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Post by .Merios on Jan 10, 2011 10:57:17 GMT -5
"Attention: We are now flying into Egypt airspace."
He grimaced, shifting slight in his seat to avoid the feeling of nausea. He hated flying. It seems juvenile for a man of his stature to be annoyed and near-terrified to soar in a tin can, but it was true, and he was probably near paper-bag state. Aya walked near and he let out a breath, feeling a bit of saliva starting to well up on either side of his tongue- vomit was near. He choked it down as she started to talk, speaking about a contingency plan.
"The more contacts we have on the ground the better we'll be. Make ourselves as large as possible so that we can't be overestimated,"Aya turned her head to look past him in his isle seat, gazing out the tiny window, "'Sides the fact two out of three of us can bear hug a cement wall to dust."
He sighed, choking back the vomit and putting his hands to his chin, planting his face in them and speaking.
"I... I didn't want to play this card, but I do have one... Contact." He immediately shook his head, "Odds are the damn 'snake isn't even alive anymore. We can try, though. He's in the market anyway, so we'd be smart to pass by his stall."
Matthew stood up and almost immediately plopped back down in his seat. He felt naked without his handcannon at his side. The added weight helped stabilize him and gave him a sort of comfort, much like a baby blanket. But, alas, it wasn't there due to strict TSA regulations. Funny, a man could light a cigarette in an oxygen-infused environment without a problem but a man can't have a weapon during a zombie apocalypse. Well, maybe the phrasing wasn't right, but his mind was in the right place.
"Medusa is... Hard to deal with. They've always wanted to be bigger, better. The only real base I know for certain that they have is in Johannesburg." He shrugged, "but we're far away from there. Odds are, Cairo's the next logical place- they've always been treasure hunters.. With the emergence of this new clue, we may just find what we're looking for. If... If that's even a good thing." He replaced his head back into his hands.
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Post by Mikey on Jan 11, 2011 3:08:27 GMT -5
"Attention: We are now flying into Egypt airspace."
“Thanks.” Tyson said offhandedly, grabbing the bottle of water and twisting the cap off. He took a drink from the bottle and leaned forward, stretching his back and his neck. He hated plane rides. Especially civilian plane rides. In a C130, you had a bench to sit on, you could sit up straight. For a guy his size, the seats on a normal airplane just didn’t fit. His shoulders were about at the head rest, his head just kind of sat in mid air. Pain in the ass.
“Don’t look at me, I never operated here.” He said. He didn’t know anyone of use here. Use to the mission anyway. He would make it a point to at least see her. Depending on the situation, maybe he’d talk to her. How could you spring this on someone like that and expect anything but terrified screams and them running to the nearest police officer? But damn it to hell, he was going to try. The odds were getting worse and worse, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t make it to next time the chance presented itself.
Matt started to speak of Medusa, how they were the big baddies on the block. How they did what they could to get bigger and badder, but it wasn’t going to make a difference.
“History is full of groups just like them, and when they came down, it was hard. It may not be us doing it, but somewhere down the line they’ll fall. Let’s just hope we draw the short straw on this one.” He said. They sounded like right pricks, from what he’d heard. Worse than Umbrella? He didn’t know how much truth there was to that, but it gave him a warm feeling in his chest to think about being the one to drop the axe.
Leaning forward in his seat, he put some weight on the leg that wasn’t quite so broken anymore, stretching muscles and tensing them up. The main problem he’d been having lately was the thing stiffening up, and it hurt like a mother when he tried to walk on it as is. A bit of preparation went a long way. And a half hours prep would be good if they were going to be doing as much walking around as he thought they would be doing.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jan 11, 2011 13:18:45 GMT -5
"Treasure hunters, huh?" what Matthew had said was giving Aya ideas, 'Something to think about. A potential exploit,' she crossed her leg sitting in a more majestic posture, "There's no exaggeration when Cairo is called the Centre of the Arab World. It would be beneficial to have a base of operations here. It would allow access to all of the Middle East," the bronze haired girl rubbed her chin in thought, "I know a couple of people on the ground, smart enough to have hidden under the table when the plague hit Egypt. We plot this, lure Medusa into the open for everyone to see. Like giving the Illuminati a kick up the crack," she shrugged, "'Course I don't know what we'll be dealing with. You're the expert on that topic, Matt," she looked to the pale faced zombie.
Paper rustled as Aya grabbed her bin bag, "Here, you can have mine too," handing it to him, "Keep it ready. Don't want chunder on my new shoes," her Converse clicked at the thought of being covered in half digested beef and corn.
The seat belt sign lit up, lazy clacking of metal as all of the passengers slid the straps around their waist, turbulence kicking in as the jet hastily dropped in altitude. Its wheels smacked into the tarmac minutes later, air breaks open and making a heavy windage sound, "They don't waste time like they used to," Aya felt inclined to comment. She wasn't arguing; the lack of traffic was a hell of a lot more convenient.
Popping the hatch above her head and pulling free her backpack. Aya was traveling light; small change of clothes and a compact toiletry pack she had picked up at the Seattle airport. Her hardware was among a mess of other luggage being carted out towards the lobby of the terminal below them, watching the trailer load through the windows of the gate bridge. Flicking out her ticket to get stamped while passing the transport staff stationed at the gate.
"Gather your stuff and meet at the Taxi bays. We'll find a place to stay and stash our stuff before getting to work," she said as they descended the escalator; it felt like The Man From U.N.K.L.E. with the attache case Aya picked up from the moving platform only strengthening the analogy; she was ready to setup a sting. Her 416 and Browning resided in the case disassembled, she figured just about everybody getting of their flight were picking up a package containing firearms; it was impossible to avoid in times such as this.
The hot Middle Eastern air stung after leaving air conditioned environments. Aya unzipped her hood and tied it around her waist as she headed toward the Taxi bays.
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Post by .Merios on Jan 12, 2011 0:06:09 GMT -5
As soon as the turbulence started, his skin tone went a light green and he felt it coming up. He instinctively reached for his bag under the seat, opening it quickly and shoving his face into it, letting out a wet gurgling sound as the bag immediately filled up, sagging a bit under the weight. He took a second behind the bag to wipe his mouth clean before he lifted his head up, letting out a groan and slowly attached his seat belt with his free left hand and closing the bag, putting it in the little pouch on the side of the seat. Once the air brakes purged and the landing gear touched ground, he felt some more vomit in this throat. He reached for Aya's bag and leaned to the side of his chair, dropping even more bile into the sack. This was more of a dry heave, requiring a cough and a few spits to completely finish up. As the plane came to a stop, he sighed, putting the bag down and holding his stomach, standing up and backing up a bit into the isle.
He reached up and opened the compartment, finding a small bag of his. About the size of a fanny pack, he pulled it down and gripped it in his hand as he held his stomach, following Aya off the plane in a hurry. As he stepped off the stairs and onto the ground, he immediately dropped his bag and fell to his knees off to the side, gripping his stomach and letting out another wave of vomit, heaving his stomach inward as a bit of crimson tinted the liquid. He let out a small cry as he stood up, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve and limping back towards Tyson and Aya, gripping his stomach. At least he was on land.
The transport staff gave Matthew a once over and he presented his ticket for them to stamp- completely soaked in sweat, they quickly stamped it and hurried him along. He stood by the baggage with Aya, half-hoping all his gear and equipment would magically show up. He missed his Machete. Although his one briefcase did reappear that he put on the plane, filled with miscellaneous keepsakes and a change of clothes (and, oddly enough, an Bundeswehr Officer Uniform).
"Gather your stuff and meet at the Taxi bays. We'll find a place to stay and stash our stuff before getting to work," Aya said, stepping off of the escalator. The vertical movement gave him a bit of a jostle, throwing his lower intestine for a loop. He felt nauseous, but empty. It was an odd feeling between disgusted and elated.
Stepping out of the building, he let out a sigh as the sun beat back down on his burnt skin. It felt good. He turned around to watch Tyson and then turned his attention back to Aya, sliding his jacket off and throwing it over his shoulder.
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Post by Mikey on Jan 13, 2011 11:29:24 GMT -5
"Gather your stuff and meet at the Taxi bays. We'll find a place to stay and stash our stuff before getting to work." Aya said, and Tyson waved a reply to her as he waited for his trunk. It was pretty easy to spot as it came around on the baggage claim wheel, but he still felt the need to look at the tag to make sure it was his. The only marks on the tag were the flight information, put there by the people who took it for him, and the initials T.S. He knew a lot of people, and not all of them liked him. He could just imagine someone he’d ****ed off in a past life being the one to load his box onto the place, taking it to the side for a bit to either steal or f**k with his stuff.
Popping the handle out, he grabbed it and held it like a suitcase, moving past the crowd to try and catch up with Aya. It was about then he noticed Matt, outside puking his guts out. A crowd was forming around him.
“Christ…” He muttered, moving back to Matt and pushing his way through the crowd.
“S’cuse me, pardon me, big man, comin’ through!” He yelled over the others, not being too gentle with his navigation through the crowd. He got to Matt’s side and noticed just how bad he looked. Not only the fact that he was puking his guts out, probably putting the place in a panic as they all wondered if he was infected or not. The fact that blood tinted the bile didn’t help matters any.
“What, you guys never get air sick?” He asked the crowd as a whole. A few of them seemed to buy it. The fact that a near seven foot tall giant was vouching for the sick one probably didn’t hurt.
“Come on man, we’ll get you some 7-UP and crackers.” He said, not sure if it was the right cure, but it sounded like the best thing to say. He put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and started to lead him away from the crowd that by now was starting to dissipate.
“The f**k, man? Hold it in, people think your about to go full zombie on the goddamn tarmac.” He whispered.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jan 13, 2011 12:12:52 GMT -5
Colour flooded back into Matthew's face as if he was in bloom, "You alright?" Aya asked in a slightly condescending undertone. His queezy stomach left her unimpressed, "Did I miss something?" she asked Tyson as he exited the terminal, conscious of Matt's physical condition. It appeared more serious than any normal person she had heard of suffering.
Pounding her fist twice against the boot of a yellow Toyota, the lid popped and Aya tossed her backpack inside leaving it open for Matthew and Tyson. Approaching the passenger side window, popping her head in with an uninviting face as if she were about to insult the poor driver. The tanned Arabic man simply looked back with an expression of repulsion. Another bloody tourist.
A smile suddenly emerged, [Don't suppose you know any decent high class hotels around here?] Aya politely asked the man.
He lightened slightly in response; somebody who could speak his f*cking language, [The Ramses is your best bet. Traffic isn't so bad so I could get you there soonest.]
[Splendid!] Aya opened the passenger door, spinning her finger for Tyson and Matt that they were going. Once her seat belt was on she slipped out a thin stack of clean Egyptian pounds and tucked them into the drivers shirt pocket, [Any shortcuts you know would be most appreciated.]
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Post by Mikey on Jan 19, 2011 5:39:05 GMT -5
The subway had been faster than the cab ride. Faster by twenty minutes. In just under a half an hour, Matt and Tyson stepped off the train to the airport. They walked through the glass doors of the place, Tyson looking around for a moment to see the lost luggage area. The signs plastered on the walls and hanging from the ceiling led them right to it.
“Right there.” He said, pointing to a counter that was at the end of the line in a series of ticket counters. He led the way, getting in line behind the several people waiting to locate their own luggage.
“So what’d you lose?” He asked about the suitcase Matt was trying to find. Bad small talk. He hadn’t actually spoken to Matt one on one before. He had no clue what to say.
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Post by .Merios on Jan 19, 2011 9:51:42 GMT -5
Matthew had followed Tyson, not really focusing on his own movements but rather stepping in toe behind him. He knew where he was going and what the signs read. He didn't know Arabic, so it wasn't worth arguing who lead. Within minutes they were standing in line behind a few people at the luggage claim section.
"So, what'd you lose?"
Matthew looked up at him, then down at the briefcase. He shrugged.
"Wallet, a picture frame, my Machete." He twitched for a bit, then shook off the feeling that he should be quiet- this was Tyson he was talking to, he knew the deal."I've also got some information i've been collecting over the years on Medusa as well as.. My family."
He moved up in line until there was only one other person left.
"Oliver, my son.. He should be a teenager now, given the gap of time since i've last seen him. I'm hoping he's with Zoe, my daughter."
Matthew was holding onto lost hope like every other piece of human cattle that he's seen run scared to their families once the outbreak hit. It sounded like a broken record. He finally moved up to the counter, setting the briefcase on the top. The receptionist held out her hand.
"Ticket, please."
She said in broken English. He fished around in his pocket and pulled it out, stuffing it into her hand. She grasped it and looked it over, typing something into the computer next to her. It seemed she went on forever, clicking and clacking the keys as if she was angry at them. It took almost a full minute of awkward waiting before she finally looked up, then at the case.
"This... Isn't your briefcase, sir."
If she was a man, he would have slugged her.
"Y..Yes, I realize that. I want mine. My briefcase. With my number on it."
She nodded and went back to the computer, clicking and clacking on the keys. He knew she was going to be there for a bit. Matthew turned around to lean on the counter, looking back at Tyson. His left hand instinctively moved to cover his right, his fingers spinning the old, tarnished golden band on his right ring finger.
"Her name was Marie, we met in college. When I was working for Umbrella, we had our first child- Oliver. After a few years, we had Zoe- but that was right when.. Right when I got kidn-"
She coughed for a second, clearing her throat for attention. Matthew turned around to look at her- she was holding a briefcase. His briefcase.
"Just sign here.. And here.. Then you'll be on your way Mr..?"
"People just shorten it to "jid". He said, remarking on the long, Arabic last name he had used for a cover ID at the airport. He signed a few papers and snatched his briefcase, leaving the other one behind. Looking at Tyson, he nodded, starting to follow the direction of the subway once more.
"You know where the markets are? Or should we take a Taxi instead?"
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Post by Mikey on Jan 20, 2011 13:39:32 GMT -5
Tyson watched the exchange, wanting to step it to speak to the woman in her native language. He had a feeling it would have gone smoother, but Matt seemed to want to take care of it himself. So he simply stood here and waited to grab Matt, as it seemed he was on the verge of punching the poor woman.
The problem was cleared up for a moment, and Matt seemed satisfied that it was actually his case. He hoped so, he didn’t want to have to come back a third time.
“Do you know where to find them?” He asked, about Matt’s family. “Do they even know your alive?” He asked. He had a feeling that Matt hadn’t been too liberal about tracking them down. Tyson was sure he had his reasons. They were probably good ones, too. Similar, of not the same to the ones he had for not tracking down Evelyn. Evelyn… He hadn’t even thought of her by name in years.
“Take it from me man. Don’t wait. As soon as you can, drop it all and try to find them. Because when you think the time is right, it may be too late.” He said. He knew that better than anyone. Waiting for years and years. Missing out on meeting the closest thing to a real mother he would have ever had.
“Subway.” He said. They could shave even more time from here to the markets on it. Change a train a few times, sure. But anything beat the traffic. It looked like it was starting to pick up as the day went on.
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Post by .Merios on Jan 22, 2011 0:49:40 GMT -5
He followed Tyson to the subway, cracking open his briefcase and taking a peek inside. Seeing the edge of his family portrait, he was satisfied and snapped it back shut, directing his attention to Tyson as he spoke.
"I.. I'm not sure. Last I found out was Spokane, Washington. But I.. I went there. It was devastated. I'm still searching for some more clues."
He stopped at the subway and stepped on as Tyson followed.
"I.. No.. No they don't. They haven't seen me since Medusa kidnapped me in '98."
The subway lurched forward as the man came on the intercom, speaking in Arabic. A phrase he assumed meant "Market, next stop". At least he hoped he was on the right train.
[Tyson and Matthew are now in the Cairo Markets]
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