ready.
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