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Post by Reaper on Nov 19, 2008 14:52:20 GMT -5
This fire and rescue department is second compared to the department out of Raccoon City. It was mainly created to cut down the response time for those living on the other side of the forest. The fire and rescue department mainly consist of fire trucks, ambulances, first responder unites, water truck, and a latter truck. The building itself is a nice design allowing five people to live in the upstairs, office, kitchen, bathrooms, and living room being on the down stairs.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Feb 16, 2010 1:43:19 GMT -5
[Thomas has entered the Circle River Community, Fire and Rescue Department... Kinda.]
Rule number one. Never formulate a plan.
It is well established in zombie movies, games, and novels, that any overthought or overzealous plan for escaping and/or surviving an outbreak is to be met with horrible death or tragedy. Grouping all of the survivors and anti-heros together and making this great "escape plan" will fail. There are no exceptions. It gives the viewer/reader/player a sense of hopelessness and dread.
The only exception?
Every home-made re-enactment of the Arklay Mansion Incident, even the "Made For TV" version... The highly popular home-brew game of the same name... The books written by the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members, testimonials...
The ones that didn't survive had plans.
The survivors were flying by the ass of their pants.
Thomas would follow suit.
He was flying in a different manner, however. A triumphant announcement in the form of a naturally aspirated 305 Small Block howling into the night through 3.5 inch Magnaflows rectangular tip lead Thomas on an excursion into the somewhat closer Circular River community. Smaller, more spread out, and certainly less packed than Raccoon would inevitably be, it seemed a perfect choice for reconnaissance. The only issue here was finding a good place to stake out.
He needed concrete walls. Steel doors, or at least a garage with a barricadable interior door.The last thing he would want is a repeat of the incident in Idaho.
The town was not desolate, by far. The population was, of course, more dead than alive, but they seemed spread out. and oddly enough, they almost acted AFK. Even as Thomas barreled into town at seventy, dodging the enemy when necessary, they barely seemed to notice him. As if they were distracted...
"Or," Thomas thought to himself... "It could be that I reek of six days of nonstop driving, and probably don't smell appetizing..."
It could have also been that he was just driving too fast to notice the Zacks turning their attention to the rumbling Camaro. Who knows.
The small, two-lane highway slowly evolved into a two-way Main Street, down the center of town. Businesses and shops, half either on fire or ruined by the heavy bloodspray or corpses, lined the thorough-way. The residential area was presumed to be tucked behind either side of the single story district. Houses would probably be wood-wrought, with paper-thin aluminum garage doors. And on fire.
"Need something with... Uh... Steel doors... What I need is like, a gun shop or something... Or..."
Rolling through the deserted and dead vein to Raccoon City was all but hopeless. Nothing around here would have the security and peace of mind that Thomas was hoping for. That is, until he spotted a green directory sign near a side-inlet. He took a risk coming to a full stop to scroll the sign from the safety of his IROC.
"Alright, police station, clinic, the CRC... Oh-ho! Fire house!"
A peel-out headed west enforced his enthusiasm to dart across town. A fire house was perfect.... Considering the concrete structure, heavy garage doors, upstairs amenities, not to mention to supplies, food, and potential weapons... He would see this place often.
If it wasn't teeming with the dead.
Navving there wasn't as easy as he had anticipated. A roadblock established by police forces, and further fortified with wrecked trucks, cars, and piles of corpses kept Thomas from a direct route. A fortunate diversion, as it would seem... He was required to take an alternative path, consisting of four more side-streets than he would have liked, which brought him around the rescue station from behind. If he had followed his original plan to break in, he would have pulled in near the front, climbed out of his Camaro, and jimmy'd the door open. He would have been too busy f**king with the locked front door to see the small mass of ten or so Zacks on the opposite side of the building. One of which seemed to be a runner. He anticipated the runner would strike first, which Thomas would have probably taken out, but the rest would have followed, and probably overwhelmed the single survivor.
See, plans never work.
"Well, s***..." Thomas peered around for a moment, assuring himself that coming to another full stop was not a stupid idea. "How are we gonna get in, girl...?"
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 16, 2010 13:43:01 GMT -5
Episode 1 Ridin' Out Shotgun [/b][/size][/center] Ash peeled around the curve, her brain feeling as if it was going to overload and snap under mnemonic pressure as she recalled everything she'd learnt on driving. She was falling into Hypertension making tasks devious "Follow the white line! follow the white line! follow the white line!" the acting of turning the wheel, adjusting speed, or merely focusing on the road ahead of her. Shot. She thumbed her eye to flick blood out of it, a steady stream pouring from an open wound on her forehead. Ash breathed deeply when hitting a straight and took her hands off the wheel, using the stretch of road to tie up her hair. Left hand back on the wheel, her right shot under her drivers seat and tore out the first aid case. Ash pulled out gauze and haphazardly wrapped it around her head; tucking it in to keep it tight, let it soak up the blood. The hypertension was getting worse, Ash's vehicle swayed on the road and several moments her vision blacked out for half a second; her heart was tearing its way out of her chest. Minutes earlier she'd been further down the road in the other direction sitting around a crossing leading onto Stoneville; the group of survivors had been ambushed by a horde or carriers a size you couldn't count. Several times though Ash had been near infected getting to her car, one instance a carrier had latched onto her leg and she felt all hope lost before it was replaced with relief as she pulled free. It was when she near-missed a survivor with Faith that sent Ash careening into a roadside pine. Ash had been thrown about; she never installed airbags due to the possibility of being trapped for too long, seatbelts were decent enough. It hadn't stopped her head colliding with the steering wheel though. When Ash came to Faith was surrounded by carriers. That's when the hypertension had kicked in. Faith snapped into reverse and Ash stabbed the gas, dropping the clutch. She shot out of the ditch, crunching carriers, going airborne. Ash had no idea where she was but going away from the carrier mob was the only thing in her head. Faith 180'd in a heartbeat and picked up G's. ------ Now Ash headed into the CR community, it began to get more built up but her speed didn't reduce. Faith dodged carriers, heading onto the side walk, back onto the road. Ash's vision went blank again, returning in time to show her a brick wall. The E-brake came on, Faith drifted; the back end of the car scraped the wall and swiped poles before smashing into a powerline tap. The inertia and momentum remained, spinning-spinning-spinning before a final crunch of metal and carbon fiber. Ash's vision blurred. There was a sting at her neck, and when she touched with her hand the only sensation was warm and wet. Her head had gone through the driver side window and the remaining glass had cut her badly. Ash's vision blurred, hand going for the door and pulling it open. It creaked and the sound brought tears to her eyes. The clap of feet to b*tchumen got her attention as she stumbled out of the car, one of her sindwinders raised and a bullet went through the carriers head before Ash collapsed backwards onto Faith. Ash rolled over, a single hand touching the Nissan Z while the other was limp with the sidearm, "I'm sorry baby..." she managed among sniffs and sobs, her forehead resting against the totalled car. The hypertension was gone, replaced with hypotension. Sound drowned out, replaced by her single heartbeat slowing down; a sprint car decelerating after a hard run. Ash fought off the grip of death. It felt exactly the same as trying to remain awake. She rolled back into a sitting position just as bright white lights blinded her already blurred vision.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Feb 17, 2010 8:04:16 GMT -5
Now, keep this in mind. Metal Wave is an IROC. A 1987 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z RS, to be exact. She is not shy, she is not calm, she is not quiet. Often, Metal Wave would literally drown out practically everything else. The rumble of her 305 was enough to kill the stereo at times. This was true of the moment, as Thomas was all but oblivious to the hard crash that had taken place just meters from his idling Camaro.
He eased off of the clutch, applying some accel before Metal Wave heaved her heavy ass forward. Indeed, Thomas demanded a lot from her, but she liked the abuse. An excessive growl shook her exhaust tips, overtaking the ambiance of chaos. The road around the back of this particular fire house was rounded, as if to plan for further development. [Like that'll ever happen.] Thomas asked more of Metal Wave, and she answered like a good girl. Her RPM band flew high, and first gear was topped off rather quickly, jetting the Camaro ahead lightning quick. Gas off. Clutch in. Shift up. Clutch out. Gas on. Second was longer some, but not much. He hadn't gotten her halfway through second before he spotted collapsed tail lights, a smoking rice-burning motor, and a few deadies approaching a female survivor just around the bend.
"How the hell... Crap, that chick is corpse fewds!"
Speaking teh lulz? In my zombie outbreak? It's instinctual for Thomas. Unfortunate, but a very real and influential part of his life. A single slick move justified his intentional audio lolspeak.
Metal Wave's slim accelerator went right to the floor, impacted by Thomas shifting all of his weight to the passenger side. His body was cocked some, helping his reach across the wide sports coupe to pop the lock with his middle and ring fingers. Just the same, as he slid back into his proper seat, he grabbed the comforter pack and immediate supplies in the vacant passenger seat, and indiscriminantly tossed them into the backseat. All this happening within moments of itself. The Colorado Native burst forward as if possessed, intent on making his first true zombie outbreak survivor rescue. Yay.
"This has to be timed perfectly, Metal Wave... Don't fail me..."
One of the closer Zacks, approaching the assumedly injured female, was met with Metal Wave's injured eye. Thomas insured her busted headlight hit dead on the dead, sending the Zack airborne, flailing into the chilled winter evening. Using the driver controls, he powered the window down some, practically yelling over Metal Wave's own voice.
"Hey dude, can you get in, or are you dead?!"
Real slick. Formal sentence structuring, proper gender note, and a hesitant decision to jump out himself and try to load the poor thing into his passenger seat. Yeah, he's good at making friends. He waits no more than a half a second, before he fumbles around the backseat with his right hand, trying to feel-find the empty Charles Daly he was awarded with some time ago. He knew how to load it, and shooting a gun doesn't require a bachelor's degree. If it came down to it, he'd jump out. But he'd try not to if he could.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 17, 2010 10:02:15 GMT -5
Ashleigh clawed her way around Faith, pulling at the tires and skirt to get to the boot. She pushed the slightly ajar cover but it didn't budge, Ash jammed her sidewinder into the gap and pulled down with her weight. It flicked open, more scraping and crunching. The revolvers cylinder was already open before Ash grabbed a moon clip and stuck it into the twelve holes. A flick of the wrist popped the cylinder back to its primed position. Ash fell onto her back, vision getting more blurry, and aimed a wobly ironsight at the carrier nearest to her.
Now, Ash's cognitive abilities were somewhere lackluster around this stage. The thought 'Pull the trigger,' had indeed passed through her head, and it was very close to reaching her hand and index finger. The carrier had flown a ridiculous distance for the damage Ash's sidewinder could possibly muster, but the conclusion that she had performed the action registered bringing forth an insane amount of confusion. Ashleigh looked at her revolver quizically, inspecting to make sure it wasn't a rocket launcher.
Words then filled her ears, something she hadn't expected to hear; they were deep, slow and noisy. Ash looked about herself, breathing laboured...
"Hey dude, can you get in, or are you dead?!"
A magnificent car sat near her also telling her to get in while screaming at the other carriers to keep back or end up like their flightless friend, "A chance..." Ash started to speak, but decided to start moving. Her original sentence would have sounded something like "A chance to survive," or "I might possibly live through this,"
Ash used Faith's body to stand up and get bearing. She turned once more to the Nissan and reached into the boot, grabbing a small bag and her second sidewinder, said her sweet goodbyes and pushed herself away from it. The stumbling was annoying, more than twice did she fall onto one knee on her way to the Chevvy grunting at each impact; she'd announce an 'F' consonant to indicate the word she most appreciated at the time.
She snap shotted a carrier that got too close while rounding the boot of the IROC; recoil deafened her pace a little, Ash placed a hand onto the boot of the Chevvy to steady herself. The car growled and Ash withdrew her hand, holding her palm out to gesture an appology and continued to the passanger side door. A tug and it came open, Ash more fell than sat down on the seat and pulled the door shut. She aimed again at another carrier out the window, a PAP sound resonating from her sidewinder as a bullet collided with the carriers head.
Once the IROC was moving again Ash calmed down, licking her lips, "Th... Th-than..." the strength wasn't present to muster simple words, so Ash hoped what was said was enough for the person to know she was thankful for the rescue; much the same to the Chevvy as to him, even if it wasn't heard over her motor.
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Isaac
Survivalist
Posts: 70
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Post by Isaac on Feb 17, 2010 18:50:09 GMT -5
Isaac stopped in his tracks, shouldering his M4, aiming down its ACOG sight. He heard a noise, something not right with the silence that happened upon this side of the city. He had walked miles of this road so far, not coming upon a single zombie. Not entire odd since this area was less populated before the infection. This didn't cause rash decisions and believe in the safety of the area, he was on edge. He had been for god knows how long, constantly thinking there was a threat when there was none. It kept him on his toes though, it kept him alive throughout this gruesome world.
His finger extended past the trigger guard, fingering the safety to ensure it was off and ready to fire. He pivoted around his foot, he heard it again, he knew there was something, he knew it was coming from the treeline. He held his breath, steadying his sights as one of the creatures bellowed from the bush. It moaned for less than a second before two well placed shots found its head.
Double tap. Bullets were far easier to come by than his life, always make sure your target is down for the count. He stayed looking for only a few seconds before turning around and down the road again. He kept the weapon shouldered but not aimed, the safety still off. Luckily the silencer had made only quiet thuds in the night, leaving any others unaware of his presence.
He could hear movements from up ahead, though they were still a small ways away. It was loud, a revving engine was all that he could hear. Idiot. A loud car is a bad idea for the situation. Issac preferred walking, it was quiet and offered more flexibility. Though it did have its own risk and took more time. His slow walk broke into a run, not a sprint but enough to pick up the pace.
He could hear where it was coming from now, behind this Fire Department. He wasn't alone, the revving changed, indulging the idea of a human driver. Unfortunately several zombies crowded the now loud station. He aimed down the sights of his weapon, fire three bursts of two rounds, taking out three zombies that crowded the front. He walked around the building, seeing no zombies on this side was....unnerving. As he rounded the corner he could see a fire.
Isaac looked through his sights, a woman was slowly hobbling towards a waiting vehicle, a nice one but the cause of a lot of ruckus. A zombie approached the car from behind, though it wasn't gaining much distance as it had a severed foot. He fired twice, dropping that zombie quickly. He pivoted around on his foot as the car began moving, no signs of zombies.
Ten bullets gone. He kept a mental checklist of his ammunition until his clip would be refilled. He made a gesture to the car for a second before continuing to scope out the area. Anymore zombies would easily be drawn to noise of the engine and the sight of the burning heap that lay in front of him.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Feb 17, 2010 22:54:28 GMT -5
"Holy crap, this chick is all kindsa busted up..."
The only thought emanating from Thomas' mind at the moment seemed to dwell on his new passenger's current health state. He flicked up the power window switch as she neared the passenger door, rolling the window up while she stumbled into his Camaro. His right hand still struggled to locate his Charles Daly by touch alone. He would simply have to do without it.
Unexpectedly, the woman had fired a round while seated. It more startled Thomas than frightened him; the free-breathing 305 still overwhelmed the heavy thump, if only a small bit. The pressure wave was a different matter. For a moment, Thomas was sure he'd somehow blown a compression ring, and Metal Wave misfired as a result. The unfamiliar scent of a spent cartridge and oil assured him otherwise. He had turned his vision to the direction of the aftermath. A felled Zack stumbled back, the now defunct body simply toppling over onto the street below. Nice shot.
The blue door closed, if only halfway. He didn't expect her to carry the strength to slam it shut as necessary. As long as the lackluster seal did not hamper her aerodynamic properties, it would not bother him enough to pull aside and slam it for her. At the moment, it seemed redundant and suicidal. The accelerator was depressed some, pulling her RPM up to about fifteen hundred. The fine art of a flawless launch demanded a very narrow threshold. One Thomas knew well. Shift up. Clutch out. Full acceleration. And away they flew.
Just seconds after they had begun their escape, a two-way street break threw Thomas off. The Firehouse was to their right. So right went Metal Wave. To keep his passenger from making an early exit through the windshield, Thomas placed his right arm across her collar bone and upper sternum, holding her back against the vinyl bucketseat as full brakes were applied. They were only up to about thirty, but straightline braking was the most assured way to complete a turn without becoming a corpse. Or food for one. With his left hand alone, Thomas spun the steering wheel hard right. The familiar squeel of rubber hitting tarmac at speeds and directions it was never intended lead in yet more revving. A moving launch saw to the Camaro continuing it's original launch.
Unfortunately, Thomas was oblivious to the young woman's attempts to thank him verbally. He spoke himself, still unaware, utilizing years of concert-attending to pass along his assurances of survival. He clutched in, supporting himself somewhat on the clutch alone to push himself a little closer to her. He spoke in a normal tone, close, but not uberclose, to her ear. In areas with excessive noise, yelling over the ambiance can cause hearing damage. This Thomas knows too well.
"You're gonna be alright man." Again, his indiscriminate slang proved to outweight formality.
Shift up. Adjust body position. Clutch out. Gas. Third.
At this point, the fire house is directly to their right. A few stray Zacks dotted the street. Easy dodges. He took his eyes off the road for mere seconds to scout any safe path, weighing the distance of the corpses, their average walking speed, aggression, and the number therein against his own distance from the front door, weather or not to leave Metal Wave running, and... How exactly that Zack got a hold of that M4.
The body motions of that one were off. Did it retain memories from it's previous existence? Did it learn how to use that thing?! These over-exaggerated ideas flew out and away when the Zack clearly started waving Thomas down. Another survivor!
All of his plans were suddenly ditched. Again, plans never work. Why did he even try? He crossed in front of the fire station from the main road, not bothering to pull in. Clutch in. Brake. Hard right. He neared the curb, his deep dish IROC rims mere inches from the sidewalk. Hard left. Clutch out. Little gas. The moment they were on the road again, he picked a safe place close to the fire house, and pulled over for just a moment as close as he could get to the assumed survivor. clutch in. Shift into neutral. And, for a few moments, Metal Wave slept. Ignition off. The true dead silence suddenly filled the night air. This would only be the case for a few seconds. He flung his door open, not bothering with his windows. They would only lose time waiting. The locks were still popped anyway.
"Dude, find a way in there! I've got a girl, and she's all kinds of f**ked up! I'll draw the corpses offa ya!"
Just before he finished, Thomas began to crank the motor over, preparing for a hasty launch.
"Open up one of the garage doors, only enough to get me through ya?! I got supplies as payment! I'll be back in three minutes or so... Don't let me down bro!!"
The double exclamation marks insinuated a great need to survive. Who wouldn't want to live through this? Just as suddenly as Metal Wave had been laid to rest, she was jolted awake. He launched slower this time, trying to draw the Zacks out and away from the hopefully vacant fire station. With the fire station now in his rear view, rolling in the opposite direction to bring himself attention, Thomas reflected on his decision. Had he just placed his life, and that of his young woman, in a total stranger's hands? Then again, his passenger did too... And she's still alive... Thomas had faith the guy with the M4 would help them out.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 18, 2010 0:05:59 GMT -5
There were a lot of fuzzy colours, it was starting to upset Ashleigh's stomach a fair bit. She blinked constantly asif to help, looking out of the windshield hurt; she could feel the hypotension wrapping around her heart, each beat and it would squeeze. The blood flow could be compared to pushing a watermelon through a funnel.
Ash shrugged it off, there'd been worse. She looked downwards, anywhere from the colours in the windshield, and flicked open the cylinder in her revolver. She counted however many bullets, sixteen, 'That's okay... only seeing things in two,' so it was around 8 shots; there might have been a couple overlapping in the image so give or take one. She pushed the cylinder back in, grimmacing a little at the effort before hearing it click. She relaxed again, looking at the colours through the windshield once more.
There was a moment of reassurance when Ash heard words in her ear for the second time this instance, the colours immediately went from hostile flashes to a steaming lights; this Ash could deal with. The turns and swerves still made her stomach summersault though. Deep down though she could start to feel the soul of the IROC and felt a measurable amount of strength passed into her.
A moment passed, and then the IROC's soul vanished, the colours faded. The car had stopped. Ash paniced a little before hearing the deep and slow voice call out, was he speaking to her? She pushed up off the seat and noted he had his door open and head up, not her. As she leaned back her eye crossed the left hand side mirror, the door open a little which she hadn't closed properly. A bobbling head was visible from Ash's perspective, the thing was running fast. Ash clammered, her hands jammed up while taking a hold of her sidewinder.
She rested her hand on the door, thumb over the trigger and pointed the revolver down the tail of the IROC looking down the iron sight via the side mirror. She murmurred an appology to the Chevvy while aiming if she happened to skim a bullet on the paint. As the head came closer it split into two, Ash cursed at the increase in difficulty. She held her breath and counted to three, "Eenee... meenee" PAP. Both of the heads fell down, a considerable amount of noise made from a body hitting gravel.
Ash's grip on the sidewinder deteriorated and it dropped to her feat, with what strength remained she wiped the side view mirror of the gunshot residue and flopped back into the seat. The same time the IROC beamed back into existence and the colours continued. Ash held her arm to her mouth and looked away from the windscreen.
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Post by rass55 on Feb 18, 2010 5:24:33 GMT -5
((Omit this))
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Isaac
Survivalist
Posts: 70
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Post by Isaac on Feb 18, 2010 18:23:29 GMT -5
Isaac swore to himself, it was likely all the doors were locked on the fire station. He could pick a lock, relatively easy, but he didn't like the idea at all. It required attention, concentration, as well as having your back turned to the outside world. He was certain more zombies would arrive, it was almost undoubtable. So much noise, light and commotion emanated from this single spot.
"Three minutes and counting." A mental countdown started in his head, keeping in tune as the car rolled away. Zombies would be drawn to the car, but they would be drawn to a non moving target as well. He scanned the side of the building, breaking a window wouldn't be an option. The glass was strong, it would slow zombies when they got in. No way to the roof and down, only one option.
He slung his rifle over his back, pulling out a lock picking kit. He took a final look behind him before his focus was turned onto the small slit under the door knob. His fingers worked around on the tools. He could hear something behind him, it was getting closer. Almost there. He could hear the engine roaring on the other side of the building, keeping some at bay. Just a little longer and the lock would be gone.
The hair on Isaac's neck stood, quickly flipping his wrist and hearing a gratifying click. Relief and fear struck him at the same time, hands at his shoulder. He spun on his heel, his hand grabbing the Baretta on his hip. He removed the safety from this gun, he always wanted it ready. As the sights met the zombies neck he fired twice. One round pierced its through, the other whizzing through its eye.
Isaac kicked his feet up, meeting its chest and launching it out of the door. He quickly got on his feet, shutting it and locking the door. 30 seconds! Time was close, but still he had time. He raced to the other side of the building and into the garage. It was empty except for one single fire truck. He swore, the controls on the other side of the room.
He broke into a sprint, reaching the controls quickly. He frantically pressed the button, no response. He turned, seeing a handle on the garage door. He pulled with his strength, feeling his muscles contract in his legs and arms. The door slid upwards, he pushed it above his head and stood at one end. He could see the car still, it would fit. As soon as it entered the door would drop, closing them in.
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Feb 18, 2010 23:32:01 GMT -5
As odd as it sounds, these passing three minutes of Thomas' life were unremarkable. Aside from the occasional runner, the Zacks were easy enough to weave around, none of them close enough to so much as touch Metal Wave. For a majority of his time drawing attention to himself, he kept the clutch at the floor, revving Metal Wave's 305 as needed. Three minutes was more than enough time to pop a lock, or so he hoped... His concern was for his passenger... The extent of her injuries was yet to be discovered. Could she last three more minutes?
His thoughts then drifted along to the unknown. Would that dude with the rifle bolt, or did he plan on breaking in anyway, and would simply deny the pair asylum? Had he placed too much faith in humanity?
Two minutes and counting.
Six Zacks to his right. Four, maybe five to the left. Three behind him, and countless in front. they were spread apart, but they were there. From where they were positioned at the middle of the intersection, a single turn would not yield escape, without hitting a Zack or a curb. The angle they were facing presented an issue as well. Facing away from the fire station, they would have to either flip a b*tch, which would eat up some of the few precious seconds... Or back up. The problem that Thomas has with backing over a few corpses would be the inevitable damage to Metal Wave's fine ass. That was about it.
Clutch in. Full brake. Metal Wave came to a dead stop, motor rumbling a fierce idle purr. Again, he crossed his right arm over his yet nameless passenger's collar bone and upper sternum, holding her firmly against the bucketseat once more. He pulled her RPM high, just like last time.
"I'm sorry, sweetie... I love you..."
Honestly, if anyone had heard him, the tone in his voice sounded as if he were sacrificing her. It was a somber moment. Metal Wave was already jacked up from the encounter at Idaho, but this was different. Deliberate.
One minute.
He fired off reverse, and clutched out. One would not imagine a reverse gear could be as ferocious as an IROC's is. The three survivors flew back with intense vigor, slamming into two Zacks simultaneously, both at the right rear panels. The crunch of glass, metal, and bone would have been audible, were the motor not linked to a Magnaflow exhaust kit. They stayed in reverse for mere seconds. When space and time allotted, Thomas withdrew his right arm acting as his passenger's safety harness, slammed on the brakes, shifted back up into drive, and flipped one in the middle of the street. One minute.
The fire house was only a couple hundred meters off from their current position, and with their heading, the three minutes wouldn't fit properly if he had to come to a full stop again. His execution would have to be perfect. Second gear. Time was running out...
The frantic manner of the situation warranted a little showboating on Thomas' part. Just as they approached the vehicle bays, the three minutes ran down to the last ten seconds. And, with a great wave of relief washing over him, one of the bay doors was open, surprisingly being held by hand. Thomas threw Metal Wave down a gear, and pulled her parking brake up, turning hard right. He immediately released the handbrake, clutched out, and hit the gas hard. The nanosecond of the rear wheels giving out behind her threw Metal Wave's now damaged ass around the driver side, sliding sideways into the garage. Time slowed for a moment. Metal Wave's nose slid by the M4 wielding survivor's body, with inches to spare.A well executed drift. The weight balance could have been better, but it was well done for having as much weight as she was carrying.
Metal Wave didn't stop sliding as Thomas killed her. A chilling silence followed, accompanied by a slight ringing of the ears.
".... WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO---" World's longest victory roar.
He pet Metal Wave's silver interior, commenting over and over how much he loved her, and how wonderful a car she is. the victory was cut short, with his attention now turned to his passenger. "Holy s***, that's right!" He practically tore out of his seat restraints, and ran a half-circle around Metal Wave's front end. He pulled the passenger door open, then hesitated.
"Crap, what do I do..." He thought to himself... She was hurt, obviously, but how badly?
[OoC: so sleepy when I wrote this. e.e I apologize for the quality of my post. I just wanted to respond before I went to beddy-bye. Nai~]
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 19, 2010 1:22:24 GMT -5
The rollercoaster stopped for a brief interval, Ash's eyes darted around the place to keep up with what was going on. Suddenly the Chevvy screamed and Ash felt a surge of pain flood her body, she groaned a little; the IROC had just done something a little unpleasant... definitely not something agreeable under normal circumstances. The flashing colours kept up though so the driver must have done something right.
A minute passed, and then a sensation overwhelmed the Chevvy. A familiar sensation. Ashleighs eyes went wide as she realized what it was that she was thinking of. It had been the same sensation before she had crashed Faith, the drift right before her death. Her eyes went wide and she pushed herself up, detirmined to see what was through the windshield; Ash held a hand to her eyes and peered under her fingers from the bright colours. Suddenly the colours were shot dead and the Chevvy slept, Ash was thrown a little back into her seat. When she saw brick walls and steel doors, she made a weak thumbs up to the driver for keeping both of them from dying.
Car doors opened and closed, she glimpsed another person in the building. Then the driver was at her side of the car. The hypotension caused each heartbeat to make her vision go from grey to coloured; it also effected sound a little so that when a beat filtered through it sped up the persons voice and then pulled it down low once the beat had past. Put a smile on Ash's face; it was as close to a laugh as she'd get in this state.
"Crap, what do I do..."
Ash finally registered the words and rolled her eyes a little, "Lock the... f-frick'n place-down," no point bunking up to be attacked from the inside. She brought a shaky hand to the bandage around her head, tapped it a little, then made another thumbs up to indicate she'd be fine. Just needed a bit of rest...
... then passed out.
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Post by otaku999 on Feb 19, 2010 16:27:56 GMT -5
Natalie was honestly not sure how she had made it so far from the diner. Luck? Probably. Staying quiet? That helped too. The metal pipe? Oh, hell yeah.
Okay. Natalie forced herself to breath slowly as she ducked through another alleyway. There's gotta be someone left alive around here...
A vehicle screamed around the corner, almost running Natalie over. By some miracle the van swerved into the garage. Natalie stared for a moment, hoping the silence didn't mean the death of the driver.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Okay... The driver was obviously alive.... Crazy, but still alive. And hey, crazy was better than brain-eating, right?
Right?
Natalie gripped the pipe in her hand tightly, making sure there weren't any zombies nearby. She darted to the garage door, ducking inside.
"H-hello?" She mumbled. Some guy was talking to a girl in the car. She looked pretty banged up...
"Hey! You're not zombies. Awesome. Neither am I. Uh..." She glanced around. "Hi?"
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Isaac
Survivalist
Posts: 70
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Post by Isaac on Feb 19, 2010 21:53:51 GMT -5
"Give her to me! I have medical training." Isaac almost let the door drop before a body hurried under the metal door. He quickly let go, drawing his M4 and raising it towards her head. His finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger, beginning to pull on it. She spoke, quietly, but she was human. He slung his gun back, "Jesus! Don't run into a room like that. You'll get yourself killed."
He easily could have shot her, a clean kill shot too. He moved to the passenger door, lightly pushing the driver to the side. He reached his hand behind her head, she was bleeding. Instinctively he dug a hand under her knees and another around her neck. He pulled her from the car and moved back, laying her down on a nearby table.
He scanned the room, and walked around the firetruck pulling compartments open. Every firetruck had tons of medical equipment, not surgical but he could certainly patch her up. Finally he found aid kits, pulling them all out and setting them on a nearby chair.
His hands raised her torso and head up, "Hold her up." Thomas reached, holding her like so. He examined her head, no fragments or anything, just a clean gash. Luckily she was passed out, but that probably wouldn't last long. He opened the kits, finding a syringe as well as pain relievers. He filled the syringe slightly, injecting it around the gash in minor amounts.
"Lets see..." He searched around, dry clothes being brought to her head. He applied pressure, soaking up blood and replacing another cloth. Isaac reached for moist anti-bacterial cloths, cleaning the wound more thoroughly. "I wont be able to stitch her up, the tools aren't here and I'm not good at that." After cleaning it out a little more he pulled out another antibiotic, pouring a little into the wound.
Finally, he pressed harder on the wound to close it more before applying a few gauze around and on the wound. He grabbed some bandaging and wrapped it around her head, tying it off. He gestured for Thomas to lay her flat. "She should be alright."
((Bunnied you a little bit Thomas, simply to get the wound healed and stuff, hope ya dont mind.))
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Post by .name//Technomancer on Feb 20, 2010 9:26:33 GMT -5
[ONOES! I WAS BODY HIGHJACKED! BAN HIM BAN BAN BAN BAN BA----
It's fine dude. xD I would have considered a protest if the actions you had me perform were out of Thomas' normal behavior, and even so, I would have only asked you change dialogue/actions to suit Thomas' reactions/movements/methods. Or if you made me an hero. Do not want.
ONTO THE YUMMY POAST.]
/./The role of hero, held by Thomas during the escape and distraction of the shufflers, was passed to Issac. Thomas' medical knowledge was primal at best: soak burns in cold water; clean and cover open wounds; immobilize broken limbs; chop off Gangrene. WebMD handled the rest. When Issac expressed his confidence in aiding Ash further, Thomas complied and stepped away from the limelight.
He remained on stand-by during the procedure to mend Ash. Handing Issac items as necessary, supporting Ash for the few moments he did, so on. Typical of people with his caliber of intellect, Thomas was rather good at following orders to a T.
Issac's assuring statement concerning Ash's stable health brought Thomas down from his adrenal high. Unaware he had been using as much adrenaline as his body was, he began to feel dizzy. Physically, he held the feeling in, but he knew he needed something to flush out his system. Once Ash was taken care of, the Native staggered across the vacant garage towards his scratched up Camaro, the passenger door still open. Supporting his weight on the roof of the car, he extended his left hand down to the seat adjustment lever, to fold the seat over, allowing access to the rear seats. As the lever popped the seat forward and down, he withdrew his hand with a familiar sensation on his fingers. The lever was covered in Ash's warm scarlet life. This irritated Thomas more than angered././[/b]
"Spectacular... Five bucks says there's blood under the seat too..."
/./He wouldn't check just now. He had more pressing matters to attend to. First came an issue of cleaning off his bloodied hand. He wouldn't allow the red to stain any of his supplies. He would look as a raider. With his right hand, he slid Gungnir's tipped half from behind the water packs, and immediately set on to find the nearest sink. As luck would have it, the rescue station supplied a sink near the table where Ash now lays. It was but a few steps before Thomas was within reach of the sink. Then his primary OCD overtook his supplementary OCD. Blood on hand, or wash hand with possible zombie virus water?/./[/b]
".... f**k it."
/./A creak of the outdated faucet spilled water into the deep stainless steel reservoir below. It was a simple matter of holding his hand beneath the current to whisk away the life force././[/b]
"Those poor blood cells..." /./He began, speaking more in eulogy to himself than to anyone in the garage in particular..././[/b] "Not only are they taken from their home, and disposed of so indiscriminately, but they never had a chance to do their job... All of that wasted oxygen and effort..."
/./He had a knack for placing odd occurrences and minor effects, like blood cells or the humble cotton swab, into a dismal and over-thought perspective. This was one such moment. Was it the delirium due to his decent from an adrenaline high speaking, or an odd display of existentialism?
A conclusion would reveal the former, as evident by his gradual recovery over the next few hours. His hand how cleansed with probable zombie-water, Thomas paced once again to the side of his beloved. He drew from her backseat two bottles of water, the bottom half of Gungnir, who he assembled right then and there, and his backpack. He unzipped the main pocket, produced his Asus, propped it open, set it on Metal Wave's roof, and clicked a random key to awaken it from hibernation. As she spooled awake, Thomas zipped the backpack up once again, and set it on the driver seat. The laptop would, by script, attempt to access any wired net, but wireless would require a command. Instead, he simply allowed her to initialize basic operation before putting her to work, giving him time to establish a perimeter with Issac. He capped open a bottle of water, and slammed the entire thing. Parched did not properly describe his thirst././ [/b]
"Hey man," /./He gestured to Issac././[/b] "You need water?"
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