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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 23, 2010 8:04:37 GMT -5
Permanently flooded wetland with forest like vegetation. Unfit for serious construction but still inhabited by the wildlife, some having turned into crazed monsters during the outbreak, alligators, frogs, leeches and large insect swarms are commonplace. Whilst risky trying to move a car through the area, it is sufficient for small boats or walking, though both require finding complex twisting routes for save travel. Survivalists have taken to storing waterproof crates filled with weapon and ammo caches, among other useful supplies, whilst just as common are hidden moonshine barrels (it might taste like paint stripper though, your own risk).
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 14, 2010 6:28:49 GMT -5
Episode 1 Sinner's Paradise In comparison to the Arklay's, noise wise, Louisiana's swampland didn't seem to want to silence itself. What a racket. Although as a benefactor it did make the atmosphere feel a little more alive; plus it turned out to be a great method of warning. Ambience dipped as a member high up the food chain entered the area; everyone would stop and stare. This was one of those moments. Beady, catslit eyes floated above the surface water scanning the trees above. Now and again they would disappear below the murky mirror, reemerging at a different location making tracking the scaly dome head a challenge. Glowing yellow rims beneath a grey hood didn't have trouble following though; the Ivory girl watched, waiting, searching for the pattern. Ripples rolled out from a random spot beneath the platform, growing radically as a mound of water rose from the murky depths breaking away to reveal the scales again. The giant alligator propelled up and out disturbing any and every sense of tranqulity, its jaws swinging open showing its jagged teeth, raw palate and tongue; strings of saliva flailed wildly. At the peak of its leap the jaws snapped shut crushing a branch not even half a metre below the Ivory girl's feet. Then it crashed back into the surface water, its own miniature tidal wave washing across the swamp. "I see you," Aya taunted quietly while looking over the edge of her platform. The beady catslits merely floated on the top of the water, analysing, and disappearing to turn in for the day. It would be back later. 'Attempt number 3...' and it wasn't getting any smarter, 'May be a little early to judge his intelligence. Still...' Aya relaxed, sitting to dangle her legs, 'Hasn't learnt to stop exhaling through its nose before it strikes,'Aya stored the Luna a while ago in a roadhouse 12 or so kilometres back; it was no match for the dirt paths along these parts. She regretted to come out this far on foot; being chased by an ugly as sin gator forcing her into the trees, which weren't very climable in the first place, building a small suspension made of branches and stripped bark to sit in a normal fashion. She was supposed to be looking for a reasonable spot to observe infected wildlife; the prostpect of heading back the way she had come sounded more ethical now in this case. Constant whine of jet engines filled the air rousing Aya from her thoughts. She pulled her hood back while watching upwards spotting the plane through breaks of the swamp canopy. It was heading roughly North, North-East, "Nothing special in Mexico," a mumbled calculation escaped her lips, "Must be circling around from Florida," it was most likely the East Coast/Euro flight path, crowded with military jets; final destination was always Florida before it went back in the direction it came. Cities on the West coast were more civilian oriented; you never saw a lot of movement between there and anywhere else. The Ivory girl picked herself and her rifle up, dusting off. Reaching for adjacent branches while the word 'careful' was embedded in her mind, sometimes requiring her to leap between trees; the moss and weakness of dead branches were the most prominent threat. If she could make it back to the beaten track before sundown then perhaps she wouldn't have to spend another miserable night in such humidity.
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Post by .Merios on Jul 14, 2010 12:55:55 GMT -5
Something roused Matthew from his slumber, making his eyes flutter open quickly as he sat up against the boxes he was leaning against. The soldiers on the bench were somewhat inattentive, some were putting pen to paper furiously and others were just trying to keep their eyes open. He wasn't quite sure what woke him up- it could have been the turbulence or even the music that's streaming out of a soldier's Walkman. A Walkman; Matthew scoffed. He noticed that the men in the front of the cabin were mostly asleep- it's been a really long ride. He stood up, grabbing his bag from underneath his seat and slowly, silently, he made his way towards the front. Two of the soldiers looked up at Matthew with raised eyebrows but then went back to what they were doing. As he neared the side door, one of the officers woke from their sleep, looking up to Matthew.
"Heh.. Sorry. Just wanted to take a look outside."
The German soldier shrugged with a grunt and slumped back against the wall, positioning himself comfortably. Matthew gave a sigh of relief and moved to pull himself against the inside of the sliding door, going up on his toes to look out the window. The clouds soared past the window at such a speed that he couldn't tell exactly where he was. Though, since he waited a few seconds, the clouds dispersed enough that he could get a look at what looked like a swamp below- it almost looked like a river from how high up they were. A river? A swamp? In the North-Eastern US?
Matthew looked around and noticed a parachute was strapped onto the wall, next to nine others. With a quick movement, he grabbed one and tore it off the wall, the velcro peeling like tape. He moved to the door and slid on the pack, the two soldiers from earlier quickly stood up. Matthew grabbed the door and pulled it open, the wind blasting through like a hurricane, throwing objects and rousing everyone from their latent dreaming. Matthew walked to the edge and turned around, positioning the pack next to his own backpack and looking at the officer from earlier. It was almost impossible to hear a thing, but he noticed they were all moving their mouths and drawing weapons. He took this as his opportunity and waved, leaning back and falling out of the airborne vehicle. The wind current took him as he was sucked backwards as UAH continued forward. He turned over and watched as the ground quickly came to meet him. He waited until he could almost make out what looked like a dirt road before pulling the rip cord.
The parachute deployed and he was jolted backwards, knocking the wind out of his chest. He had a look of nervousness on his face as the parachute only slowed him a bit. This was going to be a hard landing. As he neared the road, he lifted his arms up to his face and bent his knees, hitting the ground like a brick. Pain shot through his body as if his veins were the conduits. Laying face down on the ground, he cried out, saliva and air forcing wet dirt into his mouth and onto the earth underneath his chin. He spat once and turned over, the parachute now covering his legs. He laid there for a moment, catching his breath and taking inventory.
Got my arms.. Nothing seems to be..
Another wave of pain shot up his left leg and into his lower back- he didn't scream out, but he gritted his teeth and a grunt came through his throat as a rough hiss. He sat up, angrily throwing the parachute aside and looking at his left leg. From the looks of it, it wasn't broken, but something was hurting him- badly. He bent towards it and lifted up his pantleg, revealing what looked like a sharp rock embedded four inches into his shin. One he looked at it, he winced as the pain hit him for another wave. He quickly reached forward and removed the rock, throwing it to the side and watching it bounce once on the water before plopping into the still swamp. He laid back once more, attempting to move his toes to make sure they still worked- they did. Matthew stood up, putting his weight on his right leg and relieving any and all pressure on his left. He slid off the parachute pack and tore off his disguise- starting with the jacket. He grasped the right sleeve and the torso part of it and ripped hard, tearing off the entire sleeve without much trouble.
He knelt down and opened his own backpack, pulling out his clothing from before- first was his brown cotton jacket, sticking his right index finger through the bullet hole in the left shoulder. He sat it down next to him in the dirt, reaching into his pack and pulling out his black pinstriped dress shirt. He looked at it- it had some history, seeing as it was the first piece of clothing he wore when he escaped; for a 13+year old shirt, it didn't look too bad. He slipped it on over his black undershirt, leaving it unbuttoned. Matthew opened back up his pack, standing up and unbuttoning his pants, kicking them off and taking care not to touch his wound. He threw them aside like trash and reached inside his pack, pulling out what looked like a fresh pair of blue jeans with the right knee-hole torn. He set them next to him and reached into his pack once more, coming out with what looked like a medical kit- military grade.
He opened it up and pulled out a wipe, which he tore the packaging of and wiped down his wound with- the alcohol burning as it passed over the cut. He threw it aside and pulled out what looked like gauze, which he wiped the area down with, removing any of the fresh blood from the wound. He set it aside and pulled out another piece of gauze with some tape. He placed the gauze over the wound and stretched it to fit, placing the tape on either side to hold it in place. He turned to his kit one last time to pull out a cream-colored ace bandage. He wrapped it around his shin a few times before finally snapping it in place. Matthew reached over and grasped his used bandages and placed them into the sleeve of the jacket he tore off. He rolled it a few times and tied the ends in a knot, which he launched into the bayou to his right, he heard a far off splash.
Matthew quickly threw his medkit back into his pack and pulled his pants on, buttoning them and zipping them fast. He stood up, noticing his boots were muddy and wet. Matthew kicked them off, pulling his wet socks off of his feet and throwing them aside. From the looks of it, his feet were in better condition than the rest of his body. He took the best care of his feet, which meant he pulled out fresh socks from his pack and slipped them on. He stepped into his boots and laced them back up. Matthew knelt down, reaching into his pack and pulling out his black fingerless gloves, which he stuck onto his hands with a sigh. Pulling out his shemagh scarf, he set it aside. Opened his pack wider and began pulling out his equipment, grabbing his sawn-off shotgun in his right hand along with it's shoulder holster.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 14, 2010 14:04:22 GMT -5
"Huh..." the chute had stood out like French cattle; a deep olive drab against the dry blue sky, 'Why on earth would a paratrooper be dropping in here?' the plane was a distance away since it passed over Aya's head, the single spec was visible though, 'Solo in the slightest,' had she stumbled across some peculiar operation? It warranted her attention at least. Plus she was heading in that direction anyway. Not to mention the certain parachuting individual would need to be warned of the beastie lurking in the area.
Which was a grim reminder to the Ivory girl, quickening her pace along the beaten track. There is a certain detail about alligators not being confined to water like sharks which made being high and dry less appealing than originally intended. All that could be hoped was that it didn't learn from its mistakes too quickly.
Reflective in her yellow rims, Aya tracked the chute until visibly lost behind the trees. The plane hadn't slowed or moved to circle the area leaving a narrow variety of interpretations on the situation; it wasn't until the man came into range, changing his apparel dramatically, which lead to suspicious impressions. She hung back until the activity was complete for the sake of awkward intrusion to privacy.
Space opened radically; the trees gave way to a clearing which had quite the Fen personality to the left hand side of the track. Long grass, but not the type of cover Aya had hoped for; instead of getting all geurilla about it the girl decided nothing could possibly go wrong with the straight forward approach. That was before Aya saw the shotgun.
Until that point the guy had appeared unarmed; this new threat shuffled things; the webbing between Aya's index and thumb pressing against the grip of her sidearm for insteance. In fact her whole posture subconciously changed to adjust to the environment. A nagging feeling pulled at her though, 'It's an apocalypse we're in after all,' and it definitely wasn't uncommon for someone to be packing a boomstick.
She eased up, "Yo," local colloquial methods of speech is a common factor between strangers, Aya wouldn't have adressed the man as such otherwise. She maintained her distance though, kneeling down, "Spotted you dropping out of your plane," pointing in the direction the aircraft had gone, "Just wondering if you need any help," if he planned to fit a trophy the size of a giant alligator through the door, he probably would.
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Post by .Merios on Jul 14, 2010 15:22:17 GMT -5
Matthew paused in the middle of movement as he lifted his sawn-off upwards in it's holster. He had gotten soft- he should have heard her walking up. His mind was racing- who could be out in the middle of nowhere like this? Did they follow him? Was she one of the soldiers that jumped out after him? He cocked his head to the side when she spoke.
"Yo", she said, dropping down to a kneel, now at his level. "Spotted you dropping out of your plane."
The attractive stranger pointed in the direction of the plane, which was long gone. "Just wondering if you need any help."
He smirked, "Yeah.. Uh, funny story. Maybe that's best told at a different time."
He didn't really have any sort of accent, which meant he didn't have a local accent either. He brought the sawn-off shotgun to his shoulder and pulled the harness over his torso, attaching the holster firmly and stuffing the butchered double-barrel into it. He fastened the buckle and grabbed his jacket, sliding it over his body and putting his arms through the holes- it was more of an over shirt than a jacket, since it wasn't very thick. He reached into his pack and pulled out his machete in it's sheath, sliding it's strap around his body and over his jacket, placing the grip right above his right shoulder.
"Help? Not necessarily, unless you know your way around these parts. Always loved Southern Rock.. I guess it's more of a "long time listener, first time caller" sort of thing."
He reached into his pack and pulled out his Mateba Autorevolver with his right hand, lifting the massive bastard child of a revolver and a pistol out of the pack and using his free left hand to slide it's holster onto the cylinder of it and strap it to his right thigh, fastening the top buckle onto his belt. He stood up, grabbing his scarf from the ground and folding it into a triangle- it reached a total of 5 feet wide and high, which made it slightly difficult to do without dropping it at least once. He fastened it around his neck, pulling it over his head and around again, tying it behind his head. He looked like he belonged in a wasteland, not a swamp. Given the permanent scarred grin on his face and the damaged to his left eyebrow, he seemed experienced enough not to pull a gun on the first stranger to approach him.
"So.. I didn't get your name. Are you from around here?"
He spoke, kneeling down and zipping back up his pack, kicking the pants and the shirt to the side of the road and giving the jacket a likewise kick into the water. He stood up, pulling the pack with him and he slung it over his back, putting his arms through both straps and pulling it tight, letting it droop a little bit so he would have access to his Machete.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 15, 2010 5:21:02 GMT -5
The man sound strange, Aya couldn't pick up any origin from his voice; for a fleeting moment it may have sounded like a particular ethnic tie but only to be overwritten as another consonant contradicted the quality. At the most he sound like a Drell, minus the croaking, grumble monotone. She'd caught the smirk though, something had teased his sense of humor from his sky dive; at least he wasn't devoid of body language, that would have really left Aya hanging in conversation.
"Name's Aya," she stuck her hands in her pockets, her posture curved back, "I don't usually make a habit of living in these conditions. Too un-lady like. Anybody who does live around here should be awarded a medal, 'specially in times like these," she turned to look out into the Fen, green grass billowing whenever a minor breeze traveled overhead, "Doesn't mean I don't know the area though," returning her attention to the sky diver, lips curled to a smile from her knowledge.
Distance between the two was closed as the metaphorical digit clicker over the guy's head ticked down while Aya walked towards him, counting less and less of how much a threat he would be. Mud squelched from a wet patch she passed over, moisture seeping through the minor lacerations in the leather of her boots; painstaking tree traversing and close encounters proving to be a nemesis of sorts for the footwear, "You don't want to go that way," pointing her thumb over her shoulder, "All you'll find is the ocean... and giant gators," worried he wouldn't take her seriously, as few did, "I'm not kidding," shaking her head.
"What about you?" it was fairly obvious he wasn't local, "Or, well, what brings you to Louisiana," she'd started edging to move up the road after he'd finished arming himself, suggesting a subtle walk and talk motif, "I see few people in these parts. At least, not those who don't want to die. I'm guessing you wouldn't be of the opposite side of that spectrum... mister..." Aya pulled at the corner of her mouth, embarrassed when she couldn't put a name to a sentence structure which begged it.
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Post by .Merios on Jul 15, 2010 14:59:26 GMT -5
Matthew looked to her as she neared him, tensing a little bit.
"Name's Aya," she changed her posture, stuffing her hands into her pockets and arching her back a little, "I don't usually make a habit of living in these conditions. Too un-lady like. Anybody who does live around here should be awarded a medal, 'specially in times like these."
She was a talker. He was glad to find another social being in such a damp, disgusting place such as this. He noticed as she turned to look in a different direction, near where he threw his used medical kit components. More words danced off of her tongue, each bringing more relief to his ears that he wouldn't have to fight.
"Doesn't mean I don't know the area though."
He saw her lips curl into a smile as she stepped towards him. He hesitated stepping back, which meant he didn't move as she stopped next to him. He looked her up and down- she didn't seem like she was.. Ready for the whole situation the world is in. Sure, he saw the rifle on her back and some other sort of weaponry crossing over it, but it didn't seem like she even knew the outbreak was going on by the tone of her voice. Survival instinct.
"You don't want to go that way," she said, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder to motion the area where she previously was, "All you'll find is the ocean... And giant gators."
The word "gators" was a stopping point for him. He'd fought something similar back in the subway system about six years back- it wasn't a gator, but something close to it. He hand instinctively curled into a fist as his thoughts drifted away. He quickly snapped back into reality with her next words.
"I'm not kidding." She said, shaking her head with the words.
"What about you? Or, well, what brings you to Louisiana?"
She started to move up the road, motioning for him to follow with a subtle move. Matthew got the hint, waiting for her to finish speaking before he would. He matched her pace almost stride-for-stride. He noticed she favored asking questions first and shooting later and she was the sort to take control.
"I see few people in these parts. At least, not those who don't want to die. I'm guessing you wouldn't be of the opposite side of that spectrum... mister..."
Matthew shifted his weight to his right foot, resting his right hand on the grip of his holstered autorevolver.
"Konnelly, Matthew Konnelly," instantly wanting to reach out and snatch the words right out of the air after he said them. He scrunched his face a bit, hoping she wouldn't know who he was.
"So.. Giant gators huh? I wonder how many boots his hide would make, as pretentious as those ugly things are," he said,"Well, I was in Germany for a while, and I sort of.. Found my way onto a military aircraft and jumped out while it was overhead. I honestly didn't even know this was Louisiana until you said it, doll."
Matthew stopped for a moment, listening. He moved his right hand slightly and unsnapped the strap holding his sidearm in it's holster. His demeanor turned from calm and somewhat laid back to serious within a matter of seconds. He heard splashing followed by thuds from either side of him. He shrugged for a moment and then picked pace back up with her, keeping his hand resting on the grip of his weapon.
"So.. What brings you out here? Hunting gators?"He said comically,"Lookin' fer some moonshine?" He said in a fake Southern sing-song voice.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 16, 2010 4:11:29 GMT -5
Matthew, 'Common name,' she thought in response, 'I'm so used to calling Claypoole by his family name, I'll have to try and not get things mixed up,' so she knew a Matt, but she didn't know a Konnelly; and from his complete lack of accent Aya wasn't able to work out the guy's nationality. The fact he'd jumped out of a plane from Germany could be a suggestion; it sparked the thought that he hadn't known where he was until Aya had mentioned such, "Sky dive into the unknown. I like the style, but I'd be pretty upset with whoever chose to drop me in the swamps," the story was probably far more elaborate than that; it looked as if Matthew wasn't the thrill seeking type. Then again, Aya didn't really care.
He'd picked up on something; Aya heard it too. It was different in some way to her gator friend. Too much noise was being made - unless it had radically gotten dumber - was there something else in these swamps than the reptile? Aya didn't doubt it. It was brief though, and along with Matt she ditched the suspicion of their surroundings. Didn't stop her from raising her awareness a little more. She was next to the trees while Matt was next to the Fen; that much made her feel safer.
Moonshine. Rubbing her turning stomach, Aya recalled the sensation while she was raiding a shed for tools. She had walked straight into a small, personal distillery of the white lightening. You didn't even need to drink the stuff, just breathing in the atmosphere was enough to make her logy and nauseous.
Scrapping the unpleasant memory of the scent, "I'd need an Elephant gun over this pea shooter," she commented, "Although if their scales weren't as tough as tank armor I would probably make a little sport out of it," nodding in admittance. She had started to calculate the size of the alligator upon Matthew's query of how many boots could be manufactured; stopping after realizing it was more small talk than a genuine question.
"Currently I'm observing infected wildlife," she finally answered, "Not the gators of course, that's a typical infection and mutation. It's the smaller things, different behavior due to size so sometimes the food chain still works in that regard. At the moment it's just a hobby until I stumble across something truly mindblowing,"
The girl scratched her head; if it weren't so life theatening then maybe she would be more enthusiastic about it, "Carriers generally lack a ton of brain function as you no doubt know. Yet with some creatures and insects it alters their behavior instead of dumbing it right down to those primal urges. Obviously they're way different in neuro and structural anatomy, but still," she made a stupid face, pushing her dimples up in a smile, "Interesting stuff," all that was missing were a pair of circular glasses.
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Post by .Merios on Jul 16, 2010 21:50:12 GMT -5
Matthew walked and listened to her responses. When she responded to his quip about the moonshine and alligator-skin boots, he stifled a chuckle. She was so matter-of-fact that it was almost comical. He listened and noticed she knew quite a bit about behavior and infection of carriers- most notably in animals.
" Well, I guess I can tell you, seeing as we have more pressing issues than arguing about my past..."He hesitated for a moment, giving her a moment of silence before he continued, carefully choosing his words.
"Having been in the company during the time of the research, I knew quite a bit about the actual statistics of the original project... But never really put any face time with human trials. Well, that was before the '98 outbreak. Hell, after that, everyone and their grandmother were in on those trials."
From the way she talked, Matthew could tell she had some sort of inside knowledge. Either that, or she was hyper observant. Normally he would be the one spouting from the mouth about scientific anomalies and breakthroughs in field research. Although he told her that information, he still left out a lot of blanks- he didn't need a man hunt in the middle of a swamp.
"So.. How do you know so much?"He paused,"If you don't mind me asking, that is."
He stopped for a moment, picking up on similar noises. There was something near by. He knew it.
Plop, splash.
He spun to his left, to face the fen, lifting his revolver from it's holster with his right hand and bringing it to his side slowly and then bringing it around in a crescent, gripping it with both hands. His right thumb slid up and clicked back the hammer. Consciously, he knew pulling the hammer back wasn't necessary for an autorevolver, but it was a force of habit- he worked with an Colt SAA for a while. He looked to her, motioning to get her attention. He lifted his left hand to put his index finger and middle finger up to his eyes, then pointed with his hand in front of her, to the fen, signaling that she needs to keep her eyes peeled.
Splash, thud.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 17, 2010 8:45:24 GMT -5
Oh, so the sky diver does have an enigmatic background; Matthew's entrance had piqued Aya's interest, she readied herself for a juicy story. However, when the word 'Company' rolled in one ear, 'The company. Perhaps a group dedicated to collecting data on the virus. No, mentions the initial biohazard. Deliberately addresses organization with a pronoun,' ... "Umbrella?" he could correct her if she was wrong, but it hadn't stopped her blood from pumping a beat over neutral. It had been a while since she had been in the presence of another ex-Umbrella employee; from pre 1998 no less. The Ivory girl double checked her memory for anyone named 'Konnelly' again just to be safe.
Then it was her turn.
"How do you know so much?... If you don't mind me asking, that is."
'I do,' she thought in retort but kept it to herself having put snarky responses behind her, "I've studied on related topics," Aya quickly followed up so she didn't give off an incorrect impression by being taken aback, "Among many other subjects, both human and animal; related and unrelated virus wise. Things change though. It's like subscribing to the weekly science magazine. You always have to keep on top of things. I figure keeping literal to that creed is the best way. Perhaps not for personal health but decent none the less,"
She could tell him more. The information held its weight in consequence though; a new moral dilemma. Would it matter so much if she said she had worked for the Corporation? Two old Umbrella employees bumping into each other in the middle of the Louisiana swamp land; fancy that. Typically however, that exact background set a certain personality in a member of Umbrella. The kind that made it awkward knowing each others past engagement. It wasn't the same as war vets fist bumping after a surprise reunion.
Except it spurred something inside Aya; she had someone she could talk to, if they understood. Her mouth opened, bracing herself, "I was-" but her sentence suddenly cut short.
The left side of her body prickled like powdered metal next to a weak magnet, bouncing slightly as Matthew drew his Mateba. A tsunami of relief swallowed her once it clicked that she wasn't the target; it would have been clever timing, catching her in an emotional state; but alas.
Something else that the girl missed while in her pool of thought were the sounds Matthew picked up on. He signaled out at the Fen requesting additional attention which Aya provided, standing beside him and dragging her Springfield from behind her back pointing to the ground flush with her stomach. More sounds from the Fen, probably the same as what she had missed but enough to drop a pin accurately in the area.
There was a magnificent 'Crack', like a giant snapping red wood against its knee. Splinters had started to pepper and spray against Aya's neck and back; her expression turning to aggression as she elegantly fell towards the ground, voluntarily, 'Damn it!' her back hitting the mud as scales and decapitated trees flew over her body.
"He's gotten smarter," Aya remarked after the giant alligator disappeared into the Fen, the tall grass in its tracks slowly rising to their normal form gradually hiding the path it had made, "Caught me with my back facing it, serves me right for being distracted," although the scenario had been a perfect excuse to keep her past held tight for just that little longer.
Returning to her feet, Aya had to fight the thought of her hair and apparel being messed up; distraught yet forced to consider survivability over concern for personal attire, "The gator I was talking about," incase Matthew had missed it; she knew he hadn't so it ended up more of a sarcastic comment, "He'll swing around for another go soon, we need to get away from this exposure," her feet were already slapping against the moist earth, "He's stupid, but not entirely predictable; just keep an eye out for any vulnerable points along the path," arms close to her body, getting into the rhythm of the run, "Hopefully we can get away from this surface water soon enough. Doesn't like it when his main source of camouflage vanishes beneath him,"
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Post by .Merios on Jul 17, 2010 12:21:29 GMT -5
Matthew opened his mouth in response but quickly shut it when Aya was taken down. He moved out of the way barely enough that he lost his footing, stumbling back a few feet and putting full priority in not falling into the mud. He managed to keep himself up and he lifted his sidearm towards the fen, scanning the surface of the now-disturbed swamp water. He let it fall to his side and turned to her, moving back to her as she stood up.
"And where do you expect we go?"
He said it in a non-threatening way. He honestly didn't know the area, and the fact that they're more prey than predator is annoying him. He could take this thing down if it would just stop hiding. Animals. Matthew always loved that he could predict human nature better than some lower life form- even if the lower life form is two times the size of the human it's being compared to. He kept up with her, keeping at a jogging pace for the time being. His Mateba was still drawn, still held fast in his right hand which was now following the rhythm of his torso.
"Our conversation isn't quite over, Aya. I'd like to know what you were... What you were going to say before the gator gave us the surprise."
Was she ex-Umbrella too? Thoughts ran through his head- she could have been on the same team he was and not even knew it. There were top-secret protocols on top of top-secret protocols that even the staff and managers didn't even know about; she could have been on one of those protocols. Matthew quickly dismissed the thought- she would have been dead by now, Umbrella employees were hunted like animals. He managed to only survive the slaughter by going across the entire world and he even got lucky then, surviving the attack by the PMC that had a history with him.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 17, 2010 12:55:33 GMT -5
"This croc is relentless!" Aya exclaimed, naming it differently for the sake of simplicity, "Anywhere other than its own habitat would do us well," there was no way she was going to be reduced to the tops of the trees again, "This track goes for another mile, hits an old levee where the ground's elevated. There's a proper established road on it and a gas station we can use for shelter. My ride's there too," the thought of climbing out the deep end of the swamps was an enticing one. "Our conversation isn't quite over, Aya. I'd like to know what you were..." Her cheeks burned, scowling; if Matthew hadn't made it so clear Aya likely wouldn't have sounded so suspicious in response, "I hardly think this is the right time for-" it had been more narrow than last time, picking up on the massive intake of air the alligator breathed as it exploded out of the swamp. Aya went limbo, down onto her knees exploiting the mud as she slid beneath the gaping jaws. It had barrel rolled for efficiency in attempt at clamping her in its mouth; Aya watched as the sunlight disappeared when the maw snapped shut. She used the remaining inertia to get back to her feet, wiping mud and bile from her face; that was the second time Matthew had distracted her, "Just... wait. Once we're out," she managed to spit with the sudden hypertension; she would become gator food soon enough if he didn't.
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Post by .Merios on Jul 17, 2010 13:24:15 GMT -5
Matthew once more managed to hang back just enough for the monstrosity to launch itself out of the water and attack Aya. She slid underneath the thing like a professional, like she knew what she was doing. He watched in silence as the gator filed back into the swamp. With a grunt, he took off running from his jogging state. He knew the thing would be right behind them and he wasn't running fast enough to leave her behind. The dirt path he was on soon went uphill, the rocks and dried mud flaking off into gravel and then finally into what looked like broken up pavement. With a sigh of relief, he stopped, turning around and looking back down the hill.
"We're not out of it yet.."
He mumbled under his breath, looking left and right to the still-wet forest on either side of him. They were up and out of the thick of the swamp, but not quite out in the open. At least civilization was nearby, well, civilization in the form of a gas station that may or may not be abandoned. He looked around once more, scanning the foliage on the sides of the pavement, slipping his autorevolver back into it's holster, snapping the buckle shut. He couldn't afford to lose mobility for the sake of being armed.
"Transportation?" He barked, taking a gander further on down the road,"You mentioned a gas station. I think I can see a sign."
He spoke hurriedly and through jagged, dry breaths. The gator was small enough not to be seen but big enough to take out a massive tree with it's strength- this would be a challenge. He took a moment to gather himself before reaching behind him and pulling out what looked like an old-fashioned water skin. He unscrewed the metal cap and lifted it to his lips, letting a stream of still-cold water flow through his mouth and down his throat. He pulled it away from him and held it out to her, his eyes looking over the area as he held it out.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jul 17, 2010 14:03:27 GMT -5
Hydration. Aya was watered up, and quite literally wet, but knocking back an offer seemed a little offensive. She handed the water skin back after taking a swig; exhaustion wouldn't set in for hours, but wetting her lips was nice. "Transportation?" Nodding, "Yeah," she replied, wondering how credible the concept sounded. Only people who made it out this far had transport, "A bike, actually. Don't know how comfortable you are with seating arrangements, I travel light so there is room, but there're plenty of cars to jack closer in to Orleans," she'd forgotten to mention what type. Details. There was little doubt the alligator was behind them now; less and less surface water was available for it to slip about in. He simply watched from a distance as the two individuals traveled further down the road, the catslit eyes disappearing under the murky mirror. That said, noise had returned. Insects chirped among other sounds leaving an indication that the worst was behind them and Aya's run dropped to a walk. Whether or not the stop shop looked as garbage as it did now before the outbreak was a suitable question. The pumps were full indicating how often survivors passed by but the fuel was dirty; nothing Aya would put in the Luna. All that marked its perimetre was a chain link fense. Entering the garage, avoiding the main shop all together. Aya inhaled deeply once inside. Nothing had changed, and it was barebones leaving little places for carriers to hide. In the centre of the room under a thick tarp stood and idle object, sitting directly in the veil of light from the only window in the room. Aya yanked the cover off, dust pluming, revealing the Luna, "She's pretty quiet for a super bike," explaining how much of a magnet it was for carriers, "Mileage from a full tank isn't too bad either, but usually I hole her up somewhere when I settle into an area," her hand rested on the seat, she'd been a good companion for traveling, carrying the Ivory girl well. The Springfield slid into its scabbard lifting some weight from her shoulders. Aya pulled a small towel and brush from the rear pouch, cleaning up a little and clearing the mud from her hair much as possible. She revolved around the Luna; there had been little conversation after clearing the surface water, she blamed Matthew for that for backing her into a corner. Thinking deeply of a way to play on words.
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Post by .Merios on Jul 17, 2010 14:24:50 GMT -5
When they arrived at the gas station, his heart skipped a beat. Great. Industrialized and yet so abandoned. He'd seen the look on her face before as she glanced over the gas tanks. It's the way he felt his first day out with his SUV. The engine seized a few miles down the road, so he could share her disdain for it. He took a walk around the garage, waiting for her to finish grooming herself. His hands wandered as he strode around the outskirts of the room, brushing his fingers over the bare tables and miscellaneous objects and tools dotting the place. He stopped, gripping a half-full metal can of Shell. He lifted it up to his face, taking a good look at it, blowing on it to remove some of the dust. 1965. He smirked and lifted the can up without looking at her.
"At least they had a good year for oil."
He tossed it aside, letting it smack the ground near the bike and skid a few feet towards the entrance. The cap popped off, the black sludge gooping out of the top and spilling onto the dirty concrete below. He continued looking around, half-listening to her talk about her bike, 'Luna". Matthew once again stopped when his hand landed on a piece of cloth covering an object near the door leading into the Gas Station. He lifted the cloth and tossed it aside, peering at the open lock box that he had revealed. Inside was a key with the letter "B" carved on it. He lifted it from the box, turning towards her and opening his mouth. He shut it again and turned back around without a word, moving to the door and sticking the key in the handle. Like a glove.
He turned the key and pushed the door open with a creak. The room inside was dark- as dark as it could be during the day. It looked as if the store hadn't been stocked in ages, all the rows were practically bare and the shelves in the refrigerators were so caked with dust that it was impossible to see what was once there. He stepped inside, peering in and taking a good look around without moving in. His eyes landed on a calendar on the wall beside the door leading into the garage. 'September 2008.' With a grunt he turned around and walked out, leaving the door wide open. He walked back over to her, his eyes following the contours of the bike.
"750cc.." He said with a smirk that barely presented itself.
Thud. Plop.
He turned towards the door he left open. It was too dark and dusty to see what was going on, but the sound definitely came from within the store. He didn't withdraw his weapon, seeing as he was over 20 feet away and far enough back that he would have appropriate timing to do what he saw fit. He was on the other side of the bike, opposite Aya- she was now closer to the door than he was, and it was her move. Leave or investigate. He could care less.
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