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Post by Veta on Aug 25, 2009 16:52:46 GMT -6
A.
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Post by Roger Stone on Aug 25, 2009 17:26:43 GMT -6
Just like real life T: No one way works for every situation. You lot have just had the misfortune of choosing the wrong ones. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's all thought out ahead of time. I'm not purposefully making you lot lose.
And charging did help once. Remember at the hospital?
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Post by Song Nai on Aug 25, 2009 19:41:54 GMT -6
A
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Post by cosby on Aug 25, 2009 20:08:59 GMT -6
D
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Post by slayer22 on Aug 26, 2009 6:07:02 GMT -6
A
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Post by Roger Stone on Aug 29, 2009 14:18:28 GMT -6
"Cynthia's right. That guy needs help. Benn? Get us there, quickly." "Aye aye, captain," Benn salutes with more than a hint of sarcasm. Putting the Bug into gear, Benn slides the car forward. Navigating the streets as quickly as the wrecks clogging them allow, you soon find yourself at the entrance to the market's parking lot. The way before you appears to be the only easy way in or out; both sides of the lot seemed to be lined sparsely with sturdy looking trees. There's no way to tell if there's an exit behind the market from here. The good sized spread of concrete is packed with cars, much like the hospital. The store itself, Hodge's Food Basket, is fronted with several large plate glass windows that are recessed into the wall by a stone overhang. Or so you'd assume: nearly all of them have been busted inward. You'd be willing to venture that someone had managed to hole up in there, and the zeds had managed to bust in. All this is taken in a a passing glance. What truly rivets the groups attention is the remains of a battlefield spread out before them. A sea of corpses, focused around the entrance to the store. A good majority of them are just the normal zombies, seconded by Murdock corpses. "There... There's Murdock spines in some of the dead zombies," notes Cynthia, "Maybe they aren't friendly..." You mavel for a moment she's actually able to make that out. At this range, it's hard to differentiate between the zombie corpses and the Murdock ones, much less tell that there were spikes sticking out of them. You can also spot some still forms sporting similar looking black leather jackets. You get a feeling in the back of your mind that something is missing, but before you can get a closer look, one of them moves. It looks to be covered in blood, having somehow managed to survive the massive battle. It waves at you. Chirip!"Kid... Ya made it! Good, good... Pull up to about the center of the lot, then, if you wouldn't mind, get out and come give me a shoulder. The ground is fucking littered in those needle things; you might pop a tire. I'd walk over my self, but, uh, one of those needles caught me in the stomach. God... There's so much blood..." The radio clicked off. "He sounded... different," says the Chief, "I cain't put my finger on it, but..." "I'm getting some seriously bad vibes from here, kid. I think we should just bolt. That guy said he got hit anyways; he's prolly a dead man," states Benn, clearly unnerved by something. "He needs help. We can't just leave him. Besides, we need the food we came for..." Cynthia replies. "It's getting dark! I'd rather not be out here when the sun goes down," Benn tries again, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. Do as the man suggested. Once he's safe in the car, the rest of you can go grab the food. Benn's likely right; you need to get out of here, ASAP. But you can't just leave the guy. Ignore his warning and drive up to him. Once he's in, you can just drive off. [C]Just bolt, right now. This is wrong. You don't know why you feel so, but you do. [D]Summon the guy back up on the radio. You've got a couple questions... [E]Get out of the car and go examine the jacketed corpses. There's something odd with them that's bugging you. [F]Launch yourself forward a bit and slam the Bug's horn on sheer impulse. [Z]CYOA
For A, B, and E, who goes with you? The others will wait in the car. 0. No one... 1.Cynthia 2.Chief 3.Benn
Current time: 7:14 (Sunset at 7:34)
Status:
==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten, patched fractured rib. Hunger: 81% (!) Equipment: -9mm Beretta (9/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 6 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun
Benjamin Cooper: Equipment: -Baseball Bat
==Other Party: Louise Shaffer: Equipment: -None
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 52% Fuel Total Space: Cab-- 4 Trunk-- 3
Current Usage: Cab: 4 (Full) -Benn: 1 -Chief: 1 -Cynthia: 1 -You: 1
Trunk: None
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Post by blitz on Aug 29, 2009 14:27:21 GMT -6
A-1
You need the car protected.
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Post by Song Nai on Aug 29, 2009 14:38:29 GMT -6
E 1
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Post by Tbone on Aug 29, 2009 15:08:05 GMT -6
E 1
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Post by slayer22 on Aug 29, 2009 15:57:47 GMT -6
D
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Post by Veta on Aug 30, 2009 14:50:49 GMT -6
E 1.
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Post by Roger Stone on Aug 30, 2009 16:23:12 GMT -6
"Do as he says, Benn. Cynthia and I will go grab him, but first I want to check those corpses. Something's weird with them," you say. Benn gives you a weird look, but simply shrugs and does what you ask. The car pulls forward down the middle aisle, stopping just short of the edge of the majority of the carnage. "Here we are, mauster, just as you've commanded. Is there anything else your humble servant can do for you?" Benn jokes, uttering a nervous laugh. "You and Chief just stay here and watch the car. We'll be right back," you state as you crawl out of the back seat, Cynthia following behind. You lead her in D's general direction, seemingly going to help him. You try your best to navigate around all the bodies on the off chance that one of them isn't quite dead. Quite soon, you feel your feet grow wet, doubtlessly your shoes having been soaked through by all the standing puddles of blood. About halfway there, you veer off to the left slightly and head towards a jacketed corpse lying face down. Chirip! "Hey, uh, kid? Where are ya going? I'm over here." You ignore him and keep moving ahead. He sounded a mite nervous, but you dismiss it. As you approach the body, the first thing you notice is that the person's back is all deformed, as though something were sticking out of it. Needles. You think immediately, but that thought is soon followed by another: But if it's needles, why aren't they piercing the jacket as well? You move on a bit faster, now partly out of curiosity, but moreso out of an anxious feeling that has strangely shown up. You arrive at your destination and crouch down. The first thing that strikes you is what is clearly the cause of death. The back of the guys head holds a massively gaping hole, as though someone had planted a miniature grenade in the back of the poor man's head. "Steve?" Cynthia asks quickly, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Just a second," you put her off momentarily, just wanting a moment to see if what you thought earlier was right. You grab the neck of the jacket, preparing to pull it off. In the middle of the coat's back is an emblem. It resembles a motorcycle riding towards the viewer, it's rider a flaming skeleton robed in biker's attire. Above and below are two words: GLORY BLAZERS.You yank the jacket off. Your first instincts were right: underneath are several faint lavender shards protruding out of the body's back. What the hell? This doesn't make any sense... Wait. Where the hell is this guy's gun?!? You look quickly around on the ground to confirm what you already had an inkling of: there's no weapon in immediate sight, gun or melee. Acting off impulse, your hand flies to the side of the man's head, meaning to turn it over. Then, several things happen at once: You turn the face into sight and freeze. It's eyes are dead. Not the normal dead dead. Undead. A neat little hole is in the center of it's forehead, and a stream of dried blood runs down it's neck and chin. "Steve! He's been speaking into his walki- Eek!" Cynthia yelps in surprise. Chirip!"Ok Buddy." The man no longer sounds hurt in the least. The only thing coming across now is pure slick confidence, the kind that knows he's in control. "Just stop right there. Every one of mah boys has a gun on one of you fuckers' heads. Hell, ol' Billy's got a Luger to the back of your girl's neck." The walkie clicks off for a moment, but quickly returns. Chirip"Oh, and ya might wanna tell that old shit not to try anything. He's apparently still got enough brains knocking around in his head to realize there's more of us, but he is glaring at mah boy Billy something fierce. I'd hate for him to try anything and get shot for his troubles." You look cautiously out the corner of your eye to see that the man is getting up and walking coolly towards you. "Listen, Kid, I like you. You seem alright. But it's survival of the fittest now. We're not going to kill ya. Just toss yer weapons away. It's just them we want. Hell, if you co-operate, we might even let you keep the car. Savvy?" You wait a moment, pondering your options. Agree to his terms. He's clearly got the power in this situation, it's your best bet to just give him what he wants. You think he's bluffing. Billy is probably there, Cynthia's squeak of surprise can testify to that, but the others are likely dead. Dive forward into the line of cars in front of you. Then, you can try and fight them off. [C]Ask if there's some other way you can work this out. Giving up your weapons is just too much. [D]They likely took some losses in this fight. Maybe, just maybe, you can bluff them into thinking you want to join their crew... [E]Say nothing, but stealthily flip the transceiver's channel to 5. Fran may be the only chance you've got right now. [F]You could try to bluff your way out. Let's say, hypothetically, you've got another two groups nearby, watching all this go down. Two groups that are well armed and experienced... [Z]CYOA
Current time: 7:14 (Sunset at 7:34)
Status:
==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten, patched fractured rib. Hunger: 81% (!) Equipment: -9mm Beretta (9/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 6 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun
Benjamin Cooper: Equipment: -Baseball Bat
==Other Party: Louise Shaffer: Equipment: -None
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 52% Fuel Total Space: Cab-- 4 Trunk-- 3
Current Usage: Cab: 4 (Full) -Benn: 1 -Chief: 1 -Cynthia: 1 -You: 1
Trunk: None
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Post by Tbone on Aug 30, 2009 19:04:08 GMT -6
C
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Post by Veta on Aug 30, 2009 19:20:38 GMT -6
F and D, if possible. If not, F.
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Post by blitz on Sept 2, 2009 12:35:25 GMT -6
F.
Damnit i hate people who do this in zombie apocalypses. or just about any.
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Post by Song Nai on Sept 2, 2009 12:38:43 GMT -6
F
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Post by Roger Stone on Sept 3, 2009 14:46:14 GMT -6
"Listen, Kid, I like you. You seem alright. But it's survival of the fittest now. We're not going to kill ya. Just toss yer weapons away. It's just them we want. Hell, if you co-operate, we might even let you keep the car. Savvy?" The man comes to a halt a few feet off to your right. He wears a cocky grin, and bounces a sawed off shotty on his hip. He looks to be completely at ease. ![](http://th05.deviantart.net/fs49/150/i/2009/165/2/8/Shameless_by_DarkmoonKidara.jpg) "Buddy, I wouldn't if I were you. You'd be better off just walking away right now," you state it your most confident tone. You stand and turn towards him, looking him in the eye. On the edge of your vision, you see the one behind Cynthia, Billy, tense up, but the main man himself doesn't even so much as bat an eye. "Oh really, Kid? Why's that?" His smile grows wider, a certain gleam in his eye. On the surface, it could almost be mistaken for a good-humored father watching as his child try to futile outwit him. Below those cheery eyes, however, you sense steel in him. Cold, hard steel. "It's Steve. And not just me and the other three. There's more of us. And not too far off. They hear more gunfire, and they come running. So just walk away. We won't come after you." You think you did a pretty good job, thinking for a moment this might actually work. "Huh. Well, that sheds a new light on things, now doesn't it? Well, boys, I guess we're going home. Nice to meet you though, Steve. Name's Drew," he says conversationally, smiling the entire time. "Oh, wait, Steve. One question though:" He stops smiling so suddenly, you almost start wondering if he had been to begin with. "If there's more of you, why the fuck would they send two kids, a sixty-something, and a fatass ball of lard that probably shit his pants at the first sign of trouble?!?! And only give them two guns between the four of them? Huh, Steve?" The smile is back again, and his voice grows pleasant once more. "We had thought there were no threats here. That we were just going to pick you up and get out of here. Not ambushed," you reply, surprised by your own quickness. "Uh-huh. Well, if they're as ill-equiped and poorly manned as you, me and my boys'll take our chances," Drew says sceptically, "Now, Steve, you're trying my patience. The guns, and we both walk away. Ok?" Agree to his terms. He's clearly got the power in this situation, it's your best bet to just give him what he wants. You think he's bluffing about the others. Dive to your left into the line of cars. You should be able to take just the two of them on... [C]Ask if there's some other way you can work this out. Giving up your weapons is just too much. [D]The Other is back. It's not strong; actually, it's quite ignorable. But it's not the blunt force of hunger it was before. It's something a little different. Gut instinct tells you to give in and let it take you. You don't know why, and all logic argues against it, but still.... [Z]CYOA
(OoC: So, if you can't tell, D is the wild card. You've got no way of telling exactly what it'll do...)
Status:
==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten, patched fractured rib. Hunger: 82% (!) Equipment: -9mm Beretta (9/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 6 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun
Benjamin Cooper: Equipment: -Baseball Bat
==Other Party: Louise Shaffer: Equipment: -None
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 52% Fuel Total Space: Cab-- 4 Trunk-- 3
Current Usage: Cab: 4 (Full) -Benn: 1 -Chief: 1 -Cynthia: 1 -You: 1
Trunk: None
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Post by Tbone on Sept 3, 2009 14:52:18 GMT -6
Perhaps I should've advised this before, but you never bluff when your all your cards are visible. That being said, C for the second time.
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Post by Veta on Sept 3, 2009 15:36:14 GMT -6
Cyoa: join Drew. Or attempt to.
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Post by slayer22 on Sept 3, 2009 19:03:33 GMT -6
C
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Post by Song Nai on Sept 3, 2009 21:24:42 GMT -6
C
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Post by Basil ze guest on Sept 4, 2009 14:36:11 GMT -6
C
Time to negotiate like a bitch.
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Post by Roger Stone on Sept 7, 2009 14:51:38 GMT -6
"Giving up our guns is too much. Isn't there some other way we could work this out?" You plead. "Hmm..." Drew rubs the stubble on his chin, in a theatrical display of thought. He still has that friendly smile that falls just short of his eyes. "Well..." He begins, after fixing his gaze on a point behind you. You feel something cold drop into the pit of your stomach and settle there. Drew strides close past you gracefully; you catch a whiff of some kind of cologne. You turn to watch him as he stops in front of the captured Cynthia. Behind them, you see that there are at least three more thugs holding Benn and the Chief at gunpoint. "Hello there, darling," Drew says. He has a hand on Cynthia's chin, lifting her gaze up to meet his. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of what this man was before all this started. You see a charmer. A guy that knew he could talk his way into any woman's pants, and did so. Frequently. "Why don't you come along with ol' Drew and his boys? You'd be a lot better off; we've got a nice place to hole up. Safe. Probably the safest place in the whole city," he continues, all the while beaming pleasantly. Cynthia, however, shinks back towards Billy, apparently deciding that the gunman behind her was a lesser evil than the one ahead that was armed with nothing but a smile. "N-no... No thank you," she shudders, looking like a deer in the headlights. Drew's expression doesn't falter. If anything, it seems to brighten. "Well, beautiful, it's not really your choice. So come on, be a doll and just tag along with us. It'll be fun!" Behind Cynthia, Billy clamps a hand down on her shoulder, enticing a small squeak of surprise. "Kid? We're going to just vamoose, alright? You don't take a pot shot at us, or come after, and you- not to mention your little friend here- don't get hurt. Savvy?" Drew is still leering at Cynthia, but you know he's talking to you. They're going to take Cynthia, and leave the rest of you with your equipment. It gets worse: Everything's shadows are lengthening. The sun is setting. Just let them go; you'll come after her- alone, if you have to- but you can't do anything right now without risking the others' well-being. Just let them go; she was worthless anyway. They can have her. [C]Give up the guns. They're a small price to pay for the safety of one of your friends. [D]Surely there's something else he'd want instead. There's gotta be... [E]Drew has his back to you, and Billy looks to be occupied with handling Cynthia. Now's your chance to strike... [F]The Other is pushing slightly harder. They're not three or four feet ahead of you, and it wants them. Let it do what it wants... [Z]CYOA
Time: 7:19 (Sunset at 7:34) Status:
==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten, patched fractured rib. Hunger: 83% (!) Equipment: -9mm Beretta (9/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 6 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun
Benjamin Cooper: Equipment: -Baseball Bat
==Other Party: Louise Shaffer: Equipment: -None
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 52% Fuel Total Space: Cab-- 4 Trunk-- 3
Current Usage: Cab: 4 (Full) -Benn: 1 -Chief: 1 -Cynthia: 1 -You: 1
Trunk: None
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Post by Veta on Sept 7, 2009 14:57:07 GMT -6
F.
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Post by Will on Sept 7, 2009 15:01:01 GMT -6
C.
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Post by Tbone110 The Amurican Bastard on Sept 7, 2009 15:03:24 GMT -6
F, blood.
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Post by praetorian on Sept 7, 2009 16:08:56 GMT -6
F, time for a few fatalities.
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Basil
New Survivor
Posts: 47
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Post by Basil on Sept 7, 2009 16:18:12 GMT -6
F
Kill them all, let God sort them out.
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Post by slayer22 on Sept 7, 2009 19:22:32 GMT -6
F
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Post by Roger Stone on Sept 7, 2009 21:58:12 GMT -6
Screw it. This can't get much worse anyways...You draw back. That's the only real way to describe it: mentally drawing back. The Other greedily surges forward. Darkness. ======== Burt "The Chief" Williams sits anxiously shotgun in the car, hands complacently in his lap. The stench of raw urine hangs vulgarly in the air, drifting from the general direction of their fearless computer-hacking driver. Just outside both the driver and passenger side windows are two bikers, one with an Uzi, the other with a sawed-off. Currently, said sawed-off was pointed through the glass and directly at his head. My gun's by my leg. But it might as well be on the frippin' moon fer all the good it's doin' right now. Two of 'em right next to us, and I'd set my warrant there's a third somewheres behind on overwatch.Knowing there's not much he can do at this point, Burt watches the group ahead. The leader -the one that played possum well enough to be in the picture shows- had turned his attention to Cynthia. Behind them, Steve seems to be growing distant. Come on, kiddo. Now's not the time to get cold feet. Snap outta it!Then, an explosion of blurred motion. The policeman's reflexes may have dulled over the years, but his eyes had gotten faster, if anything. Steve lunged forward without warning, possessing an inhuman quickness. At the same instant Steve moved, Drew did as well, spinning around and drawing a large magnum with almost the same amount of speed, leveling it at his attacker's head. Just as Drew fired the pistol, Steve was on him. With a ferociously fast backhand, Steve slaps the weapon away, making it discharge harmlessly into the air and sending it flying off across the lot. ( Going... Going!... GONE! It's outta here, folks! Home run! Chief thinks inanely, not quite believing what he was seeing.) Half a heartbeat later, Steve had him on the ground, and was.... That don't matter. The ones next to you are distracted. Now, GO NOW!Chief dives for the door handle with one hand, his other finding the shotgun. Contorting, he unlocks the car door and kicks it open with all he's got, right into Thug 1's shotty. His wrist gives a dry crack, and the man howls like a stuck pig, and the weapon discharges. The glass sprays inwards, and Chief feels little pinpricks of pain flare up, but nothing as heavy as lead. Thug 1 loses his grip on the gun, and it goes skidding off under a minivan. Chief doesn't waste a single second, and dives out of the Beetle, tackling Thug 1 to the ground. He lands with one knee planted firmly on the biker's throat, he holds him down, turning his attention to the others. His suspicions were confirmed: A Thug 3 stands at the back of the car, Glock at his side and mouth agape. He looks young. Seventeen at the most. Thug 2, however, is older, and thus a bit more experienced. He's already bringing up his Uzi, meaning to mow the Chief down and damn the consequences if he hits his buddy. But the Chief was ready for this. His shotty is already prepared, and, seeing no other option, he fires. The buckshot catches him just below the area between his neck and shoulder, spinning him around like a top. He didn't get back up. Burt turns his sights onto the still shocked Thug 3. Despite his jacket and gun, he now looks just like a lost child, alone and afraid. " 'Ey, tough guy. Jus drop yer gun to the ground and skedaddle. I don't have ta shootcha. Aight?" Chief says, ignoring the quickly fading struggling of Thug 1 underneath him. Thug 3, seeing the shotgun pointed at him, suddenly realized the urgency of the situation, and goes fumbling for his pistol, all the while whimpering that he's sorry and not to shoot. It takes him a few clumsy tries to figure out how to undo the holster's latch, but finally his gets it, and drops the gun as quickly as possible. He immediately turns tail and starts sprinting for his life away. By now, Thug 3 has fallen unconscious. Chief lets out a sigh, and turns his attention back towards the others. Steve ( Christ... His mouth is all red... He's turned. Oh god lord Jesus, he's turned.) now faces off with Billy, who has drawn his forearm around Cynthia's neck, pulling tight. She scratches at his forearm, apparently not getting enough air. The Chief can see she should have other concerns, however. He holds a pistol to her temple. "D- Don't move. You twitch, and she dies. A-Alright?" Billy stutters, clearly not liking how fast everything had gone so wrong. He pulls Cynthia back with him as he retreats towards the grocery. Thas not gonna work, Bill. He's too far g-The thing that was Steve growls angrily, but doesn't attack. Instead he moves back towards Drew's corpse, and crouches there. A single long slurp, one that the Chief will never forget as long as he lives, and then it sits back, licking it's lips. It stretches, and then lays down on its back, smiling contently up to the sky, closing its eyes. What the... Well, shit. Maybe he's not gone. Just maybe....======== You come back slowly. The first thing you notice is you're lying on your back on the ground. The second is something warm covering your chin and neck. You open your eyes, and meet the business end of a shotgun barrel. "Son. Don't move a muscle. Say something if yer.... still you." "...Huh?" You say thickly, wondering just why Chief has a gun in your face. Then, he viably relaxes and lowers the gun. "Thank god. I was sure I'd have had to kilt ya. What the hell was that?" He says, shaking slightly. You notice he's got several deep gashes across his face. "What was what?" you question, wondering what was all over your face. Reaching up, you touch the area, and see your hand come away with blood. You suppose you shouldn't be surprised, but you find yourself shocked despite it. Chief gives you a hard look before apparently deciding you honestly don't know what happened. "Well, it'd take time we don't have, Son. Long story short, you kilt ol' Drew and I took care of the other three while they were busy watchin' you maul the guy." You note the corpse next to you. It's neck is ripped open wide. "You looked about to attack that other one, but he said to just stay still else he'd hurt Cynthia. And you stopped. That's why I didn't just kill ya earlier. How we're gunna talk Benn inta not flippin, I'm not sure..." "Cynthia? Where... Where is she?" You don't see her around. Benn, on the other hand, is still sitting in the car looking scared out of his mind. "I was gettin ta that. Billy backed his way up into the store, holdin Cynthia hostage. He ain't come out." Both you and Chief can go into the store, guns at the ready. You should be able to handle the guy. Go in alone. The Other can handle the biker. [C]Negotiate him down. No one needs to die. [D]Let him have her. It's getting dark; you need to get back to base. [Z]CYOA
Time: 7:22 (Sunset at 7:34) Status:
==Active Party: Steve Ames: Bitten, patched fractured rib. Hunger: 69% Equipment: -9mm Beretta (9/13) 0 spare clips -Empty 9mm clip -Transceiver
Cynthia Smith: Equipment: -Large kitchen knife
Burt "The Chief" Williams: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (7/8) 6 extra shells -Standard issue police Taser gun
Benjamin Cooper: Equipment: -Baseball Bat
==Other Party: Louise Shaffer: Equipment: -None
Fran Geller: Equipment: -Pump Action Shotgun, (8/8) 9 extra shells -Sharpened Rapier
Samuel "Doc" Morten: Equipment: -None
==Vehicles:
Ben's Yellow Volkswagen: 52% Fuel Total Space: Cab-- 4 Trunk-- 3
Current Usage: Cab: 2 -Benn: 1 -Chief: 1 Trunk: None
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