ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 23, 2014 15:34:04 GMT -5
Bang, Bang, Bang.
The sound reverberated across the walls of the area, echoing for quite some distance in the lonely, quiet, space of the Tijuca district of Rio. Each building along this stretch of road had tall metal spikes and gates covering their entrances. Luckilly for Gabe, this one was left open. He had, ofcourse, closed it shut behind him, although he didn't have the key for the lock. The bangs were followed by a cracking sound as wood splintered, the bolt lock of a door breaking free of the frame. He stumbled through, countless times had he done this and each time he never managed to fully correct himself. It was to his fortune that there wasn't an infected waiting for him in this room, although this building was huge - there could be countless in here. He pulled the knife from its sheath, gripping it tightly in his hand as he moved further into the building.
Children's drawings were tacked to the wall like trophies, although the majority of them weren't that good. Each one had a name, an age and a date. Each one was a reminder of a child that was most likely dead on the streets of Rio, or worse - shuffling through them. Gabe wasn't moved, he didn't care. It used to be a school, it seemed. Or maybe a play group. He creeped through the next door, a creak bouncing off the walls of the building. He wasn't sure what he'd find in this building, hopefully a kitchen - some food, maybe. He was starting to get hungry.
Ignoring the noise his entry had made, he continued through to a corridor, adorned with yet more paintings and drawings. Gabe wasn't too concerned about the Undead setting upon him from the noise - he would no doubt meet them anyway during his trip through this building. But none came and he did feel a twinge of relief. A door to the left had a window, a quick glance through it revealed a small theatre stage. Nothing interesting then - unless he fancied dressing up. Further down there was another door, this time on the right. A class room. Everything had been thrown around, tables and chairs had tumbled to the floor. Clearly the panic that filled the city streets so long ago had been expressed in a condensed form here in the school.
He felt himself compelled to open the door, so he did. Gabe was a man that did what he wanted, even if he didn't know why he wanted to do it. He crept in, knife at the ready, although the small room was clearly void of life. Or unlife. His feet knocked against something solid and it begun to roll. He reached down to pick up the object, a large bouncy ball.
His mind went back to his childhood, he found it doing that more recently - maybe it was actually having time to sit and think that was cursing him to relive his life. He had never gone to school, he'd been tutored - sort of. He'd been taught to read, write, basic math - all that, but only by his family. Not his real family, they'd never cared for him, but his adoptive one. His Cartel.
They hadn't ever given him a bouncy ball - or friends, or toys. No, Gabe had skipped this part of life and through some childish longing he decided there and then that he would keep this ball, half the size of his hand and iridescent blue with glitter embedded into its surface. He let it go from his hand, bouncing it against the floor with a bang, and caught it in his palm. He did it again, and again, and soon he was walking out of the trashed classroom bouncing the ball along the floor.
It was a different bang that caught his attention, one that sounded accidental. As if someone had knocked over a chair or a table. He stopped bouncing the ball, holding it firmly in his hand. "Hello?" he called out, pocketing the ball in his pants and going instead for his gun, holding both knife and gun by his side. "Anyone home?" With all the care and silence he could muster on the squeeky floorboards of the corridor, he inched further into the building. The noise seemed to have come from upstairs, but it had stopped now that he was more alert for noises. He noticed it hadn't been replaced by the sound of walking either.
People? He could use some more of those. "Hello?" he called out again, "I mean you know harm.". Yet.
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Mar 23, 2014 20:11:45 GMT -5
It had only been a few days since the band stashes of Eustache had wrecked there way through what used to be some sort of day care, or pre-school for younger children, they had knocked over chairs, scowered through drawers, even painted small pictures and hung them from the walls while -of course- labeling it with there names, and putting what they thought was the date. They were now living on the top floor in a small shack, it wasn't impressive, it barely kept all 6 members in comfortably, but it kept the zed at bay, well except for the ones that could jump, or lunge...or walk upright, hell even the crawlers could have attacked the shamble, thank god for the huge fence around the property. A large crash went off as the result of Nayla or as the band knew her Polo had tipped over a small wooden 2x4 after this there was a short silence, but this was quickly overturned by Eustaches voice "Polo, that sounded horrible, you can't make music on accident by tipping shit over." he cleared his throat, and then spoke again. "Alright let's take this from the top folks." in speaking he clouded the words of the wondering denizen - Gabe - and they began to play a mixed tune all together, among the clattering of the washboard, the twang of the upright bass, and the strum of the cigar box guitar, one voice stretched out to be heard, only an over-audible moan which carried along with the rhythm, it later clamored out in a shrill shriek. The voice belonged to the lead vocalist of the band: Eustache, he began singing out loudly in a mixture of Portuguese, Spanish, and some french
If only I had a cigarette,
for every damn dollar I owed in debt,
I could open up a goddamn shop,
and maybe then you would stare and stop,
Or maybe then you'd give a care for me,
But no, you run away like i'm a rodent, wasp or bee.
The tune of the banjo began to pick up, and entered a duet with the cigar box guitar, in the background Eustache began to hum along with the tune of his instrument, and the banjo, and the other 4 musicians followed along. The music picked up, and the shadow of other moans came into focus, 5 then 6, then 7, and then 8, wait...8 moans? |
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Post by Stelpher on Mar 24, 2014 5:28:38 GMT -5
The sun glowed fiercely that morning, an all consuming orange covering the rooftops of Rio. The light warded away the more unfriendly denizens of the New World, while those who could still live and breath would come out to look for supplies. Sorrow, tragedy and death filled the land, as people barely scraped through their live, doing their best just to live another day. The world had become a terrible place, and Taylor loved every part of it. Taylor had packed her bag the night before, taking everything she would need. She hummed all the while, an unknown melody that had somehow caught her lips. She searched through the dark caverns of her mind, searching for its origin, before finally giving up and going to sleep. Now, with the sun burning high in the sky, she felt excited. She had made this room her worlds center point in these past months, but now it was time to go. At almost the same time, she felt somewhat sad. Her old life was gone, all its fragments scattered and drenched in a wave of madness. She shrugged, picking up her backpack and swinging it over her shoulder. She checked that her M4 was loaded, before moving to the kitchen. She took one of the few remaining blank pieces of paper scattered on the counter. She grabbed a knife from the kitchen, before slashing the edge of her fingertip. She had run out of ink and lead long ago, this was the next best thing to write with. She held it up in the light seeping through the windows. 'Goodbye Mother' it had said, and she pinned it to the wall with the knife. This room, and all its contents, were in many ways her legacy and her past. As she opened the window leading out to the next door rooftop, she heard the moaning of the shambling hordes below. She giggled in response. Taylor spent many hours moving, slowly making her way from rooftop to rooftop. The travel was relatively uneventful, nothing a few strokes of her machete couldn't handle at least. She had seen and heard the tell-tale signs of scavenger activity during the journey, but did not get the chance to confront anyone. She grew ever bored as the sun soared over the blue sky. As the sun started to glow that familiar red. She had to find somewhere to settle down for the night, if she wanted to reach the church alive at least. As she searched for a suitable building, she noticed something odd in the world of the undead. Music, not just an old stereo or something accidentally turned on, but music from people playing instruments. Interest, confused and excited by the possibility of survivors playing said instruments, she quickly made off in the direction of what looked like a school. As she watched from the low rooftop, she saw the front gate laying slightly open, with a few walkers shambling outside. A grin crossed Taylor's face, as waited to see what would unfold. |
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Post by The Lost Traveler on Mar 27, 2014 0:21:13 GMT -5
Good luck is the cornerstone now to survival. It is not how smart you are, how fast you are, or how strong you are – no, it’s how lucky you are. And, quite simply, Gabe knew he was damn unlucky the moment he heard the music playing.
He had slipped into an abandoned school from the rooftops. Normally he would have entered in by chance, hitting up any place he could since the major sites – gun stores, supermarkets, pharmacies and the like – were raided long ago when the outbreak first started. But no, Siv wanted him to gather up some textbooks for the kids – the Palace now felt secure enough to start up some basic education for the young ones they’ve managed to pick off the street. After all, who would scavenge text books from a highschool? This had to be one of the safer expeditions he’s been on, right?
But then some fucker started playing music.
Honestly, Gabe didn’t know what sort of music was playing and he didn’t care. The sound was just noise to him, and noise to them as well. A quick glance out a window showed him nearly half a dozen walkers stumbling towards the doors and a couple already inside, but more would be on their way unless the music stopped now.
Gabe clutched the IMBEL closer to his chest. There had to be more than one person making this noise, a band, and he’d need all the firepower he could get. The apocalypse did crazy shit to people, and if they started firing on him he’d need to be ready.
The noise seemed to be coming from up above, so Gabe swung back above the way he came in, finding himself on one of the flat, alabaster roofs that spread out through Rio. Sure enough the zeds were clamoring at the walls, trying to get in, but something else caught Gabe’s eye. There, on another nearby roof, stood a pale faced woman with black hair with red streaks. One look at her fit form was enough to tell him that she was the sort of fighter that was hands on with her kills. He made a single nod towards the shack where the noise was coming from, implying he wanted backup. So long as she wasn’t completely crazy as well she’d see the benefit of stopping the loud music as soon as possible.
With that he crouched over towards the shack, being sure to stay hidden from any cracks or gaps in its metal surface before taking cover behind the corner by the door. On the count of three in his mind he spun the barrel of his rifle around, still staying behind cover, but ready to open fire if need be. Sure enough six people stood scattered about the room, but Gabe could only get a brief scan of them before he hissed.
“Stop the noise, now! Do you want to kill us all? They’re coming!”
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ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 30, 2014 8:36:23 GMT -5
Indeed, they were coming.
The undead rubbed their bodies against the walls, their hands probing its surface for windows, doors, collapsed walls - anything for them to gain entrance to the source of this noise. Their food. For that's all they cared for, their craving for more and more flesh that never left them even after they had gorged themselves on a fresh corpse.
Some of them knew of doors, of windows. They banged at them, thrust themselves against the structures until they collapsed through, giving them entry into the building. They spread out, thin like butter, each following a different note coming from the building. Some shambled at a slow walk, others almost ran as they rounded corners expecting to be met with a fleshy meat puppet to devour.
Gabe was not going to be one of those meat puppets. He was near the roof, the source of this racket, when the Undead came upon him. Two, at first, found their way into the stairwell. One screamed, one roared, but the effect was clear that they'd summoned more towards them. They came at Gabe, who backed further up the stairs. It made a good choke point and the two undead almost stumbled over each other to get to him. With a quick slash the first one, a young woman by the look of it, suddenly lost her head. It went flying down the stairs, the blood of her wound spraying across the walls of the stairwell. It amused Gabe how the Undead still bled, even though their life had long since bled out of them it seemed their heart still beat. Even weakly.
The second dodged the falling body, much to Gabe's disapointment. Its arms reached out, grabbing Gabe by his shoulders and moving in for the bite. Gabe grabbed the walker's head in one hand, yanking it back and almost tearing off its ear, while the other hand hacked at the skull with the blade of his machete. The monster dropped, thudding down the stairs. More were coming, he could hear them, so he raced up the stairs towards the general safety of the rooftops. The stairwell came out at a door overlooking a shack, one that the music was coming from and one that had someone milling about outside it already.
A growl startled Gabe, and he realised that an Infected had made it up the stairs faster than he could have hoped. Gabe slammed the metal door shut, removing one of the beasts hands that twitched on the floor for a few seconds before falling truly dead. He held his shoulder to the door barring it closed, calling out to the people in and around the shack, "Shut that noise up! You've brought hell upon us!"
He would not die here for them or because of them, if he found himself getting overwhelmed at this door he would simply run.
Hopefully he was the fastest one here. He had good cardio.
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Apr 1, 2014 19:04:03 GMT -5
"They're coming?" Eustache repeated as the screaming man approached the group, the music came to a sudden, damp, stop. Eustache turned around to face his band-mates, and loudly he blurted "Yah hear that guys? This guy brought fans!"
The members of the bands faces grew excited, they clutched there instruments tighter, holding them in there up-right ready positions Eustache started tapping his toe, and then spoke back up. "What do you say we give this gentleman, and his friends a show, eh?"
The group hive-mindedly nodded their heads in agreement to Eustaches proposition, The banjo player began plucking the strings of his instrument in anticipation, but the noise was cut-off by the loud crack of a door being slammed shut, Eustache peered through one of the larger cracks in the shack noting that another man had come up the stairwell, and was looking quite distressed, the man spoke up. 'Shut that noise up! You've brought hell upon us!.'
"Wow, here is one of the fans now." Eustache turned towards the man pointing the gun at them, and then spoke once more. "You sure know how to bring 'em 'round stranger, how'd you find out about us?"
Some of the members of the band began to grow tireless as Eustache conversed with the angry man, and mindlessly began plucking, or prodding their instruments, as the two spoke.
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Post by Stelpher on Apr 10, 2014 5:35:40 GMT -5
Taylor had not waited long before things started to get interesting. She discovered their was another individual who was already in the main building, and he had been causing a commotion at the stairs. More infected had begun to work their way inside the gate, clawing at the walls and streaming into the school building adjacent to her. But most interesting of all was the second individual. She couldn't get a very good look at him, but he was roughly six feet tall and was wearing a dark hood with jeans. Oddly enough, he had thick layers of tape wrapped around his forearms. He was carrying some kind of rifle, and obviously knew what he was doing. He had probably come to shut off the music. It looked like he had noticed her too.
The man nodded towards the school building, most likely requesting Taylor's assistance. Taylor nodded back in return, going to great lengths to hide the venomous grin crossing her jaw.
"Sure, i'll play friendly...for now..."
She looked back up, seeing that the man was already closing the distance to the source of the music. She looked at the building, slightly lower than her own elevated position. Confident she could make the jump, she took a few steps backwards before sprinting as fast as she could towards the edge. Her ankles propelled her into the air, and time seemed to slow as the distance between her and the building stopped.
Next thing she knew she had hit the roof of the building with a roll and was already lifting herself from the ground.
Taylor took a second or two to look around, before moving to the other side of the building. Tape-arms was standing by the door of the shack, while infected were slowly climbing up the rooftop stairs a few steps away. She passed Tape-arms with a smile, before holstering her shotgun and withdraw her pistol and machete. She stood at the stairwell, watching as a zombie clumsily made its way to the top. It reached out a claw to scratch her, but she just twisted her body, ducking under the swipe and delivering a powerful kick into its torso. It toppled down the stairs, hitting another of its kind before landing on the ground below. A second creature had decided to crawl its way up the stairs, but she simply stepped over its flailing arms and plunged her machete into the side of its neck, dragging it across and severing the spinal cord. Satisfied they would be slowed down for now, she entered the shack.
The sensible two in the building seemed to be yelling at the musical maniacs to shut up.
"Well that certainly isn't counter-productive."
The presumed leading in the group was raving on about his fans or something.
"...know how to bring 'em 'round stranger, how'd you find out about us?" The man finished asking.
Taylor giggled.
"Ha! He's even more delusional than i am." She said out-loud, everyone going silent, turning to her and for the first time noticing her presence.
She must have looked pretty scary, a pretty young girl like herself giggling to herself while holding a machete. The blood sliding down the blade dropped silently to the ground, before she broke the silence. She raised her machete to the musician's neck, before stating:
"You will either shut up or i will silence you, comprehend'e?" Her voice dripped malice, as if daring the man to speak.
She then turned to Tape-arms and the stranger.
"Infected will be up here any minute, i suggest we find a way to stop them."
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Post by The Lost Traveler on Apr 23, 2014 0:57:20 GMT -5
“Brought …” Gabe could barely comprehend what he was hearing. “Brought? I’m talking about the zombies you half-wit!” It was as he heard his voice resound against the metal of the shack that Gabe calmed down. Screaming is damn counterproductive, even if I want to shake this fool. But his thoughts ground to a screeching halt with the man’s next words. With a voice as cold as a margarita on ice, his hushed voice cut across the fog that coiled on the rooftop.
“Tell that to me again. Just say that the zeds are my friends. Just try it.”
All the damn shit he’s seen. Men and women being torn apart, rip to shreds, their innards buzzed with flies in the open air, hole-ridden faces coated in blood with chunks of flesh caught between teeth that used to smile bucktooth grins with pig tails swaying back and forth as she …
The loud crack of a door slamming open thankfully saved him. Gabe turned around to see another man burst through – opening and slamming the metal door closed. But before he did Gabe saw the rotted faces waiting on the other side, watched as the hand flew off into the air. It landed a few feet away. I’ll never get used to this sight … He thought numbly. Before steeling himself once more and turning his rifle away from the bandmen and towards the door. He blocked out the nut’s voice as he approached the door, nodding to the newcomer to show he meant no harm as he eased himself towards the opening.
He shouldn’t have bothered.
The woman he spotted before jumped down from the nearby roof, rolling across the alabaster roof that made up the grade school. She strode to the door in swift, sure motions, pulling out a machete and pistol as she did.
His eyes widened as he watched her. She stood in front of the doorway as a zombie shambled its way up. Instead of stabbing or shooting it she actually let it swipe and then just twisted her body out of the way and kicked it. It was a graceful, effortless move … and it was breathtakingly risky. A single clawed hand grabbing her foot, a single chomp down and it’ll be over for her.
Another zombie, likely knocked over from the flailing one from before, clawed its way up. The woman stepped over it (again, just a leg-grab away from being zed chow) and stabbed its neck. With that she strode up towards the shack. Gabe wasted no time in rushing towards the door. Making sure there was none of them waiting right by the door he slammed it fully shut. Looking to either side he found a sheet of scrap metal, like the ones that made up the walls and ceiling of the shack, and dragged it to the door, ramming it underneath the doorknob.
“Ha! He’s even more delusional than I am!”
Gabe turned away from the door to see the woman with the machete strut over towards the leader of the band. The giggle that broke through her lips told him everything. Gabe started to move towards her, but wasn’t quick enough to stop her from raising her machete up to the musician’s neck – blood dripping from the blade.
Great, another crazy. A malicious one this time. He wracked his brain for a way to ease the tension as she threatened the man. When she turned to address him and the other man that stood by the doorway, Gabe saw his chance.
“Easy there now, stranger. No need to start slicing. The door is barricaded as it is, and they’ve stopped playing. Let’s just go our separate ways, and if they start the music afterwards then let them deal with the consequences.”
He had his rifle lowered, it’s barrel pointed to the ground. From the looks of it she was making no motion towards the pistol at her hip, but that said nothing to him. In an even softer tone, he said, “Sound like a deal?”
God, I hope it’s a deal.
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on May 2, 2014 20:01:56 GMT -5
[This is a WIP - Apologies for still taking so long, final exams are up in a week and I'm nose-deep in revision papers half the time.]
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