A Battle for Survival (Team #1 Event)

[zombie]

Death… such a terrible tragedy it was. It was an occurrence that would happen to all of us one day, a happening that could come at any time. Indeed, it was inevitable there was no way to avoid it, no way to prevent it. Sure, one could easily prolong it with the proper care but in the end everyone would meet death’s icy grip. It would coil around their neck as they took their last breath, not caring whether or not the victim had accomplished what they set out to do. It was quite cruel really; it’d strike even the life of an infant, a life that had barely started if it pleased. This calamity would always leave several melancholic, whether they were family or friends. They would grieve and ask why it had to be so soon, or perhaps why it couldn’t have been them instead. Yet no matter how depressing the death was, humans were often resilient creatures and with time, the wounds would always heal. Hell, not only would the wounds heal but it was quite possible they’d forget about the person completely unless otherwise reminded! They would move on with their own lives that they knew would also come to an end at some point and the same cycle of grieve and forgetfulness would occur concerning them… at least, that was usually the case. But on a world in a galaxy far away, there was an existence that ignored all the rules of death and was aptly named the Undead.
 
Yes, they were called the Undead for even though they had died, soon after their deaths they would raise once more to the world of the living. This prospect might excite some, perhaps even make one ecstatic but what came back to the world of the living was not the same person. They were mindless creatures that gave no thought to their actions and the only action they knew to perform was feast. Yes, the only thing they knew how to do was devour and their favorite meal was nothing but human flesh. Why they had this urge to eat human flesh done to the very bone was quite perplexing, a mystery that many questioned. Did they eat the flesh hoping that it would revitalize their greatly decomposed bodies? Did they believe munching on brains would give them cognition so they could live their lives like they used to? Or was it just simple instinct like that of a wolf to eat to survive? Whatever it happened to be, it didn’t matter much as it concerned all those that hadn’t meant death’s inescapable grasp… it was either kill or be killed.
 
Yet it wasn’t that easy, in fact it was incredibly difficult. To kill a bug was easy enough; it was an action that one typically didn’t even need to think about but killing a human, undead or not, was much harder. Many of the people thrown into apocalyptic scenario of an Undead infested world had never killed a human before, they have never stained their hands with blood but now they had no choice. No, perhaps they did have a choice but the alternative to killing them wasn’t very pleasant as it involved a painful death. Many people fell due to this hesitance but some remained strong and managed to kill, they managed to murder those that had risen from the death and with each one it seemed to get easier. Indeed, it always seemed to get easier until they encountered an Undead that had the image of a previous loved one. No matter how strong one was, it was always difficult to point a gun at family or friends, breathing or not. The shock alone could cause them to falter for just a moment, and a moment was all the Undead needed to close the distance. In a moment they would be upon you, they would go for the throat and attempt to kill their prey quickly to prevent any resistance. Then they would feast, they would rip apart the victim and devour them partially before said victim eventually raised themselves to add yet another member to the army of Undead. And this army continued to grow much faster than they were put down and surviving seemed impossible, utterly impossible… but some still remained hopeful.
 
Yes, four people specifically still held hope, still believed that they could get out of this mess alive. They were heading toward a police station, a location military personal had designated as a point of evacuation for all survivors to flee to. If they didn’t make it there in time, several bombs would be dropped on the city to scorch the earth below of the Undead menace. Getting there within the few hours they had left was their only option to live to see tomorrow. Whatever it took, they would have to fight through the hordes of Undead that stood in their way and all other beings that were obstacles for the Undead weren’t the only threat out there.
 
But that was a matter they would find out later, for now they had no idea what would come at them and were merely preparing. Yes, they were preparing in the wood shop of a school, a location that had been more or less deserted when the Undead started rising as it occurred during a weekend. The zombies were few and far in between and luckily for these four the school had yet to be searched by any other survivors. Thus the wood shop provided quite a few tools that would now be used as weapons to fight off the Undead. The man that had long black hair and a fully functional prosthetic arm would be seen working on a nail gun, a resourceful individual who was making a stock for it to help keep steady while firing. On the opposite side of the room stood two men, each brandishing their own weapon that they had found in the wood shop. The one that had picked the lock of the door to enter this room was a fellow with a stern expression and part of his hair covering his face, now wielded a sturdy piece of two-by-four that had several nails in the end. He hadn’t used it yet but whenever he got the chance to his training in the Martial Arts would surely come in handy for smashing the heads of the Undead. The other man was familiar with medicine before the sh$# hit the proverbial fan and was a rather muscular fellow that gripped a baseball bat tightly in his right hand. Last, but certainly not least, was the only woman of the group, beautiful black hair touching her shoulders lightly and one that most people would have thought should have been dead long ago. Yet she remained strong and with a katana in hand that she had pilfered from the house of a former japanophile (he mostly spends his days now roaming around looking for brains to eat), she was more than ready to strike down any zombies that came her way. With her unbreakable will, she is always able to keep a cool head under pressure and despite the terrifying events constantly thought of things people would overlook, such as the usefulness of a backpack in a situation as bleak as this.
 
These four, each from different walks of life, would now have to work together more so than ever if they hoped to make it out of this city alive. If they did, it was quite possible they’d get away but if they didn’t… surely only death awaited them.

[snowrokoho3]

((Hope this is okay.))

There was no explanation why people started turning into zombies and eating each other, it had just happened and when it did, Rinoa had immediately taken action to protect those that she could, letting her old self come back for the occassion.

She had tried everything to fortify the apartment building and keep everyone safe; however, thanks to panic and stubbornness from others, the plan had failed and many had fallen to the undead and joined their ranks. With no other option, she took what weapons she could and had retreated to her own apartment and locked it down, deciding that protecting herself and her family were the most important things now. The plan had worked well enough and for a few days, Rinoa, her husband, kid, and the dog had managed to survive the undead, but their fortress did not last forever. Within a week, the undead managed to break in, forcing the family to flee via the fire escape. They had escaped into the streets where hungry hands awaited them. Sure, they fought with all their might, but in the end only she had managed to escape. The memory of having to put down her loved ones after they had turned were still fresh in her mind.

War experience or not, nothing ever prepared a person to take out friends and family. It was a task that never should be done…but she had done it. Much better or them to be dead than watch them fall to decay with the rest. It had been a tough choice to make, but one she did not regret. From the apartments, she had managed to dodge and trick the undead into small traps that bought her time. She wasn’t an expert builder, but her survival and adapting skills were sharp. She had used the skills to survive her new battlefield. Along the way she had found a katana in one of the houses now trashed and abandoned. The weapon was a lucky find and had made her job of moving through the undead easier. She had heard that the police station was the place for survivors to go to, but due to the side of town she lived on, the police station was a far trek indeed.
The trek was made slower thanks to the fact she could not use a vehicle and the undead packed every inch of the city.

So, she took the quickest route she knew of and had headed to the school. By some miracle, she had made it to the place alive with only a few bruises and some dirt upon her. She prayed the school would be a safe passage way and that maybe she'd find survivors to help boost her chances of getting out this mess alive. What she got when she arrived at the school was almost to good to be true.

When she had entered the school yard, she was surprised at how untouched the place was. The eeriness of the quiet place put her on edge though as she moved forward with the katana ready to slice anything that got in the way. The feeling didn’t let up as she moved into the halls of the school. Some places were still lit, while others had flickering lights, or none at all. The whole scene was enough to have one jumping at his/her shadow, but not this young lady. No, she remained calm despite how unsettling the scene was or how tormenting the memories of her family was. She kept going searching the school for survivors. At first, she found nothing, but then slowly, but surely she had found three others. They were all males, but better she much rather have their company than be alone in the insanity. While they had only been together for a short period of time, Rinoa was already finding use for each one. One had already proven his usefulness by picking the lock on the door that led to the woodshop. It was in this place were the others found a weapons of their own. A two-by-four with nails for the man that had picked the lock and a baseball bat for the heavier looking man. Both seemed able to take care of themselves. The one with the baseball bat looked strong enough to take a zombie down bare handed while the one with the two-by-four held the confidence of someone who was use to fighting.

Both could be used to cut a path through the hoards outside. She would use her own deadly accuracy to keep them protected. Which brought her to the last one of the group. From her sitting position on a sturdy box in the corner, Rinoa glanced over at the last of the group, a man with long black hair and a prosthetic arm. He had been working quietly on a nail gun with his own adding his own flare to the weapn. The young lady was impressed with this skill the man had. If he could make other things besides weapons with ordinary objects then making a trap or something else to work around the mindless zombies outside would be a piece of cake.

Yes, each one of them would definitely come in handy, but first some little things had to be taken care of like a names, having everyone on the same page, and a plan. Since everyone else was quite for the moment, Rinoa spoke first, her voice carrying an air of authority, but not too much authority to seem like she was trying to take control. Despite the tone, it was spoken in soft feminine words that contrasted greatly against the slight authority she held.

“Alright then. If everyone is set, then I suggest we start planning on how to get out of this place alive. As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, we’ve got an army out there that won’t be easy to tackle. They may be slow and mindless, but they are persistent and numerous. It’s only a matter of time before they come crashing into this place too. With that being said, let’s start by placing introductions and figuring out what we are each good at all in one ball, so we can make a plan and get out of this mess as quickly and safely as possible. I’ll start. My name is Rinoa and I am decent fighter,” she said as she let the katana lean slightly on her leg.

The weapon was already stained with blood, but remained sharp nonetheless. There was no way she was going to tell them how she had gotten that katana or just how deadly she was with a weapon in hand. There was no need to boast about skills or potentially scare away allies. Right now she needed cooperation, so they could make their escape. While she already knew some of the group's potential just by observing the group, she wanted everyone to put what they had to offer on the table, so they could make a plan together. This way adapting would be easier and the fuss level would hopefully be lowered if one person was not in charge, but the group instead.

In any case, after speaking, she became quiet and waited for the next person to follow suit and speak up. With skills and names placed on the table, everyone would be on the same page. Now all that was left was the planning.

Yes just like the war, Rinoa thought to herself as her mind settled back into the solider mentality for the occasion. She was not about to die, or let a repeat of what happened to her family happen to this group.

[Vincent Valentine]

[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background: url(http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs18/f/2007/150/0/a/background_by_cottencandydioxide.jpg); border: 1px dashed #FF0000, b Table] Hey hey hey! Mr. Hangman, go get your rope Your daughters weren't careful, I fear that I am a slippery slope. Now even if I lay my head down at night, after a day I got perfectly right, She won't know... She won't know... She won't know.

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; background: #000000 ; border: 1px dashed #FF0000; color: 2f405e; opacity: 0.9; padding: 10px;] This situation had gone beyond the known realms of bad... this was absolutely nightmarish. The man with the prosthetic arm had the nail gun, cleaning the reloading cartridge as quickly and effortlessly as if it were clockwork. His arm holding the gun, while not as quick as the one functioning arm he had remaining, was sturdy and mechanically moved precisely as he ordered it to. Small mechanical clicks and whirs could be heard in the background as it moved, but barely above a whisper, so not as much that it would raise attention if the man willed it. How did the man lose his arm to gain something so cold and seemingly inhuman? Well, this man barely knew these survivors he had been swept up with in their hurried dash for survival... but in his memories the short story was as clean and painful as the day he had lost his left limb. The other survivors didn't know that the man known as Vincent hadn't only served time as a criminal... he was a murderer. Vincent didn't have an easy life. Failing his entry exams into the police, he was eventually forced into stealing to support himself, teaming up with friends of his to steal from supply stores and warehouses as early as his teenage years. And if human life got in the way of what they wanted, and once the first bullet flew to prove they weren't calling a bluff... there was no turning back from that. How many people they killed, or what happened to them... was a mystery even to him. Eventually one day the law caught up to them, when they were loading appliances into the back of a truck to sell the stolen goods. When the police sirens were heard approaching their location, one of his friends panicked and got himself caught on a running conveyor belt as the others took off without them, the man headed for a certain death from the machinery laying on the other end. With no tools at his disposal to stop the machine and the shutdown switch severed from the wiring upon his best friend's accident, Vincent's conscience kicked in and did the only one thing he could do to save his friend... stick his left arm into the working exposed gears of the machinery to stop it. As painful as the experience was, his friend said nothing in gratitude as he fled and left Vincent to take the full sentence of the crime they had committed when the police arrived... and spent a solid ten years of his life in prison, after the police had his arm freed from the machine with no choice but for the emergency crews to completely amputate the arm they couldn't save. It was a tough life in prison, but upon parole he got a steady job working as a carpenter, saving enough to have his mechanical prosthetic limb installed as a experimental trial procedure for the device. He had found the work and a steady job as good, hard labor that kept him honest, and never left a tool too far out of his reach as a lesson that one could have saved him a lot of pain the day he was arrested. He was working on building a house in one of the outer districts of the city when the warning came over the radio, followed by radio silence and a attack on the site manager by the feral undead. Still wearing his carpenter's belt, he high-tailed it out of there with the rest of the construction crew as they made their way to the police station... and along the way with bad luck and self-sacrifices, he had been the only one remaining as he had come across the school. Since the road blockade and car wrecks had blocked the streets to get there, beyond the school grounds seemed to be the only available path to the now isolated police station that lay beyond. Again, Vincent checked the nail gun, opening the compartment to ensure the gears and mechanisms inside were lubricated with oil and would not jam while he was using it. The nails that were the ammunition of the heavy industrial weapon were not your normal household nails; these were long enough to pierce at least the diameter of a human skull. Perfect for pot-shots and clean kills for these zombies... or whatever cannibalistic sociopaths they had become. He started to look around the workshop for other supplies and began adding them to his belt; anything that he could use as raw materials for weapons, or even seemed useless he could turn into deadly weapons to use against other humanoids; this much he had learned from being in prison to protect himself from the other violent inmates who thought they could hustle a one-armed man. Even glue could prove useful for more than one use, or tape, as he could use them for solvants to stick things together or slow the zombies down. Anything they could use, could prove to save any of them seconds from a fate worse than death; getting a possible nick or scratch that could turn them into one of... them. That lead to the question of what these things... these people once used to be. If they could understand what it was to become one of them, then they could avoid being contaminated. Was it a virus that was re-animating the dead? Airbourne? Water-transmuted? Even human touch? He had also watched a zombie horror movie where the cause had been a experimental hive of wasps that burrowed into human skin, the zombies being controlled as a hive by a 'queen' bee. Or was it supernatural, something beyond human comprehension? Either way, in a simple school and without scientific gear or explanation, they were not going to find out anytime soon unless they got lucky and stumbled upon a university professor or his notes. That would be immense luck if they could quarantine this outbreak... but they would need to survive and get somewhere remotely defended first. And that meant getting out of this city. Which in turn lead to the survivors he had been lucky enough to encounter in this school. You couldn't choose your family... nor the people you got grouped with in a apocalyptic scenario he'd never thought he'd be in such as this. As the only woman in the group who introduced herself as Rinoa spoke, trying to establish some rational sense of order from amongst the anarchy and chaos that was happening outside, he realized that with the zombie horde on their tail they may not have much time... maybe one or all of them could already be infected and turn into zombies at any moment. In that case, he'd need to instigate the authority that the young girl had tried to bring to the group to lead them towards what was most beneficial for their survival, without bringing up any conflict in the order that would start arguments and waste time. "Vincent." he clearly stated in respect of Rinoa's wishes, and pressed on so he would not waste any more of their time that they already had. His voice had a gruffness to it as if he had been through adversity like this before, hardened to it, but still had a tone to it that he genuinely cared about everyone's well being no matter what they were, or what they had done. "I appreciate what you're saying, Rinoa, but you said so yourself these things... these zombies are going to be crashing in here any moment. I don't think we should waste any more time here than we already have, we can make introductions and tell each other our life's story while we're on the move. Now, as you may have noticed by now from my tool belt, I'm a carpenter. I can not only makes us weapons, but I can fix any guns we might be lucky enough to find, like this nail gun. So anything you can find in here that could be of beneficial to use to us and bad for them we need to grab, but only take what we need so as to not slow us down. Now food and water is a given, but I'm also looking for anything we can use to turn into weapons or traps for our pursuers... metal pipes, lengths of wood, industrial tape or glue, machine parts, even a concrete block or batteries could be useful. But we need to to a quick search and then get the hell of out dodge... so let's get to it." And so he quickly began to look around the workshop for any of the raw materials he had mentioned, only looking up casually as the other two men introduced each other... and glancing in the dark of night outside warily as he heard the groaning and moaning of zombies in the distance. It had gotten dark quickly before he had realized it, being too busy fighting for his survival... this was only getting from worse to... well, hell. He didn't know how well these people would do killing zombies, but humans were capable of amazing things when it came to their own survival. To Vincent, he was desensitized to it as a stone-cold killer. It was kill or be killed. Hunt, or be hunted, and he was going to do whatever it took to survive... and hopefully now he had learned the value of human life, not at the expense of his fellow survivors.

[atrb=style, font-family: Garamond; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; background: #000000 ; border: 1px groove #FF0000; color: 2f405e; opacity: 0.9; padding: 10px;] TAGGED: Rinoa, Jordan, Terra. MUSIC: Mary Kay by Brand New. CREDIT GOES TO: Hana of OTE AND BS + Jawn's tutorial

[Alessandro Apollo]

Who the hell gave these dead things permission to walk?

Alessandro already had plenty of blood on his hands before this point, but it was highly likely that this was only just the beginning. The expert martial artist and locksmith was in the middle of breakfast when the outbreak first caught his attention. He had looked up at the sounds of loud crashes against his door, like some teenager was taking a baseball bat against it or something. Seconds later, when the instructor answered the door, a man with a gaping hole where his right ear once rested growled in salutation.

”The hell…You realize you’re missing something?”

[/b]

The creature growled and attempted to bite at Alex’s wrist. Without a second’s hesitation, Alex forced his palm into the bridge of the Undead’s nose, feeling the crack and pop under the pressure. A few choice words and quick investigation and he realized the creature hadn’t even faltered. That was Alessandro’s first encounter with the zombies, and how he killed said zombie is inconsequential.

He had lost track of time since the initial outbreak, but it couldn’t have been more than a day or two before he left the safety of his home. The problem with living on a main street is that the population there is the thickest, and as such the outbreak had become strongest in the busy district. Alex had managed to scratch and claw his way into a hardware store, with an old friend of his, Jordan. However, upon escaping the Do-It-Yourself Warehouse, they had attracted too much attention and the pair nearly lost their lives fighting to get into a boarded up high school.

The instructor waited another day before they noticed the first arrival, a woman with long dark hair and, soon thereafter, a man with a prosthetic arm and a red cape.

Now, these survivors had found refuge in the boarded up woodshop, and they found themselves with what seemed like little chance of survival.

”Call me Alex. Jordan’s the guy who let you two in; the guy watching the main entrance right now. Listen, Vincent’s right. We’ve been holding out here for a day or two, but I hear that the police station’s the only safe haven left in town. We need to get outta dodge and get our pretty little asses over there pronto. I’ve already had to take out too many of these zombies. That being said, there’s some food left in the cafeteria, so I think we should get us some grub and get the hell outta here. Who knows how long it’s gonna take to get there on foot?

“Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. I’m a triple black-belt in Jiu-Jitsu, a green belt in Tai-Kwon-Do, a brown belt in Muay Thai, and a black belt in badassery. The wood’s just for show. Also, I’m a locksmith so don’t worry about locked doors.”[/b]

Without another moment’s hesitation, Alex removed the two-by-four that barred them in and made his way around the halls towards the cafeteria. He looked to speak again, but this time he kept his voice shallow.

”There’s a back entrance through the cafeteria that’ll take us through an alley and onto Grand Central. From there, the police station shouldn’t be too far.”[/b][/blockquote]

[zombie]

OOC: Since Jordan has dropped his character, I’m going to write in that he dies at the front door while watching to a “Special” creature that you will all be meeting later ^_^! You guys will know this because he will have a walkie talkie and warn you guys to just run and do the self-sacrifice thing to distract the “Special” creature ^_^! Also, I’m not sure if Jordan and Alex were supposed to be super good friends or just ones due to the apocalypse thing but I’m going to go for the latter just for the sake of writing him out. That aside, I believe I said you guys had a couple hours but will have this happen over the course of a couple days instead since you guys seem to want to bring food and all that ;p. Plus, when the additional objective comes along you guys will need that time anyway so let’s have fun with this . At any rate, I’m going to write up what’s in the alley and two paths to choose from so we can try and speed this along a bit and hopefully get it done within the next week or two ^_^! If you have any questions feel free to ask me in a PM to Felix.
 
IC: And so the story continued, the four survivors minus the one watching the front door of the school introducing themselves as they each recollected on the events that lead to this seemingly impossible happening. There was no rational explanation behind this phenomena, no logical chain of reason for why this event was occurring, and no sense of order amidst all the chaos. All that remained in that city were survivors and “them”, the creatures that rose from the dead unaffected by their startling lack of heartbeat or any other of the myriad of functions a human body needed to live. Each of them had a different way of coming to terms with it all, each had a different past that shaped them to be strong enough to survive this long, and each one had a different reason to continue living and not become a mere husk of their former selves. And as they probably all recollected on these sentiments, a startling cry would be heard over the walkie talkie that was in Alex’s hand.
 
“W-w-what is that woman running from?!” the other voice from the walkie talkie shouted out as said voice watched a woman being chased. From the distance he couldn’t tell what was chasing but whatever it was it happened to be huge and didn’t look particularly pleasant. And then the woman tripped, only several feet from the door with the creature hot on her tail. With a clenched fist and gritted teeth, the man gripped his walkie talkie as he began to move over to a window to jump out of. As he began to look outside the window he saw what had been in pursuit of the woman outside, his jaw dropping at the sight as his eyes widened. He gulped a lump down his throat as he attempted to fight the urge to go out and save the woman. After seeing the beast he knew his odds of besting it with a piece of wood were non-existent and yet… the former battle-medic in him didn’t allow him to leave her behind. He had never left a man behind during the war and he wasn’t about to let anyone die on his watch if he could help it.
 
“Alex...” the voice started, a pause taking place as the man took a deep breath, “Take the other two with you and leave… I’m going to catch up with you after I distract this thing,” he stated although his tone surely didn’t show any confidence in his survival, “And don’t you dare come for me, I’ll manage somehow,” he added, knowing it was highly likely that his friend would come after him. But he didn’t want him to, if anyone were to survive this former battle-medic surely wanted Alex to survive. They hadn’t known each other long but when one was thrown into a situation like this they valued any type of human contact. Having a friend made everything so much easier and kept away the thought of being truly alone if one was the only one to survive. Facing such arduous challenges together also quickly strengthened a bond and while Jordan could not speak for Alex, he already thought of him as a “brother from another mother”. And thus he didn’t want an untimely death to come to Alex simply because he was an idiot who wanted to save everyone. His resolution was set henceforth, the man jumping out of the window and calling out to the beast to never be heard from again.
 
One heroic sacrifice later, Alex had already been making a brief search of the cafeteria and if the other survivors followed perhaps they would be too. Regardless of their collective actions though, a loud thud would be heard from the double doors that had been chained up at the front entrance. A three second pause would be heard and then another would come, this process continuing as the door in the front continued to come more and more off its hinges. If the survivors didn’t leave the school soon they’d have something far more fearsome to face than what awaited them in the alley. Indeed, what awaited them in the alley were only fifteen or so zombies and two choices to make. They could go with Alex’s original plan and go out onto the street, a route that would lead them to the police station much faster or take higher ground with the fire escape on the apartment complex next to the school. If they took the road, the danger would be higher with the number of zombies but the speed at which they could travel would increase, especially if they could find a useable car. On the other hand, if they went to higher ground, it was unlikely they’d deal with as many zombies inside and would have much easier time dealing with the zombies in an area that wasn’t so open and allowed many angles to be attacked from. Not only that, but if they took this route there was also the chance they would find other supplies or survivors to help them on their journey. Their decision would have be to made quickly though for if they hesitated for too long, Jordan’s sacrifice would be in vain as there was no way they’d be able to deal with the monster that was hot on their heels.