The Infection
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:28pm
Thread Topic: The Infection
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Are we doing us or naw?)
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(I guess so. I'm going to change my name in this since I prefer not to give away that bit of info.)
Name: Dusk Thompson.
Age: (How about we just set a certain age that we can all be. It'll be easier that way.)
Appearance: Long brown hair, light green yellow eyes, 5'1", slim. Wears jeans, boots and a sweatshirt most of the time.
Weapons: Two pistols, a knife. -
Name: Ally
Age: (17-21?)
Looks: Long blonde hair, dark brown eyes, 5'3. Light dash of freckles across her nose and under eyes.
Wears: Ripped up skinny jeans, black and white Toms, grey t-shirt with a black hoodie over it.
Weapons: A bow that she keeps over her back and a vary of daggers.
Other: Takes up a gated community that she cleared out, all fenced in. -
[Lets go with that.
Post order Me, Ally, Lone]
It was three weeks on his own, Michael reflected, three weeks since he'd been the lone survivor of his group. They'd ambled into a Flood colony while searching for shelter. He'd been attacked, and saved by a friend snapped in two by a combat form. Good friends, from high school. Now Michael walked a lonely road, rifle ready, pack on his back, as he searched for a haven. -
Ally sat ontop of an old building that used to be a grocery store. Now everything was broken and empty. A cigaret hung from the corner of her mouth, unlit. Her legs swung into the air before softly hiting the brick wall and going back into the air as she swung her legs. Narrowing her against against the sun she relaxed and listened to what was left of her world.
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Dusk walked through dusty streets. Rot and ruin. That was all there was. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against a building. It was hard to remember when there hadn't been all this s--- to deal with. Something inside her didn't let her rest. She hadn't stopped moving for more than five minutes in hours. Absentmindedly fingering one of her pistols, she drew away from the building and moved on.
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He kept walking, ever wary of an ambush by Infection Forms. About the size of a human torso, one bullet would get rid of them, but they hunted in packs of four to eight. Michael kept following the road, a decrepit sign proclaiming the existence of a town likely overrun by the infection a mile ahead.
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For an odd reason, left unknown to other but herself, a goofy smile splayed across her lips. "Oh.. the irony in this all." She sighed, the unlight cigaret bounced at the coner of her mouth as she spoke to no one and yet everyone. Well, everyone was dead. Papers fluttered across the ground lazily, the only sound so far but her own voice. The whole town was empty except for the Infected.
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(Sorry guys. I've had a packed weekend.)
As she walked, Dusk wondered what had happened to her friends. Most of them weren't exactly the survival type--they had probably all been killed. Somehow, she didn't feel upset by the thought. Just a sort of numb dread. No matter how hard she fought, she was bound to follow them into death eventually. She'd always scorned the old saying There's safety in numbers, but now it made sense. -
He heard a chattering nearby, rocks being displaced. Michael spun toward it, to find a Stalker. A spider-like infection that could morph into either a Ranged form, that shot spikes up to five hundred feet, or a... motherf---er. A Tank form. A hulking brute, hard to take down. Michael emptied the AR's mag into the Stalker as it reconfigured, and ran like hell toward a town.
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Standing up slowly she flicked her black hood over her head so it conclead her face. Running her hands along her hips, in her coat, and along her arms she checked that all her blades where in place. Nodding with satisfaction she walked towards the edge of the building and.. Jumped. She crouched low so her thighs took the impact and stood up straight. Bullets rang into the air and she cursed. "Are they dumb? Left for dead now." She growled. Now the noise would bring out the other Infected. Walking up to a white van she threw open the back door and pulled out her red back pack. Slinging it over one shoulder she started to quietly walk down the road. Cars that had broke down or simply been left stood in the middle of the road where scattered around. Stopping next to a mini van she waited for the usale thump. A small child slammed into the window and growled at her. Ally sighed, "Hey kid." The Infected child scratched at the window. Ally shook her head and continued on her way.
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She needed to get higher--she could get attacked any minute. With a small frown, Dusk tried the handle of a door to the nearest house and walked inside, listening for any Infected. The house sounded empty. Locking the door behind her, she walked through the empty house and up the stairs. It was so empty. Every breath, every step echoed eerily. Rotten food still lay on the table from where a family had been disrupted during their meal. Trying to not look at the bedrooms, she hurried to a window and climbed out, hoisting herself onto the roof. A couple of weeks ago, doing something like that with her legs dangling high above the ground would have terrified her. Now, it didn't matter.
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Before the Outbreak, he'd been a cross country runner, and he ran as fast as he could, with the lumbering Tank behind him. He'd helped kill one, once, with a pair of AT-4 rockets pilfered from a fallen Marine patrol. He had almost no hope now, except to keep running. Michael knew that the Tank had three weak points: Three yellow-brown Flood cells on its body, but hadn't gotten a chance to find them.
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Turning slowly around she frownd, a noise reaching her ears. Maybe it was some Infected finally going insane or a poor fool who would be dead soon. Frowning she stopped and pulled herself up onto a parked food truck. Laying down she was easily hidden except the red back pack that stuck out easily. "Huh." She awaited to see what was coming her way.
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Dusk looked out at the ground below her. Dusty destruction. She couldn't see anything but a battered food truck and a oddly bright red backpack standing out stark against the ground. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, fingerings a pistol once more. This time with more purpose.
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