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Post by .Merios on Nov 17, 2008 21:30:08 GMT -5
A massive structure sits in the busy part of the City Center, near the main roads in and out of it the area. This huge building has a series of 25 floors with 20 rooms on each floor. Width wise, it's only two apartments large (including a stairwell, elevator, and hallway). which makes it rather skinny compared to some of the larger complexes around the world. Each floor has it's own story, as well as it's own occupants. It's a long way down- fortunately, the elevator is still functioning. Unfortunately, the now deceased residents don't like company- any survivor attempting to raid the apartments will likely have to fend off the undead occupants while searching for goods and weapons. Great treasures are able to be found here if the lucky survivor or survivors are able to survive the horror of a death cage.
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Post by deusexhominis on Nov 26, 2008 21:18:21 GMT -5
Jeremy lifted a hand, covering his eyes to protect them from the late afternoon sun. He could almost laugh. Only a few hours ago he had done the exact same thing. Back before this nightmare had started all over again that is. He stopped in front of the apartment complex, feeling the heft of his backpack. He frowned. His backpack was far too light. It only contained enough water for a few days, and he knew, better than most, that this would last for months, maybe even years. He looked over at the building, scanning it with his eyes. It was definately a risk going in there, but his room had supplies that he could definately use. He turned, drawing his gun and cocking it. He was walking into a deathtrap. He shuddered. A deathtrap that had been his home only a short time ago. Quickly, quietly he moved into the lobby, ducking behind a pillar. He could already hear the moans of the undead wandering the halls. He had to get to the elevator and fast. But that meant crossing the lobby. Aw man!
[Jeremy has entered the apartment complex]
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Post by Metal Head on Nov 27, 2008 1:20:54 GMT -5
“Greasy bastard! Where the f**k are you?” I cursed under my breath as I rifled through the papers on the security desk. I was looking for something, a piece of paper with the names and room numbers of the occupants of the apartment. A man had contacted me for my assistance in the finding of the form, and told me it should be at the security desk. But obviously, it wasn’t there. Another loud curse, and a slam of my fists on the desk, and I was done being angry.
That was when I heard a sudden shuffle and the sound of glass cracking. Instantly I reached for my HK417, which I’d laid down on the table and crouched down behind the counter. My breathing slowed, and I aimed carefully ahead, weary of whatever might be out there.
The bright light outside made it easy to see everything in the lobby, so I decided to go to the edge of the desk and try to get some better cover there. Shuffling over, I kept the sound of my movements to a minimum, and as I reached the side of the desk, I peeked out from the side with my HK shouldered and scanned the area ahead.
It couldn’t have been a zombie. I thought as I remembered clearly cleaning the first floor of all it’s undead occupants. I’d even cleared a large portion of the outside, just in front of the building. Every shot I’d made was with my HK, which was silenced by the always dependable Gemtech silencer, I’d bought years prior. No way the zombies heard the shots.
(Kyle Dupois is now in the City Centre Apartment Complex)
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Post by deusexhominis on Nov 27, 2008 10:25:15 GMT -5
Jeremy took a few deep, slow breaths to calm himself. He had done this before....he could do it again. I've just gotta watch myself. Slowly, cautiously, Jeremy moved out into the lobby, checking the clip of his gun. It was good, so he slid it back into the gun with a click, cocking his weapon. He held the gun the way his father had taught him, barrel pointed towards the ground, gun held low. He moved slowly through the lobby, his feet crunching on broken glass and debree. "Anyone here?" he called out in a shaky voice. The sounds, the moaning he recognized oh so well got closer, turned in his direction. "Oh d***!" The first one rounded a corner, saw him, and began its shuffle towards this new source of food. It never made it two steps. A single, loud gunshot rang through the lobby, and it fell to the floor with a sickening thump, blood pooling around the bullet hole through its forehead. Breathing out, Jeremy crouched, waiting. No more came. Cautiously he began moving towards the hall that the zombie had emerged from.
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Post by Shogun Liquid© on Nov 27, 2008 23:20:34 GMT -5
Something crawled within the darkness, clicking sounds like a claw scraping or hitting the floor.
As it moved above the ceiling, it's heightened sense of hearing and smell picked up Jeremy's movements which was walking towards a hallway that happened to find itself in. With a hunter's insticnt, it waited in the darkness of the hall, waiting for the right moment to spring the trap.[/i][/color]
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Osamu
Alive
Monochrome
Posts: 13
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Post by Osamu on Nov 29, 2008 12:46:53 GMT -5
“HELP ME!”
Piercing through the seemingly impenetrable wall of momentary silence, a voice echoed outwards in distress, harboring a chilling tone composed of an unimaginable sensation of terror. “PLEASE!” Pain was now apparent within the shaky tone of the earsplitting soundwaves, and soon the young man’s call was enveloped by the moan of the undead; it was there though, resonating throughout the hallway, but digressed in volume and became much more difficult to decipher.
“Why should I?” A calm voice contrasted largely with the clamorous and chaotic barrage of noise as a middle aged Japanese man sauntered tardily out from a oaken door upon an emergency exit. His eyes were bloodshot, menacing in appearance and altogether displaying a possibly misinterpreted sign of malevolence, or perhaps not; maybe the disgruntling and sickly appearance of his stature instead held a truth about the individual, and maybe he was a dark and baleful as one would expect. Across his lithe frame a lab coat stained drastically with dark red blood cascaded downwards, stopping just below his waistline. Holes riddled the dilapidated fabric of the coat, and coupled with the bedraggled and matted appearance of his coal black hair, and his bloodshot Oriental eyes, he appeared to be no different than the mindless infected individuals which roamed the area upon first glance.
“WHY SHOULD I HELP YOU!?” His teeth showed, and his thin lips curled upwards into a vicious snarl while he yelled without regard for the milling undead below him. The stairway between him, and the endangered man below was broken, impeding a path between anyone upon the floors beneath himself, and the floor on which he resided; there was only the elevator, and for the moment he had barricaded it from the outside with numerous random objects he found littering the nondescript rooms behind him.
“Who are you?” The man gawked upwards while his mouth was sent ajar slightly, his eyes focusing inward upon Dr. Nakamura. In front of the hopeless individual, zombies thrashed and attempted to ultimately destroy the fragile blockade he had constructed; he was safe, but not for long. Altogether, he appeared injured and seemed tired; the way he held himself showed signs of a weighted posture. He was weak.
“All this around you…” While the doctor spoke, he gesticulated with his arms, opening them in a wide arc around himself, and then he continued. “All this is a product of your own wrong doing. All the people who wanted Umbrella to die, this is what you get…” His voice was obscured by a black gas mask which rested across his head while he spoke, and then, he reached upwards and removed it while tightly holding it between his thumb and index finger. “This is your punishment..” He spoke clearly now with nothing to impede his speech.
His fascia was white, seemingly unnaturally so for the average Japanese citizen, and the crimson appearance of his eyes contrasted against the pale backdrop of his own sickly skin; and then he turned his back to the man and faced the door of which he exited from once again, and the large insignia of the Umbrella Corporation, though saturated with dark blood from an unknown source exposed itself proudly. “Any hell which awaits you is a fitting one. I hope you enjoy having your flesh gnawed on by your friends… That barricade won’t last.” His final words were spoken, and he pressed his palms against the door, opening it before walking back into his self made base of operations; a small clicking sound was apparent as he shut the door at his rear, and it was locked.
From the other side, an abrupt sound of metal clashing to the floor sounded, and was soon followed by a disturbing scream which was born from the direction of the entrapped man. “Time to get to work...” His face remained stoic as he once again walked over to the metallic elevator doors, and began to nail large planks across its surface from a small stockpile next to the door.
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John Reacher
Alive
There is no such thing as 'Untimely' Death
Posts: 10
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Post by John Reacher on Nov 29, 2008 23:10:26 GMT -5
Silence, John Reacher enjoyed silence. It gave him time to think, time to plan. And that was exactly what he was doing as silence enveloped him in the elevator in which he was riding up. The machine, powered by a mechanical pulley, came to a halt on a random floor. He breathed calmly, slamming one of his very precious MP5 clips into the submachine gun.
When the doors opened however, John saw nothing. Nothing at all. Just a wall of wood that trapped him inside the elevator. Asses the situation, one of the key planning mechanisms they had taught him in the army. He did just that and came to a conclusion. He could always ride the elevator to another floor, or he could find out who was on the current floor that had barricaded the elevator. He went with the latter of the options, swinging his MP5 to his back and withdrawing his Beretta from it's holster.
He began to kick the boards, aiming near the edges where they would be weak. He worked on all of them, save for the ones higher than his legs could reach. None of the boards broke, but he knew he had made some impact on them. He fell to one knee, saying a prayer. He went through the movements, using his first two fingers as he muttered "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." Then he rose and braced himself as far away from the wall of planks as he could. Then he rushed forward and threw his entire weight against the wood. All of the planks shattered, even those which he hadn't touched.
He fell to the ground, dust rising into the air. He lay still for a moment before rising, Beretta aimed level as he struggled to see through the dust still. He could make out the figure of someone, Osamu, although he did not recognize it.
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Post by Metal Head on Nov 30, 2008 22:27:47 GMT -5
A single, deafening report signaled that I had, indeed heard a human. Rising from my crouched stance, I quickly moved forward, almost at a run towards the room of tall, thick pillars that made up the front lobby. The only sound I made was the tapping of my boots against the ground, and the ruffling of my gear as it moved over my body. Pressing my back carefully against the nearest pillar, I brought my HK 417 up to my shoulder and carefully leaned out from the cover. A crouched figure caught my eye, but I held my fire.
“You! Hand up, now! Weapons down, stay where you are!” With my HK still trained on the target, I moved to the next pillar, and carefully made my way to the figure, but when I reached the last pillar between us, I waited to see what he’d do before I moved in on him, just incase he was a little crazy or something.
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 1, 2008 17:23:21 GMT -5
Rough and demanding as it was, Jeremy had never been so happy to hear another human voice in his entire life. Careful; he thought to himself,first impressions are important in a situation like this. Obediently, not wanting any trouble, Jeremy laid his gun down on the ground, rising and simultaneously placing his hands behind his head and turning around. He saw the barrel of a gun protruding from behind one of the pillars. He sighed out. "It's alright, I put the gun down see?" he showed his empty palms before returning his hands behind his head. "My name's Jeremy. What's yours?" Jeremy could have almost laughed at the irony. In looking for someone else, he had run into someone who had, before even showing himself, disarmed him and had him doing whatever he asked. He sighed again, just as a strange smell met his nose. It was coming from the hall behind him, he recognized. It was death, the smell that normally permeated infected buildings such as this, but under it...something else...Dismissing it for the moment, Jeremy stood, waiting for the stranger's next move.
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 2, 2008 21:46:15 GMT -5
Seeing that the stranger had laid his weapon on the ground, I bolted forward with my barrel still trained on the unknown subject before me. Gripping the rifle with one hand and grabbing the man’s pistol with the other, I slipped the gun into the back of my waistband, and grabbed on of the mans wrist. Spinning him around and pinning him against the wall, I grabbed his other wrist and pinned both against his back before letting my HK rest against my chest so I could check the mans pockets. Finding a large, hunting knife, I stuck that into one of my vest pockets and pulled the kids backpack off his back and swung it over my shoulder.
“Move it,” I said roughly and pulled him from the wall before pushing him forcefully towards the desk I’d been searching through earlier.
“Are you alone? What are you doing here?” Forcing him into the only chair at the desk, I leaned against the small area where the mess of papers laid and watched the boy carefully, my HK ready in case he wanted to try something.
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 2, 2008 22:02:33 GMT -5
Jeremy grunted a bit as he was pushed up against a wall, his gun and knife taken. He grimmanced a bit. That gun was his father's...he would have to get that back. "Not very friendly are you?" he questioned as he was spun around and walked over to a desk, where he was put into a small chair. He rubbed his wrists, sighing a little bit. Well, maybe not ideal company, but it was at least something. His eyes strayed to the well formed handgrip of his handgun poking out of the man's wasteband. He would definately need to get that back. "Well, like I said, my name is Jeremy. In answer to your first question, yes I am alone. Most of the people in the city are dead, so who the hell would I be travelling with? I'm here, because my old room in this apartment building has some supplies that...someone close to me had me save in case of a second outbreak. Fresh water, some canned food, bullets, maybe even a weapon or two I can't remember entirely. Regardless, I'm gonna need that stuff," he nodded towards his gun, "and that before I can do anything else, so I came here. I don't mean you any harm, and honestly I don't see," he began ringing his wrists again, "why you need to be so rough."
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 0:03:54 GMT -5
A f*cking civilian.
Even with the current environment, I still couldn’t believe that a civilian was walking around. Especially for some supplies and a gun or two. My disbelief showed in my face, and I almost laughed when he asked for his gun back.
“No way kid, you ain’t getting this back,” I knew he was in danger without the gun, but I also knew that if I gave it back, there was a very real possibility that he might attack me, and although I’d gotten use to killing civilians for a variety of reasons, it still made my queasy.
“What floor you live on?” With a quick glance, I checked the elevators at the other end of the lobby, which both seemed to be in working order. The next place I had to check since the papers I needed weren’t on the security desk was one of the twenty or so rooms on the top floor, which one it was, I had no idea.
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Osamu
Alive
Monochrome
Posts: 13
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Post by Osamu on Dec 3, 2008 9:51:29 GMT -5
“Hmph.” Ricocheting off of the constricting hallway walls, the sound of destroyed planks became alerted Osamu towards a presence behind him. Someone had destroyed his barricade? Within the depths of his mind, he shrugged to himself intangibly and instead decided to feign ignorance to the situation. Afterall, it would grant him a nice tactical advantage, and to the unknowing lurker behind, he was no different from any survivor which was to be discovered. No, he was innocent, stranded and without a sense of direction.
After boding over his for coming actions, he turned on the heel of his grimy black shoes towards the source of the clamor and witnessed as a man, armed with a nondescript handgun proceeded towards his direction. “Don’t shoot!” Robotically, Osamu’s hands raised upwards into the air to make his unarmed and unthreatening demeanor even more obvious to survivor, who without a notion of stealth, loudly barraged his self constructed obstruction until gaining access to the current floor.
“You have to help me!” Black eyebrows upturned, displaying a false sense of fear and helplessness as he spoke to the individual before him, his eyes straining to peer through the cloudburst of dust which stirred in the wake of the man’s entrance. “I’ve set up camp here for about two days now, and the staircase collapsed suddenly last night, I’ve had no way to get out of here.” Reaching upwards with his left hand, he ran his thin digits through his locks of thick black hair while maintaining the convincing look of childish fear upon his own fascia.
“I need water, food, and I haven’t had much sleep while I’ve been staying here.” His steely gaze adverted towards the ground, and suddenly he sauntered backwards into an ajar, yet sturdy metal door behind him. “I don’t know if you can help me out not, I’m just relieved to see another human for now. But, let me escape with you.” His almond orbs tittered upwards once again, staring into the other man’s eyes intently as if he was awaiting a decision.
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 16:08:30 GMT -5
"Kid!" Jeremy barked. "I'm no kid! And I probably know as much or more about these things than you! I lived through the extinction of half the human race you know!" Jeremy sighed, composing himself. "Look. Firstly, that was my father's gun. He gave it to me, so I'm really gonna need to get that back." he looked up at the ceiling and, as an afterthought, interjected, "I know how to shoot it you know. Secondly, I live on the fourth floor. My father has an underground shelter set up; he always thought this might happen again, guess he was right," Jeremy mumbled. He wasn't really too keen on passing on this information on to a stranger, but he was getting worried that this man might try to make him leave, and he and his father would really need those supplies. "I have to get those supplies to him as soon as I can." Jeremy was rapidly loosing patience. This was wasting time, and time was one thing they couldn't afford to lose now. He knew that from experience. He locked eyes with the man in a stare just as determined as the stranger's was, waiting for a response.
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 17:37:02 GMT -5
“If you’re young enough to be my child, you’re a child. Plus, I’ve been fighting the undead since you were in diapers, so don’t try and tell me you know more about them then me. Anymore lip, and I’ll drop you right now, got it?” I was really starting to get tired of this kids attitude, and decided right then and there he wasn’t getting the gun until I got what I needed.
“How the hell is it an underground shelter if you live on the fourth floor?” He was especially curious about this, as if he did have an underground shelter, it was either separate from his house completely and in the basement, or else this kid was lying completely, for which he’d have to pay severe consequences.
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