Zombie Apoc AU (Open)

Achille sat at the counter of the local diner, enjoying the piece of cheesecake on his plate, ignoring the ruckus coming from the front door to the dining establishment. The rich, delicious flavor of the cheesecake was all that was on his mind as he ate, thoroughly enjoying each mouthful of the dairy confection. The fact that there were apparently crazed individuals outside of the diner, pounding incessantly on the door in a shoddy attempt to break it down was not something that overly concerned Achille. He could, and would, deal with them after he had enjoyed his cake. It was not often that he got a chance to enjoy something so good after all.

Achille make a mental note to ask the waitress for the recipe or at least to talk to the chef. Assuming of course that they were not part of the growing crowd of individuals outside of the diner. Achille had a feeling they would be sadly, so he wasn't too hopeful about finding out how to make the cheesecake. Still, he thought as he finished the last piece and wiped his mouth off with a napkin, at least I got to eat something. Always good to work on a full stomach.

Achille had entered the diner not too long before, looking for a means of losing the crowd of hostile townsfolk that had latched onto him. The door hadn't been too hard to barricade, all he had to do was move a booth or two in-front of it and all was good. After that he had caught a whiff of the cheesecake while rummaging through the kitchen, which is how he had ended up taking time from his escape to enjoy a meal. The results of this were quite plain to Achille as he could now hear banging starting at the back door as well which was no doubt soon to increase in frequency once more of the townsfolk heard the sounds.

But that was alright. Achille was fell fed, rested, and in a mood to relieve some stress in one of the only ways he knew how. It was just like the saying went; 'Sometimes you just got to wake up and smell the ashes.' Or something like that. Achille would admit he had a rather poor memory for sayings. And names. And birthdays. And credit card numbers. And body cou-

The sound of breaking glass drew Achille's unseeing attention away from his internal musings on all the things he couldn't remember, instead bringing it to the back door where, from the sound of it, one of the townsfolk had managed to break part of the door down and was now moaning incoherently and thrashing out. Achille made an irritated clicking noise with his tongue, walking casually over to the source of the noise, extending his hand, palm toward the townsman/woman. The individual grew more violent, thrashing about even more, attempting to grab Achille's arm, causing Achille's palm to barely graze the top of his hand.

"Fwoosh" Achille said quietly, a rather disturbing smirk appearing suddenly on his face.

The townsman burst into flames a moment later.

The comic book shop was silent, save for the occasional, quiet, sound of flipping pages. Behind the counter, a door labeled "STAFF ONLY. KEEP OUT.", stood half open, a headless body laying just inside. The bodies head sat on the checkout counter, eyes and mouth still moving. To any normal person, this would probably be incredibly disturbing or sickening. But to Eric, it was just amusing. She hardly payed the head any attention now, however, instead focusing on the pile of comics she had stacked next to her chair, alongside of the bloodied katana resting on the floor. The shopkeeper had gloated on several occasions about the katana hanging on the wall being real, so when the employee had attacked Eric, she decided to put it to the test.

As it turned out, the blade was very much real.

She glanced up from her book at the windows of the store. Last time she'd looked up, only one person had been lazily pounding their hand against the window, but now there was a small horde outside moaning and groaning. A few cracks appeared to be inching across the glass, something that wasn’t a big concern for the moment. It probably wouldn’t take long for them to break the glass though, Eric thought. With a sigh, she reluctantly began to pack the Fantastic Four bag that had been on display in the store with the comics stacked beside her. Sure, someone could get mad at her for stealing, but in her defense the shopkeeper had tried to eat her. At least, that’s what he seemed to be trying to do.

It didn’t really feel like she had to leave just that second, though, so Eric left the comic she was currently reading out and continued where she had left off. In hindsight, the whole “people up and trying to eat you” thing WAS kind of odd, but it didn’t bother her too much. As a professional mercenary- well, a mercenary, at least, killing people was never too big of a deal. Besides, this wasn’t just baseless murder, it was self-defense. There was the factor of her teammates also scattered around the town, as well. But they were big kids; they could take care of themselves, so it was hardly a concern.

The cracking glass was audible now, and the attackers outside seemed to notice as well, because they’re pounding became more rapid. With a sigh, Eric flipped the book close and slung her newly acquired bag over her shoulder, picking up the stained katana with her free hand. It wasn’t exactly her first choice of weapon, but it would be all she had until something better came along, not to mention, katanas were pretty badass. The severed head on the counter snapped at her as she passed, but she barely paid attention to it, instead staring warily at the body stuck in the back doorway. The head was still very much alive, but the body didn’t seem to be. Oh well, better safe than sorry.

Before stepping over the corpse she quickly stuck the katana through its heart, than pulled it out and moved on into the back room, noticing the now very loud cracking glass in the previous room. That might be a problem if there proves to be more of the deranged people out the back door. Thankfully, however, when Eric cracked the back door, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Good. Swinging the door open and stepping out, she made her way toward the main street, planning to find her fellow teammates.

11/4/68 1:42 PM - Subject has grouped itself with about five or six others, forming a sort of pack. Though they're sticking together, they don't exhibit any kind of visible teamwork nor do they seem to be verbally communicating in any way. Still walking in circles. Hope they do something more interesting soon.

The shuffling of feet, the buzz of the florescent lighting, ad the furious scribbling of pen on paper where the only sounds that could be heard in the mostly deserted department store. Fran looked up from her journal and frowned. Damn it, they went behind that clothing rack again. Oh well. They'd be back. She was silently perched atop a display rack, well out of the reach of hungry, undead hands. A surgical mask stretched over her mouth and her hands were covered by her trademark red gloves. Lucky for her, the creatures lacked the intelligence to search for anything that wasn't at eye level.

That did leave her with one tiny problem: how to get down. For the last hour, Fran had barely dared to move other than to take notes as the groaning mob aimlessly patrolled the floor. She had no way of knowing for sure but she was fairly certain they were searching for her.

11/4/68 1:55 PM - Perhaps they still have some sense of smell? It must not be too strong since none of them have even looked my way yet. Maybe this is what led the subject into town in the first place.

Never in her wildest dreams did the medic imagine something like this could spread so quickly. She might not have even believed it if she wasn't staring at it with her own eyes. It was...simply fascinating. They behaved like machines, mindlessly seeking the living to spread the disease. Or to devour them. No, Fran was unlucky enough to have witnessed that first hand. She shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

11/4/68 2:14 PM - Still haven't left.

If she didn't find an opening soon, how long would she be stuck here? Worse yet, how much longer could she go without being seen? It didn't help knowing that this all could have easily been prevented if she'd show a little more care in the handling of her "subject". Her bonesaw was hooked to her belt (only to be used in emergencies. best not to get too close) and a revolver sat at her side. Fran had the foresight to swipe it from Zach's room, but not to grab any extra ammunition. If her defense, this was supposed to be a much smaller job.

11/4/68 2:36 PM -

Fran wrote another heading, but had nothing of note to record. Something wasn't right though. Her ears caught a light tapping coming from somewhere below. She looked down and found herself staring into a pair of vacant eyes. Uh oh. A short gasp escaped Fran's lips before she scrambled away from the edge of the display. The pale, former human standing began to shriek, pounding its first with a renewed fervor. A low growling moan rose through the store as the others were alerted to her presence. Oh dear. There were quite a few more lurking around than she'd first thought. As they stumbled forward, forming a mob around her hiding place, Fran wrote with shaking a hand.

11/4/68 2:39 PM - It seems they let out a cry to alert others in the area of prey. Maybe they do work together after all.

When he exited the hardware store, Ian's nostrils were greeted by the strong stench outside. It reeked of smoke and dust, with a heavy dose of iron mixed into it. The smell of discord made his stomach churn, and he coughed a few times before getting used to it. He deduced that a lot more was going on around here than he could grasp, especially if it produced fumes that were this potent. The thoughts only heightened his desire to leave the town as quickly as possible.

He hadn't been paying much attention to his front, instead spreading his senses out in all directions around him. If anything was going to try and sneak up on him, the Medic would have a say otherwise. His thorough radial search was shattered though, upon hearing a man call out to him. Ian focused his eyes ahead and, obeying the source's warnings, came to an abrupt halt. Then, he slowly raised his hands over his head, wielding the saw in his right.

Ian took a second to analyze the person who spoke to him. Despite the slightly bloody look, the man was most certainly not one of those... things, considering he had enough sense left to speak as well as aim a--.

...The gun. His mind was suddenly jerked back into the incident as their base that was quite like this. A suited man was threatening him with a revolver -- a man who had the same stature and voice of the one now doing the same thing. The two situations were way too similar to be shrugged off as a coincidence; this was RED's Spy.

"D-Don't shoot!" The young man called back to the older one, followed by a quick left hand over his mouth. If there was anything he'd learned in this town so far, it was that those creatures were attracted to noise. And, sure enough, his eyes caught one emerging from the alley between two buildings to the left. Its eyes were glazed over, groaning and stumbling forward... obviously seeking out the Medic as his next meal.

Thinking quickly, Ian turned the handle of his saw so the sharp side faced right. Then, taking a step left, he spun clockwise -- excellent timing and momentum providing the attacker with a set of metal teeth digging into their neck. The force was enough to rip the saw from Ian's hand, as well as knock his opponent to the ground. It didn't matter though, a quick stomp on the embedded blade was enough to finish the beheading job.

Prying his weapon from the flesh, Ian shook off some of the blood now caking itself onto the metal and began walking towards Zach. He decided it was fortunate enough to run into anyone in this mess, even if it were the sleazy RED Spy. He knew he should count his blessings and manage with the cards he was dealt. And, who knows, maybe the man would cooperate with him, especially given the circumstances.

Achille did not normally have a habit of whistling but given the circumstances he felt it was needed. Besides, it was not every day that one was able to set ablaze an entire building. As he walked away Achille could still feel a bit of the heat coming from the inferno that had been a diner moments earlier. If he listened hard enough he could also make out the moans and shrieks of the townspeople inside roasting alive. It was a pity Achille could not stay behind to sample the ashes, but there were no doubt more townsfolk about and they would probably be a bit irked at his having burned down their diner.

After Achille had reduced the first unlucky townsman to a smoldering corpse he had taken the time needed to locate and destroy the gas line in the kitchen of the diner, following up the act by baiting trailing alcohol soaked towels out of the back door and into the alley. Once he heard the front door of the diner cave in it had been a small matter of pressing his palm to one of the towels, igniting the linen trail back into the kitchen. The explosion caused by the flames meeting the now free flowing gas line was substantial and Achille couldn't help but laugh at the heat wave that blew his hair back. No doubt the noise alone would attract a large number of the townsfolk.

After making his way out onto the street, Achille had decided to try and find the rest of his team members, hoping to find them in one piece. Ian was greener than a field of clovers and despite the energy Achille had felt in Eric, he somehow felt that she lacked the right amount of discipline to keep herself entirely safe in the current situation. Which is what had brought Achille to where he was now, standing at the doorway to a department store (though to Achille's sightless self it was nothing more than a building with a large shadow), attempting to open the door.

After a minute of pointlessly pulling and pushing, Achille opted to just kick in the door, his heavy boots doing the job masterfully. While he hadn't gone into town in his usual suit, Achille's current outfit was functional enough. Thick leather bomber jacket, a long sleeved shirt underneath it and a pair of pants that managed to keep him warm and could probably take quite a bit of punishment before tearing. Oh and his boots, one of the few items of his suit that he had brought along.

It was a few moments after Achille had entered that he was attacked. His assailant, someone large enough to be mistaken for a bear if the sound of his breathing was any indication, grabbed a hold of Achille and, lifting him off the ground, threw him quite a ways away to land on the floor with a grunt and no small amount of pain in Achille's left shoulder.

"Idiot. Should have heard the bastard coming. You don't have the luxury of fucking up you moron." he said to himself, lifting himself off the ground and preparing for his assailant who was now coming directly for him, moaning loudly.

Achille ducked under the man's next swipe, the rush of oncoming air giving away the position and directionality of his fist. When the attacker took a step forward to regain balance, Achille struck, lashing out with a solid punch to the man's kneecap, hearing and feeling the loud crack that came from the impact. Moving quickly, Achille sidled out of the way of the now falling attacker, waiting until he heard the man hit the ground before reaching down and striking his back with his palm. Flames immediately erupted from the fallen man, causing him to thrash about and moan louder. In less than a minute the man had fallen silent and only the crackling of the fire filled the silence.

While catching his breath and massaging his aching shoulder, Achille heard another shriek from inside the store, this one a bit further away but still very close. Waiting a moment, Achille didn't hear anything that indicated he had been spotted. Which meant there was someone else in the store who had been. Achille didn't need time to think about his next course of action as he made his way toward the source of the shriek, palms open and ready.

As Gordon hurried through the streets, he noticed a few stray zombies wandering aimlessly about the wreckage along the streets. Blood, body parts, and zombies littered the streets as the putrid stench filled his nostrils even more. It was slightly overwhelming but he soon got accustomed to it. He hid along a wall and stayed low, clutching onto his supplies and gun. His eyes scanned the area for anywhere he could find a safe place to stay. Along with that he hoped he could find others who were still alive and worried about others as well.

Distant gunshots could be heard to his right as his attention perked up with slight hope and he snuck his way past several zombies. They didn't seem to have noticed him since he was a good distance away from the zombies. He soon came upon an outlet store where there was a barricade set up as zombies were tearing it down bit by bit. A lone woman wielding a gun, holding out on the roof of the store. With the zombies crowded around, it was definitely a dangerous situation. He hurried over with a large knife and proceeded to hack at each of their necks. The blood splattered over the ground and his face as the decapitated heads fell to the ground with thuds and the zombies soon fell afterwards.

After killing and hacking through them all, he breathed a little heavily as the blood dripped from his knife. He wiped the fresh blood from his face and cringed as he saw his own hands completely covered in the blood from the zombies. He looked up at the roof at the woman and called out to her to get her attention.

"Hey. You up there."

He kept his voice lower so as to not draw the attention of any zombies.

Fran watched helplessly as the undead surrounded the display rack. She glanced at the revolver, now clutched in her right hand. There were already more zombies than she could kill with her five remaining shots, and the noise would probably only serve to attract more.

They continued to swarm, pounding their fists against the display in a futile attempt to reach the prey hiding just out of reach. The creatures had neither the arm length to reach her nor the dexterity to climb, but they continued on anyway with their single-minded determination. The first wave were beginning to fall and be trampled underneath the new pack of zombies that wandered here from other parts of the store. Fran realized with growing horror that if they continued like this, they would pile up on top of themselves until they could reach her. Or they knocked over the display. A low creak from below signaled that this was a very real possibility.

Panic formed a lump in her throat when Fran realized there was no where to go but down to the eager mouths of the undead. She could vividly see the man she encountered when she first arrived in town, how he writhed and screamed as the creatures stumbled over themselves to tear at his flesh. Deaf to his pleas for mercy, they feasted like animals until the man fell silent. Speaking of which, there he is now, clawing at the display with the nearly skeletal remains of his arms. Small world. Giddy and lightheaded from despair, Fran nearly laughed out loud at the coincidence.

A commotion over by the front doors snapped her out of her hysterics. Oh great, maybe they've grown smart enough to use doors. At least she'd have one last tidbit for her journal. She caught sight of a zombie falling to the ground...it appeared to be burn to a crisp. How the... Then she saw the culprit, an man, and human-looking enough from here. Hope putting the air back in her lungs, she found the strength to scream.

"Vänligen! I am up here, please help me! If you can hear me and don't want to eat me then please help!"