YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE...MAYBE TWICE!
Broken Streetlights (RP Room)
The city is near void of life now, infested with the undead who are either dispersing or hunting down what ever survivors have holed up long enough. Outside of the city are a couple of abandoned Rescue Sites, and one military base outside of the city half a mile away, all infested with zombies. A survivor camp quite a bit away has its own area set up. A community of fourteen males, eight females, nine children and two of the elderly. They have resources and have taken control of a farm, having the resources to keep their plants growing. Note: If you so much as look infected they will open fire, but this will only occur at night, as they have scopes for the day to help identify people.
Inside the city safe houses are scattered around by people who either had to much time on their hands, were already prepared for this whole thing or subjected themselves to long amounts of L4D games before making one of their own the moment they heard about the infection. These are stockpiled with basic legal weaponry such as hand guns, hunting shotguns, hunting rifles and a few other things. Food is also stocked, as well as a ham radio in most and a television in all, though other than re-runs of old shows, a few news broadcasting sites, and CDC health hazard warnings that will forever be on replay until someone shuts it off, nothing interesting or helpful is on.
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Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by Zombie_X on
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John felt something for the man. More like a bond, the feeling that brothers have to one another. He felt like he had to watch this mans back, and he would do the same for him. Brothers in arms they were called in the days.
"Yeah, I could do with shaping up on my hand to hand combat. You give me a pistol, I can get a headshot from 200 yards, give me a hatchet, cant hit them stood still. My first close kill was with a butter knife, back in the UK. We were holded up in a house, I was reloading when a z bursts in through the kitchen window. I grab the first thing near me, the butter knife. I really thought I was fucked then, you know, but I just charged towards it, stuck the butter knife straight in the eye. The thing twitched for 30 minuted before the bitch died."
John's stomach grumbled with hunger, and he pulled out an MRE.
"It's not steak, but is sure is good when it's the only thing you can eat. You think the Russians have live cows? If they do, we are taking one, my treat." John laughed, and took a bite into his MRE.
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Permalink Reply by Luc on
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Luc laughed again, waiting for it to die down to a chuckle as he imagened the spectacular scene. So he seemed like he was better with further targets? He always liked it up close and personal. But, with people, you had to be stealthy and think on your feet. You'd never know. "Thirty minutes. Thats a nice one. And once we have that Cow, I'll cook it. MY treat." He grinned a bit, glancing around the hallways. He never did prefer boats. But this one was a large vessel, and if the walls where a little more welcomeing. He could imagene himself off it. In somesort of house. But this was meant to be a weapon. A heavy defence. Not a luxery cruise. Luc ticked a hand into his pocket, his thumb sticking out and drumming on the outside of his pants before he ran a hand through his short hair. Making it looked spiked. "MREs DO sound like fresh food, compared to the shit I've been eating. You would never guess." He chuckled. "Nor would you want to try it. Absolutely horrible." He looked at John. His features relaxed. Rare for him. But he didn't think too much of it. "Your all right for a Bit, you know."
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Permalink Reply by Stalker Taint on
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Jess sat down in the hallway, lighting up a cigarette and taking a nice long inhale of it before blowing the smoke into the air, closing her eyes for a second as she tried to relax. Nerves. Always the fucking nerves. Still, that twitch had saved her life so many times that it didn't matter. Her stomach growled a bit and she fished out a Snickers from her backpack, peeling it open and taking it down in a few bites, wiping the chocolate away just as the boys turned the corner.
She gave them a two finger wave, smiling to Luc and John before wiping her hand off on her pants, standing up to give them a proper greeting as they approached her, "Mornin', boys. You enjoyin' the stroll?" Her accent wasn't heavy, and if anything it seemed not to even have an accent thanks to the blend between American and English cultures since birth.
She smashed her cigarette to the wall, smirking a bit as she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, "Sorry about before, but look, we're gonna have a long time in Russia and I think we're going to need to work together. Mind if we start out on the right foot here?"
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Luc folded his hands behind his head. His elbows jutting out. He spotted the woman from before and noted in silence her two colored stare. Odd. As was heraccent. He had to admit, when he heard himself, now, it was nutral. Hardly distinguishable. A mix of the few languages he had learned. But when he was relaxed and comfirtible his southern, east texas accent shown badly. Like he was actually trying to sound like what some might call 'rednecks'. He hides a smile. Glad the woman wasn't a bitch like most of the girls he had met. She was a soldier. Somewhat giving her permission to be more of either end.Nice of mean. He stepped foward, offering a hand to shake, and letting the soft smile reveal itself. His other hand, however, remained behind his head. And once she shook his other, if she did, he would move it back. "Not a problem. Everyone is under stress. So it is understandable." His smile got a bit lopsided. Like a childs. "Names Luc. Luc Infernus. What might your name be?" His accent was thick now. And it might of sounded to others, who wernt't used to it, like 'Nam's Luke. Luc infeeernoese. Whaut might yer name be''
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John bowled over in laughter. He looked up towards the two curious glances.
"Sorry but, I would have never figured you for being a redneck! You sound so different, where has this accent come from mate?"
John chuckled to himself, and handed his hand to the female soldier.
"Names John, you can check my file on the database if you want to find out more."
He turned towards Luc.
"You know what would wash down that steak? Some premium Russian vodka! First Russian we capture, I'm asking him where we can get some vodka! I hope the cows don't freeze to death, frozen steak wouldnt be very good would it?"
John turned, and with a nod of his head walked away. He passed Miko in the hall.
"Hey Miko, I just wanna say sorry for earlier, and thanks for stopping me make a stupid mistake. I didnt even think of my family when I was going to pull the trigger, and they are the ones that need me the most. Thanks again. John smiled, and ran to his bunk to prepare for the Russian weather.
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Luc's cheeks reddened a bit and he looked away a bit, straiting and gaining his lost composure. His muscles half tensing. Getting into the usual way he was in. The tearm 'Redneck' he messed around with, but it was... Odd. Very odd. To be called that by a Brit. Of all people. He watches John run down the hall, and couldn't hope, even in his slightly soured mood, to smile a bit. He muttered, mostly to himself. "Hyper Brit. A very Hyper Brit, it seems." His voice was the same now. No accent in it would be.. mildly detected. It wasn't all the way 'redneck'
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Jess gave Luc a firm shake of the hand, a bit to firm since it had some strength into it so she didn't seem slack in grip. After the shake she released, resting back against the wall, "Alright, Luc, a pleasure to meet you. If you need anything from me, just say the word and I'll try to help. If you excuse me, though, I'm going to get something to eat. That Snickers isn't filling me up." She flashed a small peace sign, walking off since John didn't really stick around to let her shake his hand as well.
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Miko was smoking a cigarette, talking to Senior Officer Rodriguez, only to be interrupted by John. He listened to the boy's words and nodded a bit, "Yeah, well you try that shit again and the bullet isn't hitting the gun. I may have to blow your trigger finger off and strap you to a bed." He watched the boy run off and looked back to Rodriguez, continuing the discussion over the mission.
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Dom hit the ground, but never went unconscious. He let the idiots do all the work, instead contemplating the situation. They weren't in a good situation, however, the traitors never patted them down. He groaned, having been in the situation, opening his eyes slowly, the irises giving a small twitch as he tried to focus on the room, or at least mimicked it just as the other situations had called for. He twitched a bit and coughed in his chair, his eyes widening a bit as he began to jerk around in the chair, throwing out words that made absolutely no sense. A seizure, something that he was perfect at faking.
The chair rocked around as attention went to him, and he began to salivate, jerking his head around as he thrashed inside of the chair, the throwing around dropping him onto the ground with the chair, his back being to the wall giving him the perfect cover as a switch knife flicked out from his jacket, hacking swiftly through the rope, it all being concealed by the seizure. His legs began to thrash onto the ground, kicking the chair he had been in as well as the table, now on his back to hide that the rope was broken.
His captors advanced slowly, guns raised, unsure of the situation though highly aware they may just lose a hostage. One looked to the other before nodding back to Dom, "He's jus' gonna be a burden, ye? Le's jus' put a shell in 'is skull 'n' use the others as leverage?"
Dom wished he could smirk, instead slowing down his trashing, the swashing of saliva in his mouth making a nice thick foam, oozing out the corner of his mouth. His breath was slow, raspy, that of a dying man or one of extreme exhaust. The one who remarked aimed the gun, Dom lazily looking at the gun with false fear. He watched the trigger, waiting for the right moment. The second the reflex occurred he was out of the way, ignoring that the 9mm shell grazed his cheek.
The man who fired the shot was choking now, the knife stuck firmly in his trachea, between the Adam's Apple. The other three men looked at Dom, one grabbing for James only to take a .45 APC round to the skull, the other two letting rounds go off. Dom hit the desk, hiding behind it and letting three bullets go off over the top, hitting one in the stomach and throat, the other taking a bullet to the arm, dropping his gun.
He saw the man lunge for the gun, popping up to release another shell into his skull, the man going still. Dom sighed a bit, wiping the blood off his face, ignoring at another bullet had torn along his leg, making a nasty scratch. He moved up next to the dead soldier, patting his back softly before sticking two fingers into the caved in hole against the back of his head, twisting the fingers around a bit, "Hmm.. Should have worn a helmet."
A round rang off in the room, Dom's eyes widening as one of the SAS troops stood up, holding a P8 Expert. Dom fell to the ground, a cherry red blossom sprouting in his back over where his lungs would be.
The man walked up to James and growled a bit, "You cost us a lot. We didn't plan on killing you, but now that our orders are out it looks like we have to take you out and let the infected ravish the base." His face made a small 'Oh, didn't I tell you' look, "That's right, you didn't get the report, did you? I guess those kinds of things get mixed up. Well, Comms Officer Williams had a report from a scout that a rather large horde is coming to the base. One that we should have been preparing for hours ago, but I was ordered never to let that report get out. America will be deemed to hostile and that a ground war was going on between the U.S. Military and our troops, until the infected rushed the base and killed everyone in the process, only a select few of us making it out on a life craft that will be conveniently arriving to give support, headed by Field Marshal Harrison himself. With everyone dead, it will be a fresh expedition, the Field Marshal will gain even more respect and govern America on his own, destroying the Americans and Stalkers due to their hostilities towards our men. Fool proof, really." The soldier smirked a bit, aiming the gun at James.
The trigger didn't pull, though, his head erupting from the top as a .45in round ripping it apart. Dom coughed a bit and smirked, watching him fall to the ground, "Haven't you ever heard of a bullet proof vest? Dip shit."
He aimed at the other soldiers, going to James and hacking the rope off from him, "James, I sure as fuck don't have faith in your government, and I've lost a bit of trust for you. We need to get all troops in order and securing the boarders of the base. If the infected are as numerous as he said, with the ability to ruin the soldiers we have here off guard, then that means we're probably going to have our own losses." He went up to the other SAS officers, letting James take care of himself, inspecting each one and removing their guns away, picking up the P226 from the ground as well as the other rifles and hand guns, not trusting anyone.
Why the fuck couldn't things be simple anymore? Zombies should have taught us war doesn't get shit done, and nor does a ranking system like that. To many people get corrupted.
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James was shocked at what he had just witnessed. Dom had just killed 3 men, and he was supposed to be dead. James looked at his arm feeling a slight pain.
"You fucking shot me! What the fuck?" James felt the fury rising as Dom said that he didnt trust him. "You don't fucking trust me? You think I set this whole thing up? There are over a thousand troops on this base, and I don't know who to fucking trust now. In fact, you know what, I'm pulling all my men out of America. If Harrison wants to look like a fucking hero so badly, then let him! You can all flee to Canada and Mexico, hell even take over Russia if you want. I can't go up against a Field Marshall, I don't have that influence over those men out there, and I'm sure there are more that want to put a bullet through my head, just like those guys. I'm playing with fire here, and that never ends good for anyone. He has his own elite unit of men, directly under his command. Even if I did have my mens support, they still wouldnt be able to put up a decent fight. I'll arrange an evacuation for you and your men, drop you within U.S Military territory, me and my men will evacuate to the ships off the coast. One good thing though, there isn't much Russian activity now, seems there command structure fell apart. Anyway, I have things to sort out, so could you close the door on your way out please?"
James walked to behind his desk.
"Get me RAF command please," He was put on hold when he eventually heard a voice on the other end.
"RAF command?"
"Hello, Colonel Goodwin here, my men need evacuation from JFK, to the ships on the coast."
"Copy that, confirmation code?"
James opened up a draw in his desk, and pulled out a large brown envelope. Written in large red letters were the words 'CLASSIFIED, USE ONLY AS A LAST RESORT' James opened the envelope, and looked at the seven digit code.
"The code is, Sierra, Mike, 9, 2, Oscar, Tango, 5."
"Copy that, countermeasures have begun. Red Strike ETA 1 hour."
"Copy that."
James hung up the phone, and looked towards the SAS guards.
"Raise the alarms, burn all files, immobilize all vehicles, and separate our men from the Stalkers. Move, now!"
"Yes sir!" The SAS guards ran out of the room, to accomplish their individual tasks. James pulled out Dom's file, the paranoia overcoming him. He read the information, stopping when he couldnt read anymore because the text had been covered with black stripes across the page. He would ask Dom about that later.
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Dom wanted to hit James across the face, though at the same time he understood the hate, the anger. British were pulling out, but he had an agreement going on, so if the British wanted out they were going to have to explain why more than half of their troops were missing. Still, he offered more than the RAF ever could.
He shoved past James, going out of the office, pulling his radio out to contact all Stalkers in the area, "This is Veteran Elite Stalker Dom reporting to all Stalkers in the local territory of JFK. There is a massive movement shift in the infected's movement, targeting JFK as a major food source. I want all available Stalkers in the territory to secure bordering territories of the JFK area, and I want Mouse to keep an over watch via satellite so our men don't get fucked over. We're going to have to hold back the infected while RAF forces pull out. We're keeping the RAF that have joined us, and if they leave us any vehicles, ammunition and supplies then that's only a bonus. Now, all troops get a move on, we only have a few hours before the horde reaches these gates! Move!"
There was a large confirmation going over the radio and Dom sighed a bit, going off to the truck that held the unconscious man in the suitcase, nodding to a SAS troop. The man removed his mask, exposing that he was a Stalker back from the camp, "Well, kill the bastard in the trunk, then get this truck loaded with all the spare supplies we can get from the RAF. Check the motor pool and see if they'll leave us the vehicles, or even just a few."
The two Stalkers saluted, pulling their masks back down before hurrying off to get their orders done. Off in the distance it was almost as though Dom could hear the howls of the undead echoing over the ridge. A spooky thought, really, as if they were already there waiting for them.
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James hurried after Dom, the sound of helicopter rotors drowning out all other noise.
"Dom, you can't stay here! We are leveling JFK, reducing it to ashes. There isn't going to be anything to defend, and now that I have authorized it, there is no going back. We have to do this, it's protocol. We destroy everything we brought here, so no one can acquire our technology and our intelligence. We will take you to where you want to go, but your men need to get a move on, we have 30 minutes until the bombers arrive, and they will be carrying fuel air bombs. This whole base will be engulfed in flames, and every building leveled. I do warn you though, Harrison's elite unit will probably move into the US later on in the year. I may be able to expose him before then, but don't have too much faith. He may move in now, now that I'm out of the way he is free to run a mock. Good luck!" James walked to his helicopter, and climbed aboard. He hung his legs over the side, looking around at the old base. All the vehicles had been set alight, the tanks being stripped for parts and loaded onto separate aircraft. He looked at Dom, organizing his men. 7 RAF helicopters remained on the ground, ready to take off when all remaining troops had been evacuated. James' helicopter banked to the right, and headed to the coast. A long line of other helicopters following.
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Dom sighed a bit, looking at the helicopter before raising up the radio, "Alright, that's a negative on the advancement. All troops not in JFK get going. All troops in JFK, they're leaving their shit. We have thirty minutes to evac from the fuel air bombs, so take all you can, one man to each vehicle and stock them with food and ammo. You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here." The other two troops he'd just talked to came back over and over, stocking the truck full of gear before slamming the shutter down, Dom slipping inside with them as they drove off, smashing through the gates, trucks and other vehicles following quickly behind. Dom got on the RAF radio and sighed a little, "Sorry, but I hope you don't mind if we loot some stuff, it just seems like a waste to let it all go down, especially if it has fuel inside of it. Anyways, James, I just hope you aren't killed in your sleep the moment you hit that aircraft carrier with Harrison on it."
He lit a cigarette, changing back to a private freq, "Mouse, you have orders to intercept those bombers before they reach JFK. Use the Russian attack jets over on the border we found and slip on their uniforms. Can't risk having them find out it was us just so we could keep IT alive."
Mouse's voice rose up over the other side, "Yessir. Ordering Bravo to take care of it now."
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