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“Towns”
Nov 18, 2008 16:17:16 GMT -5
Post by JazzBuddah on Nov 18, 2008 16:17:16 GMT -5
Small towns here and there in the countryside of England, these were the first to become infected. As such, there are relatively clean as far as infection goes. Many of the monsters moved for bigger cities and such, in search of food. But, these are far from totally safe. Keep your guard up.
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“Towns”
May 8, 2011 17:17:43 GMT -5
Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on May 8, 2011 17:17:43 GMT -5
Hammond Marlboro - Hopes Way The dark surroundings of the ambient room chimed to life with every light that flickered from above like. The banner that came into view was a crippled mirage of the former structure. If one was to dwell on it long enough, all three points would spread off into spires that connected together to create a faded image of red and white. The image was practically a ghost from the past that many had looked at to find nothing but grief, while others witnessed it as a force that changed the world and sweeped the globe into a state of oblivion. The banner was a statement of power. Nothing could quite add up to it other than the waves of undead that sprawled across the landscape in vicious hordes. This was a beautiful sight to those that found it to be more than just a mere ghost in shell, this was a symbol of absolute resolve that would never die as long as those the respected it's power and facade still exsisted. Nothing could quite add up to it. All that was left to do was to have it set in the background and respect the power that it resembled in days that had passed. Umbrella Corp.
The room was dead silent other than the occasional chime of the small clock every five minutes. The clock was most likely once used to keep track of the time in short doses, although it had much more discription to it in it's make than in it's use. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Chime. It would most definitely take some getting use to for this breif period of time that the shadowed man would have to deal with it. Even though he had made it his purpose to ignore it, the damned thing refused to shut up. Tick. Tock. Chime. Perhaps if he just focused on the task at hand it would- Tick. No no no. Soon a bright flash of light from the silenced weapon sprawled toward it with deadly effectiveness. The hands of the marbled wooded creation sought after the ground while huge chunks of wood ducked for cover. A loud crash of metal and wooded mixed in their bands to weave a symphony of destruction that cause the creation to fall silent within seconds. Nothing more or less was heard after that... other than the new... annoying drip of occasional water from a unknown source... It was going to in fact be a extremely long night.
The man that had held the weapon so tightly to him merely shrugged of the thought of silence not being a option. Smooth black hair was the key point of his entire being, the rest of him concieled by the shadows of the offset lighting that kept his identity someone secretive to any survivor that may randomly roam into this lower security area. His lips were stern from the view, cold and emotionless for the most part with hardly any expression to them whatsoever. His attire was of jet black apparel with little known description to be used other than some random operative on the hunt for the much sought after files that had long been forgotten in the annuals of history. His weapon was the only thing that related to him in the least since, black and gold, signature blend of both sin and wealth, as well as a dead giveaway to those that would know him. One last, tiny, descriptive measure that was a part of his person was most likely the logo that was visible on his left neckline, due to the cascading reflection of light from above. 3202 Tricell Africa. Otherwise known as, Hammond Marlboro.
The night had proven to be a complete bust within seconds of his landing in the wastelands of the fallen Township of Elren just a few miles offset from London. Records had shown that former Umbrella Heads had granted clearance to release those that were no longer considered infected from outbreak survival back into society here without so much as a single worry, as long as they made a pact to continue their research here and never leave regardless of circumstance. Basically, the sham of a town was nothing more than a bunch of unbeknownest traitors to mankind that were guided by a mysterious hand that seemed to keep all of them in working order and out of harms way during the final outbreaks that paved the destiny and brought so much woe to modern society. But, from the looks of things... someone had most likely grown tired of the lies that the Former Global Monster brought upon them. Or, rather, someone has beaten him once again to the punch and this entire affair was about to seriously upset him. Either way, there was nothing more to do than scan the area for any signs of life. Or, at least find one or two people that would be more than happy to spill information in regards to their survival. There had to be someone here that gave a damn about what had happened, all the lies, and the fate that had befalled humanity. Those people would be the ones that he had absolutely no problems exposing and destroying. First things first.
The helicopter had swooped in over the one single clocktower that seemed to be the centerpiece of the entire compound, obviously due to Spencers uncanny love for all things that resembled status's of power. In fact, that was exactly the room that he was in at the point and time of this entire affair. Umbrella had seemed to have set up a small, well hidden records room behind a row of gears that the township most had used to replace any that would take the clock out of working order. After moving a few of those said gears, light as a feather in his own mind... he found a small access elevator that moved him toward the ground and most likely past it without litte clearance other than a very Western Phrase used... /What defines mankind?/ He had replied, " Manifest Destiny." And now here we was... scanning through the files of this fallen establishment and shooting anything that pretty much moved.
He had tried to be calm and collective due to the fact that every piece of information that he had come across only reflected upon everything that had popped up in Tricell Records. In fact, every last little piece of information that had been collected over the years seemed to pop up in this one confined area. Schematics for Biological Weaponry, Hunter Strands, Licker Strands, ect. What the hell were these people doing hording all of this information in this one little outpost and who was the main head that guided it. Two years of research and countless corpses had led him here, and now he was upset due to the fact that nothing of importance was stored here. Nothing at all. But, the information could prove valuable to any sort of Operative that had sought to sink those that support the fallen Umbrella Corp. This situation would need to be dealt with during the extraction procress.
Mr. Marlboro had run his fingers across a few folders that retained absolutely no useful information, his voice called out to his counterpart, " Darling. These files are of absolutely no use to us. I'm afraid that this particular room may be a complete bust. This is a note to you, make sure that I assemble a strike team on this area during our departure. We cannot afford to have anyone know that this area was once used to house any sort of intelligence regarding anything that our organization may deal with." As he spoke, he was drenching the said files in a chemical component that could closely mimic lighter fluid, carefully waving each piece to make sure that the hard files and computer both were cleverly covered in the stench of chemicals. When it was said and done, any form of heat or flame would cause them to catch fire within seconds and burn the ashes into thousands of strands of itself. There would be nothing left.
He stood upright with his eyes focused toward the door where the woman was standing, his hand rose carefully to give the order without fault, " Darling, head down the hallway and reassess that locked door with a bit more force. I have the strangest feeling that we may have company in that room." The sounds of rolling metal filled the room as a tiny canister of tear gas rolled toward her foot. " Make sure they are alive. I could care less what condition they are in as long as they can shake their head yes or no and spit out a few simple words."
The distance between the room in which he was standing and the room in which was in question was only a few feet down a cluttered hallway. The outline of the tattered, elaborately decorated hallway could make one believe that anything could pop out at any given time. A few goods that were far past their experation date littered the floor, along with a few spent rounds and a excessive amount of dried blood. [this post has been created for MsConstrue. It is on hold until she posts.]
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