(OoC: Don't remember King Charles? Well, I introduced him awhile ago, so I can't blame you. Just go reread this post as a refresher and all will be forgiven:
livingdeadrpg.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=cyoa&action=display&thread=1267&page=5#15849 )
After discussing a few poorly thought out plans, everyone gives up for the time being and resigns themselves to simply biding their time in their own little groups. Fran, Anya, Roy stick near the door, talking amongst themselves. Doc shuffles around aimlessly, looking for all the world like a lost tourist in a foreign country. Vlad stands as a stone pillar near the edge of the roof, staring unceasingly at the five figures off in the distance. You don't try to fathom what's going on in his head, although you're sure it isn't something pleasant. As for the Chief, you're not sure where he's slipped off to, but you know he's around here somewhere. You and Cynthia prop yourselves up on the back of the small nub of building sheltering the stairway, glad for the warm sunshine of the still rising sun. The rough grave that covers the roof bites through your jeans uncomfortably as you sit down, but you hardly notice; your mind has far more distracting concerns.
Like how to prevent everyone from being eaten alive.
Or who that maddeningly familiar figure is out on the outskirts.
Or that there's no fresh meat up here, and you forgot to grab breakfast.
That
you might turn out be the one that kills everyone.
No... I'd die before I let that happen. You think defiantly, but a doubtful
Would you really? trails right after it, in a way that's so frighteningly, clearly your own.
Because, face it, you-You try closing the thought out before it finishes...
(-like
the idea of losing control!)
...only to find yourself unable to quite manage the feat.
No! you deny it vehemently, but some small part of you knows it's true.
Your mind is being quickly swept away an ocean of turmoil, the waves whirling you from one worry to the next. It running you in mental circles like a dog chasing its tail, getting you nowhere closer to anything but a state of total panic.
And beneath it all, somewhere far back in your mind, The Other laughs quietly, amused its host was being put in such anguish without it so much as needing to life a finger.
Slowly, like a drowning man coming up from the depths of the sea, you become aware of a set of piercing blue eyes resting on you, eyes that were filled with concern.
========
"Jester! Jester! Where hast thou gone?" Charles bellows in his laughable pretext of old English from his throne atop his proclaimed 'Knights' Bud and Jeff. The makeshift royal seat was in fact one of the large circular booths from Kid's Castle fixed sloppily to a plate of twisted metal that may have started off life as the roof of an SUV. Even it was becoming unable to contain all the man's flab. He must have gained half a ton since he had gotten his injection and hasn't shown any sign of stopping.
His grimy, pizza sauce stained slacks had long ago split open and fallen away, and the muscle shirt had followed soon after that. It was a mystery if anything still covered his privates; rolls of stomach had quickly covered his crotch after the shirt went. The white briefs had still been holding on then. Now, the only thing that one could be sure he had on was his fake plastic crown and a single green flip-flop. The other had been lost in the migration from Kid's Castle, Charles's chosen base of operations. Kid's Castle was one of those 'family-food-and-fun' restaurants, like Chuck E Cheese only with a medieval theme.
The man's once chiseled features that had once seemed so odd on such an obese body were gone, replaced by layers upon layers of bulging fat. The extra weight had started to show effect, dragging his eyelids down to the point where one can see the puffy red flesh underneath, as a young kid making faces at someone might look. There was a similar effect on the rest of his features, most notable a build-up of hills just over his eyebrows, lending distinctly caveman look. All in all, his once somewhat handsome face had be come grotesque and, quite honestly, hard to look at without grimacing.
The explosion of weight gain has been an unforeseen side-effect, albeit quite the humorous one! Teehehaha. thinks the figure that had struck Steve as so familiar. He had been taking the time to observe this swollen man who had really become little more than a blindly willing patsy and opportunistic test subject.
"Still here mi
lord," Reilly Farson speaks up from the King's right, noting that he had asked the same question but a few minutes ago.
A sign of mental deterioration? Possibly... Have to wait and see. He might turn into The Mad King Charles before too long! Heehee..."Here- come hither, where I can get a good look at you," the blob says with what could have been an attempt at waving him forward, only to be given up barely started.
"Of course," Riley says, stepping forward. The ninja zombie moves with him, never more than a few feet away. The Latin-speaking Assassin seems to have miraculously regained full use of its right arm since the little scuffle with Steve. Other than a small scar, it seems to be no worse for wear for taking a bullet to the shoulder.
Ha. The fat fool is too bloated to even bother turning his head! I highly doubt he'll last much longer Reilly thinks as he finds himself having to move directly in front of the ball of blubber before he can see him.
I still don't understand why you persist in playing this idiot's servant. We have little to gain anymore from an alliance with one so useless. The-
Sigh... Zazic, I've told yo- (OoC: For those of you who've forgotten, Zazic is the name of Reilly's Other)
No, you listen to me now. The minions are here, and your test is prepared. It's also clear your last attempt at creating a formula that imbues one with the abilities of a Type Two has failed. Just look at him. You said it yourself, it's clear that the toll the injection has taken on him is going to take his life soon. So why do we not just rid ourselves of this imbecile now? He's outlasted his usefulness!
All in good time, partner. Certainly not during the test. If you've forgotten, he's got two ogres under his direct command now. I'm quite sure we could take them, especially with my pet assassin's help, but I'd rather not until this current business is through at the very earliest.
That thing
? It's totally inferior to me. I see not why you went to all the trouble to make it as a bodyguard... I- We could handle anything it could and more!
Is that a hint of jealousy I'm detecting? My, what an emotional outburst, Zazic! I'm touched. Teehehaha...
Grrrah!.... It was a mistake to give him those two. They've become a problem.
What, a change of topic? Very well then, I'll play along. Yes, they have, I see that now. I only enhanced them for him as a safeguard. If the experiment failed- for instance, attracting zombies instead of truly controlling them-, I'd rather him not have been completely defenseless. A dead subject is rather hard to study in this sort of experiment, Zazic. Haha....
But there's nothing left to learn from this man anymore; he's a failure.
Yea... Sigh, if only the original Type Two hadn't escaped my grasp... But on the bright side, I would have not discovered Steve to be a Type Three had he not.
What? You mean back at the.... Reilly feels Zazic looking through his memories, which usually meant he was looking for a word he didn't yet know. It was a rare occurrence now, but it happened every once in awhile.
Hospital? Yes...
Indeed I do.
Yes, that was such a lucky windfall. It gave us yet another object for your inane games to focus on.
Sarcasm? I'm impressed. It seems I'm rubbing off on you after all.
Enough distractions. You're dodging me, and we both know it. Just give me the promise that we'll destroy this disgusting atrocity once we're done here.
You know I won't do that, pal. He'll live so long as he's entertaining.
Gah... Fine, have your insane 'fun'. I'm done talking to you now, Reilly.
Eloquent as always, I see."Ah, there thou are, my wonderful magician," Charles spouts, eyes locking onto Reilly as he walks into his view. Reilly and Zazic's inner dialogue had occurred seamlessly and without noticeable pause, taking all in all little more than a few seconds. When you shared a head with someone for long enough, communication became incredibly simple.
"Indeed,
Sire," Reilly responds, putting on his characteristic gleaming grin. As usual, he added a slight mocking twist to every honorary directed at Charles, and, as usual, it flew straight over the man's plastic-crowned head. Which is no mean feet, as he's perched atop two muscle-bound hulks that are at least 7 feet tall, perhaps more. Said hulks were staring off into the distance blankly, the one on the left even drooling slightly. If there was anything going on in their relatively tiny skulls anymore, they sure as hell weren't showing it.
"Good, good. I called thou to congratulate thee again on what thoust done with Sir Bud and Sir Jeff. Truly magnificent! Those kin of mine were such a hassle before, always complaining and whining at every little order I gave.... Now just look at them! Ten times as strong and a tenth as questioning!" At this he laughs wheezily, but it soon turns into a cough. A bit of blood comes out and lands on one of his monstrous breast, but he doesn't seem to notice. "I daresay thou hast surpassed even what I, the Good King Charles, imagined when the idea came to me!" The idea had not really been his. Reilly had just quietly prodded him in that direction, and then allowed him to take credit when the idea came.
"Twas a wonderful idea, Your
Highness," Reilly agreed with false cheer. "Oh, and I was just wondering, how many of the traitors are still left? Surely with your infinite wisdom you could sense them again," Reilly says, knowing for a fact he can sense them- well, most of them. It was a trait of the T2.
"Why of course, my noble Jester. I'll grant your curiosity the honor of sating it." Charles closed his eyes, and his already furrowed brow furrowed even more. A disquieting vein somehow manages to fight it's way through the fat as it pops out on his countless-chinned neck. He grunts with effort, and then cries out quietly in pain for a slit second.
He's deteriorating at an exponential rate. The strain might be to much now; he might get a stroke.
Wouldn't that be lovely?
That it would, Zazic. But we're not that lucky. Look, he's already coming out if it.Charles's effort was beginning to slacken quickly. He'd managed to connect- the hardest part- now he only needed to count. A few seconds later, his eyes came open and he smiled, revealing sickly looking teeth whose gums were bleeding freely. Not to mention he'd apparently popped some kind of vein; the whites of his right eye had turned completely red. His features, or what was left of them at least, registered no pain, and, when he spoke, his voice was steady.
"Six- No, seven! Definitely, now that I think on it... So it seems they've all managed to survive. No matter. I'll crush them soon enough." As he was speaking, one of the rotting teeth finally fell loose and began a long tumble to the ground. And still, he remained oblivious.
Hmm... I'm beginning to think he's lost connection to his nervous system. Or at the very least it's been severely dulled."Yes, Seven is right," Reilly told him, even though he knew it was actually one more than that if his pet's recon report was to be trusted. Specifically, the one Charles missed was the one this was really all for. And as for his little stutter in the count, that could mean something.... or nothing at all.
"Oh, and I couldn't feel thee as I could the others, Magician. Dost thou care to explain?" The 'King' had asked this of Reilly the last time he'd felt for the survivors (Or rebels, if you'd prefer). It seemed he'd completely forgotten.
"I have wards and magics in place protecting me from such things, milord," Reilly recited distractedly, not even bothering to add in his usual mocking tone this time.
For his mind was occupied with other matters.
========
"I said are you feeling alright?" Cynthia asks quietly. She'd put a slightly shaking hand on your shoulder, aiming to draw you out of the whirlpool in your mind that had been trying so hard to pull you under.
"I've been better," you say honestly as you look up from your hands, not believing you have the strength for false bravado right now. You note the sun's slipped farther up into the sky.
"Just calm down, alright? I know this all looks bad, but all you're doing is stressing yourself out."
"It's not just that...."
"But that's the heart of it... Listen, it'll work out. We'll come up with something. Just don't freak out, alright? You've always been collected through all the other stuff we've been through... And-... And if you're panicking, where does that leave the rest of us?...W-Where does that leave me?" She grows more quiet as she speaks, finishing just above a whisper. You're surprised to find that a few tears have begun to well up in her eyes, despite her best efforts to hold them back. This pulls you back more than anything.
"I'll get us out of this," you promise, placing your hand on hers and looking her straight in the eye, driven by some deep instinct. "I'lll get
you out of this. I'm not going to let you die here."
At this she throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck tight. You're not expecting anything so impulsive, and rock back but manage to keep your balance.
"You too. You've gotta come too. Promise me you'll come too," she says, and you can tell she's still trying hard not to cry. You put your arms around her and pat her on the back, instilled with a motivation powerful enough to banish the whirlpool from your mind.
"Okay, me too. I promise," you whisper, touched by her outburst.
"And you don't have to do it by yourself... You've got me, and the Chief, and Roy, and- and everyone else. We can all work together... Alright?" she says, sounding more and more in control of herself.
"Alright," you say, realizing you
had been taking on all the responsibility for yourself. She sniffles a little more, but soon those die out, and the two of you sit entwined together in relative silence for a few minutes. Cynthia's the one to break it.
(OoC:
Just a heads-up, there's going to be a bit of romance coming up. I wouldn't blame you if you skimmed it, but I'm not apologizing for it. It just felt like it was right.)
"Hey, what day is it?"
"Huh?" you ask, thrown by the randomness of the question.
"It's the eighth, right? December eighth?"
"Umm.." You think back to the start of all this mess.
It had been the fourth... And one... two three... four. Yea. Four days since. Seems like an eternity. "Yea, the eighth. Why?" you ask, drawing back a little to be able to look her in the eye.
She chuckles. "It's my Birthday."
"Happy Birthday," you reply automatically, and then: "Oh geez, you're kidding!" you say, incredulous. Seeing she's not, you go on. "Well, sorry you have to spend it under such terrible conditions."
"I dunno... It's not so bad." she says, closing her eyes and resting her head on your chest. "At least I've got you, right?" she explains after a moment, looking up at you.
"Yea, you've got me," you reply. An urge surfaces, swift and powerful, to kiss her. You're barely able to stop yourself, remembering that you're infected just in time. And in that moment, you feel a spike of hate for The Other that's stronger than anything that's come before. Instead, you simply kiss her forehead gently, frustrated you're not able to do more.
She seems happy enough with it however, and goes back to leaning on you in a way that conveys such trust. "Besides... I've had worse."
You're not sure whether she's joking or not, only hope it's the former.
The two of you stay like that, content and comfortable. The sun continues its climb up a bit higher.
========
"Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt."
The voice startles you both. Cynthia pulls away, red as a beet. You're unsettled that you'd manged to slip into a doze so easily when there's danger all around. You look up to see Roy standing over you, blocking the sun.
"Yea, again, sorry, but the Chief wants to see you, Ames. Alone," he says, his eyes cutting pointedly over to Cynthia for a moment. You feel something's wrong; you've never seen Roy openly nervous, usually he hides behind humor.
"Go on, I'll be fine," Cynthia tells you quietly, smiling. Not seeing much else option, you get to your feet and walk over to Roy.
"What's up?"
"I'm not sure. He's playing it close to the chest. Only told me that he wants to talk to the two of us...." He pauses, as though considering withholding something, before giving in. "He seems kind of off. Dour. More serious than usual."
"Well this isn't exactly a time to screw around," you say, following Roy presumably to where the Chief is.
"Yea, but..." He sighs. "You'll just have to see for yourself."
He guides you to a cluster of large AC units and ducts, big enough to provide a bit of privacy from the rest of the roof. Suddenly, you're not liking this in the least.
You find the Chief on the far side of the metal jungle, leaning against one of the AC blocks with his arms crossed. You realize that if the power were on, they'd be rumbling and likely too loud to be heard over.
The Chief himself is looking alright. A touch pale, but that'd probably go for all of them. You've got a feeling most everyone's on edge about the situation.
"Heya, son. Roy," he says, nodding to each of you in turn.
"Alright, we're here. What's going on?" Roy asks demanding.
"Yer father was in the Force, whaddn't he boy?" The Chief responds.
"Yea, he was. Dead now thanks to all this shit. Same as us pretty soon if this is what you called me over here for..."
"No... No I didn't... He was a good man though. Ya look alot like 'em." the Chief reminisces, looking off into the distance for a few moments before letting out a big sigh. "Sorry, son. I guess I'm just gettin' old... Here's what I done called you two over for. I know you've been plannin' somethin' with Vlad over there. I want in on it."
Roy seems somewhat taken aback by this development, and you even more so. Not so much that Roy had been planning as that he's working with Vlad rather than you. You're not quite sure what happened while he, Vlad and Roy were off on their own, but apparently it's for the better.
"Chief, to be honest, it's practically a suicide mission. And Vlad wasn't really going on it even, he was just going to stay back here and make sure Anya or Fran or any of you others don't try to follow me."
"A suicide mission sounds good to me. What are ya thinkin'?" the Chief returns, stepping towards Roy with his arms still crossed.
"What are you talking about? You never struck me as having a death wish."
"I don't. Just tell me the plan, son."
"...No. Not until you tell me why you're acting so strangely," Roy says, standing up a little straighter as he does.
The Chief looks to you for help, but you only shrug. You've decided to stay out of this particular argument. Seeing he was cornered, the Chief's shoulders sag.
"Alright... Just don't yell or get loud. I don't want the others scared," he says, sounding defeated. Slowly, he unfolds his arms, and presents his left wrist to the two of you. It's been wrapped in his black socks, but still you can see their moist with what could only be one thing.
"Oh no..." You hear yourself whisper disbelievingly. Beside you, Roy curses under his breath violently. You feel yourself starting to fall back into that whirlpool again, and can feel it wanting you too as well.
No, I can't afford that right now. She's relying on me... But the Chief... He's fine. It's just a scrape. That's all. Got cut somewhere.... But.... No, it was a scrape. He'll be fine.You lie to yourself, subconsciously knowing that to try and deal with this right now would almost certainly send you flying back into a near panic.
"I got bit just before I made it to the stairs. Danged zombie just barely got to me... If I'd just been a mite faster on the back swing..." he explains, but you just try and block it out. "Aight. Yer turn, Roy. Fess up."
"Ok.... Ok... Shi-" Roy swears again quietly, trying to come to terms with this and explain at the same time. Soon enough, he's got it under control. "Alright... Well, I've got the keys to the Bug, right? Well, I was thinking I could jump down and try and fight my way to it. It's only a one story drop, and the car isn't 10 feet from the edge of the building. Once I made it, I figured I'd go out into the city and see if I can't find something big enough to just plow through them all. Then I just drive it back here, everyone hops on, and we drive off into the sunset."
" 'Cept fer the part where you get bit a couple a times on the way ta the car."
"Yep... Great plan, huh?" Roy returns, trying a weak smile. The Chief just sighs.
"Two things. One, there's enough room fer two people ta get in the car fast enough. You don't have to do this on your own." You feel a slight chill shoot up your spine as you hear him echo Cynthia's words. "Two, if that other person was disposed ta not care if they're bitten, they could go over the side first and try ta clear a path. You gettin' me?"
"...You've got a point," Roy concedes.
"And it'd be even better if both of them were... immune." you allude, making your first real contribution to the conversation.
"No. That's where I draw the line. It was my idea, and I refuse to just sit back safe and sound while you two are out there risking your lives."
Chief points something out that you decide not to hear, but this only flusters Roy more.
"No. That's totally final. If one of you wants to come with me, that's well and good. We can't all fit quickly into that tiny damned car, and I'm not staying behind. You to can fight it out to decide who wants their chance to go die more," he states firmly, finishing with a smirk that's a good bit stronger. "Just figure it out quick. I got a gut feeling we've gotta start this thing right now or miss the chance..."
"Aight, Son, I'm going an' that's final. An' I won't listen ta any argument 'bout it neither," the Cheif declares, looking to you. "But there's one more thing I need ta ask ya. The reason I wanted ya over here. Ya still got some shots fer that pistol I gave ya?"
"Yea, one.... Why?" You ask, unconsciously yet deliberately refusing to understand his reasons behind it.
"Well, if I fell me startin' ta go... I'd be good to have... Look, don't make me spell it out for you, son," Chief says, looking slightly anguished for the first time about his situation.
Allow Roy and the Chief to go ahead with this.
Try and talk the Chief into let you go in his stead. Alot is hinging on this, and he could turn at any time...
[C]Attack the Chief and try to incapacitate him momentarily, long enough to take his place in the mission. You doubt negotiations will get you far.
[D]Try and convince Roy to let you and the Chief go on this. You're both basically no worse off if either of you get bitten, and he's got Anya to worry about.
[E]Attack Roy and try to incapacitate him momentarily, long enough to take the keys from him and go in his place on the mission. He probably won't listen to reason.
[F]Try an talk them out of going. This isn't wise.
[G]Try to stop them by force. You doubt they'd listen if you tried to sway then, and you'd need the surprise if you wanted to overpower them both.
[Z]CYOA
And as for whether to give the Chief your pistol:
1. Give in to his request, whatever his reasons behind it. It's only got one bullet, and you think the Chief's likely got the best judgment here.
2. Refuse. You're not certain you want to give up your only firearm. And besides, he might do something radical.
Time: 11:04 AM, December 8th, 2009. Day 4
Status:
==Active Party:
Steve Ames: Bitten.
Hunger: 75%
Equipment:-9mm Beretta (1/13) 0 spare clips
-Empty 9mm clip
-Sturdy Flashlight
-Transceiver
Cynthia Smith:
Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Fran Geller:
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (0/8) 0 extra shells
-Sharpened Rapier
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Bitten
Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (0/8) 0 extra shells
-Standard issue police Taser gun
-Transceiver
-Sturdy Flashlight
Samuel "Doc" Morten:
Equipment: -Nothing
Vladimir Zergovich:
Equipment: -Lead pipe
Anya McNeil:
Equipment: -Nothing
Alroy "Rat" McNeil:
Equipment: -Emerald topped Shillelagh
-Keys to Ben's Volkswagen
==Other Party:
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 12% Fuel
Containing: Baseball bat
(OOC: Yes, I know that's a wall of text. Yes, I expect you to read it if you vote. And yes, it's around 25,250 characters. W00t.)