|
|
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 15, 2012 18:14:44 GMT -8
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 15, 2012 19:22:30 GMT -8
Officer Ashley was not on duty. In fact, he was late to the laundromat. He stares at the little numbers on the dashboard as he drove. Faster and faster, come on, hurry up.
Ashley had to hurry to get to the place before they closed. He'd be pissed if he showed up to get his clothes and had to return empty handed, the drive was hardly an easy one and this was on the way back from a gift-buying run. He even sped a little, it wasn't like there was anyone around to notice. Just his luck, the lights to A-1 Laundry were still on, and there was even a nice piece of street parking right by it. He hopped out of his car, it was amazingly deserted even this early, no one wanted to hang around Belltown at night. He counted his luck.
He nearly forgot to lock the door, and set the alarm, bustling in the door before they could try to lock him out. Long strides and fast steps carried him to the door. The old woman at the counter raised an eyebrow and wordlessly pushed him a giant rustling plastic bag full of clothing.
In and out, so easy. He emerged into the cool night air, the sky nearly full black and the last glimmers of sunset fading on the waterfront. It was really attractive, actually. He felt revved up from the trip, but had nothing to loose his energy on. Somewhere in the distance were sirens. Nothing new there... He wondered if it was someone he knew. There were so many new kids lately, especially at the downtown branch. People knew being a cop was an easy job to get into, so with the economy there was an influx of idiot kids. No fun for anyone.
He stuffed the pile of clothing into his car, hanging it from one of those awkward hooks in the backseat, trying to arrange it so it wouldn't block his view. He pulled a U turn in the middle of the road, no one was in sight to see...
He drove down Wall Street, turning left at that place with the big creepy eyeball sign. He lived in West Seattle, and this was a hell of a trip on a day off, but convenient when he was at work. Today was one of those inconvenient days.
Not so bad now though, the roads were empty. He drove towards the waterfront, the big dock buildings dimly lit and the red light of sunset glimmering off the water. He turned left on Alaska way, and was again surprised to see no one. It wasn't that late... Was there a road closure somewhere nearby?
He drove past the odd angles of the waterfront businesses, cruising slowly now. It felt nice to relax after the rush to get here. Those sirens in the distance were the only thing to mar his relaxation. He turned on the radio, but found it was all full of some sort of urgent yammering. Probably some stupid protests again. He didn't really focus on the words, as he passed Pier 62 by the aquarium. The big open dock had a single person it, that caught his eye. He slowed a bit, and the person made an erratic jerk, and fell to the ground on their side.
Probably a junkie having an OD...
He considered radioing it in, but realized he'd left the radio at home. He sighed, and pulled to the side of the road. The body lay still on the ground.
He got out of his car, glancing both ways down the road. No one in sight, just those sirens. He'd check on the person, call in to the station. Hopefully they weren't all out on some protest watch.
The red sky was dimmed to a purplish burgundy, bright red slashes sparking violently on the gently rippling sea water. The air was rank with salt and dead fish. The grayish wood of the dock felt soft to his feet, and he made a 'clak clak' noise and he walked towards the prone body.
It was a blonde woman, she faced away from him. Her hair looked like a tangle of straw colored seaweed floating in the sea breeze. She had on a thick knitted sweater and her small frame was sunken into it. She looked like a piece of driftwood washed ashore.
"Ma'am?" he called in his authoritative policeman voice.
The body jerked a bit, but she did not raise her head.
Ashley pulled out his phone. Great! Fine time to have no signal...
The huge cranes on the horizon were like black skeletons of dinosaurs, silhouetted against the final sliver of sun on the horizon.
He knew better than to touch this body. He called again, "Ma'am?"
The body jerked once more, and the woman began to sit up. He moved to help her, and brushed his hand against her bare arm, cold as a stone on the shore.
The woman staggered away from him, her hair tangled over her face. He'd thought her to be homeless, but he realised her sweater was a rather chic design, she wore knee high leather boots and stockings. Her nails were manicured...
His hand felt wet. He glanced down, and saw blood on his fingers, black in the dim light.
The woman made a gasping noise, like she couldn't catch her breath. He moved to help her and she struck an arm out, slashing his bare forearm with her manicured nails.
"Ma'am! I'm not going to hurt you!"
What was wrong with her? On drugs? Just scared?
She continued making that sucking gasp, like she has having an asthma attack. She tore at her own hair that hung in front of her face, like she was pulling at a cobweb she'd run into. She pulled out stringy clumps, gasping.
Should he restrain her? This was going to be so much paperwork... Then he noticed her arms, he thought they were tattoos, now he saw they were runners of black blood coming from two gashed wrists. She suddenly lurched forward at him, her teeth glinting in the red light.
Instinctively, he pushed her back, and her light frame sailed backward, landing headfirst on the dock with a loud crack. Her body crumpled, and she lay completely still and silent. A single car drove by, far too fast, and disappeared around a corner.
He bent down to check. Dead. Cold and dead. A small puddle of dark blood was seeping into the dry wood of the dock. A seagull chattered. His experience said don't move the body, but his experience also said: Call this in right now. RIGHT NOW.. but he had no outward radio, the cellphone wasn't working. He had reached a kind of technical glitch in the law. He decided to leave this for his fellows...evidence would tell that he was innocent. He knew it. He betted on it. They trusted him. They all trusted him. He decided to head home to the station...he could report it. He might even be arrested, he wasn't sure, but something told him to do it.
He frowns, unhappy, and listens to the radio in the darkness, staring empty-hearted at the dead woman. Something was not right, something was definitely not right. He starts the car and begins driving down the road back towards the station, sour stomach churning.
|
|
|
|
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 16, 2012 12:58:57 GMT -8
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 16, 2012 22:15:06 GMT -8
Ashley was thinking as he drove, wracked by anxiety. He had killed a woman, but...how? Was this some kind of mystery drug he didn't know about? Or maybe it was that "zombie-man'" drug that had been on the news lately...but that would have never made blood look a day old. Ashley bit his lip and pulled off little pieces of skin. He pulled out a few hairs nervously picking. Can't afford to lose too many of those, he thought, but he knew he had a good head of hair for his age.
The last glimmers of light disappeared as he turned the corner to drive up the hill, and the world was lit by streetlamp alone. Those sirens still wailed in the distance. He saw an occasional car in the distance, but the roads were shockingly deserted. Something was very wrong. He felt it before, and now he felt it again. He felt around in his truck and remembered he did not have any firearms in this one. Shotgun in the trunk...in his patrol car...at home. He turned up the radio, and tried to pay attention despite the distractions. Something... some kind of attack?
He was startled by a strange, childlike voice.
"We killed ourselves. We made ourselves into this, so we can kill you. Th-the dead are coming for you... you see it already. We sent them to kill everyone. Y-you're all going to fuck-king die. Hh-huh-heh heh. It's so fucking funn-ny. Just, just die now."
-- We apologize for the language, these are the words of those who have taken credit for today's attack. There is an unknown death toll, but we have word from nearly every major American city, that there is mass rioting and destruction, cause unknown. We are waiting for a message from the emergency broadcast system, but as yet there is no official word. Please remain in your homes, or seek shelter."
He flipped through the stations, it was all talk.
"Mummies take out our insides. It's really cooool. Wanna see?"
--
"We hate you all soooo much. Haha... That's why we're doing this--"
--
Are these the end times? We ask our listeners--
--
He saw flashing lights at the end of 3rd as he passed, continuing up the hill on Virginia. He saw people running wildly, cars careening around corners. What was going on?! He stopped his car in the middle of Virginia, jumping out and running up the steps to the building. Gunfire, somewhere. Screams, the squeal of tires.
The front steps were surrounded with hedges and green trees, so he didn't see it until he was nearly upon it.
A body lay in front of the doors. A man in a white shirt, blood spraying out behind him several feet and down the steps. He moved to use the other doors, stepping just inside, he saw them. Two police he didn't recognize, in the requisite blue and black. A blonde man with a flat top had blood pouring the top of his head, spats of red all over his shirt. The other was a darker skinned man, his face nearly obliterated with gore.
They both pointed their guns, the standard issue .40 Glock.
CLICK CLICK CLICK.
They tried to fire empty clips. He smelled the powerful smell of gunsmoke and blood, chunks of wall were chipped from bullets. He heard footsteps from the end of the hall, and gunfire errupted.
Someone grabbed him from behind, and he found himself pulled backwards through the doors, back into the evening cold. Parker, a cop he recognized, turned him around.
"Cassius! What the fuck are you doing? They've all gone insane!"
The man had a bleeding wound on his shoulder
"Get out of here!" he yelled with a hoarse voice.
Another shot rang out, and another. Before they could move, Ashley was sprayed with a shower of hot blood. The top of Parker's head was now oddly shaped and blackened, and the man dropped suddenly. A blue and black dressed figure emerged from behind a tree at the end of the block, moving strangely towards him, gun drawn.
"Parker," he muttered quietly, he felt numb suddenly. He had lost friends before, good and bad, once in his presence, but never like this. He felt like he should check to see if he was alive, but he knew within that Parker was dead. He double-checked for anyone else alive...It was his job to protect, his job to serve... dammit, where are the guns? Why am I so powerless? He wondered to himself, ducking for cover as he tried to get into a patrol car...He had the keys, they had a computer. He could do this. He left his car parked there in front. He should not try to go inside. His friends were doomed...maybe if he could get a radio. It was, after all, very difficult to hit a moving man, unless you were a hunter...Like he was...like his friends were... He hesitates, looking for anyone still alive, before trying to take the patrol car.
|
|
|
|
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 17, 2012 13:21:51 GMT -8
Thanks Jara!
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 17, 2012 21:18:40 GMT -8
Ashley sped away from the gunfire, driving down the relatively deserted street of Terry. People ran in buildings before he could call out to them, and some crazed looking people loped towards his car, blood running from their mouths. He stepped on it, fighting the urge to run over the disgusting creatures. Creatures, that was what they were. They had become monsters somehow...like those movie creatures. He never watched movies anymore, but maybe on posters and on tv sometimes. He chewed his now-bleeding lip again.
As he came to the intersection of Denny, he saw the huge snarl of traffic ahead, people getting out of their vehicles and running in every direction. Most people fled into buildings, but some just meandered around, looking dazed and blank. A young Filipino man waved his hands in the air at Ashley.
Man-
"Hey! Police! Stop please!"
Ashley slowed and the man hopped in the passenger seat. He had a splash of blood on his shirt. He frowned at the spot. Wasn't this transferred by blood? Or was that vampires? Or werewolves? Or...why was he even thinking about this? It was some kind of disease anyways.
Man-
"Holy shit man! This shit is... Damn!"
He was panting, completely out of breath. Ashley pulled as sharp U turn, and started driving around 9th.
Man-
"Dude, we gotta... Hey hey, turn left. Yeah I know it's one way. Just do it, I got uh... *pant*.. idea."
The young man pointed out alleys and side roads, and Ashley followed, narrowly avoiding the crazed people and snarls of wrecked vehicles. It would just dent the car. Dent the car. He wondered what was going on, while the world had all gone to hell. He needed a cigarette...he had quit almost ten years ago now, and now he needed it most. And yet, somewhere, he was excited...alive... but now wasn't the time. Everything was burning to the ground, his empire.
Man-
"I'm Ivan, by the way. I got a clicker for this garage... I'm a valet... We get in there and shut the door."
They got back on Terry, driving down the narrow and empty road, until Ivan gestured to a rolldown. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out an electronic keyfob, and pointed it at the garage. It slowly reacted, lifting.
At the end of the alley, a lurching mob was forming, following the cruiser. The rolldown raised sluggishly, and Ashley pulled in as soon as he could, the roof scraping slightly. The garage was darkened, and had several cars in it.
Ivan-
"Here man-- we gotta make sure that thing closes."
The young man hopped out of the car before it was stopped, searching around for some kind of weapon. He noticed some construction equipment leaning against the wall-- several lengths of pipe. He tossed one to Ashley as he got out of the car, and kept one for himself. The rolldown was slowly closing, just as some crazed people entered, their heads lolling strangely.
Ivan-
"They aren't right man. They won't listen to you. You gotta..."
He shook his head, and moved towards them, gripping the weapon.
Ashley picked up the pipe, wielding it over his head slightly, it was just the right length to put some force into it, but he wasn't sure how well it would hold up. Honestly he had never had to think about hitting someone with a pipe, though a thug had cracked his knee with one not too too long ago...well, almost ten years now.
He wheeled to face the others, and struck at the head of the nearest man. He kept his back towards the other man and payed careful attention to the others. "Cov...stay with me," he caught himself almost giving the other man an order.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 17, 2012 21:19:54 GMT -8
Cassius would probably want to stay in the garage itself for the night once they secured it, and try to reinforce the door upwards in case there are more zombies. I'd prefer that the GM play him just because it takes me a while to develop characters. Any sort of confrontation is fine, he will go upstairs and explore in the morning.
|
|
|
|
Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 18, 2012 2:00:26 GMT -8
Hey Jara, I won't get a chance to update this until later tonight-- just wanted to let you know in case you'd like to go a little further on your own. Otherwise I'll update when I get home, sorry for the delay!
|
|
|
|
Post by Thy Dungyeon Maestyr on Oct 18, 2012 21:21:50 GMT -8
GM NOTE (from Christopher): ENOUGH! I had typed out a big long description of what happened next and just lost it all! Gone forever! But that's OK. You've gotten the flavor for what's going on in the world, so I want to get you into the action ASAP. This is a short outline of what Ivan and Ashley have been up to: 1) They jam all the doors shut. 2) Power goes out! They start a little campfire on a loading dock and talk this out. WTF, yo? Zombies it is! They sleep in shifts. 3) They wake up, peep outside a second, see several hundred zombies, and decide to stay in. They make torches in the dark ass building, and make a point of keeping them low to avoid sprinklers. They set out to clear the building. 4) Upstairs offices, they look out windows and it's zombies everywhere, though thinner in the back alley. They eat shitty food from kitchenettes. 5) Downstairs, the north end of the building has a restaurant over-run with zombies. They know they'll need calories to fuel an escape and the best bet is that kitchen. They use the hall as a chokepoint and kill like 25 zombies. 6) After locking the doors and rolling down all the curtains on the glass storefront, they find the zombies short memories are fooled and they lose interest in the joint. They go in the kitchen, wash off the blood, and feast like kings (on cold cuts). 7) Exhausted, they go sleep in an office, not bothering to take shifts. Sometime after dawn they wake up, and Ivan is pissed to see that he's still living in this nightmare. He goes to the back window and punches the frame. 
Ivan-
"GODDAMN THIS FUC- Whoa, look at that."
Ashley went to the window, but didn't see anything.
Ivan-
"Wait for it."
A black lady came into sight - a soldier! She was hauling some kind of fencing material through the alley.
Ivan-
"God bless the motherfucking marines!"
His face was lit up. The two men used his phone as a light source rather than monkey with their crude torches, and they ran down to the back alley exit. *PROCEED TO SUBPAR ROLEPLAYING - CHAPTER THREE - 403-BACK ALLEY* |
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Jar on Apr 3, 2013 19:03:11 GMT -8
Ashley spent the rest of his time well, dreaming of forgotten places, and maybe forgotten Gods.
It didn't matter that the magic itself wasn't good or evil, it must be evil. Maybe they were just deluding themselves that it wasn't. Either way, he was hostile to the idea and didn't want to touch the stuff, even after getting any information out of Nat. It didn't matter that most of what he had already tried was some attempt, by someone to do magic. There was just a difference, between witchcraft and whatever he had done, to him.
He prayed for the wounded and those who had died, and though he had not known either of them well, they were both treated with respect, as were the bodies of the many zombies who were killed since then.
Ashley visited with the others who had been there during the attack, and would have tried to spend some of his time with Patti, Seth and Alex in the meantime. He'd be sure to see Tyrone and speak to him whenever he could, while offering him a game of cards now and then to keep spirits up.
He spent time training, fortifying, and speaking with as many of the higher ups as he could, to discuss strategies, and neither drank alcohol or smoked, or stopped patrolling, even if it was on his own.
Ashley also trains and works with Patti and Alex, mostly to make sure they're alright with all the horror of not too long ago. He'd speak with the two extensively about their feelings on it, though I doubt he'd get far with how closed they tend to be.
He'd otherwise make more memorials to people, now his sill is entirely covered, and make more fancy cat collars with ribbons.
|
|
