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[center [i [Caveat [size20 What happens when the dead starts rising? Well, some bloodshed and chaos of course. Oh, did I say some? I meant a shit ton. Yup, a shit ton of death and destruction, coming your way. ] ] ] ]
[center [Caveat [size15 Welcome to the city of LunaVale, population of roughly fifty thousand. LunaVale is known for its booming economy and lavish lifestyles... Well, on half of the city. On the other side of the city, it is known for being decrepit and full of the poor. It's also a hotbed for criminal activity. Can you say home sweet home?
Well, now home is full of zombies that just love cracking heads open and devouring brains for breakfast. While the poor must fend for themselves with what little they have, the rich sit protected by a large gate that surrounds their entire area. No one goes in and getting out is nearly impossible due to police officers standing at every exit day and night. Only a few people are daring and kind enough to slip food and supplies to people outside.] ] ]
[center [Caveat [b [size15 IT'S A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE and the city is divided. One-half rich, the other poor. The poor side is full of gangs that steal from each other and hurt innocents for fun. People are desperately trying to get to the rich side of the city so they won't have to be stuck in the middle of the gangs and zombies, but this is no easy task, especially since the rich won't let anyone in.] ] ]
[http://rp.eliteskills.com/vc.php?c=399973 [size10 THE RULES AND SKELETON] ] |[http://rp.eliteskills.com/vc.php?c=399975 [size10 FACTS SURROUNDING THE RP] ] | [http://rp.eliteskills.com/r.php?r=149993 [size10 THE OOC AND PLOTTING THREAD] ]
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[center [Caveat [size15 [b morbidity ~ northernwolves] ~ miss-shion ~ wendigoing ~ saphirehope ~ ouroboros ~ gengar ~ kaitoXi
[center [Caveat [size15 July 3rd, 2021.
She had managed to get within arms reach distance of the female without anything out of the ordinary happening, or the female trying to kill her. Now that she had reached this close to the female, Ali was somewhat unsure whether she should even attempt to put the towelette over the still bleeding wound on the female's arm.
The female had picked up on her Russian accent, even going as far as to say "you speak my tongue" in Russia. Alia only slightly nodded her head to this question formatted as a statement, smiling slightly as she heard a language spoken which she had not heard in quiet a while.
But the smile quickly turned into a slight look of disappointment as the unnamed female snatched the towelette from her grasp, and then snarling. Alia took a step back, taken aback by the scary snarl directed her way. She considered reaching for a knife, but quickly stowed away that thought; the weapon might inflame the female even more, which made it even more likelier that the female would bleed out.
Alia desperately wanted to answer the female's question, but her unspoken answer was interrupted.
This interruption was in the form of a person. Upon their white skin were many freckles, not sticking out like sore thumbs but still noticeable. For someone outside the wall, they were wearing somewhat nice clothing. Black pants, a somewhat bright-red shirt, gloves, a good pair of shoes, and what looked like a black tux. There was a possibility that this was a person from inside the wall, one of the rich people.
Alia turned to face this stranger, looking him up and down. She zoned out the conversation that was happening between this stranger and the unnamed female, instead focusing on another language; body language. Body language was important to understand, for it reveal many a thing. It could reveal that though the person was smooth talking peacefully, they were actually itching to get into a fight. The stranger's body language showed no sign of wanting to fight, but Alia prepared to pull out a knife if the circumstances gave her an excuse to do such an act.
A new pair of footsteps, a new voice. These belonged to some purple haired female who slowly approached the trio. Alia could see the new female looking at this rag tag trio, as if scanning for certain options. Alia could only hope that this female did not come here with hostile intentions. For all she knew, the female had a group, waiting to spring a tight trap.
The unnamed female hissed at all three of them, rightfully wondering whether Alia, the stranger, and the purple-haired female belonged in a gang.
Alia slowly drew in a deep breath, before talking in a quiet but steady voice. [+purple "None of us know each other. I know as much about you as either one of the other strangers"], glancing at the two new arrivals before continuing, [+purple "It is merely a coincidence that the four of us are in the same spot. So in summary, we are not in в мафии".]
The very last bit was somewhat of a lie. Alia was not currently part of any gang or mafia, but it hadn't been that long of a time since she had been part of a mafia. And no one really needed to know that part of her past.
The pale-faced female shivered, her hand pressed tightly against the bloodied wound. She could hear a faint tap on the concrete as if someone was closing in on her location. Liliya took a deep breath in, pushing herself against the rusted dumpster. Her eyes shot up in the direction of the sound, waiting for whoever it was to come into view. The thought of death was present in her mind, however, if she took her hand off her wound she didn't know what would happen. [#8A2BE2 [i I'm fucked.] ]
A brunette appeared, glasses covering her canary eyes. She had an average body weight and her height was no exception. She looked, in all honesty, completely average. That was until she opened her mouth. A familiar accent stood out, causing Liliya to cock her eyebrow slightly in confusion. [#8A2BE2 "You speak my tongue,"] Liliya spoke in Russian at first, assuming the girl knew what she was saying. She reached forward and snatched the towelette from the female's hands. She pressed it against her wound before snarling at the woman in front of her. What was her end game? Why was she here? [#8A2BE2 "Why do you help me-" ] This time she spoke in English, her thick accent flicking off her tongue in anger. She would accept the help, but she wouldn't be cordial about it. That wasn't in her nature.
Before Liliya could speak again another person came into view, however, nothing about this person was average. A freckled face stood in front of her, and for a second, Liliya couldn't tell if this person was male or female. It didn't really matter to her, however, something inside her stomach swirled. They were incredibly attractive, tattoos causing Liliya to swoon, but only [i slightly. ]
Liliya practically hissed at the nickname she was given, however, she was in no position to be too hostile. Not now, at least. [#8A2BE2 "No one is too cute for gunfights, not with these things running around," ]Liliya let who she now assumed to be male to inspect her injuries. He seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing, but still, she had zero trust. Trust would kill you these days.
As her new acquaintance lifted her up a large sigh escaped her mouth, pain shooting through her arm. She shook her head to his question, a tad confused as she had assumed he had come with the brown-haired girl. [#8A2BE2 "No, I know nothing of this girl, she came just before you." ]
[b "Someone need help here?" ]
Liliya's head shot towards the newest person to arrive, her eyebrow taking its signature spot as it cocked up. The likely hood of three random people coming to her saving was odd and unlikely. [#8A2BE2 "What is this!?"] She hissed, still leaning against the male that held her up. [#8A2BE2 "What gang are you three in?" ]
It was a lovely day out. A gentle breeze blew, the sun was shining, and in the distance, a few picturesque clouds floated by, fluffy as lambs' wool. Muri sighed out, staring out to the horizon from atop the wall. Truly gorgeous. A perfect day to go to the park.
A harsh screech sounded out in the distance, followed by the loud barks of gunfire, the both interrupting his fantasy. No, he would not be going to the park, not today or any other day, for that matter, because the park was out there, in the world infested by zombies.
Some of those lucky enough to live on this side of the wall felt guilty about it. Muri pushed off and continued along the wall, plunk-plunk-step, plunk-plunk-step, crutches biting into long-since-dead nerves in his forearms as he pushed off, weight on his arms, then transferred to the legs that had never obeyed him for a short, stumbling step before he placed the crutches and swung forward again. Not him. How could he feel guilty? If he was on the other side, he'd be zombie meat already. He wasn't fast enough to escape them, even if he used his chair instead of the crutches, and he had no illusions that anyone by his side would take care of him; no, he'd be abandoned immediately. His only chance for survival was that these walls remained standing, until the day someone figured out what to do about these shambling corpses.
Another man about his age ran past, a backpack strung over his shoulders. Muri watched him go, eyes narrowed in jealousy at the other's strong legs and powerful build. [i He] had the luxury of feeling guilty, he'd bet. Or worse, maybe he was one of those braggart frat boys who thought he'd be the hero, if only he could be out there killing zombies! Ugh. He shook his head just at the thought. Too many video games, and that was coming from someone with a collection of preorder first editions. He'd love to see them all face an actual zombie and see how that went. Though that was unfair, given that he'd be the first of them to die in the same situation.
A heavy hand descended on his shoulder. Muri looked up, startled, at a tall blonde man built enough to put the earlier runner to shame. "Are you tired?" Chase rumbled, deep voice neutral, as ever. For a moment, Muri continued to stare at his bodyguard in confusion, then realized: he'd been so caught up in his thoughts he'd come to a halt.
"Hardly," he replied, starting up again. It was futile already, he knew that, but maybe, maybe if he built up enough stamina, he'd be able to escape an attack, on the off-chance something got inside the walls. Stupid, pointless, and yet here he was.
Up ahead, the runner from earlier had stopped. As he watched, the man let out a whistle and held up a bag, gesturing towards the bad part of town. Ooh, smuggling supplies, was he? He wondered what the guy was getting in return, drugs or cash or rare goods looted from houses outside--or maybe just a sense of self-righteousness to assuage his guilt. Well--there was certainly a way to find out, wasn't there?
He limped up to the other man and gave him a nod. "Lovely morning for a run," he greeted the man, no irony in his voice--though he fully intended it as a joke. With a nod towards the bag, he continued. "Charity? You're a kind soul, aren't you? I'm Muri, by the way, and you are...?"
Muri gave the other man a smile. He wouldn't be so outgoing if he was on his own--people tended to act shy around him, or else treat him like shit, thanks to his legs--but with Chase around to loom over his shoulder, they tended to be a little more polite.
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/TrGgFPr.png]
Running was the only normalcy Minjae could keep at a crucial time like this. Before the apocalypse, he lived the [i normal] rich-kid life. He partied often, got high, and worked rarely, it was truly a life worth living at the time. But now that the world has gone to shit, he can only think about what he could have done, or what he should have done to prepare himself better for this situation.
Slowing to a stop, his breathing was hard and heavy as he recovered from the several laps he did atop the wall of the city. Pressing a clasped hand against his chest to feel his pounding heart, he couldn't help but feel accomplished at that moment. Although his chest hurt like hell, he was back up to his high school endurance time and that felt amazing after refusing to run for almost whole year. It took him around two months to return to his old endurance, but those months felt like years when he stared off into the desolate city filled with death and decay. Time never seemed to pass when he ran on the rickety foundation of the makeshift metal wall and stands. As he paced back and forth on the ever squeaking aluminum tiles of the walls "walkway" His eyes couldn't help but wander. He watched as the poor side stayed as dark and as dangerous as ever, and the rich side treated this has a temporary situation that god, or even gods, would soon correct when mankind paid for their sins. The funny thing was,
[i [b there was no gods. ]]
Reaching down to stop his Rolex watch from its manic beeping, his thumb ran over the crack in the glass of the watch as his eyes scanned over the wall and into the poor side of Lunavale. So many people fighting for the lives of themselves and others while he and his family got to sit in their iron towers, it was funny how something inanimate easily split an entire city and decided who was worthy enough to live. He imagined all the people who lived possible pure and humble lives are here stuck to die because of their salary. What a crock of shit.
Approaching the walls edge he pressed his weight against it as his eyes locked onto a group of survivors fighting for their lives. Huddled together, he watched as they swung their devices at the zombies, both hitting and missing, their fear and adrenaline getting the best of them as they began to be enclosed by the walking corpses. Maybe a year ago this scene would strike a cord in his heart and cause a spiraling panic attack. A fit of fear for his life and life of the ones he loves, but over time the feeling becomes numb and the acceptance that death is always near washes over you. He only felt sorry that he was too much of a coward to help the people who inevitably reached their demise.
After watching the blood bath down below, his lungs released a heavy sigh has he began looking around again. His shoulders rolling as the back pack he carried worked as both a "workout weight" and a mode of transportation for his goodies. Every few days he dropped off the rations he received that he didn't like or want to the less fortunate. It was filled with candies, chips, and a can or two of flat soda, it surely wasn't the meal of champions, but it was a meal nonetheless.
Continuing his search, his eyes finally met with a vibrant looking figure on a roof top. He looked like he had been there for awhile, maybe waiting for the zombies to clear out to be on the move again. Without hesitation, Minjae brought his fingers to his lips to assist him in releasing a loud and obnoxious whistle in attempt to get the attention of the figure. Unknowing if the figure could actually hear him, he quickly took the black backpack from his back and raised it into the air, motioning over and over again for the silhouette to retrieve the items if they were brave enough.
[center [pic http://i66.tinypic.com/25g3uiq.jpg]
[font "Tahoma" [i Running.
She had to run. Her chest was tight, breathing labored, a stitch in her side. This was more running than she had done in a long while. What was she running from again? It was best not to risk losing momentum by looking back. However, judging by the low growl sounding behind her, it was likely to be one of the aggressive leopards native to her home. The predatory feline let out a loud yowl and then came the -
[b - - - - ↺ - - - -]
Rani awoke, a cold sweat dripping down her forehead. Her chest was heaving, and she felt as though she had run a marathon in her sleep. The memories of the [s [font "Tahoma" dream]] nightmare had quickly faded from her mind, leaving only the adrenaline pumping through her veins as evidence that it had happened. She pulled the silk duvet away from her body and slid out of bed, slipping her feet into luxurious fluffy slippers that were laid at the side of her bed. It would be a running morning, then. Now came the question: would she be the good daughter her father wanted and stay on the [s [font "Tahoma" distastefully named]] rich side of LunaVale, or would she venture into the more dangerous side of town? Her brain said to be smart and stay on the side she belonged, but the adrenaline racing through her veins begged for adventure.
Rani relented to the adrenaline, and prepared herself for the journey. It wasn't terribly far to the border, but after she crossed, she would be hard pressed to [i not] encounter trouble. Over the exercise gear went a backpack, stocked with her favorite baton as well as some rudimentary medical supplies to treat herself with should she come to harm, or perhaps some injured poor person she ran into on her run, however unlikely that was.
The path to the border wasn't a difficult one for Rani, even with the streets crawling with security. The majority of them worked for her father's company and knew her on sight; the rest knew from her past as a grunt not to fuck with her. With only a cold look at the guards posted at one of the checkpoints along the border, she was let through, no words exchanged. It was there that Rani started her run, jogging down main streets and alleyways alike. That jog stopped abruptly when she heard a cacophony of voices from down a nearby alley. She reached back into her backpack and pulled out her baton, holding it ready as she peeked around the corner of a building towards the noise. Her grip loosened slightly as she saw a group huddled around something, and she moved forward towards them, still alert.
"[#8a2be2 Someone need help here?]" Rani called to them, still approaching slowly. It would be a three-to-one fight if they decided to mug her, and she didn't quite like those chances, but at least one of them looked rich, so perhaps she would be recognized and spared if it came down to it. Not even five minutes of running and already there was trouble. Of course, just her luck.
Somewhere in an unrealistic darkness, a small girl stood in a moonlight spotlight, fidgeting with dirt-filled fingernails and biting a bloodied lip. Fear stricken, her dark eyes searched the darkness that returned an eerie nothingness. She tried to walk, but it seemed she was getting nowhere. The spotlight followed her in the never-ending darkness. She ran but went nowhere, so she stopped, and crossed her arms in dissatisfaction. She didn’t seem fearful at all, her small eyes narrowed into thin slits as she scoffed at the darkness. [b [#ff3333 “If you think you can scare me with that., you’re sadly mistaken”]] She said aloud to whoever it was who must have kidnapped her. She didn’t quite understand what was going on, but she wasn’t going to give in. At least, she thought she wasn’t.
[i Rebecca? Rebecca where did you go?] Only one person alive knew her by that name, but she had done everything in her power to never encounter him again. [i This can’t be real.] She instantly understood. She wouldn’t have let this happen, she had taken every precautionary measure. She had crossed through and into dangerous territory. She had abandoned everything familiar. For once she felt the age she looked. The small girl sunk to the ground, hands on her head, trying to escape the nightmare, because that was the only explanation for that voice echoing through the darkness. She screamed, but nothing came out.
[i Rebecca? Is that you. It’s me Maverick. Rebecca why did you leave me? Why didn't you even have the guts to kill me?]
The girl pulled at her uneven hair and then blacked out mid-dream. Her eyes fluttered open to another nightmare. This one all to realistic.
Venus wasn’t a city person, or an outside person either, and on top of all that, she was definitely not a morning person. In all honesty, she was barely a person, but she found herself being forced into all of those roles simultaneously as she woke up to a cloudy sky that made telling the time impossible. She sat sandwiched between two dumpsters that hadn’t been emptied in over a year, elbows on knees, arms framing a downcast glance. She hoped it would rain soon. That would just add to the tragic image she was exuding. Perhaps if she looked like a sickly, abandoned kitten, someone would pick her up and bring her home. But she knew that would only end in her sandwiched between different dumpsters a few weeks down the line, feeling exactly the same ways. This was how it was in her downtime between cons. [i Cons? Yeah, I guess that’s the word for it.] She somehow squeezed into a tighter ball. [i I am a despicable human being. Am I even human?] She was getting sick of this cycle.
She missed her Zoloft. She missed all her happy pills.
Blinking back tears of self-pity, her eyes lifted, training on the sky. [b [#ff3333 “Either fucking rain or give me the sun back.”]] She let out a low groan, but it subsided when she heard footsteps, and the more footsteps accompanied by words. A female voice with a weird accent cooing soothing affirmations, all while Venus sat in the fetal position, holding her breath, sandwiched between two dumpsters like a piece of scrap metal about to be compressed together. Like Wall-E. [i Yeah, just like Wall-E.] She had almost forgotten Wall-E. It was Mikey’s favorite movie. [i How could I forget Wall-E?]
Venus managed to rip her wandering thoughts away and focused on the other survivors once more when she heard an additional voice. It seemed the first girl was injured. The newest voice supplied with her all sorts of new information. For now, Venus decided to wait it out, listen to what was being said, and when they left, maybe follow. She hadn’t talked to anyone since her last her con. That was only about two days ago, or maybe two weeks, time was meaningless at this point. However long it was, she did not feel ready to stage yet another coup. Even if she went into the conversation with no plans of being a terrible person to the people who seemed unusually helpful for members of this shit-eating town, she couldn’t trust her self.
Venus hugged her knees closer, content with her decision to standby and be passive for once. It actually eased her, if only for a moment. There was something about hiding, something about not being seen, despite being so close, that she found comforting. She could be with people without [i being] with people and possibly hurting them.She closed her eyes, listening to the conversation, her breath as noiseless as possible.
And then her stomach growled. Why did her body have to betray her in this way? Venus tensed up, eyes growing wide. That was very audible. Too audible, but there was a good chance they were distracted by the injured girl. She could still manage to hide. Right? No way that people were that on edge in this day in age? [i Who am I kidding]. Venus sighed, throwing her head back towards the mocking sky, waiting to start up what would most likely be another series of regrettable events.
[center [pic https://i.imgur.com/Vuq8Xfx.png?1]]
[tab]Keevyn panted heavily, his body heaving as he twisted round the corner, his memory of the rundown streets served him well, especially when he had those shambling meatbags on his tail. He’d been sent out on a supply run by the boss that had gone horribly wrong.
[tab][i [+darkseagreen “Hey, keep an eye on your corners, asshole.”] Keevyn snapped at the taller man who had started as Keevyn rounded the corner and had raised his gun at him. [+darkseagreen “You almost shot me, fuckwad.”]
[tab]”Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you moved a little louder. There’s no fucking zombies that move as quietly as you do you gremlin.” The man shot back, lowering his gun and returning to rummaging through the mostly empty shelves and looking for anything that might be of use. He turned over a bottle of motor oil in his hands, glancing over towards Keevyn, who was glancing towards the bottom shelves to look for any leftover food that they could take with them. They’d had some luck with these little corner stores, but being a small group meant it was getting harder and harder to find food. “You think we could start a fire with this?”
[tab][+darkseagreen “Probably not, I don’t think it works like gasoline.”] Keevyn sniffed at the idea, shrugging. They were on the losing side of this turf war, for sure, they’d been mostly cornered into this area, and the unfortunate part about this area was that it had already suffered the brunt of the ransacking and scavenging. A group of teenagers and barely-legal kids like the group that Keevyn ran with weren’t likely to gain many advantages in trying to find supplies. Not to mention many of these buildings weren’t as well protected as some of the larger gangs had managed.
[tab]Didn’t matter, Keevyn would go down fighting at any rate.
[tab][+darkseagreen “Wonder if the register has any cash. We might be able to bribe some rich kid for some chips or something if we can find a dollar or two.”] Keevyn gestured with his head toward the other end of the store, lifting his bat and propping it on his shoulder. He lifted his foot, propping it on one of the empty shelves and peeking around the store.
[tab]He sighed, staring down at his foot as he waited for the other young man to head towards the front of the store. At least living in this area has its upsides, it was usually pretty safe, since there were fuck all people in this area, so most of the shamblers wound up migrating towards their prey.]
[tab]His ears picked up on the sound of rustling towards the direction of his partner, no doubt him rustling through the trash at the front of the store.
[tab]Keevyn knew that he was running a risk, skirting along the outside of his gang’s territory, but he really didn’t have much of a choice now, did he?
[tab]He glanced towards the buildings, seeing a fire escape and realizing his opportunity to get away from the zombies tailing him. With quick reflexes, he darted to the inside of the fence alongside the building, not even pausing to take a look behind him because he knew what he was going to see-- clawing hands and open maws with breath that smells like decay. He took a leap of faith for the ladder to the fire escape, managing to catch it, but lower than he’d hoped.
[tab]He felt the clamp of a cold hand around his ankle before he saw it, and he wasted no time, twisting his body enough to level a kick towards his unwanted passenger’s head, and finally managing to catch a glimpse of the mob that had tailed him. There was a loud ripping sound as the zombie took the hem on his pants with him as he fell against the wall. Keevyn scrambled, drawing his leg upwards and out of reach of the others.
[tab]He could feel his lungs burning, and the adrenaline thrumming through his veins. He also felt the rush of anger as he realized that the zombie had torn one of his rapidly dwindling nice pairs of pants.
[tab][+darkseagreen “You [i fuck]!”] Keevyn hissed, tightening his grip on his bat and hooking his arm around the ladder to steady himself as he drew back and swung his bat down on the zombie’s head, it cracked like it was a watermelon shell, splattering congealed blood and brain matter in its wake.
[i [tab]”Jesus christ!” Keevyn’s head whipped up at the sound of his partner’s yelp, glancing towards the front of the store as he dashed towards his distressed friend.
[tab][+darkseagreen “Ash? What happened?”] Keevyn stared at his partner, who was fumbling with his gun and trying to get back around the counter. Keevyn was suddenly more keenly aware of the smells surrounding him that he’d numbed himself to, the irony tang of blood fresh in his nose now, and he wanted to kick himself for not realizing that sooner.
[tab]His partner wasn’t fast enough, as he was lunged at by the zombie, dirty fingers digging into the flesh of his throat she the creature tried to squeeze the life out of him, it turned it’s glazed over eyes turning their gaze on Keevyn.
[tab]The zombie let out an unholy, noise, it’s windpipes raspy and shrill as it shrieked. Ash finally managed to raise his gun through choking, and blew away the zombie, leaving it making a sickening gurgling noise as it went down. There was no time to think any further, and as he was sure it kicked in just the same for Ash, it was every man for themself as they needed to run. They had to get the fuck out of here because that asshole screecher had just sent up the warning alarm and now any of the fuckers in the area were going to be zoning in to their location.
[tab][+darkseagreen “Fuck! Fuck! Goddamnit!”]
[tab]Keevyn darted for the door of the store, already spotting a few of the zombies honing in on him.
[tab]If Ash was still alive after this, he was going to kill him himself. He told the asshole to check his corners.]
[tab]The ladder of the fire escape groaned under his weight as he dangled out of reach, trying to catch his breath now that the pounding of his heart was starting to settle. He realized that he had to get to solid ground because if he didn’t it was going to give out underneath him. This was a problem that had been persisting more and more in this neighborhood even before the world went to hell.
[tab]He climbed up the rest of the ladder and stairs, managing to lift himself up onto the roof of the building once he was up high enough. He crossed the roof, glancing back down to the street level and realizing just how close he was to rival territory from up here as he spotted a group of people on the ground level who were gathered around, seeming to try and help one another, judging from the streaks of red that were splattered on the ground around them.
[tab]He didn’t have to wrestle with himself, trying to decide if he should call to them that the roofs were safe, he looked out for himself and no one else, and that was just the way that it had always been, so he would stay quiet, and keep an eye.
[left [pic http://i64.tinypic.com/2n05wsw.jpg]] [b "Nice work, boys, pack 'em up."]
He said this as the armored truck roared back to life, the crunch of crumbling cement grinding against thick tires as three large men set about disassembling the Ruger Mini-14's for later use. A fourth figure, significantly leaner and a bit more colorful in his choice of attire, meandered about at their leisure, surveying the surrounding area as their hands came to rest on their hips. There was a moment of silence and of piqued interest, as the area passed muster enough to last as a temporary meeting point for the next set of clientele, too. His morning had been eventful enough already...
His boys were trained hounds, though, and he was no slouch, either; His buyers knew what to expect. There was to be no bullshit and no mind games in an exchange with Vetaly, not with the reputation he'd garnered via prior engagements. There would be a price to pay if his conditions were not met, so, naturally, he had no shortage of compliant clientele.
Steely blue eyes traveled the length of the street for signs of the undead, though came up empty in his search. This was a good sign. The toe of his boot knocked away an old can as he turned back to his busy little bees, effortlessly unfurling the gate of the truckbed so as to better access the space for storage. A dozen or so briefcases were piled neatly atop one another for easy transport yet again, and inside them were a number of glittering new semi-automatic rifles, perfect for beginners. People had always severely overestimated their own abilities and weaponry, running scared after finding that their weapons are sub-par and their combative abilities were well below average, which drove them straight to the ground at Veta's feet. He smirked to himself as he considered this. There was a certain rush, something nearly intoxicating, about being needed and appreciated by the weak and the oppressed. There were, after all, no such things as 'heroes', just people with the resources and influence to make the changes and that finally [i did] commit to doing so.
A tap on his shoulder successfully drew all of Vetaly's attention to the hulking fellow to his right, clad in a black suit and motioning proudly to the assembled display rifles. [i "They're almost finished, boss!"]
Veta clapped, grinning crookedly in a display of great pleasure, all but bobbing on his toes as he slid his fingertips over the barrel of a Ruger Mini-14, relishing its gleam and its smooth surface both. [b "I'll be back, finish putting things away."] he instructed, watching his crew remove their bulletproof vests and riot face shields in preparation for their return home to the Santorini estates. At least this way nobody would be getting gunned down so easily on his payroll, Vetaly really did not want want to deal with any shootouts today or really at any other time. He didn't want the dead to hear any large commotions on their part, it'd be a waste of ammunition to have a shootout here. Interestingly enough, though, the swish of cloth on cloth began to float through his mind, catching Veta's attention almost instantly. He snatched up his own gun and made fit to follow the visage of the young girl he'd caught a glimpse of but a second ago, unsure if he was being realistic or not. What self-respecting girl or woman would set up shop in a place like this?
Veta raised a freckled hand and motioned for the trio of surly brutes to continue locking away the various display items after having removed their riot gear, leaving their fearless leader to explore the secluded alleys sprinkled about the clearing he'd chosen. Maybe he'd find something interesting?
The second alley he visited was complete with an old, rusting dumpster, the likes of which Veta was suddenly uneasy about. He did not care for the idea that he did not know the pair of women, as typically he knew everyone in the immediate area. These two were clearly not locals, so similar to, as he figured, from the looks of distrust and frustration he was always getting from people unrelated to the situation entirely. An arms dealer, standing in front of two other young people with no true context; Vetaly freed a brief whistle as he took notice of the smaller woman's having been favoring her arm since his arrival. She was a small slip of a thing, pale beyond the foundation of the word and just as lovely, not that this was an appropriate time to say so.
He winked at the uninjured woman and knelt by the one who'd been shot, clucking his tongue all the while. [b "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You're [i much] too cute for gunfights, doll."] he scolded lightly, unafraid to take in her exhausted expressions as he peeled away her hand to inspect it. And this blood-...
[b "I can have a look at it, if you'd like? We should get you away from this trail first, though."] he remarked, nodding toward the bloodied path leading back behind the dumpster. [b "I can operate, if you can handle changing locations?"] this being more a question than an ultimatum, Veta would gladly carry her if she so pleased. Hell, he'd even leave her out here, if she asked it of him. Of his own accord, however, Vetaly would not have been able to turn a blind eye unless asked to do so. Damn the nurse inside him to Hell; He could never shake her, not even after college.
The speckled trail of blood hadn't bother him any, no, but was likely to attract the undead to their location. He could treat her back at the trucks, though?
He looked between both girls, motioning to and from either woman with his hands. [b "Are you two out here together?"]
This inquiry had manifested as two-sided request as he took up the initiative to haul the tiny Russian up from her crouch with an arm around her waist, hoping to support her bad shoulder. It would expend yet more energy to have to hold her other hand over the wound indefinitely, he'd gladly do it for her, should she allow it? There was, of course, always the risk of pissing her off, though it wasn't an unpleasant, dark, or dirty variety of chivalry many men found convenient. Veta didn't expect pay or compensation for his help, he simply found the pair interesting, despite the blood and the bewildered looks of concern, naturally.
Interesting things deserved to stay afloat, as far as he was concerned. He was chatty with both women, as per his cheery personality and natural curiosity. He meant well enough, and hoped she would accpet his help. He was feeling... generous, today.
The morning was a bit cloudy, but at least the clouds had not descended to float in the city. Zombies were tricky to spot without the clouds, but with fog-like conditions they seemed to blend into the grey, water condensed clouds.
Among the dirty streets walked a female. Her footsteps were barely noticeable as she carefully planned each and every step. She kept glancing around in all directions, constantly sweeping her surroundings for dangers, whether they be zombie or human.
In case she was surprised by either zombie or human, the female held a sharp knife in her right hand. The knife was not in perfect condition. Some parts of the sharp teeth had dulled a bit, and a few spots of orange colored rust showed on the metal blade. It was the same with the other three knives she had sheathed in her brown, leather satchel.
After everything had went to hell, supplies had been even harder to come by. Food, water, weapons, ammunition, health kits, and etc became hard to come by as people horded their own personal supplies.
And this was where Alia had a sore point. The rich, they had it all. They had a wall to protect their soft, pandered asses. Not only did they have a wall, but they practically had their own city inside the walls. That city had electricity, water, food, and everything else that had existed before the zombie hell wave had swept over.
Alia could have gone their and start to assassinate the 'rich kids', she knew how to do it as she had learned it from the best. But on the other hand, what would killing one of the 'richies' do? Other than shortly satisfying anger, there was the risk of being shot at which entailed a high death risk. Not only would she have to worry about security guards, she'd also have to watch out for all the nasty zombies which might leave her with a nasty bite mark; being bitten was the same as death, for one lost all sense of self in either death or zombification.
Alia suddenly stopped. Her heart and breathe rate spiked up as she energetically looked around. She had just heard an echo, three of them to be more precise. They had sounded as if a human had uttered those sounds, but there was also the possibility that it was the sound of a zombie or a zombie herd.
Alia, as she kept looking around, passed the knife from her right to her left hand. Her right hand reached a bit around her back, and slipped into the satchel. Her right hand felt the cool, mettallic surface of the pistol. Her right hand snaked back up, her fingers curling around the pistol grip.
The pistol was a dull black in color, the silencer screwed onto the end of the barrel was the same dull black but made of a more soundproofed material.
Even though she had taken her pistol out, that did not mean she would be firing it. Alia had only two clips of seven rounds for a grand total of 14 rounds, and one of those two clips was in the gun she now held.
Even though she held the gun and knife as if she were in the military, Alia had no idea what she was actually doing. She had never served in the military, her formal training had come from the Russian Mafia; they did not teach how to hold both a gun and knife properly. What the Russian Mafia had taught her was how to use a gun, and how to use a knife.
From the alleyway, she walked out onto a bigger road. Glancing around, Alia spotted something on the ground. Looking at closer, it appeared as a red line. Crouching on her legs, Alia smelled it. She knew all too well that this, this was blood. This line, occasionally a few empty spaces popped up, went in both directions. This indicated a severe wound, one which would make someone bleed out.
Imprinted in the blood were footprints, footprints which pointed which way this person had walked. Alia stood up. Taking her third finger, she adjusted her glasses higher up her nose before turning right and following the footprints.
Alia had expected to find a body, but rather a dead one than an alive. It was sort of a shock to see the female in front of her move, staring at her. Alia stopped walking, gulping slowly. The female in front of her appeared a bit weird, almost doll-like.
Alia slowly lowered her weapons, wanting to give the impression she wasn't here to hurt. Looking over the female, Alia noticed her clutching her arm. A light gasp Alia's lips as she slowly bit them, that wound was still bleeding. How long had this female been bleeding out like this? If no steps were taken to at least partially stop the bleeding, this female would die from too much blood loss.
Alia didn't really know much about how to completelely stop a bleed. She knew that if one applied pressure with something on the spot of the bleeding, then at least the amount of blood lost would decrease significantly.
Alia reached around and pulled her satchel so it was on her stomach instead of her back. She exchanged her weapons for a slightly torn towelette. Alia clearly showed this to the female so the female would understand that she meant no harm, only help.
As she began to approach the wounded female, Alia began to speak softly.[+purple "I am not here to hurt, only to help...."] Alia cringed slightly, she could hear how hear words switches from German to Russian and back to a German accent. She hoped the female would not be confused at this accent switcharroo, and that the female would let her help her.
[center [Abel [size20 8:25 AM, July 3rd. ]
[b "I think I see her! Gogogo!!!" ] Three men ran past the petite female, all eagerly pointing their guns in the same direction. Liliya had just thrown a rock to cause a distraction, and it had actually worked.
[#8A2BE2 "Fucking imbeciles,"] She spat, disgusted that the men were stupid enough to leave their posts due to a simple, tiny, noise. She leaped over the brick fence she hid behind, moving past the doorway and into the decrepit place that this gang called home. There were only five people in the said gang, but they were ruthless and caused a lot of chaos on the poor side of LunaVale. Three were now outside, two inside, making it easier for Liliya to navigate while simultaneously keeping a watch out. She knew it was stupid of her to even be in the building, but she needed food and guns. These guys? They had plenty.
Liliya made her way down the hallway creeping by a door that had the other two males inside. They were talking nonsense and drinking, having a jolly old time. Liliya's stomach sank, the thought of killing the two men present in her mind. They were terrible, with rumors circulating that they even killed children for supplies. Fucking children. Liliya knew, however, that she couldn't take them out. Not unless she wanted to alert the guards who were looking for her outside.
Finally, Liliya arrived at the door to where they kept the supplies. After watching the gang for a few days, she knew exactly what to grab and how to retreat. This was easy. Or, well, she kept telling herself that. She pushed her pale-blonde hair out of her eyes, fiddling lightly with the frail doorknob. She opened the door with ease, swinging it slowly so it wouldn't create noise. She moved slowly into the room and closed the door behind her.
The room was full of various different supplies, all strung about in no particular order. Food was tossed in different directions, and in front of her, sat a beautiful handgun. Liliya quickly grabbed the gun and the holster, attaching them both to her hip with ease. She scooped up the ammo near it, dumping it into her backpack. She moved towards the food and gathered as much as she could carry.[#8A2BE2 [i So far, so good,] ] she thought to herself.
As Liliya opened the door to exit the supply room, a loud creak filled the house. Panic set in as Liliya could hear the men in the other room mumble in confusion.
[b "Go check that out, Frank-"]
A soon as Liliya heard the words she bounced up and ran past the door where the two men were. This time, she didn't care if they saw her. There was no place to hide and she needed out, fast. Luckily, she was quick enough that she got out of the home before they could even make out what had crossed their path... Only to come face-to-face with the three men she had distracted before.[#8A2BE2 "Ah, hello friends,"] She giggled, nonchalantly raising her hands. [#8A2BE2 "You really need to work on your security." ]
The men scoffed and started to walk towards her, each grinning as if they won a prize.[#8A2BE2 [i Okay. I have no choice now. I have to run,] ]Liliya thought to herself, letting the three men get closer to her. As soon as on of them was close enough she threw herself forwards, her fist coming into contact with the man's stomach. He heeled over in pain, not at all ready for the blow that had just come to him. Liliya darted past him, knowing that this was dangerous.
[b "What are ya fucks waiting for!?"] The man grumbled, holding his stomach. [b "Shoot the bitch!"] Just as the words came from the man's mouth gun shots were being fired. All in the direction of Liliya.
[size20 9 AM, SAME DAY ]
It was probably around 9 o'clock in the morning and Liliya was already wounded. Her hand pressed tightly against her arm, blood spilling out of the bullet wound she had just acquired. [#8A2BE2 "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"] She groaned, trying to stay as quiet as possible but that would prove difficult, as, well, she had just been shot. The girl sat behind a dumpster a few blocks north from where she was attacked, a small blood trail leading directly to her. She knew that if the gang was coming for her, that they would have found her by now, but that was of tiny comfort. She needed to find someone to help her and quick, before she bled out or a zombie made its way to her.
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