The world was always ugly. The zombie outbreak just made people show their true colors at first sight instead of months or years down the road. Now more than ever is the world a fight for survival. Any means necessary. You either do what you have to for yourself or for a few loved ones. Although the second one tends to get you killed sooner than later.
Mavis was with two groups. The first one was with people she loves and mixed with her people’s people. Then things got messy. Claims of stealing and he said, she said bullshit. The group split up after one loud argument and glass tossing got them mixed up with the undead and raiders. The second group was more like slavery. Not the best place to be but again the same shit happened. They had three leaders within the year she was there. The last one was greedy and had what was coming to him.
It made escaping and surviving easier with help. For once. The rocker blonde is known as Kittie. Abby is the one with the left full sleeve tattoo. J is the nut of the group, but he’s reliable. Then there’s little Gab. Couldn’t leave a child behind. They drove off in a Chevy Suburban 2006 with a few medical supplies, clothes, and whatever guns and ammo they could get their hands on. Mavis swears she’s somehow related to Kittie but it’s none of her business.
“Why do we only have oats and peanut butter?”
“There’s was a lot left in the storage. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“This I feel like I’m being forced to do a Keto diet or a diet in general.”
[#af18ae Not everyone can suck a dick and have steak for breakfast. Suck it up buttercup.]
“Hey, I did what I have too. He offered you the job too.”
[#af18ae I’ll starve with everyone else. This is just the worlds latest way of the rich fucking over the poor.] Mavis says looking out the window.
The small group has been on their own for almost a month gathering things and ambushing low lives using Mavis and little Gab. You would think they would send little miss biker because of the clothes she wears, but somehow Mavis was the bait. With a machete in one hand and Gab’s hand in the other they walked along the streets. Everyone had a walkie. It’s radio silence unless someone is in danger. If someone approaches the two baits they need to squeeze the talk button three times, holding it for three seconds each time. Right now, they need to find a place to lay low. After the last ambush Kittie was shot on the leg. Secretly bitten on her shoulder. It wasn’t odd for her to put on a sweater, so no one is assuming anything.
Before it got dark Gab was back in the car. Abby taking the little’s girl place, ready and eagerly dying for some action. A few undead that was easy to take care of, gun free, wasn’t enough for Abby. That was until they heard some commotions. It would be nice of them to help, but there’s no way on telling if anyone of them are good. They hid and watched. Despite Abby being bending down she was jumpy. Mavis had to pull her down a few times to prevent this psycho from joining a fight that has nothing to do with them.
[center [https://i.pinimg.com/236x/f0/9c/1e/f09c1eb80aa0e81df459c9696450bc66--punk-girls-sexy-girls.jpg Kittie]][center [https://farm1.static.flickr.com/376/19698554101_9ce789b1bc_b.jpg Abby]][center [http://images.bestiariusz.pl/upload/img_1391532680_th.jpg J]][center [https://st-listas.20minutos.es/images/2014-03/378221/4367790_249px.jpg?1394346244 Lil Gab]][center [https://www.cstatic-images.com/car-pictures/xl/CAB60CHS102A0101.jpg&height=369&autotrim=1 The car]]
with everyone collected it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. drawing his shotgun from under his poncho Damien was the first out of the building and into the chaos. some of the bandits were trying to apprehend the escaping survivors while others were exchanging gunfire with the ones that were arming themselves with guns from the dead. heading wide to avoid conflict Damien led the party to the vehicles where Michael poited out his Chevy S10 4x4. Damien remembered it well, he helped pull the v6 and dropped a 350 small block v8 in its its place. the giant clambered in the back as Michael got in the passenger seat.
as Damien was about to get in the drivers seat he felt cold steel at the base of his skull. raising his hands in surrender Damien quickly turned using his forearm to divert the weapon as he positioned himself to grab his attackers wrist and bicep. delivering a kick to the groin and a hammer fist to the back of the head the man dropped to the ground in pain as Damien wrenched the gun from his hands and turned it on him. giving the trigger a squeeze a burst of bullets came flying out of the craft made bullet hose smg. tossing the weapon in the seat Damien climbed in and started the engine before speeding out of the hole in the wall and started to drive up the hill where Lana's other man was but more importantly his pack. getting out and tossing his things in the bed of the truck Damien looked at the man who stayed behind and said, "we're getting out of here, need a lift?"
The first thing she noticed was the smell. It was a raw and putrid stench, something she hadn't smelled since her time with the military. Living smells; it was an unmistakably human smell and it brought back some long forgotten and unpleasant memories. Lana just shakes her head at herself, bringing her back to the present as her and Damien move through the pool house.
Damien made quick work of the two bandits that were standing watch, and upon their deaths, she could see the other prisoners getting restless, hope shining through the muck and mire they were forced to wallow in. But Lana simply regarded them with a cold gaze, searching their faces for familiar ones. It seemed her companion was doing the same thing and had much more luck than she did. As she moved through the pool area, many of the prisoners bracing against the cages and begging for her to release them, one of the faces that comes through was one she recognized. [i Henry.]
She approaches the pen, and once she gets closer, he finally recognizes her. “Boss!” He says, moving to the front of the crowd, gripping the chain links of their prison. Despite only being here for two days, she could see the difference. He was paler, eyes sunken a little bit, and he had a slightly more faraway look in his eye. Not to mention the scratches, bruises, and gashes he no doubt received from the bandits. And even though he looked like shit, Lana couldn't help the corner of her mouth quirking up a bit.
[b “Kept you waiting, huh?”] She says and takes a step back, unholstering her pistol. She was soon joined by Sara who asked if her people were here. She hums and nods in response, pointing the gun at the lock and blasts it open. At this point there was no need to be quiet, the prisoners escaping would alert everyone anyways, and the bandits would be more interested in that.
Henry stumbles out of the pen, his would-be roommates all fleeing the second they could and funnelled out of the room. Lana takes one of his arms and motions for Sara to assist them until he got his bearings; one of his legs looked particularly beaten. “They killed Chris and Bran.” He told her and she frowned. “Samantha, they...”
Lana could divine what Samantha's fate was. [b “Its alright.”] Lana told him as they moved towards the exit. She could hear shouting and little snippets of gunfire coming from the outside. It looked like causing a little chaos did the trick; getting out of here with a gaggle of people would be easier now and they could start shooting too.
Placing her jacket on to Henry's shoulders she looks from Sara, Damien, and his two friends. It was time for them to leave and she nods her head at the door, leading them back out in to the night, chambering a round in to the first bandit that came their way.
Sara analysed the path towards the building to calculate how long it would take her to get there and knowing that it was clear made things a lot easier. She smiled and looked over towards John who was grinning. There was that gleam in his eye again that told her that there was still some humour in him even though the world around them was far from funny. Sara took one last look around before allowed her eyes to rest on John again.
[b “I have every confidence that you can handle the radio. Alright I will go in after them and support in any way I can.”] With that she took a step out and alerting Lana and Damien to the fact that she was about to make her way into the building so that they expected her and didn’t accidentally shoot her.
She silently made her way through the building trying to ignore the stench as she did but found it far too quiet. Perhaps Lana and Damien had taken everyone out or perhaps there were not as many people here as there expected but as she started to approach where Lana and Damien were she noticed two men creeping towards them where Damien stood with two men. She could only assume that they were people Damien knew. Sara allowed her rifle to fall to her side and she pulled out two knifes, one on each hand and started to pick up pace as she made her way towards them, hoping she could reach them before they reached Damien. Luckily she was small and swift and that meant that she had managed to make it without being detected.
As soon as she was near enough she she angled the knives in her hand and pushed them both into the skulls of both men at the same time. Sara had learnt to aim for the brain a long time ago. That way it meant the threat wouldn’t come back to bite you. Quite literally. She had to use all of her force to pull the knives back out but when she did the two men fell to the floor. She looked up and smiled towards Damien and looked around the room for Lana.
[b “Are your people here?”] She asked as she neared her.
When they had reached the building that housed the prisoners Damien readied his knife and ax before moving through the door. turns out it was an indoor pool complete with saunas and hot tubs. though it wasnt a luxurious sight considering the pool had been drained and chain link barriers stood in the bottom creating pens that housed the prisoners with enough room for a path to the shallow end where the built in steps were used to get in and out. Damien noticed old F.E.M.A. crates and put two and two together as to why the pool was like this. it was used as a quarantine zone untill someone took over the place. two guards lazily patrolled the pool, one of whom was standing infront of Damien with his back turned.
Taking the opportunity Damien sheathed his knife as he approached. wrapping his arm around the mans neck, Damien reared back and threw his ax at the man who bore witness to their presence. the ax planted itself into the chest of the unrestrained man as Damien started to make shushing sounds as the man in his grasp fought against Damiens arm to no avail. using his other hand Damien grabbed the back of the mans head, turning it to one side as he forced the man on his knees. the man now proceeded to beg and plead for his life only to be cut off in the middle of a sob as Damien pulled his arms away violently causing the mans head to rotate with a sharp crack before falling limp.
standing at the edge of the pool Damien spoke in a heavy accent, "Einnhverr kykr hugr?" [i any living spirits?] the question caused two men to stand up and move to the gate of their pen. one was the man Damien saw before while the other was hulking over the mans tiny figure. grabbing keys off one of the dead guards he dropped into the pool and unlocked the gates of the pens. as twenty or so people flooded out Damien was met with the two men both of whom hugged him in joy and disbelief. "Michael, Boris....you two look like shit..." Damien commented seeing how scrawny the two were. Boris had been a competitive weight lifter and usualy weighed the same as damien despite Boris being a literal giant standing seven feet and six inches as opposed to Damiens six foot two.
"you'd look like shit too if you didnt eat for a week. some of us belive they've been feeding us the people who drop dead on the chain gang, every now and then there's a horrible smell and that night we get fresh meat. the ones who've been here the longest have the shakes." the smallest of the three explained. they needed out of here now. this gave Damien chills knowing cannibalism was going on here. as they made their way to the exit and stood by it to wait for Lana. Damien handed the two men his ax and knife, he could handle himself in hand-to-hand and still had two firearms if he needed them.
She was just about to move to a new piece of cover when she heard her name. She turns to find Damien had decided to join her. It was hard not to feel a little delighted that he decided to join her in this this little side op of hers. Although, saying that, she didn't let it show that she was pleased. She just regards him with her cool gaze before looking back to the precariously placed crates and barrels a few meters away that she was going to move up to.
There were a few bandits lazily roaming the resort grounds, probably more as a formality than as actual guards. They had a variety of weapons at their disposal, but nothing the two couldn't handle if they kept quiet. And from what she could gleam from how they held their weapons and mannerisms, they were 'apocalyptically trained'; becoming familiar with weapons and tactics because it was necessary rather than receiving formal training. That would work to their advantage as well, they just would need to make all hell break loose.
As Damien pokes his head out, Lana leans forward to peak as well, again taking note of the locations of the bandits roaming the ground. If they were patient, they could probably make it to the building they were holding the prisoners, and with the darkness and rain, it would make it that much easier. But the light from the building would make it easier for them to be spotted. Obviously the front door wasn't an option, they'd have to look for a window or a side door, somewhere with less light.
[b “We go in and free everyone.”] Lana says and then looks back at Damien. [b “Then we make our exit in the chaos.”] And obviously the 'kill everyone who gets in our way' went without saying. The hard part was getting in without being seen, killing people and being loud was easy. But she assumed they could manage.
Lana picks up the gun from the bandit she killed, a police issued rifle, and straps it to herself. She then turns back, waits a moment and then quickly moves to the crates and barrels, getting closer to their destination.
John kept his mouth shut when Lana made the decision to go in. He should've known that was her plan all along; have him here as her eyes and these people as back up just in case. They were supposed to go in, look, and leave. Then they'd come back with more firepower or with something to negotiate with. It seemed like Lana was keen on making this personal. She had a strange philosophy about that, apparently even before the end of the world.
So when Damien had left as well, he looked to Sara, obviously as lost as she was. This was going to hell in a hand-basket. However, he quickly goes back to looking through his scope when Sara comments on something, turning just in time to see Lana kill one of the bandits. Goddammit. It was definitely personal.
[+red “Well, the best option for me at least would be to keep watch and keep everyone updated on enemy movements. What you do is your call, really.”] John says as he watches Lana and Damien move from two cars to a pile of boxes and barrels. He quickly takes his eye off the scope to survey the entirety of the grounds before sweeping with the scope again. [+red “You're clear to the building. Keep an eye on your three o'clock.”] He says in to the radio. He sees Lana nod, obviously getting in through her ear piece before moving further in towards the targeted building.
[+red “I would say go offer them support. There's no telling what shape our guys are in on the inside, so they might need all the help they can get.”] John tells her. [+red “Besides, I think I can handle talking over the radio myself.”] He grins.
The moment she heard Lana’s voice on the radio she looked from Damien to John. This was just supposed to be them staking out the place but apparently she had seen all she needed to change the focus of her mission. She guessed that she was warned though, Lana had said she would make this personal if the situation required it. She narrowed her eyes as Damien started to move in as well, obviously using the opportunity to go after whoever the man with the tattoo was.
Sara looked up at John with a questioning look. They had two options, they could go after them and offer them back up that way, or they could keep eyes on the outside for them so that they didn’t run into any trouble on this side of things but this was no her mission so it was not her responsibility to decide. She allowed her rifle to rest on her shoulder for a minute and turned to John who was her superior in this situation, or at least that is how she saw it.
[b “Your call boss, do we go after them or stay here and offer them cover on the outside?”] the rain was falling hard still and the two of them stood there drenched through in the darkness of the forest, offering very little protection from the downpour. However, Sara had always enjoyed the rain so she was not overly affected by the fact that they were exposed to the weather. Sara bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from looking at a soaked John for too long and pulled her gaze back towards the building that Lana had Damien were now moving towards, just in time to catch Lana’s sneak attack on one of their men. She nodded with an impresses laugh. [b “I shouldn’t be surprised really.”]
Damien breathed out slowly as he collected himself and kept observing the hotel. that is untill he noticed Lana moving in. "what happened to reconnaissance mission?" he grumbled to himself." after she dropped a man Damien knew he now had to act to get his buddy out. if not security will only double if he has to go in later. pulling the bayonet from his rifle he left it along with his pack, only taking his ax, bayonet, and the two firearms strapped to his legs. moving slow and crouched Damien moved closer to the compound anytime a flashlight would wander his way he would drop behind what cover was available. pressing to the wall he checked the chamber of his 1911 before reholstering it and moving in.
Damien aproached the vehicles cautiously to see Lana over a dead body. "Lana.." he whispered to let her know he was behind her. he didn't care to bite it like this guy. rolling the body of the man closer to a car he began stuffing it under to conceal their presence for the time being. "i told you, as long as i get to see some violence i'm in. don't expect me to stay up there while you get to have fun." he said as he poked his head up to look for any nearby threats. "this is your show, whats the plan?"
Lana sort of separated herself from the group for a bit as they observed the buildings. She eyed the property through her scope, taking note of the wall they had at the back portion of the property, and the guards posted. She had moved herself to higher ground, blending in with some trees and darkness as she scanned, the lights that were on made it a lot easier to spot things in the courtyard and get oriented. And that's when she saw what she was looking for.
A red truck. She recognized it as theirs from the license plate and some of the decals that people had spray painted on it. It was a stupid practice in her opinion, but it seemed to have come to some use now. It confirmed that these people were responsible for the missing convoy after all. So when Damien said there were prisoners coming out of the main building, she swung her 110 BA that way to have a look. She squints a little bit to see their features, but she doesn't recognize any of them, however, she does take note of the tattooed man, having similar ones to their Viking comrade. [i Interesting.] Lana follows them through the scope to the building they were apparently keeping prisoners... But why would they keep prisoners? That just meant extra mouths to feed... Unless...
She goes back to viewing the stone wall, going up and down its length to find a way in. And it looked like the wall ended in the South West quadrant of the property, cut off short by the dense trees. Unless they wanted to climb the wall or go in through the front, it looked like that was their ticket in to this place.
[b “Target confirmed.”] She spoke quietly in to the radio. [b “South West, moving in.”] Lana swings the rifle on to her back, and begins moving, keeping herself low and fluid as she makes her way to the wall. This was part of the operation she had said she would do herself, the part where there was no obligation for them to stay, well, except for John. He knew to provide her with eyes on the outside in case she had company.
When Lana made it to the wall, she stopped for a second, trying to listen for movement on the wall and looking to see if she had been noticed. When she was sure she wasn't, she moves passed the wall and hides between two vehicles that seemed to have been placed there for her convenience. She takes another second to survey her surroundings again, taking note of the guards looking outside of the resort over the walls, and the spotty patrols in the courtyard. One particular bandit was close-by, and inconveniently in her way to the next bit of cover she wanted to advance to. He seemed fixed, so instead of waiting for him to move on, she makes a quiet yet indiscriminate noise. Was it a cat? A mouse? Undead? Well, she guessed he was going to find out because he began to walk curiously over.
When he got close enough, she sprung at him, one hand over his mouth, the other jerking his arm and guiding him and at the same time keeping his hand from touching the trigger on his rifle. At the same time, she swept his leg, using his own body weight to drive him to the ground between the cars with her. Knee in the ribs, hand over mouth, she quickly pulls her knife from her side and slams it in to his neck, killing the bandit before he even knew what happened. She lingers there for a moment, listening for any signs for alarm, and when there wasn't any, she prepares to move on.
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The walk down towards the town was serene and tranquil. Up in the mountains it was often like this with the far off sounds of those down in Whitefish the only notion that life still progressed. Without that it was simply silent. The path he had chosen was natural, wide and unobstructed. All around were pines and firs, thick tall trees that would weather this human made storm without a scratch. Birds fluttered from branch to branch and any woodland critter scattered the moment he came into sight. Humans were more dangerous than before and the wildlife knew to keep their distance.
It was a bitter day on the mountainside, cold gusts blowing up from down south. Pulling his thick coat in tighter around himself to try and beat out the worst of the cold he left his pistols free and easy to access. A trained eye caught the darkness building off in the distance and he jogged across to a lone boulder to gain a better view. Thick black clouds were rolling from the Flathead Lake and would take Columbia Falls before heading onto the border. Such storms were quite common and on any other day just a nuisance. But the rainfall they brought was always unknown. Sometimes it was a sprinkling of a few minutes, a quick wash and it was gone. Others it could rain for hours and the worst ones lasted a day or two continually. As such he was concerned about his home. If the water pooled on the roof or worse yet found its way inside, he could lose not just his warmth but his home, his defence. He would need a covering large enough to spread over the roof.
The time needed to head out and get back home had been shortened drastically as he judged it was a good four or five hours away at best. In his mind he judged the town to be too far. Quickly he made a decision to divert his path instead toward a neighbourhood up on the mountainside. The town was more for food and supply runs anyway, both of which he had good stock of. With the threat of the undead in town he would rather hit one or two homes up in the rolling hills. He had one house in mind anyway from his last trip out that way. Despite the cold gusts from the forefront of the storm, he made decent time, getting down in an hour and a half over some rough terrain.
The neighbourhood in question was remote off a long and winding mountain road and nestled deep amongst the forest. They were holiday homes but for the semi-rich; those who could not afford a place on Whitefish Lake but wanted a mountain retreat like Aspen. Large, spacious, quite comfortable for a family of ten though most were abandoned ten months of the year. They were set back from the single road in and out and though the grass was overgrown and the street covered in a layer of dead leaves, there were no corpses, car wrecks or demolished building to signify the worlds end. It was peaceful.
This was one of several dotted across the side of Big Mountain. These places were great for cherry picking miscellaneous items like clothing, bedding, tools and the like. Most had a can or two of food too, but it was rare. As he walked down the road it could be noted several houses sported black markings beside the door. They were put on by Thomas and had certain meanings. One line meant a sweep through had been made, less than an hour and very quick for what could be seen. Two lines and he had made a thorough check of drawers and cupboards – this could take an additional hour to two hours. Two lines and a star and he had placed items near to the entrance, this way if he was coming back empty from other homes he could stop to collect them and the journey would not be wasted. This consisted of extra clothes, another pair of boots, items for construction and cooking and so on. Finally if there was a circle around all of this then the house was empty and held no further interest.
This simple system was vital in saving time from searching houses he may not go near again for several weeks. It was a good means of him not wasting his energy too and allowed him to bypass multiple houses before coming upon one he had been leaving for a little while.
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This one was boarded up by the owners and quite ripe for the picking that day. The boards were not concerning to him as it was not uncommon for owners to do this. If they only came up the mountain once or twice a year then the boarded windows and doorways gave them an extra sense of security against burglars as well as unfortunate weather related damage. Quite sensible. The last thing you wanted on your first day up to your holiday home was dealing with a broken window, a ransacked house and a pile of fresh snow in your reception room.
However for Thomas, it meant safety in another reason. It meant no-one was inside. That meant no undead, no living, no wild or feral animals either. After a quick walk around the perimeter, something he did before any incursion into any property, he found no boards loose and none had been tampered with and replaced either. Back at the entrance he dropped down his bag and retrieved the crowbar. Taking a moment to look around the street for any surprise undead or watching living, he jammed it between the doorway and the board and began prying it away. The nails were a touch rusted, the wood a little soggy and rotten in places, meaning the board came off in pieces than one solid piece. It was a shame as it would have been very useful if he could have taken it.
With the board pried away he repeated action of leverage on the door itself, fitting the crowbar down close to the lock. With several strong pulls of the metal bar he snapped the locking mechanism, the door groaning as it swung inward and a dusty hallway became illuminated for the first time in a long while.
Retrieving a flashlight from his bag he kept the crowbar in his left hand, ready to swing at anything that may have hidden itself inside. Although he was quite sure of his safety it never hurt to remain vigilant. Moving through the house on his initial check of each room took him almost thirty minutes alone. In this world it was better to waste a day checking one house and coming back empty handed, than to rush through, get bitten or cut and die of the resulting infection. The margin of error was just so slim. With this slow approach he finished clearing the house and got to searching. Unfortunately with the heavy storm and likely torrential rainfall to come he would not be able to be thorough. He needed to get back and prepare his house but he couldn’t do that unless he found a big enough tarpaulin.
His search was quite fruitful in the end. He found a lot of spare parts such as batteries, matches and candles, a few boxes of nails along with a pristine toolset that would replace his makeshift odds and ends that he had gathered over the months as and when he needed another tool. But most importantly in his swift search he found a picture of a boat. This was quite significant as it was not of one on the water or floating at dock, but rather of an older man cleaning the boat on land, a soft cloth in hand and wide grin on his face. If he cleaned the boat so thoroughly and carefully then it stood to reason that the man would keep the boat covered. And there just happened to be a very large metallic shed in the back at the end of the driveway, large enough for say, a boat?
With his fast search over he headed back outside, making sure to take the can of spray from his bag and draw a solid line beside the door. He did his best to shut and tether the entrance shut, as if it was undone and open when he returned he would know something or someone had entered. It seemed a lot of Thomas’ life now revolved around precaution and planning for the future.
Moving around to side of the house he walked down the weed ridden driveway and toward the garage, leaning up to try looking through the dirty covered window on the garage door. Rubbing his sleeve on the dirty glass to brush away some of the grime, he again peered in and indeed there was a boat with a very large black cover over it. He repeated his actions from the house here; scout the perimeter for break in’s, use the crowbar to bust the door open, make a quick inspection of the building, though he was done in five or so minutes. Being a part workshop there were many items he would like to have back in his home and once he retrieved the desired covering from the impressive craft, along with a few lengths of rope to tie it down, he marked the garage door accordingly for his next trip back in the future.
By this time it was an hour or so past midday and he still had the walk back, uphill and with more weight on him than he had coming down. Eyeing the storm once more he could only be thankful he would reach home before the rain began. God help anyone out by Columbia Falls, no doubt it would last a long time up that way. A thought as to what was occurring in that direction was on his mind for a moment. Sometimes he found himself in wonder at how others were getting on in the world. He would think over just how close he had been to other survivors without either knowing of the other. Hopefully they kept away if they knew where he was. Turning away with his new haul packed away in his bag he made his way back for his house in silence, not a word uttered all day – again.
Sara looked up from the tasks she had set herself to busy herself when Lana spoke about what would happen if anything went wrong. Luckily, thanks to her photographic memory, she already had the rendezvous point memorised. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that though. They were prepared enough and hopefully skilled enough to deal with whatever came their way and she liked to think that the plan wouldn’t go south.
Sara’s lips twitched up into a smile as Lana swatted John’s hand away from the flask and checked her rifle before pulling her bag on her back. She could almost smell the alcohol from the flask and her nose twitched and her face screwed up in distaste for the stuff. She had never liked alcohol, especially the smell of it. It was then that she looked out of the window and she pulled her face again. Sara literally owned the clothes on her back and nothing else but there seemed to be a few things to choose from and she quickly pulled on something a little warmer than her ripped up, sleeveless t-shirt. She would likely get wet through but that was better than her skin being exposed to the elements. It wasn’t long before the crew were heading out to the jeep and making their way to their destination.
By this point it was raining hard and she knew that they were nearing the spot Lana had indicated on the map so she started to attach her ear piece and glanced around at the faces in the car. It wasn’t exactly enough people for a rescue mission but they would be prepared if that’s what it turned into. When the jeep stopped they loaded themselves off and made their way into the forest on Lana’s signal. Sara kept her rifle close and looked up at the way John moved skilfully through the forest.
When they came to a stop she took a moment to observe what Damien had stopped to see and noticed the way he tensed up. Sara narrowed her eyes and looked down at the seeming prisoners and then looked back towards Damien, noticing the similarity in a prisoner’s tattoo to this one. [b “Don’t blow the mission by making this personal. We will get him out when we rescue their team. Stick to the plan.”] she whispered softly, hoping that it didn’t sound uncaring but she knew all too well what could go wrong when a carefully planned mission was abandoned for an emotional response. That was how her partner died after all.
Damien took back his flask as he glared at the other male before taking the last swig of alcohol, though it was more like a gulp, before stowing the flask in his pack and heading out. in the jeep he enjoyed the sound of rain on the canvas top it reminded him of his days LARPing with his friends, they'd all sleep in period tents that they each made before their moch battles. when the jeep stopped damien snapped back to reality and climbed out of the vehicle and wired up his walkie and clipped it to his belt. throwing his camo pancho over himself and raising the hood he followed Lana into the forest. he didn't really need a flashlight as he kept his eyes on her silhouette.
making it to what Damien assumed was the observation point as he looked at the hotel. a twelve foot stone wall surrounded the property and guards patrolled sections of the wall with rifles. he started thinking back to midevil times and thought of the place as a castle. its defenses were great at keeping the dead and other invaders out. if damien could locate one of his companions home there was a chance of acquiring a bowling ball mortar and maybe even an old twelve pounder cannon to lay siege to the hotel. though unless asked he wouldnt put forth the idea at the risk of sounding stupid.
pulling off his pack, Damien rested it on a fallen log to keep it dry as he pulled out his spotting scope. laying down he crawled to the crest of the onlooking hill and started his observations. minutes passed by untill he seen movement other than the guards in the courtyard. "chain gang coming out of the main building," he reported over the radio as he watched six people with hands bound to the waist of the person infront of them. focussing his scope he eyes each individual, shirtless and only wearing sweatpants, untill he saw a face he might have known before. it wasnt untill the prisoners were being corralled into another building that Damien got confirmation on who he was looking at. a large tattoo on the back of the male provided this. he knew the tattoo because they had both gotten their back pieces at the same time. this infuriated Damien as he pounded his fist into the mud as a growl started in his throat.
While John had been talking, Lana was already putting some more things in her pack. She was already familiar with the plan, so she didn't really have to listen. So, strapped to her shoulder she had her 110 BA, with a telescopic scope, obviously. On her side was a SIG Pro, and on the other side was her tactical knife and hatchet. It was a pretty standard load-out for her, and at the moment she was packing on the basis that she wasn't going in to kill everyone, if she was she'd switch out for an assault rifle... Maybe she should.
When all was said and done, it seemed like everyone was on the same page. It wasn't an overly complicated mission, more so just to scout and see if there was any evidence that these people had anything to do with the disappearance of her crew. And from what she's heard about them from some of the others, it [i had] to be them. John might be doubtful about this whole thing, but people being trash was new to him, it wasn't new to her. She's seen all sort of atrocities before the world made everyone desperate and cruel.
As Damien inquired about the if the plan got rocky, she quietly took the offered flask from him and took a swig. Her eyebrow quirks up again and she takes another swig. [b “You try to make it to one of the rendezvous points on the map.”] Lana tells him and Sara, swatting John's hand away as he reached for the flask.
[+red “Hopefully this goes just as planned: we look and we leave.”] John adds, and as he does, lightning strikes in the background followed by thunder. [+red “It looks like its going to be raining for a while. Everyone please dress accordingly.”] Because a cold was what they should be worrying about right now. But to be fair, colds nowadays could be the end of ones life. However, instead of looking at the rain as a nuisance, the low visibility could easily be used to their advantage and the droplets would cover up the sound of their approach. Not to mention, if you were lucky enough or good enough, you could time a shot with thunder.
It was about time to leave anyways, and Lana leads them out of the house. She makes a quick detour, finding Ben and telling him to grab some people and go find suitable places for the supplies in the stable. She went after him specifically to keep him busy so he didn't try to do something stupid like follow them. So, on that note, she quickly corrals everyone in to a jeep and they're on their way towards Columbia Falls.
They parked just outside of the resort, close to the trees and off the road. It was broodingly dark, especially considering the rain, and for the most part they were alone out here. They couldn't even see the light from the resort yet. However, she wouldn't be comfortable using a flashlight until they got inside the forest, but they'd have to kill the lights pretty soon as they got closer to the resort. Other than that, especially because of the rain she wasn't particularly worried about being spotted; she dressed for the operation. She wore tight black pants, a black long sleeve with a black and grey jacket over top. She was also wearing tactical vest and a grey hooded scarf which she places over her head once out in the rain.
She quickly looks back at her crew, making a very big show of putting her ear piece in her ear, and then takes the first step in to the forest, signalling that their mission has begun.
There wasn’t much else to their conversation for Lana had returned with the Viking in toe. Apparently she had asked him if he would like to lend a hand too. That much she could understand. He had a good build and was clear skilful in his own way. What she did not understand is why he appeared to have no shirt on. Sara looked away the moment she saw the bare skin, not prepared to see a half naked man. She cleared her throat and focused on the weapon John had handed to her and decided to inspect every crevasse of the body of her rifle rather than the body of a stranger. That was until Lana moved towards the map and started to explain their mission.
The area was one she was unfamiliar with, not having travelled this far before but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a quick study. Her eyes scanned the map and she committed the plans to memory so she would know where she was going when the time came. Lana seemed so confident that her convoy was still alive that it showed Sara that she wasn’t an emotionless as she liked to let people believe. Then John moved and started to add to the information. John seemed much more unsure about the operation but they would still be going regardless. Seeing him from this angle she could see his features much more clearly. She could tell that this new world had tired him but that did not take away from the fact he was still handsome.
She had to pull her eyes away from
him when that thought crossed her mind, not wanting him to see the potential blush of her cheeks. Instead she focuses on the bags and nodded when he suggested that they should look through it. It had been a long time since Sara had any gear of her own so she was sure that she might act far more excited than intended. She shook her head when Lana asked if they had any questions. The plan was clear enough and she understood what was required of them but the Viking seemed to want to know what would happen if the plan failed.
Sara moved toward the bags, glancing towards John before she started to get her gear together, putting an earpiece in her ear and testing the walkie. It was impressive that they had so much equipment but with an encampment this big it made sense.
Damien shook his head when Lana asked if there were any questions. instead he grabbed a pack and opened it up. taking the maps, walkie, spotters scope, and MREs. he also walked to one of the crates containing ammo and grabbed a box of shotgun shells and .45ACP rounds. setting his guns on the table along with four spare magazines for his 1911 he started loading the empty weapons and slid a total of nine additional shells into his pockets for his shotgun. the rest of the ammo boxes and his gear ended up being packed into the tactical looking bag he was offered.
moving to his shirt he found it now dry and did the courtesy of making himself decent for everyone else. as he pulled his shirt over his head everyone in the room could see the tattoo on his back of a valkyrie maiden hovering over a dead soldier with its wings spread wide across his shoulders. as his lats and deltoids moved under his skin the wings of the valkyrie would look as though they were fluttering before the black death crew shirt covered the artwork. Damien removed a glass flask from his pack and took a swig of the same honey mead from before. offering it to Lana he said, "riddle me this... whats our fall back plan if things get dicey?"
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