damned_institute | Nightshift 42: North Street

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Nightshift 42: North Street

[from here]

Being stuck in a small room with those monstrosities didn't seem the safest option. Being outside, with more space to see and move sounded far better. But when Klavier actually got outside, he suddenly thought maybe the small room didn't seem so bad.

THEY. WERE. EVERYWHERE. Crowded worse than LA during rush hour on even the worst of days. Rushing and moving like a writhing, anguished mass. So many. Where had they come from?! Stupid question. What were they?! Monsters, people... How could this-- AHHH!!!

He was frozen in place for a few moments before he realized staying in one spot wasn't the best idea. He frantically looked around. He needed to find somewhere safe! He needed to get out of here. Where was safe?! Somewhere high? Were all of the buildings infested? Maybe he could lock himself in somewhere and--

WAIT!! NO! What was he thinking?! What about everyone else? He couldn't just barricade himself somewhere safe and sit around while everyone else was ripped apart. And... KRISTOPH! Where was he?! Had he been swarmed, too?! He had to have been. But in this mess, he didn't even know where to begin looking for him. Or how long he would last searching. Maybe he would have to trust that his brother would find a safe place... No. He couldn't spend the entire night not even sure if he was safe or not. What if he needed help?

....Holy-- It looked like HE needed help!! "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Again he swung the lamp anytime any got too close, moving with his back toward the walls. Where to go?! Where to go?!

Threaded | Flat

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/676013.html?thread=55581869#t55581869)]

He was right--it was worse out here. And, of course, the two of them being injured as they were, being out in the open was not the best of options. They needed somewhere safe, and quickly. At most, he only had a few cards in case of emergency, but...

"Any ideas, love?" He tossed a few cards in order to stop a few of those zombies coming their way, but he knew he did not have enough to stop them all. "Hardware store, perhaps?"

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/674856.html?thread=55641384#t55641384).]

All Kristoph had to go by was a scream, but the pitch and the inflections were enough to pull the man in that direction. His intuition, it seemed, had been right on the mark. The figure toward the antique's shop could not be mistaken. And when he reached the little skirmish, he did what any meat-shield-needing man would do: he swung his plastic bird into the skulls of his brother's attackers. Repeatedly.

It wasn't until the last shriveled and died that he extended his eyes toward Klavier. "You were fortunate I was nearby," he commented flatly. "Are you hurt?"

Edited 2009-07-20 23:37 (UTC)

[From here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/680134.html)]

Old model or not, there was no denying that the truck could handle itself against pedestrians. "Sorry!" Otacon yelled as the vehicle swung into North Street and sideswiped two zombies. He'd chosen this way hoping it would be less crowded with patients, and it was, with the apparent trade-off being even more zombies. Otacon hit the horn to warn anyone up ahead that he was coming through.

"They're coming out of the woods," he noticed disbelievingly, looking to the fields on his right. The horn sounded several more times as he sped up. Maybe it was his imagination, but it almost seemed like the noise had an unfortunate side effect of attracting an uncomfortable amount of undead attention. Which was fine, he supposed, as long as they didn't trap him in the middle of the road and turn his vehicle into a metal coffin.

When had he become so morbid? Otacon forced himself to concentrate on locating Fox first, and then he could worry about surviving this. On the bright side, whatever it was that had landed this truck in the auto repair shop, it didn't hinder him from being able to plow through jaywalking zombies and navigate the uneven, corpse-strewn terrain.

If we ever get out of here, Otacon resolved, I'm throwing out every copy of Resident Evil we own.

[To here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/677442.html?thread=55735362#t55735362)]

Edited 2009-07-22 07:23 (UTC)

[from here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/676744.html?thread=55755912#t55755912)

She guessed she should be thankful that her arm wasn't more ripped up. It itched and stung, but it wasn't gushing blood or torn to pieces. So that was good, right? No sudden urge for brains, no sudden death. Yeah, something good. Right.

She skirted the building to peer into the next street. Less people for sure. Same amount of undead fiends. This was not as easy as it had seemed at the start. Find a less populated area, and then find weapons, then regroup. Nope. That plan of attack failed, and now they were still weaponless and in the same situation. Senna leaned out from the shadows a little, squinting down the street. There were some buildings up there but she couldn't make them out. She shifted her weight, mouth thinning into a line. "Let's make for those," she said quietly. "Then we'll see what we can do."

[from here]

If the kitchen was a nightmare, then the outdoors were hell. It was literally crawling and moaning zombies as far as the eye could see. They seemed to be coming from the fields across the road. This was bad, really bad.

The sound of a loud horn honking brought her attention to an old truck that was plowing down the road, hitting every zombie that was in it's path. If only there was a secure and safe method of transportation to get them out of this horror story. Even with her limited powers, one cannon blast wouldn't be enough to create a temporary path to the other side of town, or wherever.

"W-Where should we go now?" she called out while waving her frying pan at any creature that got too close to them.

Tamaki! He couldn't find Tamaki!

They'd split up a little while before night had come, Ed wanting to go back to the bookstore but night had come too swiftly, those creatures had begun to flood into the town and now he didn't know where Tamaki was! He wasn't a fighter! he could get hurt or... or... nah, he would be fine. Ed had to believe that.

He dodged around one of the things which was coming at him, and ducked beneath a lunge from another. Apparently being, ugh, short had an advantage when being attacked by things that looked disturbingly dead. Like the cats and things at the Institute in fact. Rotting flesh, like the corruption of that place spread further than just the grounds.

Shit. He just needed space! A couple of minutes to concentrate and make himself a weapon, even if it meant expending energy. He rammed a fist hard into the rib cage of one of the creatures and followed it up by smashing it's head with his automail.

Edited 2009-07-28 02:42 (UTC)

[from here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/676013.html?thread=55831469#t55831469)

Senna burst out of the doorway, running a few steps around to the side of the building. After doing a quick check, she leaned forward, a hand on her knee, gasping. Man. That was not as easy as it should have been. But damn. That was almost fun. She should definitely spar with Falis more; this was good for Senna.

But that was for later. Right now, there was a whole mess of people to check up on, and they needed a safe spot to get them to. Unfortunately, Senna had no idea where one might be. She shook her head, then straightened, wiping a hand across her forehead with a sigh. "Damn..." And that about covered everything so far. To Meche, she directed, "How's your leg?" Then glanced around the group, eyes lingering on the kid. "And how's everybody else?"

Edited 2009-07-30 04:38 (UTC)

[From here]

The reprieve from the zombie hordes did not last for long as the pair moved from Bohr to North Street. Already, more were starting to trickle in from the northern fields and Link Street. Ahead, Utena could see the door to Hal's Used Cars still closed. Hopefully that meant it wasn't teeming with more zombies ready to pounce on them. Or at least many more, anyway.

I really, really hope Himemiya's doing better than we are right now, thought Utena as they rushed forward, hoping to outrun the incoming zombies to the dealership.

(From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/674338.html).)

... and onto a back alley behind the restaruant. At least there weren't any zombies waiting for them out here. Taking a breath, the butcher knife in his hand,he tugged Artemis forward to get him walking. There was still the sounds of screaming and chaos all around, but the alley was clear.

"Take a moment to catch your breath," he said, turning to Artemis and keeping his voice as low as possible with still being able to be heard over the din. "And-"

A rotting human being loomed up behind Haku and sunk it's teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/686083.html?thread=56004611#t56004611).]

This street was busier than the last- from the intersection, Leonard could see activity down one side of the street. Must be something going on down there. Whether it's a good or bad sign is the question.

The other side of the street was much darker and foggier. Maybe there aren't any monsters down there. Or maybe there are, and there are no survivors to stir the activity.

"You wouldn't happen to have a flashlight or a lighter on you, would you?" Leonard asked, deciding that wandering into the unknown wasn't the wisest idea.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/677442.html?thread=56062274#t56062274).]

All right, so they'd run from one street to another. Keman recognized this one, sort of. It was the street where that geode woman had her shop. And...there was the shop. He was oddly tempted to go inside, but--

Wait.

He and Shana had been inside that shop for over an hour his first week, and it hadn't been a very big one. He still remembered where Hattie Fellows had kept her jewelry. The real stuff. The precious stuff.

"Valyn, that shop. It has jewels. Precious and semi-precious, maybe even diamonds. Do you want to look for a beryl? Or do you not want to risk it?"

If worse came to worse, they could probably try to find a supply cupboard or something to hole up in until they figured out their next move. If they had one.

[from here]

S.T. gave the wheel one last hand-over-hand turn, dragging a couple of ambitious zombies into first a demonstration of centripetal acceleration and then Newton's First Law. Then he set one wheel on each side of the double-yellow and turned on the headlights.

"Don't break the fucking bottle. Either of them." He slid his left hand to twelve o' clock and reached backwards.

There are multiple types of back-seat gropes; this was the sort where the driver, his eyes on the road in textbook fashion, blindly grabs for some necessary item he has foolishly left in the back seat. S.T.'s hand found Spider's skull, and after a brief identification traveled towards the likely location of the neck of the bottle. Namely, Spider's mouth.

"Fuck." That was the business end of a lit cigarette. It occurred to him that the idea of leaving biting to the zombies might not have done the same to Spider. The hand switched to a gimme gesture directly in front of Spider's eyes. "Leave some for me, capische?"

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[on the far eastern end of the street]

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