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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 19, 2008 7:25:20 GMT -5
These small settlements never stood a chance. Some were the places the plane landed in and took off carrying the virus. They were turned from the inside. Some were simply overrun by the hordes of undead that ran rampant across the country. But, all are infected, and all are dangerous. If you find yourself in one of these places, hide and call for help. Supplies may also be found here. May. A lot of the foot paths run between buildings, really narrow passage ways; if you aren't claustrophobic then try to lose the zombies through these methods. Don't climb up high though, being on a rooftop merely leaves you with no escape; unless there is an adjacent rooftop.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 17, 2010 13:31:42 GMT -5
Flickering lights on the ground below set the scene of the town; it was war, and no one was being taken hostage. No particular evidence pointed out where the thick of the battle seemed to be, it was simply 'everywhere'; and sporadic at that; unless you were at ground zero there was no telling who was supposed to be shooting at who. High in the sky, it wasn't a problem for the olive drab coloured, unmarked helicopter... for now. As soon as either side came to the conclusion that their opposition had decided to bring air support in; not particularly trying to work out how either had the funding for that kind of ordinance before hand; they were likely to bring out the rocket-propelled grenades and throw them about haphazardly. That'd be exactly what the pilot in the chopper wanted to avoid and so, for now, he was trying to find a safe DZ for the soldiers on a mission. Which inevitably brings us back to the issue of the flickering lights everywhere. There was a simple answer however.
"We're gonna take some damage on the way down. Get the M134 into use,"
As the pilot called over the wireless a giant brick wall of ecstasy collided with Pandora. Before the sentence was finished the side door of the chopper was already being pushed open, gatling gun tugged out on its rails and dropped down. She wasted no time linking the bullet feed up to the weapon, resting behind the minigun; her backside sitting on her left leg tucked underneath her while her right pressed against a jutted out panel for stability near the rung of the chopper. With the comfort in check, Pan entered her zone.
Visibility severed; haze acting as a veil over AO...
Pandora had been peering right down the six barrels of the gun, but rather changed to watching over it and observing the entire picture as a whole.
Muzzle flash indicates last known position.
Before engaging, Pan was well aware of the flaw in this response. Focusing on the discharging weapons was one thought, yet there was plenty of space for someone with an RPG to spend their time lining up a shot with the chopper.
Indirect flashes determine compromise, direct fire and spray indicates hostile attention.
Eyes closed tight, Pan felt the formula in her logic burn; shaking her head. She was taking too long to get around to the shooting part.
Too many variables... "Pilot, bring the helicopter down lower through this haze," altitude dropping; chance of being hit dropping; visibility and accuracy increasing. Engage.
The M134 started blaring. BRRRRRAP. BRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP. Whatever thoughts were going through everyone’s heads were shatter by the sound, the ability to think deteriorating, but everyone had trained well to hold their colour in a grinding and stressful environment. Pandora on the other hand was having, for a lack of better words, the time of her life. It was target practice, there was little required in the cognitive reasoning department to have to take the entire topic into full consideration; it was simply whatever Pan pointed and shot at was turned to mulch. End of story. She tried to make it a bit more of a challenge for herself though.
Target sheltering under alcove; demolish support. Crushed. Eliminated. High priority; hostile with RPG-7; crouching posture secured and wedged against second story rooftop wall; disconnect projectile via targets clavicle. Trajectory of unfired RPG falling. Explosive discharge, evident that nerves remaining in hand pulled trigger; target vaporized. Eliminated.
Shock had ridden the face of the gang member in agony as his arm had been taken off from the shoulder; for a whole one and a half seconds though. The arm holding the RPG had dropped downwards pointing the weapon at the ground, the rocket blew a massive hole in the roof and wall the insurgent had been crouching near. More and more the chopper came lower to the ground into a slightly more built up area.
"Found a good spot to shelter from the firefight. Tail'll be a li'le exposed though, so everyone needs to get off fast,"
Calling over the radio, the pilot eventually pulled in above a cross junction in an alley edging the side of the chopper Pandora was on to a corner of one of the buildings. Pan disconnected the feed from the M134 and pulled it back beside her seat; she checked over the side of the chopper to start her grasp on what was around them. The bottom of the alley below was around 35 feet. Pandora pulled back a little, the slingshot effect, before leaping from the chopper to the rooftop; Lee would be next. Her hand went up to her back holster and drew her Matador, shuffling off to one side of the rooftop to give everyone else a clear landing while keeping watch of the surrounding area.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 17, 2010 20:59:04 GMT -5
The random gunfire splattered against the back dropping rooftops with a nearly anticipated system of use. The weapon was of the heavy machine guns pumping multiple rounds out at a blistering speed. The shots however did not connect with the heavy machinery and seemed more like shots of complete pride. Taunting shots that could explain one of two things, “Help me…” or “ Get Some…” The point of the matter was that whoever was firing the shots were proving that they had a heavy caliber Gatling Gun in their arsenal capable of riddling holes the size of basket balls through the hull of the helicopter without much effort at all. Even with the blasting fire fighting going on… anyone with half a clue would find this a bit shaky with the information Mr. Marlboro had given. Or the information he was unaware of… There was most likely no point even contemplating going back if the assailants did not wish to riddle the helicopter with holes from jump street. The object would be to escape to a zone of safety.
With a few more shots being fired it seemed like the reel of fire just faded as if nothing continued to operate it. The tension of immediate pressure may now lead to a feeling of question or relief. In the distance the sound of the engine cooling on a heavy machine gun could be heard with little effort before it stopped all together.
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Harold James Waltz would make his way through the heavy laden streets full of combat… His feet moving with a almost frantic motion as he poured past a few garbage bins that seemed to have been unattended in days… the smell sickened his senses. He would need to keep running as fast as he could to make sure that none of the locals could keep up with his position. The moment had come where he needed to fire two shots to save his life… first shot from the revolver caught a young Mexican man in the shoulder… while the second completely laid a woman out with a brutal shot to the head… The were not infected that he knew of… but still too well armed to just leave behind unattended. His head raced with the thought of just making it to the drop point before the Helicopter fell victim to the trap laid before it. If he could not make it there… his mission would be failed without question… Keep moving.
There were a set of dilapidated stairs in the slumming alleyways of the just north of the Drop Point… ’ Keep Moving…’ When he reached the bottom of those stairs two men stepped forward decked out in a greenish blue combat suit that was mostly generic to a fault. They seemed to remind Harold of Cobra Members from G.I. Joe for some reason… but with the unfastening of the Machete on his side… quick slashes caused gaping wounds… not to immediately kill… but to just render inactive until death… His first hack came to the lower region of the first mans stomach area peeling a large chuck of flesh open with two quick sliding movements… Next his second strike would land to the direct left of the mans face… slicing into mask and flesh… then causing a severe crunching noise as blood rushed from below the chin area… turning the blue mask crimson. As the newly coordinated area was become more clear… A new sound of the constant fighting was coming into play… A helicopter.
“ Well … {The Watcher} is not too bad on times at all…” the thick southern accent escaped the mans lips with ease, “ But if I don’t hurry the hell up… They ain’t gonna know what they need to know…”
The flight of stairs lead to a balcony that one more masked assassin resided on. The man was completely unaware of the Harold’s presence as he paced the rooftop to witness the multiple engagements from the helicopter… Engagements that seemed to be carried out almost top notch… Beautiful at times. The rogue assassin was low to the ground just out of the Helicopters view as it passed by… firing shots that would lead to a huge explosion… leading to a fragment of cement landing just inches from Harold’s current position. As the rogue assassin reached for the pistol on his immediate side, Harold reached for one of his revolvers on his right side.
“ Draw…”
With blinding speed and the gracefulness of a dove… the weapon swung up in full motion. The smooth gleam of the weapon casting bright flickering lights in the second that it was used. One direct shot to the targets left shoulder… would send the man in a quick 180 degree rotation with a added stumble… sending the target to into the midst of blasting gunfire below. The sounds of flesh being riddled with bullets was almost to immediately follow. Then Harold would nod his head with condolences of the man he was going to spare with the Quick Draw… Bring his posture back to full stance and re-holstering his weapon. The area he was assigned to was just ahead on the left… With forward movement he would close the gap easily.
A door ahead was opened ajar with what seemed to be like a military relief station… a huge multi-tiered heavy munitions Gatling Gun was being operated by one of the Rogue Assassins that was one of the only targets left for the first part of the mission. He was not even aware of Harold when he activated the weapon and begin to pour round after round into the distance… The weapon not stable enough to hit the target… Which just so happened to be the Helicopter… Harold drew his pistol quickly… pouring three rounds into the Assassin with a expert’s eye… Watching as the man feel over and the weapon began to go into cool down mode. As far as Harold was concerned his mission to make sure the Agents safely landed was a go. But now… he would have to play hide and go seek to catch up with them… But with any luck they would come to him first.
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Post by hades on Apr 18, 2010 0:20:39 GMT -5
Dean smirked almost evilly at the thought of taking out some of the people who could have been involved in the breakouts, and cocked his machine gun, pulling it into the ready position as he dropped from the chopper onto the rooftop. He was impressed by Pandora's handling of the mini, and felt better at the moment at being with other professionals. As he hit the roof, he dropped to a knee and scanned around him with the barrel of his gun, watching for any threats around him as he did. Not seeing anything at the moment, he relaxed slightly and waited for the others, doing a small spot check of his gear on him, making sure the knife, 93-r, 1911, and other items were still secured and ready for use. Not finding anything wrong, he went back to his overwatch mode as he called it, looking for any movement nearby.
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Post by .Merios on Apr 18, 2010 13:19:02 GMT -5
The second the chopper smacked the ground, Pandora and Dean stepped off the vehicle and onto the roof below. He turned in his seat and grasped the barrel and grip of his M107, which was aptly named "Light Fifty". Spencer cradled it in his arms as he ducked off the chopper, landing on the ground below and slinging it over his back. He stood up, not yet drawing a weapon yet drawing his breath. He took in his surroundings first- his eyes scanned the dusty horizon for a great vantage point. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small earwig which he promptly slid back into his right ear, seeing as how he had removed it for the ride up. A translucent wire traced a line from the ear piece to a small black box on his waist. Sure, he could have chosen a wireless version, but over the years he'd grown fond of the old model.
Spencer moved towards the center of the roof top, his right hand moving down to unstrap his pistol from it's holster on his right thigh but not yet grasping it.
"Alright ladies and gentlemen, I'll be your eyes and ears. I'm going to say this once and only once. This mission requires finesse and we need to get in and get out as quickly as possible. Everybody does there job, no hesitations. If you don't pull your weight, I'll shoot you myself. Am I clear?"
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 19, 2010 14:39:30 GMT -5
"What!?" Pandora was standing straight and firm facing Spencer, "Shoot us!?" see, this was why she didn't enjoy working in a team based operation; everyone else’s point of view seemed so... inconsistent. Granted she felt out of everyone she was the most likely to 'pull weight'; Pan had managed to associate that to work ethic at least; but the concept of one B.S.A.A. agent shooting another in the back was other worldly to her. Rank posed a little bit of a problem in this stand off so dropping the topic seemed reasonable, thankfully being a part of a separate unit had the merit of individual control; if Spencer crossed the line of killing a friendly she'd be more than obliged to cross it with him.
Without wasting any more energy on words Pan headed for the exit of the rooftop, a single rusted iron door set into the fourth floor. Inside the building brought on the idea that the place should be condemned; at the least, it certainly wasn't inhabited, and there was a questionable amount of garbage strewn about the place pouring out a sickening odour; Pans sense of smell was jarred completely. The paint and plaster of the walls seemed to have rotted a little as well, regional rain likely leaked in; odds of structure being occupied decreasing; the carpet hid any potential mildew and weakened flooring. Pandora's static sounding voice passed through everyone’s ear piece, "Watch your step, areas of the floor may be damaged enough for you to fall through," the next corner would support Pan's claim. It was a one way trip from the rooftop door, and the flooring in front of them had collapsed completely.
Uncertainty held its water, but risk had to be taken; there was no particular choice for another way around unless anyone felt like scaling down three floors of crumbling window frames in the open. Pandora held her hand out behind her to issue everyone to stop, holstering her sidearm; 5 metres from the collapsed floor she went down onto her knees and crawled her way towards the edge, it was easy to see how much support was available from the edge at the other side. Too much weight would bring the rest of the flooring down, but that wasn't what Pan was worried about. Once she could see the floor below she spread out onto her stomach, drawing her Matador, and lowered herself over the side. The floor below was clear in both directions, a particular breeze came from the west along with a significant amount of illumination.
Item No.2, the floor below; any give should provide enough time to evade the collapse, unless it was weakened mud barely holding itself together, chances of that: slim. Pan holstered her sidearm again and crawled over the edge lowering herself slowly; bits and pieces of the floor she held onto fell away, but nothing suggested it would fall altogether. Her feet slapped onto the third floor, the debris from floor #4 crumbling beneath her shoes. A second or so was reserved for testing stability, once satisfied Pan spoke over the mic again, "It's safe to drop down. Careful on the decent from the damaged floor though, I'm unsure how much weight it can take,"
First objective would be to get the hell down to ground level and out of the building. The light at one end of the new corridor the team were in was in fact the windows against the face of the building leaving plenty of visibility outside, the decision to exploit this approved. Plenty of gunfire could be heard around the teams local area and off in the distance, none of it sounded out of the ordinary; there was the occasional crack of an explosion, but that was to be expected as well; they'd all have to watch out for explosive munitions and react accordingly.
A group of hostiles sprinted down the alley outside shouting in a different language; Pandora nudged one window out a little, it pivoted open upwards, and poked her head out. The three men moved out into an open and brightly lit by sunlight street at the north end of the alley, down the southern end showed another figure silhouetted slightly. Straight away though from the behavior of the person it was clear they were a carrier, "Level 1 outbreak. Either side of the conflict or Sharne has released an infection; keep aware of T-virus carriers," Pan reported. She wanted to get a better view out in the open to determine how far-gone the outbreak could be; it wouldn't take long for things to get out of hand, they'd have to get the job done before a particular limit of infection was reached. Every minute increased the percentage of the team being held in jeopardy, and suddenly ground level didn't sound as appetizing as Pan had originally thought.
Further down, there seemed to be a connection to the adjacent building on the second floor, some sort of built in bridge between the two buildings. It looked like it had been added after the cleanup. Heading through it wasn't in Pan's intentions, but rather over it to reach the roof of the next building. Ladders went up both walls and there was ample cover, probably for easy maintenance access both ways. Pandora opened the window closest to the bridge, rechecking the alley below and roof above before pulling her nimble body out and grabbing a hold of the ladder to slide down to the roof of the bridge. She roadie ran across kneeling down low at the other side and watching the surroundings, covering the rest of the team as they made their way down and across as well.
"Outbreak level 2," to say that the next roof gave a view was a bit of an understatement; crossing the top of it displayed one of the open roads of the town. The conflict seemed less between the two gangs, and more between them and their own infected personnel.
Decay looks varied; worst cases approximately 32 hours. Sharne must have fallen on his contingency plan within the last 48-60 hours. At least 35% of population infected and climbing sharply. Estimated 3 hours before outbreak level 3.
Pandora doubled back from the edge of the building to the centre of the roof; they had to head west, the next area being a little slummish and residential with most if not all of the buildings appearing to be made from rammed earth; and beyond that some more built up structures resembling what they stood on. Moving through the next area would certainly require them to get down to ground level unfortunately. A speedy way down would be most reasonable.
At the south side of the building was an emergency ladder, it ended at the balcony of the second level and was far into the alley enough for them to remain unseen from the conflict in the open road. Once level 2 was achieved little seemed to be provided in a means to get to grounds zero, Pan leaned over the side finding no particular spot safe to land. The balcony of the next building over was close though, enough for the team to simply step over if they wished. Fire escape plan, ladder ends at second floor and persons simply hop over to the next building; probability of easy access to ground floor likely.
The view from the new balcony was mediocre and Pandora still held the open road as a concern. Crouching low and watching through the support of the balcony rail she opened communication and addressed Spencer, "Captain, can you locate a safe spot to cross the open road near my position? West of our drop point," a brief second after while waiting for a reply a bullet pinged off the balcony rail near Pan; she flinched and moved away from the edge; considering a barrage didn't spray in her direction it was likely to be a stray shot. Their presence wasn't completely lost yet. Either way being outside provided less cover than preferred and Pan moved to enter the new building, "Take cover inside," she ushered for everyone.
Inside displayed a particular scene, one insurgent hanging dead over a high powered machine gun pointing out the window, and another man. Milliseconds were spared for reaction, yet Pandora spent some of the time supplied trying to deduce the situation.
Subject shows no signs of Mexican or Spanish origin... ethnicity appears more American. Apparel is out of place with environment. Reason for being in area questionable, potential civilian. Confirm before eliminating.
"Identify yourself!" within a blink Pandora had drawn her Matador pointing it squarely at the man’s head, what caught her breath was that in the same blink he had also drawn his weapon; the Velvet girl was unsure who had been faster. One thing did stand out though...
Subject armed with revolver, behavior in draw and stance suggest gun slinging background. Area of my body likely under target consideration: heart. If target fires nerves may cause right arm to seize, trigger hand squeezing and concluding in elimination via shot to frontal bone of skull.
In other words they both died, only if Pandora's prediction lived to its fullest; but the next round of milliseconds would determine how the situation would play out.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 19, 2010 21:23:05 GMT -5
The street had erupted into a massive panic of blasting weaponry being snuffed out by small pockets of undead mutations… the matter was most displeasing. People that were once in a fire-fight amongst themselves now seemed to be at a momentary truce to fend off the undead invaders that seemingly came from nowhere at all. The creatures were not the typical undead at all… They moved faster… attacked faster… Took more damage. It was as if the genetic structure of the of creatures had peaked to a point of nearly unquestionable endurance and stamina along… At the rate of this escapade the existing population would most likely join the undead in less than two hours… Which Harold knew he would not be around long enough on the surface to witness the downfall. He needed to close the distance between himself and the Drop Team A S A P or die trying.
Turning back now he had noticed a brief pause in the firefight outside. With a almost cued scuttle from the outside… A very strictly business woman had marched into view. Then in the time that he had noticed the females weapon raise, two things had crossed his mind in a instant… “ Draw!!!” and that was the girl from the photo. He had remembered the briefing and the fine young specimen that had been on the screen for the majority of the briefing along with a S.T.A.R.S. legend… Spencer Kilroy… on the contrary, this woman was much more than just a beautiful face amongst a S T A R S Plaque… Her record has showed her as deadly as a Black Widow with the reaction time of light in Pitch Black. Playing a card for a quick draw duel at particular time with her might not end too well. In the end they might as well drop of red rose on both corpses for this would end in a immediate draw… He would let her have this round for sure.
The standoff lasted for less than a second before his ammunition poured onto the ground in a series of short metallic clangs and the stripped revolver weapon returned to his holster in the same amount of time “Identify--” escaped her lips. This motion was followed by a slight rotation of stance to be more relaxed… even as her stance was still locked on his vital organ… A smug roguish smile would appear on his lips as his introduction escape his lips… A bit of pride locked on each passing word. As if he was addressing a Officer above him.
“ Harold Waltz … Third party assistance in search and safety for B S A A and S T A R S joint mission.”
He noticed that the woman did not change her stance… and if anything at all she was more determined than ever. She was more or less willing to eliminate him at any time with pleasure from the stone cold expression that draped over her facial features. Perhaps his current condition of being out of a crucial amount of ammunition of his main Revolver would buy him a few points in the trustworthy area… Unarmed and out gunned… He knew that she recognized that he spilled his ammo at his feet… She was trained for movements that could happen in a nanosecond with her reflexes being able to follow with coordinating weapons targeting to the most lethal part of his body for immediate kill accessibility. His current predicament was a sketchy one.
“ I prefer to stay handsome if you don’t mind. My charming looks are pretty much all I have going for me…” Harold stated with a mild seriousness in his tone, urging the woman to lower her gun so they could speak civilized ,” Besides… Hard to pose a threat with no ammo in this here Revolver. Would take an additional two seconds to reach ammo and another half second for a reload with a gun trained on me. Really do not need any extra holes in my face, thank ya kindly…”
The tone of his voice proved that he was all business with the tone of his thick Southern Dixie accent emerging more heavily from his vocal chords. Both weapons holstered on his sides while a machete hung at his right legs strap. His body movement was completely relaxed showing no signs of immediate hostility. If anything he was showing that Pan could easily kill him if need be. The ball was most certainly in her court now...
{{OOC}} : {{ You can respond back if need be… Miles. Since you pulled the weapon…}}
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 20, 2010 8:10:06 GMT -5
Actions the man presented came off quite sinister for Pandora in the beginning, the rounds from the revolver dropping to the floor. She starched up a little more feeling quite frightened; if it was merely a ploy to catch her off guard then there was no way she could underestimate the guy. As far as Pan could tell he was the better killer... really she would have favored the Mexican stand off they originally had.
“ I prefer to stay handsome if you don’t mind. My charming looks are pretty much all I have going for me…”
Words Pandora could relate to, it was touching, "I know how you feel," she answered. If Pan was ever facially scarred her self esteem would probably be shot to sh*t, and if it wasn't for SOP her sympathy would have probably made her lower her weapon, "Please excuse me. I am going to have my pilot run a search on your name, if he does not find anything within a minute I will kill you," ironsight still poised over Harold's lacrimal bone, Pandora lifted her left hand up to her ear piece and cycled it through frequencies, "This is Ground team to Birdhouse, over,"
<Birdhouse to Ground, go ahead>
"Could you please conduct a search for me. Name, 'Harold Waltz'..." a moment was spared to size the man up, "Approximately six foot tall; American decent. Over," small details always helped. If the guy had been processed, they'd have the information.
<Copy that Ground team, give me five to authenticate. Out.>
Little more was said afterwards, the only sounds being of the gunfire outside which had moved slightly further down the road now; the cracks being softened to thumps as the vibrations hit the walls of the building. A small bead of sweat perspired from Pans brow, running down and skipping off the top of her eye lid, passing over her left eye entirely and running off the side like a tear "Thirty seconds," she updated. Static came through her ear piece just before the voice of the pilot dropped in.
<Birdhouse to Ground. Single hit on one Harold James Waltz. Tasked to provide support for helicopter and infiltration team, contracted by B.S.A.A. South America. Entered the region 72 hours ahead of time. High priority authetication present, over>"
Immediately Pandora lowered her sidearm and straightened her posture, "Thanks for the info Birdhouse. Ground team, out,"
72 hours ahead of time, relevant to Mr. Marlboro's choice of action against the faulty intelligence. Waltz likely knew everything beforehand. Whether he's been employed by Mr. Marlboro is a different story; evidence points to this as fact though.
"I appreciate your patience," Pandora followed up, the indication of a lowered weapon clearly noting that he was well off among them, "New addition to the team Captain Spencer. Harold Waltz ordered in from the South American branch. He is here to assist us," her voice traveled to Spencers position. She bowed to the man, it was clear that he had most likely neutralized many threats posed to the helicopter upon entry that none of the team had been aware of; a similar grudge slid in between the lines to Amelie however, "Were you contacted by Mr. Marlboro from Tricell?" simple question, obvious answer, but the clarification would set things in stone a little more, "And if you have any information on the area I'd like you to transfer it to my Captain, Agent Spencer Kilroy," she was willing to hand her ear piece to Harold if need be; any more help at all for and from the teams 'Eyes' would be a plus and increase chances of survivability.
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Post by Amelie on Apr 20, 2010 15:00:49 GMT -5
So many things happened since they tried to find a securized spot, first the heavy machine gun from the helicopter itself and the trouble on the roof as they jumped out. Amelie couldn't believe how the structure was damaged. Walking carefully ahead, her dual machine guns in hand, following the others from behind she was surprised by their self confidence. Pandora was the first to attack a man, it seemed the others were looking and securing around but Amelie followed a little bit behind her and looked at the scene between these two. If the stranger would ever shoot Pandora, Amelie was ready to shoot back and avoid any other potential risk of victims.
Pandora and him talked as she asked for his identification, it seemed he had told the turth and they both led their weapon down. "Were you contacted by Mr. Marlboro from Tricell?" Pandora asked, then commented, "And if you have any information on the area I'd like you to transfer it to my Captain, Agent Spencer Kilroy," Amelie walked in their direction and stopped on the woman's right. She waited untill she was done with talking and added: "I am agent Amelie of Tricell, nice to meet you." She made sure she could be closer to these two, Pandora seemed to have many questions and it looked like she wasn't trusting Tricell entirely. It could cause a problem if this big mouth would get in the way and Harold was stuck with her now if he had anything to hide.
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Post by .Merios on Apr 20, 2010 17:13:22 GMT -5
Spencer had moved into position before long, setting up between two pieces of machinery within a bell tower. The whole area was overrun with vegetation- the building must not have been used for quite some time, which gave him ample opportunity to use a modified ghillie suit to his full advantage in an urban environment. To an outsider, there would be no distinguishing him from the dirt and vegetation shooting out from cracks in the dirt structure and metal objects throughout the room. His rifle was set up on the window sill, a canvas wrapping similar to his own suit was wrapped around the weapon to break up it's outline. A tripod spotting scope was sitting next to it on the sill, concealed in a similar way to the rifle, having canvas wrapped around it and partially burying it debris from the outlying area. A voice spoke through his ear piece, breaking the silence.
<Captain, can you locate a safe spot to cross the open road near my position? West of our drop point?>
He moved from his rested position to the spotting scope, lifting his head slightly to move his left eye in position. Through his scope, he noticed the team moving after the last transmission, tracking them moving through an adjacent building and coming in contact with a possible hostile. He slowly moved himself to the right and slid his right hand to the grip of the rifle and inched his head to the right barely, maneuvering his eye socket to be placed on the rubber eye piece of the M107's scope. Previously, he had made sure to put a silencer on the weapon, seeing as how the whole area was a massive firefight, he couldn't risk his position being compromised this early into the mission.
He lifted his cross hairs to Pandora, then brought them horizontally to the left, focusing on the man who just downed a hostile. As soon as Pandora lifted her pistol at him, Spencer moved his right index finger to the trigger, depressing it slightly to ease off the pressure from the springs to ensure a quick pull of the trigger. From his position, he was at least 650 Meters from the fight, which meant he had to account for wind speed and MOA. He repositioned his cross hairs slightly to the left and about an inch above the man's center of mass, listening to the conversation they were having. As soon as he heard Pandora address him, he took his finger off the trigger and moved his head away from the scope for a moment, then repositioning it.
<New addition to the team Captain Spencer. Harold Waltz ordered in from the South American branch. He is here to assist us>
Spencer began to scan the open road to the west of their position, noting enemy personnel driving down the street from the distance. It was a brown suburban truck, easily capable of carrying five to six men and a plethora of arms in an easily concealable way. He let them pass, moving his crosshairs to zoom in on the driver and passenger- the driver was a dark brown man, possibly African and the passenger was a man of Mexican descent, holding what looked like a Kalashnikov. His mind was wracked trying to figure out what an African man was doing here, but he shook it off- it wasn't his concern, he had to keep his mind on the mission. Spencer allowed the vehicle to turn the corner and continue down the road, the passenger hanging out the window and exchanging rounds with what seemed to be no body.
Spencer shook it off and looked back to the open road stopping them from their next move. He surveyed the area once more, noticing a steel cable line stretched across a 2nd floor balcony across the street to the other building, possibly for hanging laundry. By the looks of it, it wasn't for just hanging clothes. There were small hooks down the line and from the looks of it, they were quite heavy. It seems the line may have contained some sort of ethernet connection which was protected by an outer shell. He thought about it, and then zoomed in on the ends of the line, stretching into the building and disappearing. He wasn't sure if it was connected to a computer or some sort of anchor mechanism; he would have to have more information before he could make a decision. He heard a voice come in over his ear piece, and he spoke softy in reply.
<New addition to the team Captain Spencer. Harold Waltz ordered in from the South American branch. He is here to assist us.>
"Roger that Ground.
He looked around for an alternative, moving the scope downward and looking to the ground floor of the building they were in- there was a kitchenette near the rear of a room which was decimated by some sort of explosion, and a small grate covered a rather large hole in the ground- possibly for grease and other trash dumps to be collected beneath ground. He looked across the street once more- the ground floor of that building was also demolished, but he could barely see the edge of a grating near the kitchenette of the exposed room which seemed like a mirror image to him- almost like the same architect designed both buildings. He hadn't been given any intel on the area, but he was sure the two would lead to an interconnecting tunnel or some sort of compacting unit and possibly a retrieval system beneath the street that could serve as a means of transport. Spencer spoke softy into his headset.
"Eagle eye to Ground, I've got a possible zip line on the western balcony of the 2nd floor window, single bedroom; Elvis poster above bed. Alternative route would be a large grate, ground floor kitchenette behind the counter- possibly leads to several buildings down the street for garbage collection or sewage disposal. It's your call. Direct movement not advised, contact on street, keep your head down."
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 20, 2010 20:41:29 GMT -5
The mood of the standoff had shifted from a negative to a complete positive as Harold had hoped for. The beautiful woman was also accompanied by another… less threatening woman by appearance. His attention had switched to the dual automatic pistols that the woman named Amelie held at each side. Her posture with the weapons had proven that she was capable of using them effectively… but no exactly expertly. He was well aware of who and what she was the moment he had made direct eye contact with her… “ Aqua”… Perhaps Mr. Marlboro at the of Tricell did not trust him enough to act directly under them… {The Watcher} had stated that Mr. Marlboro’s lackies were not to be trusted by any means. So one wrong move with this ’Amelie’ could lead to a problem in the future. He would need to fulfill his contract as needed… Then perhaps gather the intel needed on Amelie.
The woman that had originally stood off with him was named Pandora… her question had most certainly peaked his interest. He felt no reason to hide anything from the woman seeing as she had willpower and intelligence… as well as a finely curved body in her combat suite. Raising a eyebrow he shook his head in agreement. Then he motioned to Pandora with a immediate relay hand movement.
“ Yes… I was sent to scout the area for the most suitable means of entrance. The main storage center is just down the main street… inside of a large Warehouse. Gunshots have erupted from it recently… then that was when these… undead began appearing more and more. I believe that the Storage Facility could have fallen under a Biohazard Level 5 … We are not sure if Sharne is still alive or not at this moment. Broadcasts that I have heard from Assassins is that he may be alive but is needed dead. Not sure what agency the Assassins work for… but when they arrived it was by the truckload.”
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Post by Evening in Missoula on Apr 21, 2010 0:20:23 GMT -5
The helicopter neared it's drop point, Savannah sat in wait. The ride wasn't too rough, but the conflict on the streets below weren't close to what was going on to the west, she could see the gun play even from this distance. Things were getting rough. She could hear the roar of a M134 in the distance, it was a sound she enjoyed, the harsh purr of the heavy artillery. "Your team is farther west, Luis. This area is hot, but nowhere near as hot as it'll get. Can you handle it?" Savannah readied herself on the line, Some hostiles are no problem. She thought cockily. "I'll be careful Dick, don't you worry about me." Came her cocky reply, grinning at the pilot with a wink. Assisting the team in the retrieval of a man named Sharne, she was to meet up with them. Savannah had no issue with being the backup if it put her out in the field. This is what she lived for, the thrill of combat. "Get me a little closer, will ya Dick?" The pilot nodded and took them down a little nearer to a rooftop. "This is as close as it gets, Luis. You ready?" She grinned again and nodded, saluting her pilot before zipping down the line to the rooftop below.
She landed with a soft thud, the rooftop beneath her giving a slow, low whine, opposing the extra weight. She gave her surrounding a nice slow survey, the roof was empty, clearly, devoid of any direct danger. The floor beneath her, however, seemed to be at least at minor risk of collapsing. She stood slowly, keeping alert, and padded to the edge of the building. The alleyway beneath her was narrow, and the building next door only a quick jump. Taking a glance down, the thought briefly went through her mind that if she didn't make the leap she would be a goner for certain. Gotta make quick work of this... She thought persistantly, Or I'll be left behind. Taking a few steps back, she leapt over the gap and landed, tucking into a roll upon impact. She stood and brushed herself off, making her way to a hatch connecting to the floor beneath her. She opened it, drawing her weapon in a blink and doing a quick sweep of the room below her. Nothing, good. Re-holstering her gun, she dropped down to the floor below.
Quietly, she stalked through the rooms of the building, looking for a window that could connect to another building across the way. She knew the team's location, or at least their approximate drop point, and how to get there. It was just a matter of getting there quickly enough to be of any use. Savannah froze upon hearing a low grumble in a foreign tongue. She didn't understand much Spanish, but the tones did not sound friendly. There were three voices, one was yelling. And then gunshots and the harsh thud of a body meeting the floorboards. Savvy winced and pressed herself against the wall, footsteps were coming this way.
She waited for the perfect opportunity, unsheathing her knife. She waited patiently for the hostile to come into view, his back was to her. Perfect. She smirked, padding up behind him and with one swift motion she pressed the blade to his throat and pulled, severing his jugular. Close range combat was always so much more fun. She let him down as quietly as possible, but the man was heavy and made some noise when he slumped on the ground. Hearing the other approaching she quickly drew one of her Berettas, firing two shots once the figure appeared in the doorway. Good shots too, one on the shoulder and the other in the neck. He fell to the ground in a garbled mess. Stepping over them and into the room they came from, she found her window. Well, balcony actually. "Double perfect, Heh." She whispered, grinning. Opening the window she looked for a capable means of getting across, there weren't many. She found herself wondering if she would have been better off sticking to the rooftops.
Glancing down, she took note of a clothesline. With a sigh she smoothed out her ponytail, it was the best shot she had. Pulling herself up to balance on the railing of the balcony, she jumped, grabbing the clothesline on her way down. It warped and bent under her weight, but she held on tight, swinging with the momentum built from the fall and releasing herself. She landed just barely on the balcony a floor below and across the alleyway. Stepping down she breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. She was close. She made her way through this building and the next few in much the same fashion, without much difficulty, taking out the occasional hostile. Stopping to breath for a moment, she leaned against the railing of a stairway. To her surprise, voices could be heard. And they were speaking in English. She adjusted the frequency on her earpiece and sure enough, a female voice came through.
<Could you please conduct a search for me. Name, 'Harold Waltz'...>
The same words in the same voice echoed from up the stairs. Savannah padded up them lightly, waiting at the top and listening in silently. When there was a break in the conversation, after the male voice finished speaking. She stepped into the room lightly, unarmed with her hands up to show she was friendly.
"I'm Savannah Luis, NSAA Agent. Iwent through a helluva time getting here so you'd better be the team I was sent to assist."
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 21, 2010 10:03:26 GMT -5
The Matador rose a second time, exactly the same as before. A strange feeling pulsed through Pan, she associated it with annoyance. The female agent had the same behavior as Harold in terms of gaining trust, only she was a little more forthcoming about it with her hands in the air; but for some reason everyone was being vague on information today. Her attitude in her voice also rang a little hollow, as if she didn't really want to be in the town. Pandora was about to call through another search order when she was beaten to the punch: <Birdhouse to Ground, detecting IDC for agent Luis. More backup from SA branch apparently. It's a recent call though so I'm guessing either General Lann or Mr. Marlboro felt you guys were a little understaffed for the Op.>Pitch and character determined that it was the Co-pilot speaking this time. <Got a radio in from agent Luis' chopper as well, we're heading back to refuel early. Birdhouse, out.>Pandora's hand had remained stoic beside her head the entire time, reinforcing that she was concentrating on the voice passing through her ear piece and also to make it obvious for everyone who didn't have a headset that she was listening to something. The hand dropped to her side, along with the right holding her sidearm, once she was clear on Savannah's identity. Spencer would have gotten the call as well, no point informing him. Back to the topic at hand, Harold's words were still fresh in Pandora's mind. "So there's an unknown group involved..." the assignment was quickly turning into a catalyst, "What are the odds of them being related to the Revolutionary force in Russia?" the question was open to anyone, but typically Pandora had already calculated an answer; it changed a lot of variables though. She breathed in deeply through her nose, then started mumbling quickly under her breath, "Revolutionaries could in fact be a legitimate and well funded organization. Occupied research facility in Russia was used specifically for the development of Serpents Kiss... Sharne's information must be too liable for them so, effectively, eliminate him," her hand moved up to rub her chin, "That would explain the presence of the Assassins... but Biohazard level 5-" a clash of thoughts branched about her mind, "-No-no-no! Sharne possesses Serpents Kiss; massive liability. The concern isn't for intelligence, but premature deployment of a doomsday weapon... then what about the Revolutionaries motive?---" she stopped; as thought before, too many variables, and it was all becoming very theoretical; they'd just have to find Sharne and get the answers. Originally though? Pan was trying to find any connection to Marlboro. Pan also stopped due to Spencer's voice chiming in: Spencer: "Possible zip line on the western balcony of the 2nd floor window ... Alternative ... large grate, ground floor kitchenette behind the counter-""Copy that. Thanks," stepping aside and around Harold, Pandora headed down the room and through a door to an L-shaped hallway, windows to the right and the turn of the hall heading off to the left. The entire corridor was bare; the room at the point of the hall on the other hand had plenty of memorabilia inside. The important piece Pan looked for though, was the Elvis poster. And window...As Spencer had noted, there was a line running over the road from the room Pan stood in. The wire itself was secured into the top of the window frame and snaked into a metal box off to one side, it traveled in through the window of a building at the other side of the street. Pandora approached the window carefully, grabbed hold of the wire with her left hand and tugged on it; no give from her end or the connection from the other side... but: The whole team crossing out in the open like this would be suspicious; dangerous. In another instance; grate at other end of the street may be ambush prone...Being the person taking point, Pandora had to draw up a conclusion. Rather than choosing between the two options Spencer had provided, she decided to go with both of them. "Savannah, I'm assuming you're connected to Captain Spencer's frequency. As noted there is an underground opening in the kitchen on the ground floor, behind the counter. Take the team down there and head west for an opening at the other side of the street. I'm heading over via the zip line, I'll clear out any hostiles on the other side,"Going it alone was her thing, it made her comfortable; so not only was it the more efficient option, but Pandora also got her own way at the same time. She unloaded her sidearm, ejected the bullet in the chamber and flicked the safety on; left thumb going through the foregrip and fingers tightly wrapped around the slide while her right hand would hold into the pistol grip. She hooked it onto the wire bringing her legs up to the windowsill and pushed herself outside. Like someone had flicked a switch or turned a dial, the volume of her surroundings increased; gunshots, shouting, explosions, and debris hitting her face; the assumption could be made that everyone was waiting to throw a surprise party. Halfway across Pandora felt the give, the whole wire dropped an inch and she feared she'd fall directly into the centre of the open road. Another shudder of gravity and she tucked her legs in a little more. Just as she was passing through the window frame the wire let go complete from her end, Pandora's back collided with the bottom of the frame causing her to yelp. The support of the wire on her end hadn't been tailored as well as it had been from the building she was originally in. Her cry from before had gathered some unwanted attention as Pandora could hear frantic voices from outside the new room and down at the ground floor. She didn't spend a second taking in the surroundings of the room, sprinting instantly for the entrance door of it; footsteps had accompanied the voices and, as she predicted, someone had gone straight to open the door to the room she was in. Not quite fast enough though. As it opened, and an arm popped through holding a SMG, Pandora brought her foot up and crashed it into door handle crushing the targets arm and causing them to scream out in pain and drop their weapon. The weapon in question Pandora already had her hand out to catch pointing it at the door and unloading a barrage of rounds through it. The screaming stopped; dead weight was heard clearly dropping outside bringing evidence that the floor was hardwood. Pan's hearing tuned in to the same sound as footsteps could be heard leading off to the left of the doorway, stopping abruptly a metre beside it. The second target was probably waiting for her to exit the room. Architecture looks similar to drop points building; walls likely consist of wood / plaster.A thought of strength subtly crossed her mind, the muscles in her forearms seized up and bulged as she pulled back and slammed her fists into the wall where the target had chosen to take cover. Her arms wrapped around a neck and she pulled the target back through the wall throwing him in the direction of the window, half a second spent to fire two rounds of the SMG, and then momentum took care of the rest as he flipped out of the window and fell down to the ground below. Pandora's muscles relaxed, returning to their former state. Through the hole in the wall displayed another bedroom; in fact both rooms held a fair amount of tech but showed no decoration or character. The doorway to the second room was to the right of the hole, it was possible another hostile lay waiting outside. Pandora flipped the SMG around poking it outside the hole and holding onto the stock with her left hand as she blind fired the rest of the magazine into whatever was out the doorway. If it wasn't dead it sure as hell would have taken cover. SMG dropped to the ground, Pandora jumped through the hole crouching by the doorway of the second room. The entire second level of the building seemed to be symmetrical to itself. Peeking out the door caused a rally of rounds to be fired at her; Pan backed away from the opening as chunks of wood were blown away. She retorted as soon as the firing stopped, blind firing another two rounds from her Matador and moving through the doorway. She checked the hallway, noting it was clear, and took cover outside the room of the target. The peek from before had supplied her with enough of a view to know approximately where the insurgent was hidden; she crouched and held her sidearm a few centimetres away from the wall she was behind, calculated for a brief second and fired a shot. Cutting through the wall, through the sofa, and into the insurgent. Hearing the scream she moved to enter the room, scanning it for any other hostiles. There was no exit wound meaning the drop in velocity had probably caused the bullet to stop inside of the insurgent, Pan quickly spent another round into the targets head before procuring his AKS-74u and a fresh magazine from his person. She reloaded while moving down the hallway checking all of the adjacent rooms, clearing them before heading down to the ground floor. Main concern for the ground floor hallway was the arch which probably lead into the kitchen, Pandora carefully stayed to the left of the hall with her shoulder running against the wall and her eyes hovering over the iron sights of her newly acquired carbine. She must have made a sound or something as an insurgent popped out of the archway; being prepared ahead of time gave Pan the advantage and before he could complete his step out of the opening she'd already fired two bursts into his chest causing a slight wobble and drop. At the other end of the hall, from the entrance side of the building near the open road, came a hail of blind fire. Pandora moved across to the other side hitting the wall and crouched down low wincing at the bullets passing dangerously close to her head; she responded in kind and unleashed automatic fire down wind to the hostile. Pan wasn't concentrating on how many rounds she had left, so as soon as the fabled 'click' resounded she dropped the AK, moved down to the arch and stepped over the dead body picking up the departed's weapon at the same time. The 74u seemed standard issue among the gang. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone inside the kitchen waiting for her. Pandora recovered, taking in her surroundings. Several ordinance crates were sitting on the kitchen bench which immediately grabbed Pan's attention; it seemed out of place but clicked quickly that these were likely some of the munitions that were brought up in Sharne's trade offer. Pandora quickly inspected the olive drab cases, one of them holding an AKS-74u and ammunition, while another smaller one held a number of MK3A2 Concussion grenades. For once Pan didn't have to think. The one or more insurgents at the end of the hallway were probably waiting for her move, their mistake. Pandora twist and pulled the pin from an MK3 and threw it side-arm ways down the hall still inside the cover of the kitchen. The safety lever flicked off a quarter of the way down and enough power had been supported for it to drop just at the doorway to the entrance and roll into the centre of the room. 3... 2...The explosion resonated down the hall, shattering glass. Pandora was already moving down wind and entered the chaos ridden room. There were two insurgents, one already dead while another writhed slightly in agony. Pan double tapped putting him to death entirely and did the same with the other insurgent, just to be sure. A sturdy barricade had been placed at the entrance of the building, it seemed within the gang members intentions to hunker down out of the heat of the outbreak. Any more rooms branching off were only a linen pantry and bathroom. Convinced, "Building cleared, Savannah..." having spotted the grate in the kitchen before, "Exit is directly west of your position," they'd have an easier trip to the warehouse through the residential block, low roofs and tight paths between buildings, unlike the linear alleys back in the built up area. Pandora went back to the kitchen, snatched up several magazines for the AK. She'd make it her primary weapon considering how popular it was. She grabbed the leverage hook near the hatch and pulled the heavy grate up, checking it briefly while waiting for the rest of the team to rendezvous.
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Post by #+h3 M!$+3r P@r@d0x on Apr 21, 2010 20:47:50 GMT -5
The sounds of the agents that had come into play in mere seconds seemed to just act as whispers now. A delicate structure that had moved into the room with her hands raised in complete grace seemed to break the tension. He was partially happy not to have a bullet wound gaping his facial features… but now he was wondering how the next piece of eye candy was. His eyes traced the outlining of her figure before regaining his composure. There was no doubt about it now that this mission would have a fair share of distractions for the playboy. He wore a half hearted smile as he kept a careful watch on the women as well as the ongoing events outside. Making a movement to the window he regained his ammunition and reloaded the gun slowly… The scene was gruesome at best with little to no explanation to how or why the mutations had appeared so quickly. Harold would turn back with a stern look on his face before Pan had issued the final orders to the Agent who was introduced as Savannah. Time to rock and roll.
“ Alright, as you well know we are about to be s*** deep in some serious undead activity. The lower levels of this complex will pretty much issue a fire fight between both living and undead enemies. I’m pretty sure you know how to handle yourself? Right?”
This was the moment he had lived for his entire life… Three beautiful women with guns… A expert marksman in the distance watching over the operation. Chaos spreading wildly as what was thought to be just a simple mission into some low level smugglers paradise becomes a eclipse over the truth of the matter. The beauty of everything kind of gave a cool effect of blocking out the inevitable… soon death would come a knocking. At least is he were to die here and now… it would be with a wide grin on his face at the thought of these three women. Paradise on Earth… a country boys dream. All of thoughts of the stunning women cam e to a halt as the familiar sounds of knocking and scraping that had plagued him for the last few years started up again. Moaning filled the air with a deadly howl as well as a chorus of fleshy sounds repeated over and over again as the door that was secured to the east of the room rumbled in rampant vibrations. It was most clear that the room would soon become infested within a matter of seconds if the undead began working in unison to knock it down. Not to mention that gunfire from that particular area had ceased completely… Usually meaning that any unorthodox support fire on their behalf has either retreated or fallen victim to the monstrosities. Actions would need to be made soon… combat at this point would not be very effective in such a enclosed area. The best thing to do would be follow the Captains orders and get the hell out. He was well aware that Agent Spencer was like a fine wine… aged and seasoned… Not following the mans orders would lead to much more than just a few rot fleshes catching up with you… but most likely worse.
Heavy gunshots echoed smoothly and efficiently as Harold prepared his current gear and turned his head to the lower area. The sounds of repeated gunfire and a high definitive explosion sealed the deal that Pandora was dynamite with a extremely short fuse. Death was bound to follow her where ever she may go… and to him… that was the only kind of person he could truly trust in life was one with blood on his hands. His mind tried its best to play out the image scene for scene but was mildly disrupted by the angry undead that rumbled against the door.
Harold was bright… not extremely intelligent… But very bright. Harold would turn to Savannah and Amelie with a stern demeanor. His hand was now rested on the handle of his revolver in a quick draw layout as he motioned for them both to make their way out of the room through the door they had entered. He was fairly sure that the pathway to the kitchen would show little to no resistance for the two due to Pandoras activity during the wait. If the door was to erupt from the hinges before escape he would move with his back to the females and open fire on whatever grouped in closer. It was his sworn duty to make sure that this mission was not to be a complete failure… Not to mention the two people he was left with were women… and Pandora has already taken a zip line to secure safe route with what seemed to be very little effort involved. He had just prayed to God that the hinges did not give way to the new… less alive… party.
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Post by Evening in Missoula on Apr 21, 2010 22:23:30 GMT -5
"Take the team down there and head west for an opening at the other side of the street. I'm heading over via the zip line, I'll clear out any hostiles on the other side"
"Aye aye, Ma'am." Savvy gave a curt nod at the woman's orders and took a moment to watch her go, thinking for a moment that this woman may be someone who's good side she might want to stay on. She did a quick check of her primary weapons to make certain nothing would falter before turning to the man in the room, who she'd learned previously was named Harold, as he had said something.
“Alright, as you well know we are about to be s*** deep in some serious undead activity. The lower levels of this complex will pretty much issue a fire fight between both living and undead enemies. I’m pretty sure you know how to handle yourself? Right?”
Immediately she took a few steps towards the sharpshooter, the heels of her boots clacking faintly against the wood underfoot. "Oh yeah, I can handle myself Cowboy. Don't you worry." A grin pulled at her lips as she looked over to the door, which shuddered under the fists of the undead wishing access to this food supply. Oh man, they wanted in... and how. The grin widened. She stepped past him towards the exit. "The only question is, can you? Let's get our a**es moving people. Ground floor, you heard the lady." And with that cocky little remark, she headed down the stairs, taking the lead while she let Harold cover the rear. If he was good enough to be sent to assist then he was good enough to be trusted to back them up. She didn't know about the other woman though, which is another reason aside from orders that she took the lead. Savannah was confident that she could take anything that was thrown at her at this point.
Once they reached the bottom of that set of stairs she scanned the hall. Left- nothing. Right-nothing. Good. It was empty just as it had been on her way up, but it didn't hurt to be thorough. Just gotta keep moving down. Downstairs, grate in the kitchen floor. Keep moving down. Eliminate any threats and meet up with Pandora. She was not excited to make her way through one of these kitchens, the entire complex smelled like garbage already. It was attacking her senses in the worst way possible. She may not mind dirt or mud or even blood, but she did like smelling good and having the smell of rotten garbage coming at your nostrils like a chemical bomb was not a favorable concept in any situation.
She made note of another set of stairs at the end of the hall to the left and padded towards them, keeping her footsteps light and her focus sharp. She checked each doorway they passed, all were closed quite luckily and not an immediate worry. They neared the stairs and she, being the lead, turned the corner first. In turning the corner she met face to face with an uninfected hostile no more than a few feet away who had been running up the stairs. He was armed and dangerous, probably trying to escape from the streets, and too close to effectively shoot. The man was quick to react, drawing his weapon, but Savannah was quicker, kicking it out of his hand before he had a chance to even aim and then, with her leg still raised, delivering a swift kick to his chin. He dropped the gun, stumbling back down the stairs, giving Savvy enough space to get an effective shot. The entire encounter took place in a few short seconds. She brushed a hair from her face, slightly annoyed it had fallen out of her ponytail, and continued.
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