damned_institute | Nightshift 42: Callahan's Grocer

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Nightshift 42: Callahan's Grocer

S.T. was bored. Bored and feeling useless. He'd stomped around town, looking for a distraction from his own self-pitying funk, as the light had waned. Boredom and feigned anticipation had given way to dread. He'd circled back around to the grocery to see if there was anything less useless on the bulletin. No dice.

Then it happened. Everything changed, without the comfort of a closed door and an unchanging dormitory room. Usually it was like an elevator with a dinner service -- if the doors open on the same sight as you left, either it's a crap elevator or you're in a stockbroker's office tower. And if it were the latter, the food would need more unpronounceable French things.

This had no frame, no steady point of reference. The smell of rotting fruit, esters and alcohol, hit him first. Papers curled and became brittle. The ambient temperature dropped at least five degrees.

It was night, and the closest thing he had to a weapon was a ballpoint pen and a rack of rotting tomatoes. At least he hoped the tomatoes were on his side.

[for Spider Jerusalem, open to threadcrashing once we get going]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Needless to say, Lelouch had not reacted well at all to the sudden switch from the idyllic, quiet version of Doyleton to the pestilent, nightmarish version that had greeted him as soon as soon as night fell. He'd considered the possibility of something like this happening, of course, but he hadn't honestly expected-- they should have at least gotten a chance to return to the buses, damn it, not found themselves trapped in the town itself! At least if they'd done that, they could have escaped, but as things were--

He covered his nose and mouth when the sweet smell of fresh vegetables became a fetid stench, and after seeing for himself what had happened to the store's staff and customers, he ducked behind the nearest barrier and tried not to throw up as all of it slowly sank in. The townspeople-- all of them had turned into-- how could this be happening?! Hadn't the institute staff been enough?! And if he didn't stay quiet, all of them were going to find him, and he didn't even have a weapon to defend himself or someone he could use Geass on to--

Uneven footsteps much too close to him drew his attention, and head snapping around to the source of the sound, Lelouch spotted one of them suddenly turning down the aisle he was hiding in and coming straight for him. He let out a loud gasp, scrambling to his feet again and nearly falling over in his haste to get away. If he'd known this was going to happen-- oh god, if it ran faster than him, he was going to die in this wretched building and he was never going to see Nunnally again, even if he-- run, damn it!

Someone called his name, and recognizing the voice immediately, Lelouch altered course, somehow dodging another thing (there were too many and he couldn't fight them off and if one of them touched him--) and stumbling again as he made for the store's entrance. Suzaku-- "Suzaku!" he called, already breathless as the second thing's hands tore at the back of his jacket. If it caught him-- "Here!"

Suzaku whirled around, panic subsiding in favor of relief. "Oh, thank God," he said fervently. If Lelouch hadn't been here, he had no idea what he would have done. Just seeing his face, terrified but alive, brought on a flood of emotion that Suzaku had no particular desire to recognize. The thought of Lelouch dying alone in the dark, needing Suzaku but with help nowhere to be found -- he couldn't bear it.

He darted forward, grabbing Lelouch's wrist and tugging him forward even as he stepped to the side, kicking upward. His sneaker caught under the zombie's chin and snapped its head back. Suzaku grabbed a can of something off a shelf and beat the thing a couple times for good measure before dragging Lelouch away. Then he could finally pause and take a couple deep breaths, trying to bring his racing heart back under control. Until he could calm down and process what had just happened.

. . . Heh. Lelouch was slower than a zombie.

Teasing him about it could wait until later, though. "We need weapons." Suzaku peered out the window of the store -- the streets were indeed full of shuffling, moaning monsters. "But it's probably a lot safer in here than out on the street. What do you want to do?"

The snapping sound and subsequent beating did little to help Lelouch's nausea, but beyond looking away from the scene, there was little he could do to block it all out. There were too many of them-- far too many of them, and if they waited here, their numbers would only grow-- for him to be able to relax even with his knight finally by his side. The town had all too quickly degenerated into pure chaos, and as what he could see in the store could only be a small taste of it-- but he couldn't panic now. He had to think of what move they should take next, even if the the smell and his fear of those rotting hands and the horrible, bloodstained maws each one of the zombies was sporting was--

He shifted closer to Suzaku unconsciously, eyes wide and horrified as he tried to take the scene in and evaluate the best way to get out of it. Where could they go? They could hardly stay here with how poorly defended this place was, but if they charged outside now-- "We need to arm ourselves," he said softly, eyes flitting between the-- zombies (did they have to use the z-word?) and the exit. "We won't survive long otherwise. Perhaps--" Perhaps what? With as many fruits and vegetables there were taking up space in the store, there wasn't exactly a wealth of convenient weaponry for them to choose from (unless they went the route that Spider had gone and decided to start flinging watermelons everywhere), but-- ah, of course.

He gestured towards the (former) butcher, swallowing convulsively as he took in the man's transformation. "There should be knives at least, but you--" What? It wasn't like Suzaku couldn't get past the man, but if he were hurt-- no, Suzaku could do it. Now was not the time to start doubting his knight's abilities, even if they were faced with hoards of undead that seemed to be gathering now solely for the purpose of impeding them. "Hurry."

Suzaku looked towards the counter, too. The knives would be pretty useful, especially if they could get a bunch of them, or at the very least they could serve until they found something better. He'd have to get past the zombie butcher, but -- that couldn't be harder than any of the other mindless, moaning cadavers he'd already knocked over. The one thing that worried him was that Lelouch would be undefended while he was occupied. He'd just have to be quick.

"Here," he said, passing off the can to Lelouch. Who'd probably think it useless, but it could work as a blunt instrument in a pinch. And with that, he dashed up to the counter, jumping up on the edge before kicking out at the former butcher.

The butcher normally had a name: Ryan. He was also normally a very nice young man who was more than willing to try and talk to any patients who wandered over to the counter he manned, but now he was nothing more than a hunk of rotting flesh in the shape of a person.

Predictably, he had a butcher knife in his hand. He was so used to chopping up meat all day that it was almost like second nature, and that seemed to apply even when undead.

He let out a moan that might have been slight surprise when there was suddenly something living and breathing right in front of him. Something fresh; something that would taste good if he cut into it.

He took the kick to the head and stumbled back, but he was only stunned for a second before jerking forward again and cleaving down with the knife in his hand. Seeing how Suzaku was on the counter, the blade was aimed for one of his legs.

[skipping with permission]

Suzaku felt his foot connect with zombie skull, which had been enough to put the other two out. Good, now all he had to do was avoid -- was it him or was the thing changing? It was hard to tell in the darkness, and maybe he just hadn't been close enough to see earlier, but it seemed bigger than the others. Bigger, more resilient, and faster, to judge by how quickly it struck back with that knife. Suzaku hadn't been expecting that speed at all, and he cursed as he tried to dodge. There was nowhere to go, however, and not enough time. He felt the blade graze his shin even as he danced backward with an awkward little hop.

This wasn't going to be so easy after all. At least he was aware of the fact now, however, and he wouldn't be caught by surprise again. He could definitely handle a normal human with a knife, let alone some brainless corpse, so as long as he kept his wits about him and didn't underestimate the thing again, he should be fine. Suzaku quickly took advantage of the recovery time the butcher would need between swings, and made to step on its wrist, neutralizing the knife against the tabletop before trying to kick it in the head again. Surely if he hit it enough times, it would go down, undead or not. Even if his leg was stinging sharply and might not be strong enough right now to keep the zombie's arm pinned.

The smell of fresh blood lingered in his nostrils, teasing him. It was so different from the smell of the raw meat he cut up day in and day out - so much sweeter. He would have it.

But then the movement of his hand was cut off. The zombie lurched its body upwards in an attempt to shove the human off of him, but that led to it pulling into perfect position to get kicked in the head. It flailed backward, but didn't stumble all the way due to Suzaku's foot still holding it down.

It didn't need the knife to cause damage, though. Letting out a shuddering roar, it pulled itself close to the human and moved in to try and bite at Suzaku's calf.

Lelouch wasn't entirely sure how the hell Suzaku expected him to defend himself with a can, but with the idiot already charging at the butcher-- damn it! He couldn't just bludgeon the things with it the way Suzaku had, not when he wasn't as-- he just couldn't. The zombies were getting closer now, too, and as it was becoming increasingly apparent that his knight wasn't going to be finished fighting off the one behind the counter quickly enough for him to help--

A rotting hand drew just a little bit too close to him, and resisting the urge to whimper, Lelouch quickly jerked backwards and hurled the can at the offending zombie's face before turning and breaking into a run. There were too many of them, and since he'd both lost the can and hadn't even managed to slow down the zombie or the group it was leading after him-- why couldn't it have at least fallen over or something?! He'd thrown the can as hard as he could!

He turned a corner and almost ran face-first into another one of the things, this one thankfully not reaching out to him and therefore giving him enough of a chance to kick out at its legs (mostly out of sheer panic) and hopefully knock it down. He nearly collapsed in relief when the kick connected, but seeing the zombie still moving even after its fall, he threw himself against the opposite wall and out of the zombie's range and tried very hard not to sink to the floor. His breath was coming in short gasps again, each one catching painfully in time with his wildly beating heart, but with more zombies coming after him-- he had to get back to Suzaku. He had to--

He clutched at the wall for a moment to steady himself, nearly jumping when his hand closed around something long, thin, and rounded instead of the flat surface he'd expected. For one terrible moment, he thought it was another zombie (he would not scream, he would not scream, he would not--), but when it fell to the floor with a distinctly wooden clatter the second he dropped it (not screaming, mind, even if he did make a slightly strangled-sounding squeak), it became clear that it was only a broom.

....

Lelouch had enough presence of mind to snatch the damned thing back up again before the zombie from before found him, and hurriedly swinging the broom at it to try and ward it and the rest of the zombies off, he bolted back in the direction he thought Suzaku and the butcher were and cursed softly at the growing stitch in his side. Damn it, he was not cut out for this!

Edited 2009-07-23 00:59 (UTC)

Hit it enough times and it would go down -- or so Suzaku thought. No human could be kicked in the head twice in a row and keep coming, but of course, it wasn't really human. And Suzaku was in a very, very vulnerable position, with nowhere else to go. If he moved, the knife would come back into play, and if he stayed there, those unnaturally large teeth were going to take a chunk out of his leg. And even in the middle of everything, he was peripherally aware of Lelouch running away, tailed by a group of zombies. Shit -- Lelouch. . . he couldn't run to save his life (literally) and if Suzaku didn't get back to him immediately, he was going to -- he was going to. . . shit.

What could he even do? This thing was bigger than him, pretty damn fast, armed, and completely resistant to any attack Suzaku might make with his fists and feet alone. He needed a weapon. There had to be other knives nearby, right? Taking a gamble, Suzaku leapt behind the counter, as far from those vicious teeth as he could get. He stumbled a bit on his injured leg, his back temporarily turned, and if he didn't recover quickly enough -- there. A rack of assorted knives. Suzaku snatched one up and whirled around, blindly throwing it in the direction of the zombie's head before it could have the chance to catch up with his retreat.

Hopefully. He hadn't had room to be aware of the thing's position in the flash of movement and the utter panic of not knowing if he was about to be eaten alive or not. Suzaku had never felt fear like this in a fight before, but the only word that described his reactions right now was terror. It was just -- the fact that the zombie wasn't going down no matter what he did, the fact that it would keep coming and coming, and that if he finally killed it there would just be more behind it, and that he might not even be able to save himself, let alone Lelouch, and the rotting flesh and the smell and the size and the teeth -- with effort, Suzaku forced himself to calm down. One step at a time, that was how you fought. If throwing the knife didn't work, he'd grab another. If the zombie had a longer reach than him, he'd be faster. Simple.

It could barely feel disappointment when its teeth failed to sink into anything. It couldn't feel much besides that hunger, and yet it was baffled for a moment when its prey decided to jump into its territory so suddenly. Here it had been expecting a chase...

Without giving any thought to why the prey would have come closer rather than retreating, the zombie started toward Suzaku once again, hoping to get within biting range a second time.

The knife flew toward it, and it didn't have the presence of mind to try and block the projectile with its own weapon. Instead, the knife grazed the side of its head, causing dead blood to flow but not actually penetrating the brain. It could still move, and move it did.

It was not like the others; its body was not so hindered, and so it snapped into a sudden burst of speed, intending to corner Suzaku against the counter.

[and again]

Damn. It still wasn't -- why couldn't he stop this thing? Was he actually so useless he couldn't even defeat something that barely had a brain? So much for being the illustrious Knight of Seven. That was it. That was just it. He was going to kill this zombie if it was the last thing he did, no matter what. He didn't care how terrifying or dangerous it was.

In a flash Suzaku went from panic to fury, from defense to offense. He wasn't going to let it have the chance to corner him, to keep him retreating uselessly -- it couldn't drive him back if he met its advance. Suzaku snatched up one of the other knives and matched the zombie's charge, raising a hand to block the arm holding that huge butcher knife while he slashed at the thing's throat with his own.

In the end, all the zombie had wanted was to get closer to its prey, and so it had no problem with Suzaku suddenly rushing forward to meet it. The knife cut through its throat before it had any idea of what was going on, and yet it barely seemed to notice even that. Blood poured out of the gash, just as rotten as the rest of it -- if anything, that lose just made it require fresh flesh even more.

Using its free hand, it grabbed out for Suzaku's collar. If it could just get a proper hold on the boy, then it could pull him close and sink its teeth in. If it took a few stabs from the knife to make the prey less difficult, then that could be arranged as well.

There was something thick and slippery spread all over the floor here, causing Haseo to instinctively brace himself on a shelf as he slid to a stop a short distance away. His eyes were wide with alarm pas he took in the creature some other guy was battling behind the meat counter... was that thing what the butcher had turned into?!

For a split second, Haseo paused, conflicted. On the one hand he felt a stronger obligation to protect the people he'd come in with, but on the other, if he was stuck in the body of his player character, then as a PKK white-knighting was kind of in his blood. Plus, these were real zombies and he wasn't so sure the confrontation was turning out so well. If his assistance wasn't needed then the guy could just complain later. At least he'd be alive to do so.

But first he needed a weapon.

His breath was ragged as he looked around desperately, frustration welling up at all the useless stuff he seemed to lay eyes: half-collapsed boxes of decaying cereal, bins of spoiled produce, tainted tubs and jars lined on the shelves like--

--the shelves!

Suddenly Haseo whipped around, one arm shoving items off a shelf as he yanked at it with the other and cursed his short-sightedness. Just how many times had he daydreamed at work on how to turn the things around him into weapons? This wasn't a game, where you were confined to a certain set of rules laid out by the developers. If he intended to turn something into a weapon to smack the undead around, then dammit it was going to work.

The shelf rattled but didn't come loose, and Haseo realized it must have been actually screwed in rather than simply set in with a latch like he was used to. He kicked at the support violently, until his foot and both hands were stinging from the impact. Finally the dilapidated rack broke and the shelf came loose with a clatter, and Haseo bolted for the fight with ruined food still falling to the ground.

"Hey! Ugly!!"

In a flash the Adept Rogue was on the counter, balanced in a crouch and starting a swing aimed at the monster's upper chest. It was admittedly far less refined than an attack with his own weapon would have been, but if he just pretended he had a broadsword, then hopefully the result would be the same. If he could just distract the thing from its advance for a moment then surely the chances of taking it down would improve.

Edited 2009-07-24 19:13 (UTC)

If one wished to be diplomatic, one might make the observation that Lelouch's swings were, at the very least, incredibly enthusiastic. One might even go so far as to say that, had there been no zombies at all and Lelouch had been wielding something somewhat more awe-inspiring than a tatty broom, the movements may have even been called graceful... at first. A little.

As things were, however, the fact that this was a life or death situation and Lelouch was becoming both more tired and more panicked the longer it went on did little to improve his already minimally effective blows. If this didn't end soon, he was either going to collapse, die, or both, and although he was trying to make his way back to his knight, he doubted Suzaku would appreciate having to deal with the three or so zombies shuffling after him on top of the one he was already fighting.

Lelouch's ill-advised attempts to fight the things himself were put on hold at a familiar-sounding yell, though, and confused (hadn't Suzaku still been behind the counter?), he shot a glance at the person standing on the counter and had enough time to confirm that it definitely wasn't his knight before one of the zombies' grasping hands took hold of the broom and made him leap backwards with a startled yelp. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-- he hadn't lost the broom, thank god, and the zombie was hardly interested in holding on to something it couldn't eat, but if they kept getting closer like that-- shit, shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshitshit--

Rotten blood spilled over his hands, down his arms, splashed across his face and chest. It was even more blood than when he had killed his father -- of course, he had hit what should have been an artery on a living person -- except this blood was old and putrefied. Suzaku's stomach turned, but more important was the fact that the zombie hadn't even reacted. It just kept coming, and now it was close enough that -- Suzaku thought he had an inkling of what it felt like to be an average pilot on the other side of Lancelot's vibration swords, when the thing grabbed his collar and dragged him closer.

Before Suzaku had time to panic any further, however, he heard a yell in an oddly familiar voice (he couldn't quite place it) and suddenly there was a board swinging out of nowhere. He had the presence of mind to duck, allowing the -- shelf? -- to hit the zombie. He didn't know who had come to his aid, and he wasn't sure he could quite accept the idea, but it looked like the person was on his side. And he wasn't going to throw away that opportunity.

Counting on the undead monster being distracted by the blow, Suzaku stabbed at the thing's stomach with his knife. It didn't matter right now that he was still in its grip, because he only had a second to take advantage of the distraction and he wasn't going to waste it on a defensive maneuver. Besides, if it was holding him within range, then it was in his range, too. Maybe it would just take a certain number of normally-fatal blows to bring it down. He at least had to try. Even if this was the same way he had killed -- no, this was nothing like that time, and he had to focus on the fight and nothing else.

Just as the zombie had been preparing to lift Suzaku up and rip a decent piece of flesh out of his shoulder, something smacked into it, causing it to stumble back, though it still held onto its prey with a death grip. It turned its head to see yet another person standing on top of the counter, and it roared in a mix of hunger and possibly frustration. It was hard to guess the emotions of something that could barely think.

The knife cleaved through its stomach, opening it up even further and sending a few rotten guts spilling to the floor, along with more of that blood. Once again, the creature didn't appear to have the capacity to feel anything. Logic should have dictated that losing so much blood should have some effect, but all the zombie did was turn itself toward the newest arrival and stab its knife down toward Haseo's foot.

If it could pin them into place, then they couldn't run away from its jaws. It was still holding onto Suzaku with its other hand.

Damn it!

The shelf hit the creature with a strangely dull whack, and although the other guy managed to get a strike in on the thing's stomach, it was clear it wasn't really slowed at all when it turned on Haseo and went for his legs.

The Rogue gave a startled yell as he scrambled back, expecting at any moment to feel the bite of the butcher zombie's blade. And yet the attack didn't quite connect- barely, and he only just scarcely avoided stumbling completely off the edge of the counter too, catching the other side in his left hand as he automatically struck out straight at the creature's hideous face with the shelf held awkwardly in the other.

His heart was in his throat, pumping blood way too loudly into his ears even as his stomach tried to rebel again at the sight of the damage done to the zombie and accompanying smell. It didn't help either that all these blunt impacts were really wearing on him, both his body and mind screaming protests that even his online PC wasn't made for that kind of self-inflicted abuse. He needed a proper blade, not a shelf.

His awareness jumped briefly to someone else, flailing in the darkness against several zombies and wielding what looked suspiciously like a broom, but that situation was dismissed immediately in favor of finally jumping down onto the same side as the fight. He kept his center of gravity low as he moved, continuing to try holding the zombie's attention, not sure what else to do when the thing already had a hold of the guy with the knife... it was frustrating fighting on someone's side when you hadn't matched strategies with them!

"The weakpoint should be the head!" he called, "The head!!"

Blood spilled over Suzaku yet again, and yet again the zombie didn't so much as slow down. That made two fatal blows he had struck, and the kicks to the head earlier would have given a living man a concussion. Even with his level of abilities, Suzaku felt completely helpless against this thing.

Or he would have felt completely helpless if he'd still been alone. He'd never forgive himself if the other guy got injured on his account, but for now he seemed to be handling himself well. And with him distracting the zombie, Suzaku could finish this a lot faster and not give the kid an opportunity to get hurt. If there was any way to finish it --

The head? Maybe. Suzaku had tried the other most obvious vital spots, so why not? He might as well trust the stranger, because it was the best shot he had. He didn't have the best weapon for a head injury, however. Using the brief moment of distraction while the zombie was recovering from the blow to the face, Suzaku did his best to slam the knife into the creature's temple. It was entirely possible it wouldn't do much damage, but he put as much force into the strike as he could, hoping the blade wouldn't just break.

The fact that Haseo had been missed caused the knife to instead bury itself into the counter; it was stuck so well that the zombie only had a moment or two to devote to trying to yank it back out before it took another hit from the shelf, this time to the head.

That was enough to stun it on its feet, and it was left wide open for Suzaku's follow-up attack with his own knife. It plunged into the soft area of its temple, and that was when any remaining bits of life in the creature died out.

The roaring moans stopped, and it slumped forward before collapsing onto Suzaku. Its prize knife was still embedded deeply into the counter.

[changin' up the order]

Finally. It seemed the zombie wasn't invincible after all, and Suzaku didn't even want to think about what would have happened if the new guy hadn't shown up. He probably would have tried the head eventually, but would he have thought of it before he was killed himself? There wasn't any use on dwelling on what-ifs, however, not when Lelouch was still in danger. Suzaku couldn't afford to rest on his laurels after ending this fight -- the fighting probably wasn't going to stop for a second, not until morning.

He didn't foresee the thing falling on him, though. It was huge enough to actually knock him to the ground, and he yelped in surprise, overwhelmed for a second by the stench of rotting flesh. As if he wasn't covered in enough zombie blood already -- ugh, ugh, ugh, he really thought he was going to throw up.

But there wasn't time for that, either. He had no idea where Lelouch had gotten to, only that he wasn't nearby, and to let him go so long without protection was unforgivable. With a heave, Suzaku shoved the putrid corpse off of him and scrambled to his feet. The knife he'd used before was buried in the thing's head, and the bigger one was wedged deeply in the counter. . . There wasn't time. He could come back for them.

He did, however, pause to fix the newcomer with a sincere gaze. "Thank you," he said before turning and dashing to where Lelouch seemed to be swatting zombies with a broom. Suzaku punched another zombie to get it out of his way and managed to come up behind the ones threatening Lelouch. A couple well-placed kicks to the head later, they seemed to be a bit stunned. "Come on," he said, turning to run back to the counter, which would be an easier position to defend while they figured out what to do next. He had been tempted to grab Lelouch's wrist again, but he didn't want to get blood all over him.

The rush of relief Haseo felt when that monster went down at last was at the same time intense and oddly numbing. In some ways it was similar to finally getting in a Data Drain on a particularly difficult AIDA infection, but although connecting with his Avatar in 'The World' was a surprisingly intimate experience and the threat of losing consciousness was always looming overhead, this was something else entirely different. More "real" was merely a cliche understatement. If anything it was more unreal, but the description of "nightmare" didn't really cut it either.

He stepped forward in order to help move the corpse, but hesitated when his resolve seemed to bail right before he could go through with it. Fortunately his impromptu ally seemed reasonably capable of getting out from under it himself and Haseo backed off, hoping his reaction had gone unnoticed and simply nodding at the thanks. He couldn't object when the guy ran off to help the one with the broom... letting this stranger know how affected he was, and how his hands shook slightly when he shifted the shelf he'd stolen from one to the other, wasn't particularly appealing.

Holding the back of his hand to his mouth, Haseo skirted the "body" of the former butcher. He continued to move quickly and had an eye on where the other guy was going, but time seemed to be lagging strangely and suddenly he found himself trying to fight off panic. But-- there were people who were counting on him and it was doing an injustice if he didn't stay strong enough to keep fighting until this was over. He couldn't afford a breakdown. Not here and not now, when both the people he was with needed his help and he wasn't even sure where his other friends were. After a moment he swallowed and managed to settle, but all the same it was probably both a good and bad thing he'd barely eaten all day. There was still no way he was going to touch the zombie, and therefore the knife in its skull was off-limits. He avoided looking at the mess any further.

Pulling at the blade stuck in the counter, he looked up as the blood-soaked man engaged the other zombies. Were they going to bring another fight over? Geez! Of course, it occurred to him finally that he had no idea why the guy had even been fighting the butcher in the first place, and he frowned as he finally yanked the huge knife out of the counter.

"Are you okay?" he said loudly, prepared to step in again if needed, though his eyes drifted toward the direction he'd originally come from.

By the time Suzaku reached him, Lelouch was too worn out to care about how pathetic it must be for him to have so much trouble with the zombies even with a weapon (of sorts) when all it took for his knight was a few kicks that had to have come as easily as breathing. Getting the hell away from the things before they could recover was far more important, and trying very hard not to lean on his broom as he did, he hurried after Suzaku and did everything he could to ignore the smell hovering around his knight.

He staggered and almost fell once they reached the (relative) safety of the counter, staying upright only through sheer force of will and sheer disgust at the body lying in a pool of its own blood and-- were those-- please say that wasn't--

Lelouch squeezed his eyes shut and backed up against the wall, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the thing on the floor. The hand that wasn't wrapped white-knuckled around his broom flew up to cover his mouth, but the damage was done.

He turned away from the others abruptly, doubling over and dropping his hand again so that he could throw up. He couldn't deal with this anymore, not when he was exhausted, aching, and surrounded by god knew what that was on the floor (he hadn't let himself look long enough to identify which of the zombie's organs had spilled out), and with the night not even half over-- how could anyone expect them to get through the rest of it? There was no way they could-- he could hardly breathe, much less bring himself to stand up straight or run again. He couldn't--

He leaned heavily against the wall once he was through, his eyes still shut and his breathing as ragged as ever. He didn't dare turn around just yet, but hopefully it wasn't necessary.

Edited 2009-07-27 04:55 (UTC)

"Yeah, we're --" Suzaku panted, breathing heavily more from adrenaline than exertion. He then realized he had no idea if Lelouch was okay or not, and turned around to see if -- watching Lelouch throw up made his own stomach turn again, as if in commiseration. Lelouch hadn't been the one covered in blood and guts, damn it. On the other hand, Lelouch wasn't a trained soldier. And how many people could put up with having to fight the undead?

Suzaku hesitantly put a hand on Lelouch's shoulder as his back heaved, even if it was stupid to care about something that mattered so little. All that should concern him right now was that Lelouch was still standing and uninjured. But somehow, surrounded by moaning zombies and with the smell of blood still in the air. . . For the first time, he'd felt close to death and hadn't been happy about the fact. Because this was about so much more than him. He had to live, for Lelouch and for everyone else, and with traces of fear still curling up his spine, he was entirely too glad to see Lelouch alive. Glad enough to be concerned that Lelouch was sick to his stomach, and who really cared why, anyway.

"I'm fine," he clarified. The cut in his leg burned, but it wasn't enough to keep him down. "Are you okay? And -- Lelouch, are you alright? Are you injured anywhere?" They didn't have much time for chit-chat with zombies still wandering around, but he had to ascertain this much at least. And then they had to get out of here and find some better weapons.

That guy... wasn't okay. Haseo grimaced slightly and looked away when Mr. Butcherfighter's companion vomited, but otherwise was rather blank on the matter, mind buzzing determinedly to keep from thinking about it. He busied himself inspecting the knife he'd pulled out of the counter instead, albeit carefully. It'd be just his luck to make it through the zombie invasion without being horribly devoured to death and then get an infected self-inflicted wound in the hellhole up the hill and die from that instead. Suffice it to say he wasn't stupid enough to risk cutting his hand by "testing" the sharpness.

"I'm fine," he said shortly, and his eyes drifted to the set of knives that had apparently been used before and-- wait... Lelouch? The monster report dude from the bulletin board? He didn't really think there was more than one person hanging around the institute with such an unusual name, so who else could it be? Haseo studied them both for a moment out of the corner of his eye. Guess he'll have some more additions to his list after this, he thought, though it lacked any of the normal dark humor. He probably should have known the other guy's name too, but the personal affairs of others, especially those he didn't know, hadn't really caught his interest before.

The Rogue lowered his head, giving what might have been a sigh or quiet scoff. "I'm Haseo, by the way. Why were you fighting thi- that thing?"

Being ignored during his... moment would not have been nearly as good as having both of them completely forget it had ever happened like Emmett had, but Lelouch would have been perfectly happy with it nonetheless. Of course there was no hope for it from Suzaku, overprotective idiot that he was, but there was a very, very big difference between drawing attention to him and reaching out and touching him like they were actually-- what was he thinking? He couldn't possibly--

Lelouch forced back his sudden tenseness just a little bit too late, and after spitting a few times to try and get rid of the taste and wiping at his mouth, he straightened casually and accidentally dislodged Suzaku's hand from his shoulder as he turned. "I'm fine," he echoed, studiously avoiding eye contact with either of them but especially with Suzaku. "No injuries." Miraculously enough. He just hoped that stayed true for the rest of the night.

He leaned against the wall again, shutting his eyes once more as a pounding headache made itself known. Great. As if he wasn't suffering enough when his lungs, shoulders, and legs still burned. If it weren't likely that the zombies would find their way over or around the counter soon, he might have just said to hell with it and keeled over, blood, guts, and vomit or no, but as things were... "The knives. Like the one you're holding, for instance. Why else?" His voice was lower and raspier than usual, not to mention punctuated by the occasional harsh indrawn breath, but he still managed to sound somewhat like his usual self.

Speaking of voices... no, it had to be nothing, even if it was bothering him immensely by now. It had to be a coincidence.

Edited 2009-07-28 01:02 (UTC)

Nightshift 42: Callahan's Grocer

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