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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 19:04:08 GMT -5
Jeremy fumed for a few moments. A kid? He was no kid! He'd seen people eaten, slain....worse. Still, he was certainly acting like a child at the moment. He took a deep breath like his father had taught him, releasing it out of his nose. He had to stay calm. If he wanted the man to respect him, it would require him to act like what he was: an adult. He spoke calmly now. "I'm sorry for acting so rashly. The underground shelter isn't here. It's a ways from here, in the eastern part of the city. I just need to pick up these supplies so I can bring them there with me. My dad and I'll need them....especially if....all this is happening again." Jeremy breathed in, then out again. He had to stay calm. Panicking was what generally led to people's deaths in situations like this, and he would need to stay calm if he was to survive the deathtrap that this apartment building had surely become.
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 19:13:42 GMT -5
“Alright stick behind me and you’ll live, kid,” I put emphasis on the kid, before turning and heading towards the elevators. Hitting the button, I watched the light flicker for a second before becoming solid. The sound of the elevator as it creaked downwards was surprisingly loud, and I knew it would definitely attract attention, which was not good.
“You a fast runner boy?” My eyes wandered from the elevator to the nearby staircase, which at the present was probably a safer bet. Good idea to attract everything to the elevator and take the stairs.
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 19:28:36 GMT -5
Jeremy muttered grumpily to himself as he followed the man over to the elevator. He flinched as he arrived behind the man, hearing the loud sounds of the elevator moving down, towards them. The man just stood there, as if thinking about something. Jeremy was about to suggest that they find another way up, but just then the man's gaze flickered over to the stairs, and he questioned Jeremy on his running speed. Jeremy smiled. "You're damn right I'm a fast runner!" he said, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders. He turned towrads the stairs, his eyes scanning the darkness seperating them from the stairs leading up. Something didn't feel right....like....he didn't know; couldn't place the thought with a solid idea. Still something seemed wrong. He hesitated for just a moment, before speaking. "Ready whenever you are."
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 19:46:12 GMT -5
“Alright, let’s go,” Flipping down my NVG’s which were attached to my helmet harness, I bolted towards the staircase door with my HK trained around head level, just incase something was on the other side of the door. Grabbing the knob, I twisted it and then gave the door a quick kick near the bottom which swung the door wide open as fast as possible, and started up the stairs, going up each one, one by one.
Though I was trying to go up the stairs as fast as possible, I still had to be weary of any undead that might have been caught in the staircase. Rounding the second staircase, just between the third and fourth floors, I stopped as I spotted a deep red stain on the wall at the top of the stairs on the fourth floor. Cautiously, I moved forward and grimaced as the sad reality dawned upon me.
The blood on the wall had come from a made whom was slouched towards the door, a Beretta 92FS gripped in his cold dead hands. It was obvious he had committed suicide, but he looked to be only twenty, maybe twenty one. The smell was just beginning to rise of the now decomposing body, but I shook the sight off me and moved to the door leading to the fourth floor.
Upon opening it just a pinch, I peered onto the other side, and seeing that the long hallway was seemingly clear, I closed the door and turned to Jeremy who had followed me upstairs.
“What apartment number? I want to get this done and get out,”
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 19:56:48 GMT -5
Jeremy paused a moment as he saw the maid at the top of the stairs. The sight didn't really bother him, he had seen enough blood to more or less desensitize him to its presence, but still....it was a terrifying prospect, that all of this was happening again. "What a shame." he said, trying to keep a level tone. He followed the man into the hallway, hearing him ask what his room was. "Uh...Room 412." commented Jeremy, keeping his sharp eyes on the hallway before them. He knew, better than most at that, that the undead could come out of nowhere, and there would always be more where there was one. "Careful..." he said to the man, tensing his muscles, "something's not right here....I don't like the smell up here. Death....and worse...." he breathed out, but tried not to relax too much. He sought calm, because that was what he would surely need now....now that the world had gone insane.
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 20:03:29 GMT -5
412.
Opening the door again, I slipped through the small crack and leveled off my HK as I fast walked down the hallway, counting the room numbers as I went. If there were any undead in here, they were locked away safely, where they could bite anyone, especially me.
“Here it is,” I glanced back to tell Jeremy before squaring off with the doorway, and giving it a good hard kick near the lock. It busted open with a loud crack, and I quickly rushed inside. Clearing the immediate area, I fast walked into all the connecting rooms, and when everything was cleared, I went back to the door to keep an eye out, telling Jeremy to hurry up with his packing as he walked past me.
The hallway was dark, a few lights here and there had gone out, and I wasn’t sure how long the backup generator would be able to run the entire building, but I was certain it wasn’t going to last any longer.
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Post by Doc Holliday on Dec 3, 2008 20:11:20 GMT -5
Across the hall, at 422, lived Butcher Brash. He was sitting around, eating an old meal of USFU, and he heard the talking out in the hallway. It'd been awhile since he heard live voices, been awhile since he'd seen fresh meat. He grabbed his hammer and waited by his door, waiting for them to make a move. He'd not eaten fresh in about a week, savoring old meals that he had hunted. He heard male voices, no real moral problem in killing and dismembering them. He adjusted the gas mask on his face after he had pulled it up to eat. He rubbed his bloody hammer on his pant leg, shining it a little. "Hungry....thirsty....hungry..." He said in a low whisper to himself. (( residentevil9.proboards26.com/index.cgi?board=accepted&action=display&thread=8817&page=1 Butcher Brash))
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 20:21:23 GMT -5
Jeremy dashed into the room, breathing out as he saw the hiding place for his stash, a small, locked safe in a clearly fake part of the wall. Jeremy wished he had taken some more time to hide it better, but, no matter, he needed it and it was there. Though neither of them spoke it, they both had the same worry. Jeremy looked up at the lit lightbulbs in the hallway. They were already flickering, and the lights were sure to go out pretty soon, and it was worse in the dark....much worse. He ran over to the wall. No time for subtlety. With a grunt, he slammed his elbow into the several parts of the false walling. It crumbled away. revealing a medium sized compartment. It was four or five racks. The ones on top contained five bottles of fresh water, along with twenty cans of nonperishable food. They were light, and would easily fit into his large backpack, which he had retrieved from his new companion on his way into the room. He quickly put them in, arranging them so as to conserve room. Below that shelf was a full first aid kit, with much more in it than his own meager one. He removed the old kit from his backpack, and put the larger one in in its place. Other things went in, a full map of the area, a pair of walky talkies and batteries, and his father's most important possession, a mid-sized black journal, sealed shut by a band that went all around the book, secured by a small key lock. On the last two racks there was sitting another Taurus handgun, this time a 45 and six extra clips, each one holding 35 bullets. Below that was a machete in a leather sheath. He cocked the handgun and strapped the machete to his waist. He hefted the pack onto his back, feeling the extra weight. It might slow him down a bit, but that was fine. He returned to his companion's side. "Ready to go when you are."
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Post by Doc Holliday on Dec 3, 2008 20:25:43 GMT -5
Brash heard someone outside saying, "Ready to go." He walked over to a hole in the wall to the floor janitor's room. He pulled the breakers on the already floundering lights. He walked slowly, and opened the door to the hallway.
Looking down, he was probably about 20 feet away from them. He just stood and surveyed the men, his head slightly swaying.
So....hungry. He thought and played and replayed his plans for these two. His hammer at his right side.
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 20:42:18 GMT -5
Putting my hand up in a fist, I slowly began to backtrack into the room, slowly pushing Jeremy back until suddenly, the lights went out, and the door at the other side of the hall opened. A massive figure slide out of the doorway, its head cocked to one side. With my NVG’s down, I instantly spotted him, and saw the blood that covered his clothing. Since my HK was already trained at the doorway, I unleashed a fury of rounds, at least half my clip at the figure, not sure if it was a zombie, or a survivor, but either way I didn’t care. I was already past my limit in carry ons.
Dust spat from the drywall behind the figure, outlining his body as the dust floated in the air, covering his entire form. Not sure if he was dead, or alive, I shouted at Jeremy to unload on his a*s.
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Post by Doc Holliday on Dec 3, 2008 20:48:25 GMT -5
A few rounds hit Brash, but thankfully his massive form and vest slowed them down. He walked back into his room and grabbed his camera. He walked back out, letting his left arm be visible, and took two pictures.
He walked back into his room, making a barricade from a few home items. He then began to plan about how he would catch them in a trap. He knew this building better than most, and that would be his advantage. He listened for them to make noise and give themselves away. He sat in a comfortable armchair, hammer outstretched over the side. He then took one of his throwing knives, and dug a bullet from his arm, shoulder, and leg.
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 20:49:17 GMT -5
As soon as his companion began moving him backwards, Jeremy moved into action. Once they'd crossed the threshhold he moved into a crouch, taking a ready position with the gun. He moved to the side, so that the figure, which he could see clearly now, was in full view. His companion was yelling at him to unload on the figure, but he waited until the loud rain of bullets had stopped from his HK, then pushing himself up against the wall next to the door. That man had a hammer. And it was bloody. So was the figure. He could throw that hammer at them if he wanted, and the impat would definately be fatal. He motioned to his partner to move away from the door, hoping he would notice the hammer. He carefully peaked around the door, seeing that the man was gone, probably back into the room. He noticed that the man's left arm became visible and took quick aim, firing four shots in a spread towards the man's arm. Chances are he would move, but he would almost certainly move for cover, which would give them a chance to regroup and prepare in case he decided to attack. He moved back up against the wall again and cocked his gun, checking the clip: 31 bullets left.
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Post by Metal Head on Dec 3, 2008 21:00:55 GMT -5
Ceasing my barrage of bullets, I watched as the estranged hand carefully poked out form the corner, and also watched as Jeremy unloaded a few bullets at it. That should teach the bastard a lesson. It was strange though that he hadn’t died from my barrage, next time I’d just have to use the entire clip. The vest he was wearing must be on its last legs, as I’d noticed the past bullet holes which as I learned in the military, severely lowered the vests stopping power. And since the bullets I was firing were a massive 7.62 round, I was sure he had taken quite a bit of damage, and he himself was on his last legs.
Deciding against running out, I grabbed a recliner from the corner of the room and pushed it up where I had been taking cover, resting my HK on the top of it so I could fire without being in damage of the persons melee weapons.
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Post by Doc Holliday on Dec 3, 2008 21:06:11 GMT -5
He pulled the camera back as the bullets ricocheted off of the walls. Then, he sat down.
He poured vodka on his body, all over, not just the bullet wounds. He then drank what was left. "Mmmmm..." He let loose, refreshed. Then, he went to his homemade developing station.
He set up the photos to develop, then sat down and waited. He was just holding on for them to make a move. He predicted that undead were on their way to this spot right now. They only had so many bullets, yet he could swing his hammer over and over. He would wait it out until they had exhausted their ammo, then take care of them.
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Post by deusexhominis on Dec 3, 2008 21:12:53 GMT -5
Slowly, cautiously, Jeremy made his way over to his partner, crouching down and up against a wall next to the recliner that he was taking shelter behind. He whispered quietly, holstering his gun and pulling his machette; no need to waste ammo. "We've gotta move. All that gunfire will definately have caught the attention of any ghouls nearby, they could be here in minutes. Any idea how to get past the psycho in the hallway? No way the stairs are safe now." Jeremy rocked back on his heels, eyeing the edge of his weapon. He was glad for a melee weapon. Well as glad as someone could be given the circumstances. Slowly he stood, peeking around the wall and into the hallway. It was empty for now, but he had a growing sense of foreboding. Something was definately coming.
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