Continued from post 338:

An emotion, not exactly relief but perhaps best described as a shadow of it, seemed to spread coolly through Blue's chest as she set foot in the new room. The map had marked it as the Lobby and Blue took its word for it.

"It's not like I enjoy talking with inanimate..." Blue's voice trailed off; after the last eternity of adrenaline surging terror she hadn't the heart to argue, and besides that, she saw a hopeful sight.

Slats of light, of a less brilliant red and much dimmer this time, sliced an irregular line of color across the top of a wall, perfectly flat on top but wavy on the bottom, sometimes completely blocked out. Curious, Blue raised her flashlight, cutting a circle of detail into the obscuring gloom and promptly lowered it as a dazzling ball of light shined back at her. "Ow, crap! What the hell...?" Blue winced, rubbing her smarting eyes.

Blinking, Blue looked around, slightly disorientated now as pale ghost images obscured much of her vision. Still blinking profusely, she stumbled in the general direction of the wall, ridiculously and vainly attempting to see around the afterimage burned into her retinas.

"Don't you have anything more productive to talk about?" Snapped Blue, irritation rising along with a slowly growing panic as she blindly groped towards where the wall was.

Suddenly, her foot hit something hard with a dull thump. Unable to see, Blue staggered and flailed her hands out, her flashlight whirling out of her grasp and striking something with a sharp clank. Blue's hands pressed against something cool, flat and smooth, and the gun, still in her hand, struck the surface and Blue thought she heard a cracking noise. Whirling around, panic wrapping its claws around her mind once again, Blue searched for the flashlight and dropped to grab it at once. Gripping the flashlight once again, Blue felt a bit relieved, though her heart was still throbbing in her chest. Suddenly, an icy chill crawled down her spine.

Illuminated by the flashlight were a pair of feet. Standing. A mere meter away. Blue froze, her mind seized up; panic had struck and this time its claws dug deep. Whoever was standing there didn't move, instead, a voice hissed in the darkness.

"Jeh. Sih. Kah." The voice was soft and female, but it sounded as though it was being recited by a carefully taught, congenital deaf/mute.

Blue's mind reeled. Who was this person? How did she know my name? Questions swirled in her thoughts but Blue couldn't move a muscle, entirely paralysed by fear.

"Jeh. Sih. Kah." The words staggered out of the unseen mouth again, as if by a malfunctioning recorder on a constant loop.

"Wh-who," Blue couldn't do it, she couldn't speak properly, it felt like her lungs had been sucked empty.

Slowly, Blue lifted the flashlight, inching it shakingly higher and higher, until the person's upper body and face was framed in the light. Blue's eyes were still speckled with afterimages, but she could make out the rougher details. It seemed as though there were chunks of hair missing from her bloody scalp, what hair that remained looked fused in several long masses by what was apparently her own dried gore. A gaping hole was in one cheek and her tattered clothes were, like everything else about her, soaked in blood. Blue didn't have any time to take in any more than that however. The instant the light hit the woman's eyes, she recoiled, reeling backwards, twisting and writhing as if Blue had set her on fire.

A shriek of utter madness detonated from her throat and the thing, no longer seeming in any way human, exploded into a mad leap, her clawing hands and rage twisted face radiating hate. Blue whipped the pistol upwards and fired off a wild shot even as she fell backwards, desperately trying to get away. An instant later, searing pain tore across her chest, six inch claws seeming to come out of nowhere, slicing through her blue sweater and cutting into her flesh with ease.

Blue screamed and as she hit the floor, the demonic creature falling right after her, her gun went off again. This time, a choir of shattering glass accompanied the gunshot's deep boom. A rushing sound rose up as the monstrous figure over Blue's prone form raised a hand full of talons to finish her off, claws forming a long dagger. Blue didn't have time to think, not even time to realize her life was about to end, when suddenly a cold mass of sand engulfed her, washing both her and the murderous creature away.

Sputtering, Blue leapt to her feet, ignoring the throbbing burn of her wounds, and looking around, realized that what she had mistaken for a wall was actually a floor to ceiling window, shattered by her stray shot. Light, dim and crimson as it was, now flooded into the lobby, revealing the abomination, who seemed to have smashed her head against a drink bar, half buried in the sand.

Turning away, Blue had all intentions of running as far from this hell on earth as possible but she couldn't. She knew my name, Blue thought, unable to shake the haunting syllables of Blue's own name. Unable to resist, she looked back at the figure slumped in the sand. She looks almost human now though, Blue thought, and, perhaps insanely, began to approach the woman.

"I'm not insane, she knew my name, Baka-chan," her voice shook as she spoke, fear and uncertainty still threatening to send her running like a gibbering lunatic.

Irritation flared again, somewhere deep in her mind, but Blue ignored it, intent only on the bloody mass in the sand. Blue stopped a good two meters away, pointing the pistol carefully at the creature. It's blank eyes eerily reflected the red sunlight, menacing and evil. A single hand stuck out from the sand, deadly needle-like talons jutting from its fingers, glistening blood painting the tips crimson. My blood, Blue thought with a sickening jolt.

Something in the sand caught Blue's eye, a glint of metal, a few feet from the fiendish visage of the woman. Taking a deep breath, Blue haltingly reached for it, scooping it from the sand and jerking back to a safe distance. It seemed to be a locket of some sort, perhaps dropped in the chaos of the fight, or just swept up by the sand off the floor. Whatever the case, Blue pocketed it and slowly backed away, tripping through the sand before spinning around and dashing out the newly made exit.

Nikki runs over to Terrence, offering him some support in order for him to keep up with the group. As the question arises, she answers; "I don't know much about medicine, but I do have some bandages in my backpack!" She stops in her tracks, looking up at Terrence, waiting for that one very important answer.

As the pair staggers away towards the building, a trembling roar is heard behind them. Looking back, Nikki sees Rayne begin thrown back by a backhand blow delivered by the raging Tank. She hits the wall of a house, losing all her air. The Tank remains determined, and walks toward her with heavy steps, as she stirs and struggles to maintain consciousness.
Raising her handgun, she fires clumsily in a daze, the bullets finding their way to the rugged flesh of the large obstacle. As she regains her composure, she is able to aim more expertly, and the Tank staggers a bit, only slightly slowed down in its path.

Michael comes running out side to try and help. He runs over to Rayne and helps her up when the tank hits Michael. Michael went flying through the air gushing blood from multiple locations and landed in front of the mall entrance. The tank then fixed it's gaze on Michael and started walking towards him.

fullmetalangel:

OOC

.
-snip

OOC

Christian lit the seconds last cigarette. He had too. Did he have too? yes, he had too. His hand was shaking so bad from the withdrawal he couldn't even properly bolt his SR-98. And it still had three shots. Probably his only weapon that was of any remedial sort of use. 'This is pathetic' he thought to himself grudgingly. 'Truly pathetic.' But he took a drag from the smoke anyway. It was refreshing, his hand stopped is violent vibration, for the next 15 seconds life was good .

No, this wasn't good. Not even remotely close to good. He had to change things. He took another long drag of the cigarette. Okay, 30 seconds of good life. The dead ash collapsed around his legs, further staining his pants. He was well beyond caring. Everything was dirty anyway. Inside was dirty, outside was absolutely filthy, and not just with the zombies. There was dust and sand everywhere too.

zombies. Christian sighed. He had killed men, women, even children. But zombies. Now that was something else entirely. If you had told him that he would one day be fighting against a horde of undead he would have laughed at your face.. and then punched it. But here it was, laid out before him. Zombies.

'if I ever get another tattoo.' thought Christian casually, 'I think it will be the words h.e.a.d and s.h.o.t across my knuckles. Yeah, that would be nice.' As he thought of tattoo's his spare hand absentmindedly went too his left shoulder blade where he had a tattoo of a Jolly Rodger, etched to look like it was blowing in the wind. 'h.e.a.d s.h.o.t.' Christian laughed at his own cleverness.

There was another noise from outside, a violent beating and scratching at the door. It had happened before, but never this aggressively. Maybe they really did want to get in to him. Well that just wouldn't do. It was probably getting on to time to go. Christian stood up as the beating of the door increased in tempo, violent and angry, accompanied by the moans and cries of lifeless husks. For some reasons the noise flashed Christians mind back to a mission he had been on last year out in Afghanistan, an in and out operation. Collect a case then extract. He had shot a man through the throat, a horrible way to die. As its slow and violent. Suffocating and bleeding to death at the same time. The noise was almost the same as the sound that had escaped that mans throat. almost .

Christian thought of the moment for several seconds as his hands automatically collect all the things around him, he had subconsciously turned on the lantern to make the task easier. But for some reason this was more unsettling. It wasn't because the noise was any worse. Nor was it any louder. No. It was because he had no choice in the matter, just like he had no choice in his throbbing headache from the lack of caffeine, or his shaking hands from the scant remaining cigarettes. He hated not having a choice in the matter. He hated not being in control of his own destiny. Luck be damned. He was going to go make his own luck, chose his own path. It would be just like in that moment with the dying man, he had chosen to watch the man roll around on the floor bleeding to death, begging for mercy. And now he was choosing to get the fuck out of here. He was going to live, luck or not.

"Rayne!" Nikki yells back at her, then turns to Terrence. "We have to help her!"

Veronica blasts away to her heart's content, surprised each time by the force of the pistol. Realizing soon that she overestimated the power of it, however, she notices that even with each bullet tearing through the mass of creatures, it doesn't appear to be doing much to stop them.

That terrifying "click" keeps ringing in her mind and she keeps pulling the trigger, hoping it'll somehow conjure more ammunition of its own volition. Finally she understands and puts the pistol in her pocket.

Now without her pistol to help her, she starts swinging her backpack wildly as she runs back to get Rayne. "Come on, we have to go!" She screams at Rayne with a shrill voice of frustration and helplessness.

As soon as Nikki sees her moving she offers a shoulder to lean on and starts going back to Terrence. Trying to keep the creatures back, she takes the first aid kit, sadly only containing bandages by now, out of the backpack with her teeth, then throws the backpack at the creature to slow them down and speed her up.

Noticing the large Tank, Allen fires a few bullets left in his clip. Having little effect, and a empty clip, Allen reloads (Clips left: 9). "Get moving! I'll cover you!" Allen picks off a few more zeds. Unfortunatly, this attracted the Tank... "Crap! Die you SOB!" Wasting another clip, Allen empties bullets into the Tanks thick skull. "Get to the elevator! We can then take it and reach the second floor! GET MOVING!"

OOC: Sosakitty, you messed up my character description. Could you fix it?

As Vinny drags Michael, Michael begins shooting at everything around but mainly focusing on the tank that wont just die.

As Rayne hampers along with the help of Nikki, she fires back at the horde closing in on them fast.
Fuck. We're not going to make it. That huge thing lured too many of them here. It's gotta go down.

Regaining her determination, Rayne releases Nikki and kneels to the pavement. She aims her pistol with care and puts her skills to the test. As she steadily picks off one at a time, she begins humming at a melody. She knew she had to get through this group to be able to shoot at the large thing. An idea! Grabbing for a small pocket on the back of her belt, she takes out a smoke grenade. Flipping off the safety, releasing the pin, holding on to the trigger, roll! The grenade tumbles its way over the asphalt and makes a small puffing sound as gas begins ascending the air in front of the group of zombies. Many of them begin to moan even more, and when they emerge, their eyes seem to have melted. Now they were fumbling even more than before. As the zeds scatter indistinctly, Rayne gets a clear shot at the thing.
Emptying one mag at it, this was just like target practice back at the range. Another mag goes, and a third. Five left. This thing had to go down. It picks up speed and charges her, infuriated. Another mag is unloaded into its face before it delivers a crushing blow into the ground were Rayne was half a second ago. She leapt to the side, all the time putting more lead into it.
It had to go down!

Vinny reaches the elevator and briefly lets go of Michael to hit the down button. He briefly scans his area. They're at a crossroads. Looking directly forward with your back to the elevator shows you a football field's distance of stores on either side until you get to the door that the group had gone through. This is where the big horde is coming from. To the right with your back to the elevator is another long stretch of the mall that is filled with a smaller horde. To the left is yet another long stretch of mall, inhabited by just a few stragglers. A ding interrupts Vinny's scanning. The elevator doors open and, to Vinny's horror, a crowd of zombies is revealed standing inside of it. "Oh, great." he says.

"GO DOWN MOTHERFUCKER, GO DOWN!"

Rayne had emptied all her ammo on the large creature, and it was still, on the pavement. She continued to pump lead into the flesh of the thing, emptying the last clip of her handgun. Shaking and panting heavily, she had a maniacal grin over her whole face as she heaved her outstretched arms and upper body in exertion. Kicking it one last time, she began sprinting for the mall. There were not many zombies in her way. Guess the others did a pretty good job of cleaning up the most of them.

She saw Nikki in front of her, who looked back only to stumble into a group of z's that suddenly jumped up out of a manhole. She fell on the ground, and just as the zombies were about to crowd her, Rayne came charging into the bunch. With no balance to speak of, most went tumbling, smashing against the hard, rugged asphalt. Some clawed at her from many directions, slicing up her uniform and tearing deep gashes in her flesh. Grinning with the pain, she grabbed Nikki by the arm and began running for the mall as Nikki brought Terrence along once more. The door was not far away, and they made it through, quickly and in panic closing it shut. There were, strangely, sturdy, long metal bars lying on the ground, and they hastily jammed the doors with them, putting them behind the handles to lock it in place. Backing away from the door, it bulged and rattled, but they were not enough to bring it down.

Turning, Rayne sees the rest of the group opening an elevator door. Swiftly she recognised shock filling their movement patterns, however, and saw the collection of zombies in the elevator. They were not rushing toward them, however, mostly standing there, moaning in oblivious, primal, guttural and gurgling sounds.

Terrence's eyes flutter open, as he slips into consciousness. Blinking slowly, he felt the dull sensation of his feet slapping against asphalt, shouts and moans surrounding him. But he was alive. "Alive...? How? Laboriously pulling his eyes up, he finds himself staring at what appeared to be Nikki's chin.

Using her shoulder as support, he stumbles along, the pain in his side growing more intense with his movements. Gasping for breath, he mutters quietly, his words inaudible to the group.

Pulling his eyes further up, he blanked at the sight of a group of zombies, standing still. "Wha... what?" he thought dully. Shaking his head, he croaked "Shoot them! Don't just stand there!" He clumsily hands his pistol to Nikki, his vision clouding from blood loss.

Nikki eases Terrence down, or at least off of her, not being quite sure of how injured he is. She lets go of the first aid kit between her teeth, dropping it by Terrence and tells him to "Stay alive!" realizing how stupid it sounded but not having time for semantics.

She moves up alongside Rayne, gripping the gun tightly. "They just don't stop coming." Her eyes darting wildly around the room, she starts heading over to the others. Every step's a struggle, but there was no stopping now.

Jack began running towards Rayne shooting z's in the head as he ran. "Need help there beautiful". He holsters the pistol and holds out a hand.

Christian finished his preparations; his backpack was now full with the remaining provision and his lantern, his SR-98 was slung over his shoulder, his magnum was holstered by his left hand side, and the crow bar hung from a makeshift loop in his belt by his right hand side. If he could see his reflection in a mirror, he would have described the figure he cut as viciously startling. However there where no mirrors nearby, so instead he was left with his own thoughts. He had no ammo. He was about to enter streets swarming with zombies and he had no ammo. Christian had decided that he hated zombies.

He tied the end of his rope off against the metal frame leg of the bed from the bed room, then hoisted up the bed and carried it into the room overlooking the street. It was now or never. Christian threw the rope out the window and watched it unfurl into the mist below him. His heart raced as adrenalin coursed through his veins. He hadn't felt this alive since he had started hiding in this apartment almost a month and a half ago. now he was [I] doing [/i] something. Hoisting his pack over his shoulders christian walked up to the window, it was a tight fit and he had to turn on his side and crouch down to fit his body through the gap, then with his right hand grasping tightly onto the rope he jumped out of the window into the nothingness beneath him.

He fell into the fog, his hands grappling to hold the rope as he shimmied down the side of the building. eventually he build himself into a comfortable motion of taking a few steps at a time, looking around his surroundings; of course all he could see was the all encompassing whiteness of the fog. then taking a few more steps. He continued on like this until he realized a fatal error in his judgment. Everything was cruising along just finely until all of a sudden the rope he was feeding to himself through his left hand ran out. Had he not been so cautious about how he approached the situation he probably would have lost his grip there and then and plummeted to the ground beneath him. But he was cautious, luckily he was cautious.

Christian now found himself in a predicament, he analyzed his instant surroundings. There was a window about a foot off to his left and a foot about his head, he could always climb back up to that and swing himself in. But he had no idea what would be waiting for him inside, and was in no position to fight against any more then a handful of zombies. There was a similar window off to his right as well, at about the same spacing. But of course, that was equally useless as that window posed exactly the same problem.
'I bet ONE of the windows lead to a room full of zombies. And the other leads to a room that's empty. I just BET you.' thought Christian to himself bitterly. He could really use a smoke right about now.

'Well, if you don't like either option A or B.. I guess you need an option C.' He mused. But what would that option C be. Christian again looked at his surroundings. How far down had he come? 3 stories? 4 stories? He REALLY should have counted the windows as he descended. THAT would have been smart. Christian was mustering his strength to climb back up towards the window he came out of, and count the number of stores he had come down when something came swooping at him out of the fog. It cawed like an enraged bird, and as it passed him it snipped at his back with its beak, rewarding itself with a mouth full of pack.

Soon Christian could head the fluttering of more birds, and more and more of there shapes constantly emerged from the fog, flying past him to peck and claw at his suspended figure only to return back to the depths of the fog from which the came. Christian tried to fight them off but it was impossible. He managed to free his left hand from the rope and hoisted out his crowbar, taking wild swings at the flocking birds, but the attacks only seemed to enrage them more, and even though he was able to beat down a handful of them; there small frames cracking and breaking against the fury of his crowbar, it seemed that for every single crow he dispatched two more came to take its place.
'I'm not going to die. NOT LIKE THIS!' thought Christian to himself. he let out a primal scream of rage and anger. Damn it, he wasn't going to let some one else have the say of how his life ended. IT WAS HIS LIFE. and damn it, if he was going to die, he was going to die the way he wanted. Returning the crowbar to its makeshift sheath Christian grabbed his last cigarette, placed it in his lips, then fumbled out his lighter. He sparked it once, twice, and finally, on the third flick the flame jumped to life before him. He held the flickering ember to the cigarette and inhaled. Life was good. Even in death life was good. Then, after returning the lighter to his dusters pocket Christian felt a profound smile come to his lips, and then slowly, as if in a trance he let go of the rope and plummeted to the nothingness beneath him.

Michael started to cough up blood. He was hurt badly. Broken bones a bullet. Between the tank hauling him like a tennis ball and the gun shot he though he was going to die.

He didnt know what to do, and through the madness no one but Vinny noticed.

He didnt want to die. Not yet...

Continued from post 456:

Blue stumbled through the sand out of the building, and into a milky swirl of fog. The crimson sunlight Blue had seen before was blotted out by an increasingly thick blanket of it, or perhaps it had set, she couldn't tell.

As it was however, Blue could now barely see within a meter around her, making her exhausted mind even more uneasy, not to mention the slight dizziness that was starting to creep up on her. The uncomfortable sensation of congealing blood dripping down her body and soaking into her shirt made everything all the worse, and even that was compounded by the burning pain slowly throbbing across her chest. Breathing heavily, she was starting to really feel the effects of her injuries now, and stumbled a few steps, the gun in her hand feeling dreadfully heavy.

Muffled cawing, like angry crows (Wait a second, what are crows?) wafted through the shifting mists. Blue couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, but it sounded dangerously nearby. Seconds later, a solid thud reached her ears. Grasping the pistol tightly in her sweat slicked hands, Blue peered nervously into the shadows. Suddenly, a sound Blue had been dreading cut through the cawing: the swishing footsteps of something running through the sand.

After all that had happened, Blue was spent. She couldn't take any more. The cold sand under her knees barely registered. In fact, she barely realized she had just collapsed to her knees at all. Sanity slipping through her fingers, Blue crushed her hands, gun, flashlight and all, against her ears.

"Goodbye, Baka-chan," Blue sobbed.

Christian fell, he imagined it to be a dramatic slow ending, falling through the air to his eventual demise how ever many stories below him. The reality was utterly disappointing. He fell for barely three seconds before crushing into the ground that was barely a foot beneath him. It was right there, just covered by the fog. Christian groaned to himself. He had been ready to go and everything.

He took another drag from his cigarette which still hung loosely in his mouth, somehow managing to stay alight through the fall. How lucky he was today. Life seemed to be getting better. Then he was snapped back to reality by the sounds all around him, the never ending groaning and the cawing. 'That's right,' he thought to himself. 'Now I'm on the street and prime cuisine to everything else out here.'

Christian rolled onto his side and pressed himself up from the ground, ready to make a dash through the sandy streets to wherever he could get too. He took one deep drag of the cigarette, letting its dieing ash flake to the ground around him then took off into the unknown.

He could hear them all around him, the moans and screams, some even drifted into his field of vision before he tore past them. As he ran he readied his rifle, not to shoot but to use as a long pole. He decided that its extra reach would be more beneficial over the crossbows brute strength right now, as he wasn't looking to kill, just displace. And that's exactly what he did, as the zombies moved around in front of him he lunged forward with the butt of his rifle, brutally stopping there shambling advance, and easily knocking over the zombies with there limited motor skills and body control. It almost became a game, and he even found himself enjoying it, with or without a cigarette. 'maybe zombies aren't that bad.' He thought to himself.

He had no idea how far he had run, maybe a few meters, maybe a few hundred. But his arms were growing tired and the game was losing its fun, his lunges became slow and clumsy; the last two zombies had taken three assaults each to remove from his path. He was slowing down. He was never going to make it. Then he heard it, a sound off too his left and slightly ahead of him. A sobbing. zombies didn't cry. PEOPLE cried. It was another survivor, and one that was in danger. Christian found more purpose in those few seconds of existence then he ever had in his entire life. It was another person. another living human being. With one brutal swing Christian hurled the rifle around his body in a 270 degree circle, knocking back several zombies that had been making a final advance on him, and now with his passage cleared Christian took off towards the noise.
"Don't worry, I'M COMING!" He screamed. "I'm coming!"

Continued from post 480:

Moans and shuffling steps were starting to spread like wildfire, unseen monsters perhaps attracted to the earlier gunshots and shattering glass. The crows were still screeching ominously in the air.

"Don't worry, I'M COMING!"

Absurdly, Blue thought she heard a voice. Must be going crazy, she thought.

"I'm coming!" The voice rang out again in the fog amidst the now truly alarming volume of moans, an obscene song with no tune nor lyrics, only promising death.

Blue looked up, the simple motion triggering a pang of pain across her wounds. Choking out one last sob, she unsteadily stood, whirling left and right, wondering if she was just hallucinating.

"H-" Blue's voice cracked. She couldn't say it. It felt horribly wrong, some primal instinct surging from the depths of her mind, to say anything in this ghoulish onslaught of noise. She knew it was stupid a stupid way to think, but her throat felt like it had literally sealed shut, as if fear was physically choking her.

Staring wildly around, Blue stumbled a few steps towards where she thought the voice was coming from, knuckles white as she held her pistol in a death grip.

Christian stopped.. he didn't know what to expect but this wasn't it... She was just a kid. A sad, defenseless, helpless, lost, kid. Christian had seen death before, he had seen violence, suffering. Hell he had even caused it. But this, this was so wrong. She had deep lacerations across her stomach, they would probably fester soon without treatment. And in her hand she gripped a small pistol as if her life depended on it. Christian felt as if the world around him had slowed down, as if even the zombies were shambling slower then usual as he made his way towards the girl.

As he approached her he noticed that she was very.. blue.. dirty, and worse for the wear, but incredibly blue. As he walked the word sub consciously escaped his lips. "Blue." He took several steps towards her, and she; as if drawn by some inexplicable, force towards him in turn. Then she collapsed into his arms, a single gasp escaping her lips as she lulled into an unconscious state. "baka.. cha.."
"Don't worry kido. I've got you now." He had slung his rifle back over his shoulder and now he cradled the collapsed figure of the girl in his arms.

Then, bit by bit the world came back into focus around him. He was, too put it elegantly.. fucked. All around him the creatures now swarmed, drawn by the scent of the girls blood and the noise of his voice. He had at least made it too her. That seemed fitting. This would be a fitting end indeed. Gently he pride the gun out of the girls hand and raised it as the nearest zombie swarmed towards him. He had trouble aiming, as he was using his hand that was cushion the girls upper torso too hold the gun, but slowly he aimed as the nearest zombie rushed towards him. then, at the last minute he pulled the trigger. The zombie staggered and fell, the top half of its head removed by the shot. 'Now i just need to do it a few hundred more times.' Muttered Christian too himself bitterly. No, that wouldn't do. "don't suppose you've got any smokes hey kido?" he asked the unconscious child, sure that no answer would be forthcoming. "Guess not." Man, he could really use a smoke right now.

No, he wasn't dieing now. This just wasn't going to happen. Gun or not. He couldn't die here. He had to save this girl, to give her a chance. He couldn't explain why but he just knew it was what he had to do. It was a purpose, something to live for. In the back of his head Christian heard a distant ringing, it took him several seconds to realize it was his own voice releasing an extravagant scream of defiance. "No. No. NO!" It became a chant, the words rushing out of his lips over and over again as he kicked his way through zombies, proceeding down the street, his heavy combat boots breaking knees, hands, and jaws with gusto. His legs burnt from the exertion but still he pushed on.

Behold, the 50 cal.

The mall conflict spirals out of control. The Tank slowly begins to get back on it's feet. At least the zombies are still standing still. "Alright, guys. We just need to run. Just run. There's only way to go, and that's the left path. I'll lead the way." Vinny says. "Go!" He sprints at the highest speed he can, brushing past zombies on either side. The zombies snap out of their trance and begin chasing the group. Vinny spies something strange ahead. Various military vehicles are jammed tightly together, with various scrap materials wedged tightly to form a blockade. "Guys, look!" Vinny yells, too shocked to formulate anything smart. Two gaps between blockade materials on either side are revealed to have 50 caliber machine guns poking out.

Almost...there... Vinny thinks. A zombie tackles him. The zombie is smart enough to hold down both of Vinny's arms. A hail of bullets annihilate the monster. The pieces that used to be a zombie splatter to the ground. The roar of the guns is seemingly matched by the howls of the zombies. The smarter zombies retreat farther back into the mall. The Tank, accompanied by less smart zombies, charges forward. He is riddled with bullets and goes down Scarface style. his posse of zeds suffer the same fate. The machine gun fire stops, and Vinny gets to his feet. He analyzes the situation. How do you like that? A safe zone, built inside of the mall!

OOC: Description:5"9' weighing 165 lbs has short cropped hair has dark brown eyes and a rough face with a scar running down his left eye,Wearing a black wife beater with a tattoo on his left arm of a skull with a sword running through it with black jeans and black and white converses (Messed up)
(Correct description below)
Description:5"9' weighing 165 lbs.
Allen looks like a normal person with short brown hair, brown eyes and dark sags due to lack of sleep. Clothing consists of a woolen heavy coat and some Gauss wrapping used to hold some bits of cloth together. On his hand is a watch (analog) and he wears heavy duty boots to protect his feet.
(Someone may have altered it, hacker?)

In-game:
Allen checks to make sure that his allies made it to the elevator. Seeing Micheal out of harms way, Allen returns his focus on surviving this many zombies AND a Tank. Picking off some more zombies (Clips left: 6) he runs towards the hardware store. "Maybe they have what would be a real asset right now..." Allen searches and finds his goal! Allen picks up a chainsaw and inserts some fuel into its tank. "Ok now I stand some chance!" Allen rushes out with the saw and starts hacking away at zombies left and right. (Items gained: Chainsaw, fuel tank [3/4 full]) "Yes! This is totally morbid but hey! I'm alive!" Body parts splatter walls and blood gushes on the floors. The room now resembles a giant vat of spagetti. Allen darts for the next elevator. Punching the up button repeatedly, Allen finally enters the elevator as the tank trys to smash him. Thankfully, the fist meet the door and made a small dent. Allen suddenly listens to cheesy elevator music. "I like this song!" Allen jokes.

OOC: okay then, guys, i'll be back when or if the second chaper starts.

Dropping to her knees again, Rayne could not quite get up for the pain in her torso. She kneels by Michael, having ran a few metres, and began patching him up to the best of her ability. But her equipment was insufficient, her vision was blurring as the bandages over her ribs soaked in dark fluid, and her hands were unsteady. The world went darker as dark crimson ran down her neck from an unattended wound in her skull, and she was struggling against passing out as she fumbled with the bandages, trying to see them through the mist. It all seemed so futile, and not even the muffled sounds of a machine gun staccato caught the attention of her dulling mind as the world went hazy.

Leaving the elevator on the 3rd floor, Allen looks around for any undead. No odd smell or groans come out and even a few unbroken shops. A closer look reveals them lingerie shops. "Well I think that maybe this floor is clear but I am not sure..." Allen searches some more and finds the 3rd floor completely clean. "Ok I need to get everyone up here." Grabbing some medical supplies from a drug store Allen heads down to the 2nd floor noticing Rayne across the hall. "Hold on Rayne I'm coming! JUST DON'T SHOOT ME!" Allen yells as he starts hacking his way to her. Allen grabs Rayne and holds her on his back. Checking Michael pulse shows that his pulse was very low, temperture hot and bleeding profusely. "Well sorry buddy, I think that you won't last so I better not carry you. No hard feelings if you live later." Hauling Rayne to the elevator while kicking some crawlers (zombies without legs) and books it to the elevator. Punching the 3rd floor the doors close as he lowers Rayne on the floor. The door dings open and he brings her to a nearby drug store. "Ok let's check your health status. We got a cut in the head and a serious wound in the ribs. Probably medium to serious. Legs are bruised. Hands have small cuts probably due to medical care of others. Man this is going to take forever..." Allen begins to apply some of his knowledge of his medical studies and biology. "Sorry about this but to patch you up I need to undress you..." Allen opens the cloths and whistles to the damage. "Ok this is odd... black blood... I have never seen this before..." Allen starts dressing and stitching some major cuts.