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" Hey, Marcus, take a look at this shit! "
[b " Hmmm? "]
Rebellion pushed off in his wheeled office chair and rolled over to the workspace of his only co-worker, who was a six foot even, two-hundred pound African-descent man by the name of Jasper. Once his chair rolled to a stop his blue-green eyes reflected the glow of the computer monitor as he observed the Live-steaming video that was playing directly in front of them; relaying the vision to them was one of the interior cameras position near the front desk of the local resort here in Talanta, and what it was showing them did not bode well. Several people were running, tripping over eachother, as they entered the resort. Some of the Bellhops and maids rushed to their aid, trying to calm them down and see what the problem was.
[b " We don't get audio, do we Jasper? "]
" No, Marcus. We need to go down and handle it. "
[b " Fuck. Alright, call Donny and let him know. "]
Not even five minutes had passed before the two men; part of the resort's security detail, appeared on the scene. However, things had quieted down eerily as everyone seemed frozen in terror at something they were seeing. Both Rebellion and Jasper looked at everyone before a loud groan pierced the silence; the epicenter of the noise coming from the rotating doors that were both the only entrances and exits that there immediately available. It was hard to see because a deep fog had rolled in, but there was a figure standing in a slouched position near the rotating doors. There was another moan, and then the figure started pushing lazily at the rotating doors, and anyone with good enough eyes could see half a dozen more figures approaching the doors; their movements sluggish.
[b " Jasper.. "]
" Relax, Marcus. I got this. "
As Jasper strode forward towards the rotating doors as if it was just another hobo to turn away, Rebellion unlatched the strap of his hip holster on his gun belt, and gently rested a hand on the handle of his Browning M1911 Colt .45 pistol. Five minutes ago it seemed like just another night but everything just felt wrong now, as if something evil had crawled out of some hole to engulf the town. He shuddered to himself at the thought of it, and his face displayed obvious concern as his partner reached the rotating doors with his hands outward.
One second, Jasper was speaking to the figure coming through the rotating door, then the next instant the figure grabbed Jasper and was pulling him to the ground. People started to scream, including Jasper, as the figure attacked him. Biting into his neck as more figures started to shuffle through the rotating doors. It was as if Hollywood had just come to reality to pay it a visit of gruesome proportions, and as the screams continued Rebellion kicked into instinct. His hand lifted his handgun out of his holster and he let loose his entire magazine; 7 .45 ACP rounds within a matter of seconds.
Everything was silent for several moments after that as the fog cleared from Rebellion's head. His hands reached for another magazine, reloading his pistol with a fresh one and stowing the empty one in the pocket that once held the former, his eyes scanning the area and seeing no movement in front of him. The original people whom fled into the resort had run behind him with the resort employees, and were now probably hiding behind the front desk counter for safety. As he moved forward slowly, he eyed each and every individual he had dropped with a single headshot and was grateful that even in a moment of panic his aim had rung true. As he got closer to Jasper's body, he heard a quiet squirting sound, and he knelt down besides his fallen partner; the man had been bit deep into the neck, so much so that his jugular was cut open and was still spraying out blood. The man was clearly dead, but as the blood continued to spurt out it slowed and began to change into a black, diseased looking ooze as if its origins were something alien.
Another gunshot rang out throughout the lobby and then Rebellion stood up, re-holstering his pistol; his latest magazine now only having 6 rounds left. He eyed each and every individual before pointing at a woman in her early thirties; a strawberry blonde, 135 pound woman by the name of Christie. She was the only night manager and the one whom ran the front desk at night, and had been working at the resort for five years. Whilst she was attractive enough to fuck her way to higher positions, she chose to work her way up with hard, efficient work and determination. But right now the woman was clearly shaken, and for good reason.
[b " Christie! I need you to lock these doors down and any other around the complex that may still be unlocked. Then you need to call the police, not the paramedics. The police and only the police. I'm returning to my office to call Gerald. If you need me again, call me on the intercom, and don't hesitate. "]
The woman nodded several times over and very swiftly as her brain brought her back to reality enough to acknowledge what she was being told. Rebellion also nodded and then made his way back to his office; running. The sprint took him less than 2 minutes to make his way back to the office, and upon getting inside he quickly secured the door with the standard lock, deadbolt and a small desk after emptying it of all the useless bullshit that formerly inhabited it. He then made his way to the " Arms " cabinet and opened it, revealing half a dozen Franchi SPAS-12 dual-mode 12 Gauge shotguns lining the largest cubicle of the cabinet with several boxes of shells for them in a smaller cubicle. He didn't grab one right off, rather he made his way to the telephone back over by the CCTV monitors and picked it up, dialing the number to contact Gerald O'Donnell; the Resort director and one of the wealthiest men in Talanta.
Azalas sighed. He stared at his gun in his left hand. He looked at a couple of his men from his group. "Billy, anything yet?..." Azalas asked. He took off his mask to take a swig of his cold whiskey. It was bitter but it sure as hell dulled the pain in his mouth that he was having. He grunted in pain but it soon faded away.
Billy shook his head. "We need to go see people, Sir...I know we're protecting some of them but there are people out there who are fighting, just like us." Billy said looking towards Azalas.
Azalas got up and nodded. He rubbed his black stubble beard and ran his right hand through his slicked back black hair. "You're right Billy...Alright, we'll leave the camp by noon tomorrow. We'll go into the city. Just be prepared for anything...Zombies and living...Just because zombies have pretty much taken over, doesn't mean we're still safe from the hands of our own kind." Azalas said taking another swig of whiskey. He grunted in pain again as it ran down his throat.
"So, what's wrong with your mouth anyway?" Billy asked.
"Just something that's been bugging me for a while...Don't you worry though." Azalas said capping the whiskey and putting it in his bag. He and his men fell asleep.
Once it was noon he and his men were already packed up. They left for the city closest to them, hoping to find a group of people.
Akeley exhaled a long, shuddering breath and straightened his form, closing the pane window after him. Turning, he was faced with the quaintly cluttered bedroom of the B&B he currently resided in. Floral prints of pale yellows and powder blue adorned the walls, and the, to Akeley, excessive throw pillows. The whole room was arranged so that everything was in its place, and it would almost be difficult to tell the room was even occupied.
The only visible giveaway was the grey rucksack that rested against the wall by a closet left empty by the resident. This, and the dull gleam of a long pistol, accompanied by a matching clip, resting on the wobbly oak bureau.
The room's lone occupant, a quiet man of average height and slender build, took not even a moment to register everything in the room. He appeared as calm and collected as any human could be, save for his hands, which quivered at his sides.
If he was honest with himself, Akeley would say he hated this island, with its ever-present sea, glaring sun and now this. But he didn't like to hate anything, animate or otherwise, as it "could cloud a man's judgement" as a sometimes obnoxiously stoic comrade had once said. Though he really wished now that he hadn't offered himself entirely to his government after the incident.
Even his time off duty had orders now. Why couldn't they have sent him to Norway, or Mongolia? Send some old fellow to relax here, someone who actually enjoyed islands? But nope, here he was, wasting weeks away reading books and walking circuits around island.
He scowled bitterly, recalling the officer's words, then recalled what he saw out the window moments before. Why did he even need leave time? It would be perfectly suitable to the man if he just constantly trained pilots and flew patrols. Akeley would do that for years and it would never get old.
And now those damned brass were justified.
He licked his quickly drying lips and stared at the mirror above the bureau; the piece of furniture groaning under his weight as he leaned his hands upon it. He stared into his odd dark eyes.
Akeley had made a practice of "finding the fear" in people's eyes; as he could, even if it was his own anxiety projected. And after a moment or two, it appeared, just the simple glimmer that expressed even the minutest amount of doubt. That's all it took really.
"[+green You aren't without the fear Akeley. Don't forget. And remember it's not your time yet. You know what you want, and you know what you're capable of. Just don't forget me Akeley.]"
He spoke softly to himself, his thickly accented voice barely audible as he subconsciously jammed the cartridge into the handgun. Looking down in mild surprise, he smiled weakly and slid the weapon into the shoulder holster before closing his spotted jacket.
The blonde male then lightly pressed a hand to his lower back, feeling the hilt of his blade where it always rested in a horizontal sheath. Taking a deep breath, he finished his preparations, donning a pair of gloves, putting a pair of goggles on his brow, and finally slipping on the gas mask that always remained within reach. If his superiors where correct at all, his attire would be all but necessary.
With the rucksack on his back, the pilot trotted down the steps and into the kitchen, only half-expecting to see the house matron, as she'd mentioned heading out to a theater club or something when he'd returned from a nearby restaurant. So, understandably, he was startled by the odd, limply powerful arms that embraced his neck suddenly. Akeley jerked his head and arms forward immediately, and the hold was broken; though he stumbled and rammed his shoulder into the refrigerator.
Twisting around quickly, Akeley was faced with the grotesque parody of the landlady's already homely face, now horrendously deteriorating and festering. Her jaw was dropped inhumanly as she lunged, saliva, blood and bile draining from her head. Akeley thanked whatever had kept him alive this far that he'd been wearing the mask, as just the thought of what she smelled like caused his own bile to rise in his throat.
She gnashed her teeth less than an inch from his face and only the quick movement of his hand covering her mouth kept him from getting a faceful of spittle. Akeley now wished he'd actually put his goggles on his eyes, as having to protect his sight was prolonging the struggle.
But now the undead woman slackened her assault a little, her neck seeming to lose its strength as her head drooped suddenly. Akeley seized the opening and put both hands on the back of her scalp then shoved down as hard as he could. He nearly vomited into his mask instantaneously as her neck crumpled and her head simply fell off, landing at the man's feet with a sickly splat.
Her decapitated body swayed and tipped towards him and he scrabbled to avoid it, slipping in the grey matter that had radiated on the tile floor. Akeley fell hard, cracking his knuckle on the counter as he went down, throwing up in his mouth several times, barely keeping it in; but petrified to remove the mask and vomit properly.
Several minutes passed and Akeley finally managed to exit the building, coming out in the backyard on his hands and knees, swallowing again and again to clear the acid and vomit. He took a moment to settle the goggles on his eyes before attempting to stand. His khakis were sprayed with blood as were his gloves, and he imagined he looked like some kind of deranged lunatic on a killing spree. Perish the thought.
The fog had mostly lifted by now, and just in time for night to begin its gloomy descent. Akeley managed to get his breaths and heart rate down to a slightly more reasonable tempo and quickly jerked his gun out. Then he inserted the end into his mouth, savoring the cold calm of the barrel between his teeth, the weight of it hinting at lethal power. And he just stood there, enjoying the feeling that had soothed him countless times in recent years.
Akeley withdrew from the dream he saw, as his left eye twitched minutely, some distant light source glancing off the metal on the fourth finger of his slender hand, and a single tear escaped his eye.
The weapon now snuggly returned to his breast, Akeley realized he'd wandered. Looking around, all he could see where houses. It was strangely quiet, all he could hear being the distant tide faintly crashing on the shoreline, mocking him.
But the man was relieved to notice that there was no presence of those... things. He looked at the house he was behind, noting a single light in a window.
The pilot took a long breath and marched up the back steps and rapped his bloody knuckles on the back sliding door.
[font "times new roman" [size13 Oh, how she [i longed] for rain.]]
[font "times new roman" Talanta's rain was disappointing in comparison to the monsoon rains of home, but the thrum of rainwater was her only calming agent these days.]
[font "times new roman" Even Muay Thai was pissing her off.]
[font "times new roman" She sat alone in the studio, upright on her knees and staring blankly at the locked glass door before her, the sun's last glow of the night starting to settle in on the island.
So beautiful here, and so very empty.]
[font "times new roman" It was to be another fifteen hours and twenty-seven minutes until her next classes; She knew this because she'd been counting, every single day. These classes were the only things between her and a breathtaking amount of grief, and she drown herself in her own teachings to counteract the wave of anguish rising up like a tsunami in her gut.]
[font "times new roman" She prided herself in her 'inability' to cry, but it was a lie. She cried alone when she lost, she bit back everything when her body lay broken, and she could train away her sorrow... Or so she thought.]
[font "times new roman" Every punch she threw made her [i sick].]
[font "times new roman" Every kick made her want to [b scream].]
[font "times new roman" She drew in a breath and got to her feet, retrieving her [i uwa-gi] from a hook along the far wall and tying it about herself. This was not typical attire for her brand of martial arts, but she would much rather avoid looking at the uniform of her trade right now, the Thai lettering and memories attached to the crop top and shorts causing bile to rise in her throat. If she could just hold it together until she got home...?]
[font "times new roman" [i Everything would be okay.]]
[font "times new roman" After exiting through a side door and locking it behind her, the very sullen and very barefoot young woman made her way toward her apartment around the block, yet again far too caught up in her own train of thought to be bothered to pay attention to her own customs. She had never in her life been one much for shoes, her father being a very nature-oriented man who'd grown accustomed to training barefooted in the mountains and found fit to bring her along from a very young age. She was a little odd to the foreigners, not unlike how she thought that foreigners had either very sad or very unappealing customs, themselves.]
[font "times new roman" One custom she found unacceptable would certainly be the awful methods of courtship young men of this land found to be appropriate. She had never before seen a monkey impersonate a king so terribly. It would be different, she was certain, had her father not curbed her hormones with combat training. She suspected her brothers had not appreciated this, but she was glad that her only current interests were food, Muay Thai, and the occasional dress.]
[font "times new roman" Oh, she [i loved] to eat.]
[font "times new roman" She had picked up a love of the Thai culinary arts around ten years of age, having started taking several childrens' and young adults' courses in school and in town back home. Her father didn't worry or bother her about her other pursuits, so long as she kept her grades up and worked hard to keep up in their classes together. She started putting her new skills to work back at home, and it had only brought her father and herself that much closer.]
[font "times new roman" Oh... but he was gone, wasn't he?]
[font "times new roman" She climbed the stairway outside the clean, white building, stopping on the second floor and walking to the last door on the floor. To be totally honest, even her apartment suffocated her.]
[font "times new roman" Upon opening the door, it could be easily noticed that someone with a clothing fetish lived there, piles of crumpled, unworn dresses, tops, and skirts laying out on the carpet in their dozens, unopened bags of any make and model littering the room as well. Her mouth twitched in a slight annoyance with herself and the mess as she shut the door behind her, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way so she could sit on her couch.
She had done so much staring these past eleven months.
She must have dosed off, for when an angry knock sounded at her door, she awoke startled, brushing the slightest trickle of drool from her cheek and fumbling to find her bearings on her way to the door. Her [i uwa-gi] hung from her shoulder as she chanced a look through the peephole, finding the unusually angry face of one of her many students parents.
She opened the door, finding a sight to which she blinked twice in response.
This woman had brought her son.
Something was very, very wrong with her son.
His flesh was creasing and snapping in every which way, ripped in a number of places, even, as his hair, a once plentiful head of brown hair, was disheveled and rotting and all but gone. His fingernails were bloody, as were his cheeks and eyes; She suspected he'd been clawing at his face.
Something whispered to her in her head, and something else screamed. The teacher in her was instructing her to stay calm, and to try to find out what was wrong with this poor child... Another part of her screamed, perhaps a more human, fearful portion of her being, begging her to lock the door and never open it again.
Her eyes narrowed sharply, in such away that his mother, though angry she may be, took a step back and pulled her son with her.
[b "Wh-What did you do to my baby in that place?! He came home... like this...!"]
This woman had a look of desperation in her eyes to such an extreme that her pupils were straining, a number of fluids streaming from her face as she clung to her son's shoulder miserably and in tears, trying to... perhaps threaten? Find blame to place? The Muay Thai instructor was unsure, and every second that passed brought with it innumerable questions.
One thing was certain...
Nicholas Porter was horribly ill.
[#ff0000 "Nicholas."] she said openly, trying to get his attention. She ignored his mother, who now turned her gaze to her child, hoping to hear his voice again, hoping nothing was truly wrong.
They received only a dead, dull moan in reply, a hopelessly minuscule semblance of a young boy's voice in its undertones. With this, he turned toward his mother, his giver of life, and slowly pulled her closer, to which she complied happily, nearly cradling him, and crying into his frail, decaying chest.
A little fountain of blood spattered the white concrete balcony, his teeth having hit some sort of sweet spot in her jugular, feasting on her listlessly as she watched the sky with a dead look in her eye.
This, was all Kanya needed. She sent a heavy hand flying into the centermost point of the tall lamp beside her door, grabbing the bottom half and yanking it free of the wall. With this, she flung her door open, the bulky, wooden bottom of the lamp slamming into the boy's chest with enough force to snap his neck and dislocate his spine.
She had only succeeded in giving him a nasty hunch as he drew nearer, his skin sloughing off with rotting, wet sounds, his mother convulsing and sputtering behind him, her flesh beginning to pale abnormally. She had apparently disturbed his meal, for which she would certainly pay by becoming the entree.
[i 'The best way to fully incapacitate anything, Kanya... What is it?']
She stared, clutching the lamp pole, a conversation a long time in passing crossing her mind.
[i [#ff0000 'The head, father.']]
[i [#ff0000 'You destroy its head.']]
If it worked, then it wouldn't happen to anyone else... right?
She charged her pupil with a pang of sadness, bringing one knee around and slamming it into his face before bringing the other around full circle to do the same. Something in his throat protruded now, his head bent back to stare dully at his mother as Kanya swept his legs out from beneath him and drove the heaviest part of the lamp into his skull, his head now looking not unlike a very thick stew she had tried once back home. She recalled that, between the sauces and the fresh tendons and organs, it looked as though a cow had been blended poorly and then thrown carelessly into the bowl.
She was... not, going to be eating, this dish, or anything in its likeness, ever again.
His mother and the wounds on her neck were now the center of Kanya's attention, for whatever her son had... [i done], was beginning to fester and swell and snap. The small blonde made her decision.
This illness, if it could be deemed one, made her want to throw up, and it made her want to get on her hands and knees to pray. It was [b evil] at its finest, so very evil in fact, that she was suddenly very driven to destroy it. It was inhuman, it disgusted her, it disturbed her, and it was so painfully unnatural that it scared her.
Kanya did not appreciate her fears the way a normal person might.
She drove the lamp into his mother's skull as well, a number of times, praying under her breath, stopping only when the woman's head was pulverized and her body convulsed sparingly. She tossed the bloodied, broken light fixture aside, risking a look over the endge of the balcony. A number of others graced the street below now, moving slowly, bumping into one another. Luckily, there was nobody nearb-
A little girl and her dog had happened into the street now, to which Kanya tried to hurry to respond to. It seemed that she had now drawn their attention, she wasn't sure if it was the noise of the dog and child or a scent, perhaps, but she wanted to help...! She prayed once more before dropping down the balcony and landing on the balcony of the first floor, running hard as the girl tried to duck behind a trashcan. Kanya found only a young boy's baseball bat lying in the patch of grass in front of the neighboring building, and while she wasn't particularly sporty, she figured she could make it work. Weapons were only extensions of the body when properly used, how hard could it be?
Kanya brought the bat down on the back of one's head, a man she presumed, from the deepness of the moan and the remnants of his suit, denting whatever he had left for a skull. This annoyed her to no end. Had they no [i fucking] pain threshold? She attached herself to his shoulder and swung at his head twice more in quick succession, the first knocking it sideways and the second smashing it nearly all the way in. She guarded that trashcan, and she killed another six before turning to address the child.
What she found horrified her.
A young man with a popular pop band printed on the soiled shirt her wore had grabbed the little girl by the hair, his bloody hands and strained, greenish face signs of his being only recently altered. All the sound around her disappeared as she watched him take a bite of the child's terrified face, ripping the skin off her forehead all the way down to her eye.
This was going to continue getting more and more fucked up, she could feel it. She killed the two of them, too, her mentality being a tad warped, in that she still couldn't comprehend why she was alright with killing all of a sudden. More importantly, what was being done further along the island, were the police alerted...? What was going on?!
She ran back to her building, crushing the head of one of the less fortunate victims that had somehow lost his leg and fallen on the stairway. The reason for her trip back was rather... Stupid, yes, but it was important to Kanya, nonetheless! She dove into the fridge and grabbed up several rose apples, a Thai delicacy and something she cherished and imported almost monthly. She could make them last. She tucked her tasty treasures into her sash and left once more, batting hard and making her way quickly into the heart of the island and its populace.
What kind of epidemic [i was] this? How long would she be turning the corner and smashing in people's heads? She wiped blood from her face and tried to find a way to justify her own actions, yet unable to find reason in the day's events.
Kanya was incredibly scared.
She hoped she would find an officer of some kind eventually, if someone hadn't already alerted the authorities. She doubted that a survivor or twenty hadn't notified somebody, though, because she could see these things pacing the foggy streets now, in numbers she no longer trusted. She scaled a fire escape outside an old brick building, one possibly abandoned, and used her bat to barricade the old, broken door the closest to the ground level before crouching to watch and wait, though a break had been very much in order, anyway. She pulled one of her fruits from her sash and began to eat, though it didn't taste like anything. Blood spattered the walls of her mind, even her favorite food tasting like bitterness and sand.
[#ff0000 "Maybe should I leave island...?"] she murmured, watching the oddly shaped fruit in her hand intently.
What an afternoon so far.
Warren's day was pretty boring, he got no calls for cleaning, which meant no pay for today. He sat on the dark grey couch in his clean, but small, one story household. Laying there in relaxation, he wore his favorite jacket and dark jeans, sitting there, tapping his foot, just waiting for his house phone to get a call. . . it kind of bothered him.
He hadn't been outside all day, he'd just played games and waited all day- but suddenly, he heard a weak knock on his door, followed by a slightly muffled, sort of high pitched voice outside of it. [b "Hmm- oh, the door."] Warren said, glad at least something is happening today. He stood up and walked over to rough looking wood door, opening it up, he saw a familiar lady, someone who worked at a local restaurant, on her knees on his door step with a knife. He gasped at the site, and behind her, was a desicrated corpse laying on the sidewalk across the street.
[b "Oh shit man! What's going on?!"] his first reaction was she killed someone, but something seemed wrong, her knife didn't seem to have blood on it. [b "Jesus, okay, let's get you inside."] Warren hoisted her up off the ground and onto her feet, [b "Come in, come in..."] he said with a worried tone in his voice. [b "Just, sit on the couch or something please- are you hurt any? Did, you kill that person outside- or was that like a friend?"] the lazily dressed guy passed around his living room, thinking of what to do...
[b "Okay, okay, umm, do you think I should call the cops or something?"] The dark haired guy walked over to the door and clicked a button on the door knob, locking it from the inside. He looked around the room, freaking out at this point. [b "Sorry for asking so many questions but, do you know what's going on?"]
He coughed a bit, and nervously reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, walking over to his counter, he grabbed a loose cigarette from an open pack on the table. The smoker lifted it up to his mouth and lit it, puffing out some smoke into his house- which he really didn't do often, but he didn't want to go outside right now. He moved the cigarette from his mouth and sighed, [b "E-excuse me for that, I'm Warren, I apologize for not introducing myself earlier... what's your name? And uhh, do you, want one, or like a drink?"] he started to calm down a little.
This really wasn't like him to panic this much, but dead bodies were not something he was used to. Warren walked across his living room into the open kitchen, and grabbed a knife his self. Pacing around, looking at the knife, he tried to think of what he should do. The smoke from his cigarette, and the smoke from the Nag Champa incense begun to clash in the air.
He peaked outside his kitchen window and saw the street outside, the sun was going down, and there was a quite thick fog rolling in. [b "This is like something from a nightmare, man."] he said as he shook his head and looked back over to her. He turned around to his sink and put the cigarette in the sink and turned it on to extinguish it- he really shouldn't smoke in the house, it messes with the incense...
[size12 After drying off her hands, Gretel rested the hand towel onto the counter beside the sink. Turning around, she faced the person that was behind her with a smile.]
[size12 [#daa520 "It worries me when half of a customers food is all over the table. Did they never grow up with any manners?"] The woman she spoke to laughed and with a smile said, "At least that means they like the food, or so I would hope. So excited that they can't care to be civil." A bit of water beaded at her eyes. She'd been tearing up from the onions she was cutting. Gretel wasn't effected by the onions, though she had to admit their taste wasn't half bad.]
[size12 "Hey, shouldn't you be going soon? Said you had some plans, right?"]
[size12 She nodded. [#daa520 "Big plans actually. I probably should head out."] The dull blonde pushed herself off the counter and pulled out the hair tie that had been holding back her long, lightly wavy hair.]
[size12 "Got yourself a guy or something~?" The female cook asked with a wink. Gretel blushed and let out a small laugh before saying, [#daa520 "Do you actually think there is a guy gutsy enough to try dating me? Ha, not in a million years. They don't want a girl that's never been with someone."] Both girls laughed, the older one insisting that maybe it was the girl's expectations that scared them off.]
[size12 [#daa520 "Well, it's not my fault if they aren't my type. If they're scared because I don't like heroes, then that's their problem."]]
[size12 "And just why do you hate them so much?" She rose an eyebrow, as if saying that the answer was nonexistent. [#daa520 "I don't hate them. I just prefer a villain. Besides, they're more romantic anyways."]]
[size12 The two gossiped for a bit as the older adult finished cutting up food for them to use the next day. Gretel had perched on the counter beside her, finding it to be comfortable, accidentally hitting her head on the cabinets behind her whenever she'd laugh too hard. Once they were done, time had passed and Gretel needed to hurry to get to where she was going. Picking up her bag off the floor, she slung it over her shoulder and held onto the strap of the messenger bag.]
[size12 "So just where are you going anyways?"]
[size12 [#daa520 "I um...Well, there's this volunteer group I'm a part of and we have a meeting to go to today, so I need to be there."] She gave a small giggle, though a nervous one. Gretel didn't want anyone to know that she was a voice actress. She wasn't ashamed, but she didn't want any of the praise. The other woman waved as she ran out. This restaurant was like home to Gretel. Well, a home without a place to sleep besides the booths whenever the place was closed. Sometimes she'd even stay overnight there, preferring it over her own empty home.]
[size12 As she was running to get to the bus, she noticed the fog. Something was really odd about it. Fog was one thing, but the eerie silence sent a chill up her spine. She even slowed her run, starting to become a bit worried. She wasn't quite sure what for though. There was nothing there.]
[size12 Making it to the bus stop, she heard a loud screech like the bus coming to an abrupt stop. Looking through the fog with ease, she didn't see any vehicle. Nothing was there.]
[size12 [#daa520 "What was that then..?"] Looking to both sides of her and of course in front of her, she saw nothing. That was when she turned around and saw someone else standing there with her.]
[size12 This made her flinch and laugh a bit at having been scared at all. [#daa520 "I'm sorry, you startled me."] Most people would laugh in reaction, though this person kept silent. Their black hair was tousled and they gave her an odd feeling. [#daa520 "Um..Are you alright, sir? You look a bit..um..ill.."] The person still didn't answer. Looking down, she noticed they had hold of the metal trash can.]
[size12 That must've been what made that sound... Looking to the person's face, she noticed their mouth hanging open a bit. Their breathing seemed shaky and they wouldn't breath through their nose. It seemed that their throat was too thin, and she could see the veins in their face. There was no way this person was old enough to have this kind of skin. They actually looked not too much older than herself.]
[size12 [#daa520 "Sir..?"] She went to touch his shoulder, but the moment she did, she pulled her hand away.]
[size12 When she had sat her hand on his shoulder, it felt as though the bone sank down, like his arm was starting to dislocate or even fall off. But that wasn't possible. Not for a person that didn't seem to be in pain. Shouldn't they be in the hospital for that? They were dressed normally in jeans and a t-shirt though. Nothing was really odd about them except...well..them. From further away, he would probably look normal, but from here, Gretel didn't see any ordinary person.]
[size12 [#daa520 "Sir, I think you need to go to the hosp-Ah!"] Jumping away, she only just dodged the hit of a heavy and rusty trash can. [#daa520 "H-Hey, I'm only trying to help you."] They managed to swing it at her again and she backed up into the road.]
[size12 Why hadn't the bus arrived yet?]
[size12 He went to swing again, but before he could, something happened. Gretel's blue eyes widened as she saw his arm fall off entirely, bits of flesh trying to hold on, but the weight pulling them apart. Blood splattered on the ground where it fell and the red continued to drip from his arm as he grabbed the garbage can again with the only arm he still had, wildly swinging it at her, trash flying out onto the ground. Quickly, Gretel began to run down the road. She went off the road on onto the sidewalk that was across the street.]
[size12 What the was that thing?]
[size12 Taking a turn, she made her way back to the cafe. It seemed to be locked, but she knew the code and got inside, locking it from inside. She definitely felt safer now.]
[size12 Going to a booth, she sat her bag down as she panted for breath. The girl took out her phone and texted one of her co-workers at the studio that something just happened and she couldn't make it. See, this person usually texts back quickly. Talking to someone might actually help.]
[size12 For over ten minutes, there was no response.]
[size12 Gretel watched out the window, worried. She had no idea what was going on and was trying to figure it out, but that was just crazy. She'd never seen anything like that before. The concept itself was odd, and if she told anyone, she'd probably be sent to an asylum.]
[size12 Then there was a bang at the door.]
[size12 Getting up cautiously, she looked through the glass and saw the one from before, but with someone else also. They seemed just as grotesque.]
[size12 Another joined them.]
[size12 Scared, she ran back and into the kitchen then grabbed some of the kitchen knives. The one that her friend had used earlier actually to cut up vegetables, as well as others just in case. Looking out the door again, she saw them starting to run their hands on the glass as if they wanted inside. She didn't want to, but she needed to get out eventually. Maybe the back?]
[size12 Going to the back door, Gretel left with the knife and a tray she had picked up. She'd used that tray once before to hit a customer in the head whenever they grabbed another waitress where they shouldn't, even though she did get in trouble for it.]
[size12 She ran as quickly as she could, making it back to her home. No one was around, although that was usual. She did live alone after all. The odd part? She couldn't get the door open no matter how hard she tried. Looking over, she noticed something that she hadn't before. There was a window broken. It hadn't caught her eye when she passed it, but now, it was the one thing she really payed attention to. As she looked through it, Gretel saw a familiar face rummaging through her apartment. It was her neighbor, but why were they there?]
[size12 Before she could knock out all the glass using her tray, the person turned and faced her. Her hair was stuck to her face and seemed to be shedding all over the floor. She was just as terrible looking as the man before, though was missing one eye. As she itched her head, her brunette locks followed her rotting fingers out of it. Terrified of the sight, Gretel abandoned all and ran away. She had no idea what to do, but she just decided that she would keep on running until she couldn't.]
[size12 Eventually, her stamina ran out, and Gretel stopped, panting for breath and sitting against a wall near the door of an old antiques store. [#daa520 "Whatever that was...I'm definitely not going back there..."] She raised up again, legs feeling weak. [#daa520 "I need someone..anyone.."] Panicked, she looked around. Gretel wasn't good at being independent at the best of times, much less when running from someone she thought could do more than just kill her.]
[size12 Gotta find somewhere to hide. Somewhere that the people aren't corpses roaming already. She stopped at a small home. There were blood trails nearly on all the streets, though as long as the red was no longer attached, it would be okay. Arms weak from shaking she knocked lightly on the door. [#daa520 "Someone..please, let me in. There are people out there and they're.."] Her breath was being lost. Feeling faint, she dropped down to her knees in front of the four-paned door. Her mind went back to her brother, wishing he was there. [#daa520 "Please.."]]
[size10 [center [b 7:26 PM Midtown August 5th]]]
[size10 [center [b Allie's Tattoo Shop]]]
[size10 [center [b Slightly Foggy, Warm Temp.]]]
[center [pic http://i1228.photobucket.com/albums/ee455/Whitewolf_Shadows/tumblr_m7jolyDgo61r3qzwao1_500_zps5a57624d-1_zps8367623b.jpg]]
[size12 [center [b "Hey Al .... You Finished Yet?"] A deep, smooth voice sounded from the front of the shop. Lights buzzed as the small, yet roomy tattoo shop was cleaned for closing. A tall, slim woman with bronze skin, colored in by many different patterns, pictures and designs and bright eyes, wrote quickly in a log, her pen not stopping for a second. "Yea, Yea ... I'm Gettin' There ..." She muttered, not taking her eyes off the paper. [b "Hurry it up ... Will ya? I gotta finish these two paintings before twelve ... "] Ziitron muttered, his dark grey hair tousled on his head. He sat back in a chair, shirtless, with a loose pair of black jeans on. He sighed, looking through his phone. "If you're in such a rush, why don't you just leave ...?" Allie said back, rolling her eyes smiling. [b "Oh please ... I can wait for you babe ... And plus, you promised to have fun with me tonight."] He smirked, looking up at her. She blushed, rolling her eyes again. "I don't recall saying a thing ..." She looked back down and scribbled some more stuff in the log. "Whatever,Z." She muttered with a small smirk.]]
[size12 [center [b A good fifteen more minutes passed as the tall woman continued to write in her book and straighten up the tattoo shop.] Sighing, Ziitron finally stood. Cleaning took strangely a long time today, and he couldn't wait any longer. [b "Hey Al ... I'll talk to you tomorrow ... Be safe, Alright?"] The girl looked up and pouted, then nodded. "Same to you ... Sorry we can't have any fun tonight." She said, a broom in her hand. She looked back at him with a flirtatious smirk. [b "It's Alright ... We'll have even [i more] fun tomorrow. Makes it worth waiting..."] Ziitron said to her and smirked, chuckling. She blushed and shrugged him off, giggling. "Oh Whatever ..." Ziitron stretched,then put on a sleeveless hoodie and grabbed his bag, putting it across his chest then waving at Allie and the two other guys that were in the back of the shop cleaning before letting himself out.]]
[size12 [center [b The fog had lit up a little, you could see the streets a little clearer than before.] Ziitron frowned. [i Dammit ... I forgot I walked here ... Guess I could stretch my legs a little ...] He thought then sighed. He'd been taking pictures all day at his photo shoot, and then he had to help out here. And the walk from the studio to Allie's tattoo shop can be hell. His house wasn't too far from here though, unless the fog thickens up again .... [b "Welp ... Better Get A Move On ..."] Ziitron continued forward, walking with his hands in his pockets, to the city.]]
[size12 [center [i It's Sure Is Hella Quiet Out Here ....] Talanta was a usually quiet city, but today was different .... Like an eerily quiet. No one was driving in the streets, no kids laughing, no peppy walkers that wave and smile as they pass by. This was waaaay [i too] quiet. Humming a tune, Ziitron started to walk a bit faster. The quietness mixed in with the fog started to give him a feeling he didn't like very much. As he continued on, he heard a loud, but low moan coming from behind him and stopped. [i What The Hell Was That?!] He wanted to turn around, but something told him not to. Instead, he glanced back. Nothing was there..... Another moan. [i .... Don't Turn Around ... Don't Turn Around ....] He gripped his bag. Someone was behind him ... He could hear the shuffle of feet slowly walking forward. He inhaled and started walking again, quieter but faster. Eventually, Ziitron was running toward his house, which was now up the street. He couldn't see anyone in the streets, but he heard moans coming from everywhere. Not the sexy moans he tends to love so much, but the horrifically tired and slow moans you get when you don't want to wake up early in the morning but you have to anyways. The silver-haired male glanced back, wondering if whoever that was behind him had followed him home. There was no one, but before he could take another step, he fell backwards.]]
[size11 [center [b "O-Oh! My Bad .... "] Ziitron muttered, realizing that he bumped into someone .... A woman with dark hair and dead green eyes. She slumped over, drooling. Her skin was a greenish pale, and looked as if it hadn't been washed in months. Not waiting for a reply, Ziitron stood. He had a slightly worried look on his face.[b "Ma'am ..? Are ... Are You Alright ...?"] He came a bit closer to her, trying to see her better. The fog was coming back .... The lady moaned dryly. Ziitron looked at her and blinked. [i She Must Be Sick .....] [b "Y-You Don't Sound Too Good ...."] He said to her, grabbing her shoulders. She leaned toward him a little, looking dead. Another moan. [b "L-Let Me Call 9-1-1 For Y--"] A cold hand had covered his, and he looked up. Ziitron's stomach churned and he covered his mouth quickly. The lady was looking up at him . Her eyes were gone. Nothing but empty sockets. Her cheekbones were outlined, she looked dead. And yet she was walking as if everything was okay. Ziitron backed up a little. [b "Wh ... What The Fuck Happened To You?!"] He said, letting go of her shoulder. He started breathing heavy, and jumped when the woman lurched forward and growled, then snapping her teeth together. [b "AH SHIT!"] She was trying to bite him! Very much in shock, the man blinked then shook his head. He backed away some more and then suddenly, started to run towards his house. [i This Shit Is Unbelievable .... She Looked Just Like That Dead Zombie Girl From That Movie .... What The Hell ...??!!?!] Finally making it to the door, he grabbed his keys from the bag and fumbled with them, hearing more footsteps. [i HURRY UP DAMMIT ...] His thoughts screamed at no one in particular. He opened the black painted door after struggling with getting the key in the door for a moment and walked in quickly, breathing fast. Not really paying attention to what he was doing, he left the door unlocked and dropped his keys and bag on the floor, running upstairs. Ziitron went into his room and sat on the floor, not believing at all what he saw. Her eyes were [i gone]. She was decaying .... Whatever was wrong with that woman .... Whatever disease she had was unnatural ... Maybe even inhuman ... And it was scary.]]
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