Post by Marmalade Boy on May 30, 2008 15:55:41 GMT -5
((Open to anyone who wants to join in! 
))
A song verse was stuck in Bennie's head as she walked through the ruins of South-Central Malton, she forgot where she had heard it or who sang it, even the song's name, but the verse still echoed through her mind. She hummed it as she walked, her combat boots cutting out an uneven beat on the cracked tarmac, and the jingle of her rifle's sling on the metal buckles of her pack cut out a background tune.
"There's a dream that strings the road, With broken glass for us to hold, And I cut so far before I had to stay..."
Played the verse in Bennie's head as she checked out the surroundings. Wyke Hills was a typical South-Central suburb in Malton; it lacked the telltale signs of high zombie or gang activity. The writing on the walls was artistic, recruiting or witty, as opposed to hostile or gang-scrawling. And the buildings were all well-barricaded, and looked like they had remained like this for a while now. South Malton was always a break, a haven for the weary, those looking for shelter, easy gains or those wounded and seeking help. Overall: boring, but Bennie could deal with boring if it meant she could restock her ammunition and food supplies, or hell, find any of the Whiskey 19 boys.
"A dream that strings the road... broken glass for us to hold"
Sang Bennie softly, not exactly an angelic chorus, but a change from silence. She stopped, spotting a zed hanging around outside of an Auto-Repair shop, swaying in the wind, it's glazed eyes fixated on the corpse of a body with a needle stuck in it's neck. With a shake of her head Bennie turned left, avoiding the possible encounter and ducking down a trash-filling back alley. Like she thought, minimal zombie activity, easily dealt with or easily avoided. Emerging from the backstreet and onto a main road littered with rusty cars, she continued north. Passing the various small buildings, Bennie saw nothing of overbearing interest: looted vans, survivors on rooftops blocks away, the sound of distant gunfire, dried blood on the road and scraps of fluttering yellow crime tape, discolored in the weather.
"I cut so far before I have to stay..."
Stopping at an intersection in the road, Bennie took a moment to think. Mall was to the south of her, Police Station was to the north, and God knows how much featureless building what was to the left and right of her. Continuing North, Bennie spotted a man on the rooftop of a Cinema, rearranging letters from the front display for whatever reason. She smiled and watched, as the man turned around and waved, revealing what he had spelled 'Movie sucks, adverts long, snacks expensive - choosing a multiplex for a safehouse ain't no fun' Chuckling at the display, Bennie noticed something in the distance, to the west of her, blackened Humvees lying in the road.
A short walk later revealed three Humvee, with doors open and clear bullets holes, they had been guttered by some started fire, a quick guess found they were a few years old, probably dating back to the evacuation of the important people of the city at the time of the quarantine. Sighing at her lost lead, Bennie turned to find a scrawny man blocking her path, a large orange flare pistol visible in her thin hands, and a desperate look on his face,
"R-Rifle now, hand it over!"
His words may have been shaky, but the gloved finger on the trigger of the pistol wasn't a weak hold. Bennie's smile dropped and she nodded, grabbing the sling of her rifle and holding the gun barrel end, stock downwards, and offering the man it, this had happened before and Bennie had dealt with it before. The man, awed at his find, grabbed the gun in his free hand and eased his grip on the flare pistol. Bennie flexed her arm and smashed the man in the face, palm flat and punching with the heel of her hand. He went back, as Bennie went forwards, grabbing her rifle by it's stock and barrel with each hand and spinning it in the hand's grip, smashing the stock into the face of her assailant. The man crumpled, hitting the pavement, saving hitting his head by falling onto his back first, and raising his flare pistol to fire as he found Bennie already had her rifle in the correct grip and pointed at his now bleeding face, using the time he had to fall to get into position. A shot rang out on the empty street, and the pistol arm fell to the ground.
With a satisfied smirk, Bennie reached forwards and quickly patted down the sections of the man not covered in blood for items, finding only an armband with a T stitched into it, a half-finished chocolate bar and a knife with it's end broken, she wasn't interested in the flare gun in the dead man's hand, his finger still on it's trigger. It was here that she noticed the poor state of the man's clothes, his bent and broken fingernails and the face he was barefoot. She gave a sigh, recent revives had it bad, with nothing to own, and no means to get it, how would one sustain oneself? With a pang of remorse, Bennie took solace in the face that he had threated to kill her, and would have probably done so to steal her stuff. She closed the man's eyes in respect, slang her rifle and turned to leave, still humming her song.
It wasn't long down the street when she waved to the man climbing back into the Cinema, when she heard a loud bang behind her and a bright object, a flare, impacted into a parked car next to her and spread out burning debris into the road. She whipped around to see the presumed dead body of the man standing up in death, a zombie, the pressure of undeath rising probably pulling the trigger. A second explosion tore Bennie off her feet, as something on the seat of the burning car went off, probably a forgotten gas cylinder. A burning pain hit her right thigh, and the zombie gave a loud groan, from where the garbage cans that it had fallen into. Bennie struggled to her feet, her right leg hard to move and in heavy pain, stumbling as quickly as she could from the rapidly growing fire behind her, the burning remains of the car starting new fires in the others on the street, and the garden full of dead plants that it had been in front of.
With gritted teeth, Bennie continued on forwards, ignoring the Cinema (It was far too heavily barricaded anyway) and finding a church with smashed stainglass windows, stumbling down the Church's path and struggling up onto a dumpster next to one of the broken windows, Bennie fell into the Church. She growled and fell into one of the pews, looking to her thigh, and finding a small piece of blue-painted metal car door stuck into it. With a curse, Bennie shrugged off her pack and used it to prop herself up on the pew so she could pull a pair of pliers from her pocket and aim it's needle-nosed head towards the offending piece of metal. She took a fresh roll of bandages from her pocket and placed it in her mouth, biting down on it and screaming as she pulled the metal from her thigh. With a small spurt of blood and a scream, it came out in the pliers, revealing itself to be about the size of of a 10p piece, with jagged ends.
She paused for a breather, using the time to removed the now spitty and wet roll of bandages from her pocket and cleaning the wound with a spare wet-wipe in her pocket, taken from a mass supply in her pack she had taken from a taco bell restaurant in West Grayside a week back. It was raw, and bleeding freely, the blood staining her slightly-torn pants now and ruining the worn tigerstripe pattern. She was quick to roll up her pant leg though, and wrapped up the wound quickly and tightly with the bandages, making sure she had enough pressure to stop the wound bleeding so much, but not enough to make her foot turn blue. Giving a heavy sigh, Bennie rolled her pant leg down again and took a breather, looking down at the shrapnel piece held in the gorey pliers and quietly cursing.
Ten minutes passed, and Bennie had calmed, finding the Church empty at a glance, and also finding the sun slightly lower in the sky, 6:34 according to her watch, give or take it a few minutes, she had of course, made sure to regurally time it with friendly surviviors, but nothing was perfect time-wise in the city. She braved standing, which made her leg erupt in pain, but it was bearable. A fool could have told her that she needed to get out of the potentially dangerous open church and into a better position, hopefully one with a roof and a room with a door she could close behind her. Retrieving her pack, and drawing her pistol for a feeling of safety, Bennie checked the windows and anything odd about the church, looking for access to the roof and a 'Survivor bridge', one that people used to get around. The roof access revealed itself as a winding staircase leading up to the belfry, which gave a small plank board walk across the street to a block of streets leading east to a bunch of buildings in the distant east, a few block away.
"Broken Glass for us to hold... Cuts so far...."
It took a while to navigate the narrow spiral staircase leading up to the Belfry, a bland, featureless affair with hanging bell pulls and some worn books, as well as the narrow blank bridge leading to the rooves of houses that lined the streets to the east of her The plank bridge was destined for those spunky ones, telling by the fact Bennie got to the roof of the nearby house block almost soiling herself with the pain of her leg and the bridge walk, but thankfully the road to the east wasn't too hard, thanks to the fact the houses were old Victorian attached houses made to house factory workers during the industrial revolution. Getting onto the roof of the abandoned Industrial-era factory from a rope climb over a dual-carriageway wasn't as hard as the plank, but looking, the Factory wasn't up to scratch for what she was looking for. It was cold, open and looked like a squatters haven. She looked over, to see a Police Station in the north, and a Hotel to the south, a park separating them with many trees.
Choosing the Hotel, for it's privacy and it's beds, Bennie eagerly navigated another, wider, plank bridge onto the roof of the hotel. It looked well worn from Survivor use, with moss cleared from skylights, a well maintained access hatch and overall, it looked like there could be people inside that wouldn't be likely to kill her whilst she was sleeping inside. Dropping down into the hotel, Bennie found it was getting later in the day, her watch reading 7:13. Unlucky number. Stumbling through the hallway, the pain in her leg still quite intense, Bennie opened a door to one of the rooms, and wearily looked in, before crashing on the bare mattress, looking for relief from her leg pains...
((And that's it! Wrote quite a lot, but proud of it! C: Anyway, free to anyone who wants to jump in!))
))A song verse was stuck in Bennie's head as she walked through the ruins of South-Central Malton, she forgot where she had heard it or who sang it, even the song's name, but the verse still echoed through her mind. She hummed it as she walked, her combat boots cutting out an uneven beat on the cracked tarmac, and the jingle of her rifle's sling on the metal buckles of her pack cut out a background tune.
"There's a dream that strings the road, With broken glass for us to hold, And I cut so far before I had to stay..."
Played the verse in Bennie's head as she checked out the surroundings. Wyke Hills was a typical South-Central suburb in Malton; it lacked the telltale signs of high zombie or gang activity. The writing on the walls was artistic, recruiting or witty, as opposed to hostile or gang-scrawling. And the buildings were all well-barricaded, and looked like they had remained like this for a while now. South Malton was always a break, a haven for the weary, those looking for shelter, easy gains or those wounded and seeking help. Overall: boring, but Bennie could deal with boring if it meant she could restock her ammunition and food supplies, or hell, find any of the Whiskey 19 boys.
"A dream that strings the road... broken glass for us to hold"
Sang Bennie softly, not exactly an angelic chorus, but a change from silence. She stopped, spotting a zed hanging around outside of an Auto-Repair shop, swaying in the wind, it's glazed eyes fixated on the corpse of a body with a needle stuck in it's neck. With a shake of her head Bennie turned left, avoiding the possible encounter and ducking down a trash-filling back alley. Like she thought, minimal zombie activity, easily dealt with or easily avoided. Emerging from the backstreet and onto a main road littered with rusty cars, she continued north. Passing the various small buildings, Bennie saw nothing of overbearing interest: looted vans, survivors on rooftops blocks away, the sound of distant gunfire, dried blood on the road and scraps of fluttering yellow crime tape, discolored in the weather.
"I cut so far before I have to stay..."
Stopping at an intersection in the road, Bennie took a moment to think. Mall was to the south of her, Police Station was to the north, and God knows how much featureless building what was to the left and right of her. Continuing North, Bennie spotted a man on the rooftop of a Cinema, rearranging letters from the front display for whatever reason. She smiled and watched, as the man turned around and waved, revealing what he had spelled 'Movie sucks, adverts long, snacks expensive - choosing a multiplex for a safehouse ain't no fun' Chuckling at the display, Bennie noticed something in the distance, to the west of her, blackened Humvees lying in the road.
A short walk later revealed three Humvee, with doors open and clear bullets holes, they had been guttered by some started fire, a quick guess found they were a few years old, probably dating back to the evacuation of the important people of the city at the time of the quarantine. Sighing at her lost lead, Bennie turned to find a scrawny man blocking her path, a large orange flare pistol visible in her thin hands, and a desperate look on his face,
"R-Rifle now, hand it over!"
His words may have been shaky, but the gloved finger on the trigger of the pistol wasn't a weak hold. Bennie's smile dropped and she nodded, grabbing the sling of her rifle and holding the gun barrel end, stock downwards, and offering the man it, this had happened before and Bennie had dealt with it before. The man, awed at his find, grabbed the gun in his free hand and eased his grip on the flare pistol. Bennie flexed her arm and smashed the man in the face, palm flat and punching with the heel of her hand. He went back, as Bennie went forwards, grabbing her rifle by it's stock and barrel with each hand and spinning it in the hand's grip, smashing the stock into the face of her assailant. The man crumpled, hitting the pavement, saving hitting his head by falling onto his back first, and raising his flare pistol to fire as he found Bennie already had her rifle in the correct grip and pointed at his now bleeding face, using the time he had to fall to get into position. A shot rang out on the empty street, and the pistol arm fell to the ground.
With a satisfied smirk, Bennie reached forwards and quickly patted down the sections of the man not covered in blood for items, finding only an armband with a T stitched into it, a half-finished chocolate bar and a knife with it's end broken, she wasn't interested in the flare gun in the dead man's hand, his finger still on it's trigger. It was here that she noticed the poor state of the man's clothes, his bent and broken fingernails and the face he was barefoot. She gave a sigh, recent revives had it bad, with nothing to own, and no means to get it, how would one sustain oneself? With a pang of remorse, Bennie took solace in the face that he had threated to kill her, and would have probably done so to steal her stuff. She closed the man's eyes in respect, slang her rifle and turned to leave, still humming her song.
It wasn't long down the street when she waved to the man climbing back into the Cinema, when she heard a loud bang behind her and a bright object, a flare, impacted into a parked car next to her and spread out burning debris into the road. She whipped around to see the presumed dead body of the man standing up in death, a zombie, the pressure of undeath rising probably pulling the trigger. A second explosion tore Bennie off her feet, as something on the seat of the burning car went off, probably a forgotten gas cylinder. A burning pain hit her right thigh, and the zombie gave a loud groan, from where the garbage cans that it had fallen into. Bennie struggled to her feet, her right leg hard to move and in heavy pain, stumbling as quickly as she could from the rapidly growing fire behind her, the burning remains of the car starting new fires in the others on the street, and the garden full of dead plants that it had been in front of.
With gritted teeth, Bennie continued on forwards, ignoring the Cinema (It was far too heavily barricaded anyway) and finding a church with smashed stainglass windows, stumbling down the Church's path and struggling up onto a dumpster next to one of the broken windows, Bennie fell into the Church. She growled and fell into one of the pews, looking to her thigh, and finding a small piece of blue-painted metal car door stuck into it. With a curse, Bennie shrugged off her pack and used it to prop herself up on the pew so she could pull a pair of pliers from her pocket and aim it's needle-nosed head towards the offending piece of metal. She took a fresh roll of bandages from her pocket and placed it in her mouth, biting down on it and screaming as she pulled the metal from her thigh. With a small spurt of blood and a scream, it came out in the pliers, revealing itself to be about the size of of a 10p piece, with jagged ends.
She paused for a breather, using the time to removed the now spitty and wet roll of bandages from her pocket and cleaning the wound with a spare wet-wipe in her pocket, taken from a mass supply in her pack she had taken from a taco bell restaurant in West Grayside a week back. It was raw, and bleeding freely, the blood staining her slightly-torn pants now and ruining the worn tigerstripe pattern. She was quick to roll up her pant leg though, and wrapped up the wound quickly and tightly with the bandages, making sure she had enough pressure to stop the wound bleeding so much, but not enough to make her foot turn blue. Giving a heavy sigh, Bennie rolled her pant leg down again and took a breather, looking down at the shrapnel piece held in the gorey pliers and quietly cursing.
Ten minutes passed, and Bennie had calmed, finding the Church empty at a glance, and also finding the sun slightly lower in the sky, 6:34 according to her watch, give or take it a few minutes, she had of course, made sure to regurally time it with friendly surviviors, but nothing was perfect time-wise in the city. She braved standing, which made her leg erupt in pain, but it was bearable. A fool could have told her that she needed to get out of the potentially dangerous open church and into a better position, hopefully one with a roof and a room with a door she could close behind her. Retrieving her pack, and drawing her pistol for a feeling of safety, Bennie checked the windows and anything odd about the church, looking for access to the roof and a 'Survivor bridge', one that people used to get around. The roof access revealed itself as a winding staircase leading up to the belfry, which gave a small plank board walk across the street to a block of streets leading east to a bunch of buildings in the distant east, a few block away.
"Broken Glass for us to hold... Cuts so far...."
It took a while to navigate the narrow spiral staircase leading up to the Belfry, a bland, featureless affair with hanging bell pulls and some worn books, as well as the narrow blank bridge leading to the rooves of houses that lined the streets to the east of her The plank bridge was destined for those spunky ones, telling by the fact Bennie got to the roof of the nearby house block almost soiling herself with the pain of her leg and the bridge walk, but thankfully the road to the east wasn't too hard, thanks to the fact the houses were old Victorian attached houses made to house factory workers during the industrial revolution. Getting onto the roof of the abandoned Industrial-era factory from a rope climb over a dual-carriageway wasn't as hard as the plank, but looking, the Factory wasn't up to scratch for what she was looking for. It was cold, open and looked like a squatters haven. She looked over, to see a Police Station in the north, and a Hotel to the south, a park separating them with many trees.
Choosing the Hotel, for it's privacy and it's beds, Bennie eagerly navigated another, wider, plank bridge onto the roof of the hotel. It looked well worn from Survivor use, with moss cleared from skylights, a well maintained access hatch and overall, it looked like there could be people inside that wouldn't be likely to kill her whilst she was sleeping inside. Dropping down into the hotel, Bennie found it was getting later in the day, her watch reading 7:13. Unlucky number. Stumbling through the hallway, the pain in her leg still quite intense, Bennie opened a door to one of the rooms, and wearily looked in, before crashing on the bare mattress, looking for relief from her leg pains...
((And that's it! Wrote quite a lot, but proud of it! C: Anyway, free to anyone who wants to jump in!))