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Post by thegunny on Jan 29, 2009 17:43:15 GMT -5
OOC: Your with Me, Metalhead, and Major at the radio station waiting for the rest of us. I'll do a quick post for you
Emily glanced over and nodded at Ludolf, agreeing that its best for them to stay here outside the objective and hope no one finds them. The other team should be here soon to back them up... and then they could clear that radio station out. Not like they could move Aya or Alex anyhow. Emily then looked back at Alex and then moved in the blink of an eye, injecting the proper dosage of sedatives into Alex before Jimmy could do anything or realize what was happening once it looked like Alex's virus's had stabilized her and then disposed of the used syringe, watching to make sure that Alex did as Emily was planning on and make it unneeded to worry about having to restrain, guard, or watch over her. Then again, with all the virus's in her blood, it'd best be ready to have to shoot her again before she finally gave in to the morphine...
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Post by Lance Bishop on Feb 1, 2009 18:37:04 GMT -5
Bishop sheathed the heavy M21 on his back and secured it with connecting straps to his tactical vest. The merc then let his right hand slide back behind his butt pack where he grabbed the hilt of his black bladed bowie knife. Lance slipped the large knife from its resting place within the hard sheath and brought it up in the ready position. The blade faced upward in his hand, the free left hand ready to snap up in defense should one of the stiffs decide to latch on to him.
The sniper nodded to Kyle and awaited him to take the lead in to the back room Claypoole had designated. The gun shop was quiet and seemingly empty. The dried blood and shape of the overall shop was a sure sign that a struggle had been initiated at one point in time, probably during the outbreak sometime. The blood had thickened and turned a dark crimson, almost black shade from hardening.
"I've got your six.." Lance muttered.
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Post by Costa 2.0 on Feb 2, 2009 19:50:59 GMT -5
Jimmy held Alex in his arms as she slowly slept, the rise and fall of her chest almost making him want to fall asleep. Her skin felt warm and smooth to the touch, just as any normal human beings skin should be. He wondered how long he would have to endur of Alex having her random attacks. If she kept it up then he would be killed but Jimmy wasent going to leave her because of that. He loved Alex no matter what and nothing in the world was going to change that.
"Alex" he said lightly in her ear. "Alex wake up honey, its time to get going". Jimmy would carry her but he was afraid she would have another attack as he was and then probably tear him to pieces. "Alex.." he whispered once more before cradiling her in his arms and kissing her forehead.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 3, 2009 17:14:55 GMT -5
OOC: Costa, Phillips knocked her out with sedatives.
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Post by Costa 2.0 on Feb 3, 2009 17:45:21 GMT -5
OCC: You should have asked Dark if that was okay because you cant do that to another character without asking permission...its concidered controling someones character and is against the rules
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Post by thegunny on Feb 3, 2009 18:01:47 GMT -5
OOC: whoops, sorry... was just having phillips play the role of medic...
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Post by Costa 2.0 on Feb 3, 2009 18:45:40 GMT -5
OCC: Thats okay. Just telling you tho incase a mod saw you
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Post by Reaper on Feb 4, 2009 16:30:03 GMT -5
Alex shifted in Jimmy's arms but she didn't not wake up. She just laid sleeping in his arms. She moaned slightly as her hands absently reached up and held onto his arm. Her mind was left in darkness and turmoil as she was left to live in while she stayed in crio for the past several years. She cried out as her hands gripped him tightly, her body trying to seek comfort in him as she laid there. There wasn't any signs of her waking up anytime soon, but her movements neither seemed feral or intimidating. They were more out of plea, and trying to find comfort where there was none.
She held him tightly as her mind played threw the images of killing so many people . . . of killing her son, and trying to kill her husband. Jimmy should have long been dead, but he was still alive making it worse for her dreams. All she could see was the pain she could cause him in the future, and the final end to his life. She never wanted that she never wanted to hurt anyone, but she couldn't control it. . . she couldn't control what she was or did. She cried out in her unwanted sleep as she gripped him tightly trying to seek the comfort she had lost for so long.
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Post by Lance Bishop on Feb 7, 2009 14:14:34 GMT -5
Bishop moved down the hallway slowly. His followed Kyle, his razor at the ready. A foul stench leaked from somewhere in the back of the store, which was the sure sign of one thing.. The dead. No need to mention it to Kyle, his own senses had probably already picked up on the scent also. The two had spent enough time in the field to recognize the decomposed odor.
Lance's boot landed on the floorboard, a high pitched screech emitting as the board groaned from settling. Something stirred to his right, the sniper's trained ears picked up on the sound of something dragging across the floor. The odor grew stronger, the particles sweeping through his nostrils. Bishop turned to see out stretched hands reaching for him. The man acted on trained instinct and muscle memory. The creature latched on, but Bishop reacted quickly. He raised both hands up to grab the zombie's forearms, he then spun his body and used his combined total body strength to toss the creature in to the wall behind him.
The zombie smacked against the wall and fought to get back on its feet. Lance had another problem, a second abomination had followed the first, it reached for the sniper. Bishop raised his right leg and threw his boot down hard on the inside of the creature's left knee. It stumbled, allowing Lance to throw a knee in to it's stomach, causing the muscles in the creature's body to contract and bend it over. Bishop's right hand went backwards, jamming the sharpened bowie knife in to the zombie's soft skull, slicing in to the decomposed brain matter.
The corpse went limp and fell to the ground, the large knife petruding from the back of its skull. There was one threat left. Lance felt something grab him from behind, its horrid breath heating his neck. Bishop twisted and threw his right elbow in to the side of the zombie, he continued to thrust the 'bow in to the creature's side until he felt one of the ribs crack. He then reached back and grabbed the zombie by the bicep which was wrapped around his neck.
Lance let out a loud grunt as he bent his knees and threw his body forward, tossing the un-coordinated zombie over him and flat on its back. Bishop quicklly regained his composure and reared back his right boot, then launched it forward, unleashing a fierce and swift kick to the hellspawn's head. A sickening crunch emitted from the zombie's jaw as the boot busted it in to two pieces.
The zombie gurgled and hissed as it reached for his ankle, unable to move its mouth with its fractured jaw. Bishop glared down at what was once a human, turned in to some evil creation of a corrupt company. The zombie tried to get back on its feet, but a quick push on the chest from Lance's boot prevented that. He shoved it back, flat to the ground and then let his left foot fall on the neck of the zombie, crushing it and severing the spinal chord. The re - animated corpse fell silent. Bishop moved over to his first victim and wrapped his hand around the handle of the bowie knife. He tugged it free and proceeded to wipe away the blood and grim.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 7, 2009 21:27:10 GMT -5
With the two zombies down, the 4 men secured the building. There was a gunsmithing workshop on the 2nd floor of the building, and a crap load of equipment up there that had been destined to be shipped to a gunshow that would have taken place had the outbreak waited just a few weeks. So they had free reign... As the 4 men gather in the front of the shop, Claypoole starts issuing out orders
We're going to barricade the front doors and the alleyway, but leave the backdoor open to usage. When we leave, we'll either clear out the alleyway or use the pickup truck out break to break through it if we don't have time. We're going to get reloaded. If you can't get fully locked and loaded with your current weapon, grab a new weapon from the shop and use it instead. I personally will be ditching both of my primaries... bishop, I still got 20 rounds for this Weatherby Accumark. If you want it, you can hvae it and all the ammunition. Otherwise, I'm leaving it.
We're going to stay here for a few hours and get ready to move out again. Personally, I'll be using the time to plot out our next movements, throw together some I.E.D's and S**t, and get rearmed. Enjoy the down time while you have it boys.
Claypoole then turned and did as he had said. He set down the Weathery Accumark rifle chambered in .340 weatherby with its hand-loaded ammunition, and then set down his PPSH-41 and its last drums of 7.62x25 Tokarev. Then he shopped around.... he grabbed a 10 gauge double barreled shotgun and got a bunch of buckshot and slugs for it, then got an Armalite AR-10A2 carbine and a bunch of 20 round magazines for it. Then he got to work, plotting out their next movements and putting together pipe bombs/home made grenades, I.E.D's, Molotov's... with what was available from the gunshop
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 12, 2009 13:43:27 GMT -5
Aya's eyes snapped open, shrieking slightly as both her hands grabbed frantically at her chest. After a moment or so she relaxed, panting, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead after realising that all she could feel was her own soft skin. Another moment passed as she held her hand where the wound had been before she recalled where she was; grabbing her P226 beside her and aiming out of the opening most close to her.
'Nothing,' she thought.
The tram had stopped, she wasn't sure where but there were no ghouls in the immediate area and the steely silence felt golden; all she could hear was the faint sound of gun chatter. The selflessness in her passed and she began to swell up with the concern of her team mates; sitting up, placing her weight onto one elbow for support, Aya started checking the tram. Ludolf was at the far end keeping an eye out, normal. Halfway down was Jimmy, his wife in his arms and a lot of blood covering the floor around them; the name 'Alex' was reccursive, made it easier for Aya to work out his spouses name. Finally she looked up at Emily; her expression; grim. It was clear that a fair bit had happened, and the majority of it had been dumped in both her and Ludolfs hands. She put her index finger and thumb together in the universal signal to let Emily know that she was fine, any more stress or concern and it looked as if she would start losing focus.
Aya relaxed back on both arms now, still keeping herself seated. There was a bizarre, cool sensation around the area where the hole had been through her chest; Aya looked down and noticed that a great patch of her clothing had been torn off in the same area; she sat up pulling her flack jacket and shirt further together quickly; her 19 year old features blushing as she knotted a few thick strands together.
With the lack of knowing what had happened in the time she was out Aya felt obligated to gather that information together, discern their location; albeit it was obvious where they were simply from the smell of it. She swung her legs off of the side of the tram, pushing off and landing firmly on gravel; the sharp crunch bringing her senses back a little more. She stretched her arms and legs and looked back up the road the tram had come from, still hearing sounds of several distinct firearms. She viewed the area quickly immediately after, assessing that there was only one tram here, and only unit A was at location. She turned back to Emily, her mouth tensing and brow creasing, the concern was mutual and it dawned on her that Claypooles team hadn't arrived to location properly. Anger joined as Aya was annoyed from the fact they hadn't tram hopped, it was half the plan if the scenario for either car went stale. She rested the case that it must have been to severe for movement between both cars.
She crossed hands and exhaled heavily through her nose; Murhpeys Law bit hard. The gunfire had stoppoed, but all in syncronization; the team must have found a place to recover. Ascerning from the distance the amount of ground between both teams wasn't too great, but the other mercs still had one hell of a league to huff. Aya rested that they'd be taking over the radio station in broad daylight, if not early morning; Aya wasn't too fussed on mornings, shadows were a lot more direction heavy so they would need to approach from a particlar location if there was nothing else that had better cover unlike broad daylight, which always felt like winging it to Aya. They either chose between that or another full on firefight which she wasn't prepared to place her team under, ghouls were bad enough, but facing off with a band of unknown soldiers had a lot more threat bound to it than a group of the undead which didn't shoot projectiles at you.
Her attention was drawn towards a black object hanging from the side grate covering the wheels of the tram, Aya smiled for what felt the first time in too long as she walked over to pull her SIG 556 off of the cover, slinging it over her back.
Aya looked back up at Emily and Ludolf, now that she had woken she felt that it was prossible to be able to perform a little scouting of the outskirts ahead of them. She browsed her GPS detirmining which way and how far the station was from them, she wouldn't have to move too far. Aya walked around the tram, stepping up briefly to tap Emily on the shoulder and signal that she was going to move a couple'a hundred metres from their location. She hopped back down, controlling her weight as she stepped across the gravel and reached a concrete footpath against a building. The tram itself had stopped at the end of its journy in a small culdersack off of the main road, cars and the like around it were parked here too.
Aya disappeared as she took a small flight of stairs down to a sunken parking lot covered in darkness from the looming industrial building, perhaps the last tallest structure before the real Raccoon outskirts. From here Aya had a fairly good view into the shallow valley which the Radio Station remained in, houses and other supermarkets surrounding it. She pulled her binoculars out, realizing that the still darkness would leave her visibility around minimum but figuring any recon was better than no recon. The 2 o'clock night sky wouldn't stay that way for very long anyway, she was able to relax while peering through the lenses.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 16, 2009 0:00:10 GMT -5
OOC: Waiting on Bishop and Mikey
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Post by Nanaya on Feb 16, 2009 3:15:11 GMT -5
OOC: I really appreciate that you guys still kept me in the loop after all this time. Really—thanks. I'll try not to let any more of my absence be that long again.
Kyle didn't waste time; he immediately began barricading the area's front doors and alleyway, grabbing things from boxes, to chairs—anything that would make a ghoul trip over and fall—seeing as they're not exactly coordinated. It took several minutes, but after satisfied for the moment, Kyle searched the gun shop for any conventional weapons. Sadly, most of the weapons were already taken; many of the glass cases that held rifles, shotguns, and pistols were all smashed with nothing left in their interior. However, Kyle managed to find a spare Beretta 92F, loaded with a full clip and two extras. He found it off a body however . . . a dead civilian lying on the ground, unmoving and fully drained of blood from a laceration on his wrist. With another minute of scavenging, Kyle brought up loose nine-millimeter rounds and . . .—
—a metal, sleak object caught Kyle's eye as he scanned the corners of the store. A lone corpse of a SWAT officer was crumbled on the floor—next to a M4A1. The weapon still had half-a-clip left, and Kyle pulled up two mags filled with 5.56x45 mm NATO rounds along with it. It was a good find, and one Kyle would need to conserve if it was going to protect him.
Minutes went by and Kyle ceased—since he was done—reloading and preparing his newly found equipment. The extra rounds were placed in the pouches on his vest and belt. Once again, he was prepared and ready for action.
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Post by Mikey on Feb 16, 2009 7:28:13 GMT -5
Tyson let out a breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand when the last of the heavy objects were up against the front windows and door of the shop. He was slightly surprised to see, after inspecting, that the shop had no steel shutters or anything of that sort for the front. He inspected it one last time before being satisfied that if they got some unwanted attention, there would be plenty of time to run out the back door and get to the truck before they even got the idea to haul their rotten a*ses over and move in for a bite to eat.
Walking to the counter, he set his rifle down gingerly followed by bis sidearm, and then his ammo pack. He worked as quietly as he could, unloading all of the weapons and placing all the magazines next to each weapon. With the exception of his AR-15 drums. He simply placed them off to the side. He knew there were no 6.5 rounds here. He did find a few boxes of .44 rounds, however. He immediately reloaded his empty magazines and put them on back in his vest, then loaded the pistol and stuck it back in his leg holster.
His check on his ammo status for his AR-15 revealed he only had 63 rounds left. Mentally sighing, he slapped the magazine back in, leaving the chamber empty, and slung it tightly to his back. He left the attached Masterkey shotgun empty. He put the ammo pack back on his belt and stared down at the shotgun shells in front of him. He had 30 of them. Not too bad, but they wouldnt last very long.
His mind wandered to the empty shotgun shells lying around, and after a second of looking he found the shotgun lying on the ground. It was caked in blood, well worn and highly used, but it didnt look broken. And to tell the truth, it was a damn fine weapon. Remington 870, he recognized instantly. It had a tactical stock and sling, a magazine extender that went flush with the barrel and Tyson figured held ten shells, a pistol grip, and a side mounted ten shot shell rack that was empty.
After finding a few rags and wiping it off as best he could, he broke it down and wiped out the internals. Very little blood got inside, but he knew even the smallest bit of gunk in a weapons internal parts could eventually cause it to jam up. After a quick wipe and oiling, he put it back together and loaded it. He loaded it to its top capacity of 11 shells and then filled the shell rack on the side. He was quite dissapointed to find no other shells for it, and got to thinking.
The shop owner had probably used it. And any gun nut dedicated enough to have a shop and put that much time into making a good shotgun into a nail driver like this, in this situation, would have grabbed the gun and as many shells for it as he possible could have. And he would have retreated into his shop if the things got so close he had to use his gun as a bludgen. Tyson figured he was one of the zombies the guys had killed in the back.
Going to check on his theory, he found the man. And as he had thought, he was wearing two shell bandoleirs like some Hollywood action star, threaded over each other in an X over his chest. Tyson roughly flipped the man over, unfastened the strips, and flipped the man over again. He picked them up and checked the shells. There were 60 shells total, all in pristine condition. Tyson extended the straps as far out as they would go and slipped them each over his chest, one over the other. He sinched them down and looked at them. The rows were perfectly alighned with each other, and because of how broad his chest plate was, the thirty rounds lined up in front. He wouldnt have to reach back any to grab any shells.
Going back to the counter, he grabbed his last nine shells sitting on the counter and deposited them into a pouch on his vest. He'd use them before dipping into the belts or the shell rack on the weapon itself.
He slung it over his head and right shoulder and let it hang, looking at Claypoole and asking "How are those grenades coming?"
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Post by Costa 2.0 on Feb 17, 2009 17:08:46 GMT -5
Jimmy picked up Alex and took her into the radio station before lying her on a couch in the main lobby. He looked around to make sure that there was no infected around before he turned his attention back to his wife. "Listen, Im going to go with the group and find some food or some other supplies but I will be right back". He knew Alex was going to protest to this idea but she was in no condition to follow with him. He didnt know how much nickel was left in her body but she still looked like she was in great pain. "Dont worry about me babe Ill be fine" he told her with a smile on his face. He didnt want to scare her at all or make her worry about him. He could handle himself
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