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Kira swung the door inwards slowly, her heart pounding uncomfortably inside of her chest as the first hints of the room became clear to her, the creaking of the door all too loud to her. Surely they'd hear it... along with her heart, and her breathing. They all seemed so loud to her right now. Her free hand was already gripping her trusty pistol; she was sure there'd be nothing to worry about here. It was at least ten floors off of the ground, and she'd never known those... creatures... to be good stair climbers.

Leaning forward, she gave the door a final light push, and sighed as the room became visible to her; it was empty. Her rigid body immediately relaxed, and she stepped into the room with an almost casual air about her, her anxiousness now gone. She quietly shut the door behind her as she walked in, slipped the gun back under the waistband of her torn-up jeans (It would be nice to get a new pair... she thought randomly to herself), and was about to take her boots off, but paused. As she looked down at the floor, old, probably nice at one point, hardwood, she saw a couple needles lying there. "Hmph..." She frowned and made a tiny 'tsk' noise, then continued inside, keeping her shoes on. The first room looked like a living room; an old moth-eaten couch was placed against the wall she was facing, with a little coffee table in front of it. Littering the tabletop, as well as the floor around it, were more needles, and plenty of used up cigarettes. As she sat down with a sigh on the couch, she picked up one of the needles gingerly and examined it, turning it in her fingers. "Damn druggies.." she murmured quietly to herself before letting it fall back down again. She'd clean them up later, maybe, if this place proved to be a more permanent residence than the last. She leaned back slightly, still eyeing the needles. "Wonder if they're still around here.." She quietly mused; she'd gotten into the bad habit of talking to herself, lately. I'll end up insane., she thought with a smirk. Whatever, at least I won't get lonely. She turned her eyes away, to her right, where a small hallway extended from the room. There were three doors there; she could see a corner of a bed poking through in the one in front of her.

Deciding she may as well get to know her new home, she stood up, dusting herself off, and walked off towards the hallway, her boots unpleasantly noisy on this floor. Sure enough, the room at the end of the hall was a bedroom; it was small and crappy, with a small bed in one corner, a dresser against the wall, and a full-length mirror on the wall; that was all, unless you counted the empty beer bottles and cigarette ashtrays. She backed out and peeked her head into the room to the right of it; another bedroom, almost exactly like the first. She then opened the door and looked into the last room; a bathroom, with one of those corner showers, a basin sink, and a rather dirty toilet. In fact, the whole room was rather dirty. "Ugh.." She left that room quickly and walked back into the first bedroom, the events of the day finally catching up with her; she was getting very tired. As she walked over to the bed, she happened to catch a glance of herself in the mirror. She stopped, looked herself over, and frowned. Her frame was thinner than usual; she hadn't been able to eat much lately. Her clothing, a pair of badly torn jeans and a dark black, fitted tank-top, was all worn out and dirty; she needed to get something new to wear. Her hair was a mess, falling in choppy blonde strands to her shoulders, but unkept. Her eyes... her entire expression, was worn out and tired. "I look... like a homeless bum, or something." As she thought it, she laughed to herself; it sounded strange after so long. "Haha... I guess I am kind of a homeless bum, huh? ...I'm talking to a mirror...".

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she left the room and headed back into the living room, where she first noticed the fact that there was a kitchen attached. Hopeful, she walked over. What was she hoping for? She had no clue. Anything would be nice though. Of course, all of the cupboards and the fridge were empty, and the room was filthy. She tried the taps, and no water came out. She sighed. "Figures..." She headed back to the living room and crashed on the couch. As she let herself fall silent, she could hear a desperate scream, coming from outside, somewhere not far away. Her eyes opened for a moment, then she closed them again, her arms stretched up and resting above her head as she lay there. Those sounds were too common now. She no longer cared. Besides, she'd had enough fighting for today, and tomorrow hadn't even gotten here yet.

She tried for several minutes to drift off to sleep, but she couldn't. She sighed and sat up again, propping herself up on one elbow, and reached into one pocket of her belt. She gripped something, a handle of some sort, and pulled it out. What she held was a long, eight-inch knife, double edged, and seraded on one side. She examined it for a moment; it was still covered in blood. Chances were, so was the inside of the pocket. Sighing, she wiped the blade against the musty old couch, figuring that a little bloodstain wouldn't make much difference now. "Sorry Jess..." She murmured quietly, thinking of the girl that had once been her friend. So happy and optimistic.. even when all of the horrible things began to happen. It was what had kept Kira herself going for a while. But eventually even her friend's optimism hadn't been enough. They'd been attacked, she'd been infected... Kira remembered crouching low behind one of the broken pews in the church across town, not even six hours ago, listening to the shuffling of the creature as it tried to sniff her out. She'd hoped that maybe she could leave this one alone and make her way out, but once she'd moved, she'd immediately been seen. Snapping it's head around, the creature that had once been Jessica spotted her, and immediately rushd at her with inhuman speed. Contact was made, and Kira was knocked onto her back by the force. The creature was slashing, trying to maul her; she growled and twisted; somehow she managed to knock it off. She didn't hesitate. In a second, her M9 was out. One, two, shots to the thing's forehead, clean and well-aimed. It fell, but she knew by now that it wasn't dead. She moved over and pulled out her blade, double edged, and serated on one side. She set to work sawing the creature's head off, repeating to herself over and over in her mind, It's a monster, it's a monster, it's a monster. She managed to remove the head after a couple of painstakingly slow moments, scared that any moment it would revive itself. Then she stood and gazed down at the corpse, realizing she'd just lost her last friend. She'd forced herself to leave, and washed her arms clean of blood in a chair that had filled with a puddle of dirty water. Not long after, she'd found this place.

Pulling herself out of her memories, she replaced the now-clean blade in her pocket and lay down again. She should at least try and get some rest. Tomorrow, she'd try and find some food.

Ryin sat quietly alone in a corner, ignoring everything around him, he had been there for awhile, taking in the silence. He was alone, no one around to hear him, he felt scared at the same time. He clutched his knees, he probably picked the worse place to reside, but he didn't care, these creatures should just come kill him now, put him out of his misery shortly. He hated this, all he had as daggers to fight these beasts, though he had a whole trunk full of guns and such, though he didn't need them, he still afraid to go and try.

Chone glared down at the bloody heap that was the creature that had been unfortunate enough to try and attack her. She knew that it would soon revive itself, and that she should run, but she always felt a cold satisfaction in a victory, and she liked to savor that. Her revolvers were drawn and pointed down, in case the creature dared to even flinch. She thought about shooting it one more time for good measure, but realized that it would be a waste of ammo. Her face contorted into a grimace and she kicked the heap with a grunt.

“Nasty bastard,” she growled through clenched teeth, before walking slowly away.

She began to holster her weapons when she noticed that the creature's blood had splattered on the ivory handles. That was the only bad thing about using her father's favorite weapons to avenge his death; they would inevitably get scratched or stained. It hurt her to see her most prized possessions marred, and she fiercely tried to wipe the blood away. Succeeding, she returned her weapons to their holster, and hurried off down the street.

The wet street was littered and dirty, and her boots splashed as they hit the ground in rapid succession. The smell in the air was musty and rotting, and she wrinkled her nose, trying not to allow it access to her nostrils. The sounds around her would have frightened her some time ago, but they were now commonplace, and she didn't even bother to turn her head in their direction.

She walked on with no particular destination in mind, she was only searching; searching for a place to rest her tired body. Most structures were completely dilapidated, and she would never dream of sleeping on the streets for fear that she would be attacked in the middle of the night.

Chone groaned. Though life was usually anything but boring nowadays, it was still monotonous, and she grew tired of endless treks searching for food and shelter. Why couldn't life just be a little bit simpler?

As if in answer to her question, she turned her head, and her eyes rested upon an old Hotel. It was run-down, yes, but it did look inhabitable. She inched towards the large double-doors and pushed them open with difficulty, her hand on one of her guns just in case. When the door was open, she looked around scrutinizingly. The lobby was littered with rubble and dust hung in the air like a thick cloud. Chone coughed and waved her hand in front of her face in an effort to clear the air. She walked into the hotel, her feet crunching the rubble beneath them with every step. Her eyes moved from what was once the concierge desk to the seating area. It looked like it had once been a nice enough place.

She made her way through the hall to the rooming area. Opening a door she looked inside and saw that there were beds and she hollered inwardly with joy. The room was dirty, but it looked safe, and at least she would finally have a real bed to sleep in. She walked into the room and shut the door, examine the contents. There were two beds with blankets of an ugly mauve color, a bathroom with a toilet filled with slimy gray water, and a little stand with a microwave.

Chone's first instinct was to head toward the bed. She had to brush heartily at the dust covered linen before she sat down on the bed's edge. In between the two beds was a sturdy wooden table with a drawer which she instinctively pulled open. Inside was a worn and faded Bible. Chone wondered silently why all hotel's always had a Bible in every room. It seemed like a strange tradition. She placed the book back in the drawer and closed it with a thud. She sighed deeply and lay on her back with her arms folded over her chest, hopping she could manage a few hours of sleep without being awakened by violent nightmares.

"Mario, Deron, Kaya, Lisa, Jerel. I'm writing this letter for you to read up there in heaven. I'll hold out down here as long as I can for you all. I'll never forget your sacrifices, and if I go out I'm goin' out guns blazin'.

Much love, Dominic."

Dom folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into the half-empty 40oz. bottle. He lit the end of the paper that hung out. "This'll give'em something to growl about." Dom snarled as he tossed the bottle from the window and down to a single one of the creatures that had decided to wander into the open. The speed and velocity of the drop made the bottle literally explode on impact of the ground. The contents of the bottle scattered about just close enough to land on the creature. Dominic watch with a feeling of strong content as the flames began to spread along the creature. Its aggression had begun to subdue and it was now writhing on the ground in pain as its skin would surely begin to bubble and burn. Dom closed the window shut and walked back into the living room. He shook his head as he looked towards the door he had previously kicked down. "I'll have to find another place to shack..." he grumbled as he walked over to the couch and picked up his backpack. He slung it over his right shoulder before trailing off to the kitchen. The fridge wasn't working but there was some stuff in the cabinets that he saw earlier. Dom placed his bag on the counter and opened it before reaching up to open the cabinet doors.

"Canned pears,peaches... Sardines, tuna, cat food..." Dom continued to voice the menu of options to choose from and almost had a full menu until his attention was caught. A creak in the hallway was common because the place was run down but it never hurt to investigate. "They couldn't have made it this far up already." Dom snarled. He decided to not be picky and started grabbing everything he could out of the cabinet, being careful not to weigh the pack down too much. Once satisfied he was heading out.

Slowly Dominic lurched to the doorway with the fallen door. He peered around the corner and looked in both directions, as well as up and down, to make sure nothing was visibly out there. Once he convinced himself he wouldn't be instantly assaulted he took a left and stuck close to the wall. Reaching under his shirt he would pull out his pistol and turn the safety off. A small crackle and crunch would be the drywall and debris that was crushed under his boots as he inched closer to the next room down. "My memory isn't the best... Damn, I can't remember if this door was cracked,open, or closed when I first went past it." Dom's mind began to race as he nagged at himself for being so careless. So far this place had been a perfect home and now it was invaded by the damn creatures. Dominic took a single deep breath before reaching for the door knob with his left hand, pistol held tight in his right. Slowly he'd turn the knob and push slightly. The creak of the door sounded similar but who's to say all the doors sound the same when opened. He wouldn't know anyways, he kicked down the first door he saw while pretending to be a cop. All that aside, it was now or never. Dom's heart was beating out of his chest and he could feel his body change as if he was beginning to break out in a sweat.

Dom squinted his eyes to peer into the small crack. Unsatisfied with the limited view he got a sudden urge to simply say "To hell with it." and push open the door. In his next motion he would step into the room and look in every direction, careful to spot out every corner, pistol in hand. "Wait..." he said as he noticed something or someone on the couch. He pointed his gun, aiming at her head. Sudden movements would probably lead to better-left-alone results. "Infected or not." he said in an audible voice that was just barely below a yell. His eyes focused hard on her as he examined her for any bold signs of infection... which of course he had no knowledge of because his initial reaction is to kill on sight. In the back of his mind he could sort of tell this girl wasn't infected but in the back were also the thoughts of... how in the hell people considered this a living condition. The needles, beer cans, etc. that were sprawled about gave a disgusting odor that struck his nose harder than that block of old cheese in the fridge on floor 4. Dom's nose wrinkled, giving his face a weird expression as he awaited a humane answer instead of a violent rush followed by the swiping, biting, and general aggressive yells of rage. It was obvious he had been going through this for too damn long.

She hadn't been able to fall asleep. Of course, how could she? For weeks now the wet downtown streets had been where she'd had to live, and now, when she finally managed to find something remotely comfortable, it was a moth-eaten old couch, and probably insect-infected bed. She'd sighed and had just been about to stand up when she heard the creak of the door again and froze, listening hard. It wasn't a creature, of that she was sure; there was a very distinct sound to their walking, kind of a shuffling, irregular sound, as if they were drunk or something. Even without that, their breathing was raspy, and she'd have been dead by now. A stray cat, maybe? Maybe I can keep it as a pet, she thought with an inward chuckle. Or eat it or something...ew...

"Infected or not," Came the shout, and she paused again. Another person? Well, that wasn't so bad, unless they'd been infected. Either way, she'd have to find out now.

She opened her eyes and turned her head to face the figure at the door, a young man with a backback, and just as scrappy looking as Kira herself. Of course, the first thing she noticed was that there was a gun pointed at her head. However, with the way the world was now... things like this happened pretty often. It didn't bother her so much. At least, if he was using a gun, he was probably still healthy... or at least healthy enough. Just to be sure though, she examined him quickly, looking out for the telltale signs of someone in the early stages of their infection. She'd gotten to know all of the signs quite well from being near Julia.

Satisfied that he was fine, she propped herself up onto her elbows and replied, "And just who the hell are you?" It wasn't angrily, or even with a tone like she much cared or was afraid. It sounded more like the tone of someone when they'd been woken while trying to sleep. "And put that gun away, would you?" She really was wondering though. She hadn't seen any other people aside from her and Julia for weeks. She'd ended up at the assumption that they'd all died.

Dominic was more than relieved to hear that she could speak English instead of that garbled language of anger. He lowered his gun slowly and returned it underneath his shirt, tucking it tightly in his sweatpants. Apparently she wasn't infected. "And I was just beginning to think I was alone in this god forsaken hell hole of a world." he mumbled out. Dom's stance changed from cautious to a more relaxed lean as he tossed his bag across the floor into an open spot, free of the syringes and cans. His eyes began to scan the room which looked pretty similar to the last few he had searched. He took a few steps towards the kitchen and peeked in. "Dominic." he said aloud. "And just who the hell are you?" he asked as if he were one to be in the position to. His tone was more filled with a sense of joking, for he saw no need to anger anyone who had enough sanity left to not outright attack him.

Dom pulled his head back from the kitchen and turned around to face her. He leaned against the wall and kept his eyes focused on her. Friend or foe, it was a natural precaution though she didn't seem like too much of a threat. Though Dom could say the same about that little girl who was looking for her "mother". Lets just say Dom no longer has any restraint on who or what he hits, even if it means taking a kid's head off for his own safety.

Breathing heavily, aya stood by the window, her back against the wall. The windows were covered by big red curtains, as a small piece of it cracked allowing her to see through the window. The world was a reak now and she was stuck in it. Where there more survivors in this death infected town or was she alone to face them. Right now, just leaving was the only thing on her mind. It disgusted her much to see them walk around looking for another prey, another meal, another comrad to join there gang but aya didn't fly like that. There was no way she was going to join them.

She closed her eyes tightly and and gripped her gun hard just waiting for the next move. Sooner or later they were going to find her and then she would have to relocate and that was going to be hell. She opened her eyes slowly and moved her feet forward moving away from the window. She moved slowly and gently, trying not to make any noise; last thing she wanted was them hearing her. She walked to the door and stuffed her gun in the back of her pants. She went toward the door and gently put her hands on the cold metal exterior sliding her hands around the rust. She put her ears to the door just to see if there was a sound, something coming, anything. She shook her head and leaned away from the door. She sighed and sat down in a chair. She crossed her leg and placed her gun on the nightstand right next to it. What the hell am i doing? Haa...i need to move..where to though? She let her head go light and it slung back against the chair as she stared at the ceiling.

Miguel gripped his shotgun tightly as he ascended the stairs, ears straining for any sound besides his own echoing footsteps. He had learned from experience to never let your guard down, no matter what. Infected could be anywhere lying in wait, and being alert could mean the difference between having enough time to blast it, and getting your face chewed off.

He passed a corpse hanging over a rail, it's head missing. "Dios mío," he muttered, but he looked up the stairs hopefully. Someone had passed this way. Maybe they were still here. He gripped his weapon tighter and hurried up the stairs, his heart thumping. He came to a hallway -- an empty one, luckily. He looked around carefully, then twitched in surprise.

Voices! He had heard voices! He couldn't help smiling at the thought. Maybe he had finally found someone alive. Someone who wasn't infected. He crept down the hallway slowly, listening. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he quickly found where the voices were coming from. Behind a door with the room number 258 hanging crookedly on the peeling paint.

But he didn't enter. He'd be an idiot to just walk in, it'd probably get him shot. About five times. So he did the next best thing. He raised his right hand...and knocked.

She watched the newcomer replace his weapon and drop his bag on the floor, raising an eyebrow, a bit surprised at how comfortable he made himself. After all, she'd found this place first. Technically, wasn't it hers? Or maybe it actually was his... she eyed the dirty needles, scrunching her nose a tiny bit at the thought. Hopefully it wasn't, or she'd have been invading the home of some crackhead or something. Deciding that since he seemed to be making himself comfortable, she probably wouldn't be able to get any more sleep, she sat up, leaning against the back of the couch and pulling her legs up to her chest. A tiny smirk pulled her lips when he demanded her name, echoing her question of moments before. But, at least, he'd been courteous enough to give his name first. "Kira." She responded simply, watching him look around the kitchen. "There's nothing worth eating in there, unless you like dirt. I've already checked."

As she spoke, she pulled her M9 quietly out from the waistband of her jeans, holding it casually in one hand. She wasn't trying to seem threatening by any means; she did however notice the way he looked at her, as if calculating whether or not she was a threat. She could tell he'd have no problems with killing her if the need arose; she wanted to make sure that she was prepared to do what was needed as well.

"So I'm guessing you don't have many friends then?" She asked sarcastically, referring to his comment about feeling alone. She was just as surprised as he was at meeting someone else here. However, at that moment, she stopped speaking and turned her eyes towards the door, listening intently. Was that a knock she heard? She was sure of it. Making a motion to her conversation partner to be quiet, she lifted her gun casually and pointed it towards the door, right around where an average person's head would be. "Come in", she called. If some half-infected freakshow walked in, she was ready.

"I happen to like dirt." Dominic said with slight frown. His joke was only testing the water to see if she had pulled that gun out to pelt him full of holes or play with it casually. Eyes squinted as he also took in information such as the type of gun she was carrying, as it seemed similar to the one he was carrying. "I have a lot of friends. They just all want to ki--" Dom paused mid-sentence as the knock echoed slightly throughout the room. His head quickly jerked in the direction of the door as he pulled back out the pistol. His hand was tightly wrapped around it and his aim had been adjusted to about shoulder height. The neck was where he would aim, with the light recoil as his crutch for a head shot.

"Come in, she says. Yes, lets invite them on into our humble... less than humble abode. I hope I didn't blow the spot with my venture into the hallway. They couldn't have made it this far up yet though..." Dominic often held conversations with the thoughts in his head. Thinking to himself and answering his own thoughts was something he had grown accustom to while being alone. While all this chatter was carrying on in the back of his head, his initial thoughts kept his aim steady and his eyes focused. Who or whatever was going to come into that door had better be prepared, because Dom's trigger finger was always happy.

The rows of buildings never helped alleviate the problem of spotting infected. But walking through the streets was a good way to attract them. Havok thought, smiling underneath his mask. The small piece of gear spanning his lower face, covering his mouth and reaching just barely above nose, gave the figure a near autonomous look. His cold eyes did nothing to help his image to any friendly persons. Making him even more detached.

Havok hefted his rifle slowly as he strolled down the street, leisurely as ever. Though he constantly traversed the area with his ever watchful eyes, he continued on the dangerous path. Unhindered in his movements.
"Alright ... looks like they're playing hide and seek." The Mercenary frowned tilting his rifle to the side to follow his vision as he sent a glance down a lonely, abandoned alley way. At least he hoped it was abandoned. He smiled as he quietly remembered an old song, catching himself whistling the tune as he strolled.

"Alright, you're starting the piss me off." He grunted angrily, sending a glance around over his shoulder before he raised his Masada. The cold matte feel of the rifle comforting him as he hefted the rifle with one hand.

"Where the hell are you all, seriously!" He said, his voice growing in both volume and anger as he swung around, hoping to find something to confirm his suspicions. Nothing. Turning again his attention was quickly consumed by a crash in an alley to his left. He took action quickly, swinging his rifle and depressing the trigger, casing after casing spat from the mechanism of the weapon as Havok sent a good ten round burst into the alley way, seeing a trash can fall onto it's side riddled with small holes he smiled.
"Oh, a trash can. You're so dangerous Benny." He said to himself teasingly.

The fist came from the rear, and the scream followed. Being completely blind-sided, Havok let out a deep yell of anger, attempting to roll sideways as the two of them fell to the ground in a heap of tanned armor, and ragged clothing.
"Sneaky little bast --" He gritted as a punch smashed into his chin, gashing open his chin as he met the eyes of his assailant. Blank and cold as usual.

His face mask would protect him, but the bandanna wouldn't keep anything out. As would his armor, but given the circumstance with the infected nearly on top of him, he'd have to blast his way out. To keep his attacker at a distance, his fist would clench around his throat, squeezing tightly to preoccupy the infected as his spare hand sent a punch upward, connecting with it's chin. The infected gave a bloodied growl as his fist connected, smashing him off his would-be prey. Havok rolling sideways as the infected writhing in pain, quickly regaining as his footing, preparing for another attack.

Giving me just enough time. He smiled as his hand shot down to his holster, the small object strapped across his right leg. Quickly wrenching his hands around the grip of his dedicated P-99. With a jerking motion he pulled the handgun from it's housing, swinging it he leaned backwards onto one shoulder, aiming as his finger slipped to it's position in front of the trigger.

"Fucking infected." He grimaced as a single bullet smashed through his assailants skull as he reached to grasp him. The slide of the weapon kicking and his hand clenching tighter on the firearm as a spent shell casing was ejected, and the mechanism of the weapon cycled a fresh new cartridge into the chamber. The infected was screaming angrily in a bloody anger as the bullet intercepted his skull, the mans head falling backwards as the bullet ejected from the mans skull. Havok pulled himself backwards as a spout of blood fell from the mans head and landed on the ground below him. His body falling limp and slumping downward, eyes wide open.

"Maybe you were a respectable person before you turned into this." Havok grunted angrily as he sent a kick into the mans head. His boot effectively crushing the mans skull in one swift blow, cracking the bone deeply before his head finally gave way to steel and leather. A spray of blood leaping from the confines of his head to spatter along the ground, dirtying it even more.

"Some other time. Brother." He grunted angrily as he rolled to his feet, reaching for his rifle as several more infected made themselves known. Their screaming and yelling filling the air as they rounded the corner, aware of his position.
"Infected." He chuckled.

Miguel chuckled quietly to himself. Granted, running the risk of getting shot was no laughing matter, but it was such a relief to finally hear a sane human voice at last -- and a female one at that.

Then his smile faded as he overcame his emotions. He had business to take care of -- namely, successfully convincing the occupants of the room that he wasn't an Infected freak.

He took a deep breath, and called through the door, "Ah, amiga, I would enter, were I not afraid that I would receive a bullet for my trouble. So please lower your weapon, as I'm sure you are pointing one this way. I'm coming in now." and with that, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. He kept his stance unaggressive (that is, as unaggressive as is possible while holding a shotgun) but he couldn't keep from grimacing slightly, half expecting to be met with a hail of gunfire.

Chone trudged irritably along the street a couple of blocks away from where she had made her new home. She had not succeeded in sleeping for very long, and was still exhausted.

Though she had found shelter, she failed in finding anything decent to eat. Her stomach rumbled sharply and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled.

The smog in the air made it difficult to tell what time of the day it was. The sky always seemed to be an ugly dark gray color, and Chone could barely remember what a beautiful sunny day looked like. A sigh escaped her lips as she thought of how happy she had once been.

Chone could not think of the past without thinking of her father, and as she continued to walk, memories of him began playing in her head. Softly, she smiled as she saw his face in her mind's eye. Lord, how she missed him. What would he think of her now? Would he be proud . . . or ashamed?

Lost in her thoughts, she realized she had stopped keeping track of how long she had been gone. It was dangerous to stay out in the open for too long. She sighed to herself, thinking that food was going to have to wait, and reluctantly, she made her way back to the hotel.

((OOC: Sorry for the slow reply. I should have my computer back tomorrow.))

Caught off guard for a moment by the response, Kira didn't respond right away. He sounded sane enough, so it would seem that he wasn't infected. However, he could simply be in the beginning stages, when a fever was the only real symptom, in which case he would sound totally sane. If she let him in and that was the case, in a few hours they'd have a more serious problem on their hands. Then again, if he was infected he'd be showing more symptoms long before he became a real threat, and there'd be a bullet in his head before things could get any worse.

"Fine, it's down." She responded, lowering her weapon as the door began to open. He seemed tense, but that was to be expected in this time; for a moment, she was bothered by the shotgun, but she also knew that was to be expected as well. After all, it was much less troublesome to shoot an Infected that was yards away than try and wrestle with one that was right on top of you.

Her eyes shot back to Dom, assuming that he was fine with someone else coming. After all, for all they knew, this guy was the apartment's rightful owner or something. No cat though, again. She thought with a tired little half-a-smile as she looked back towards the door. Just these guys. What a let-down. By now, she was sitting relaxed again, the hand gripping her gun resting in her lap. "I'm never gonna get to go to sleep." She muttered, mostly to herself.

Miguel didn't enter immediately, but stood in the doorway, glancing quickly around the room, taking it all in. A dingy room, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. Needles and half smoked cigarette ends littered the filthy carpet, and muddy footprints were tracked all over the floor. The woman that had spoken was seated on a ratty couch, a handgun cradled in her lap.

There was also a man standing in the room, his pistol leveled at Miguel. Miguel raised his hands, "Whoa, easy there, amigo! I come in peace, as the saying goes." he smiled at the two of them, "I don't suppose there's room in this fine departamento for someone like myself? I was...evicted, you could say, from my last place."

She smirked slightly, resting her head back onto the couch and closing her eyes. "If you consider this fine then I might have to shoot you anyways." She responded, opening her eyes again a moment later to stare at the ceiling. It was plain white, like the walls; well, it was probably white when it wasn't filthy, anyways. There was a weird stain on the roof above her; it didn't look like blood. She stared at it, or more like through it, absent-mindedly as she spoke. "I don't care. It's not my place. I'm sure he doesn't care either. It's not his place. But we don't have any food or anything, so don't be expecting it." She heard another scream from outside, and gunshots. She turned her head to stare out the window for a moment; someone else just died, she was sure. Or maybe someone just killed some Infected. That would be nice.

"Do you guys plan on staying here for a while?" She asked after a few moments. It would be nice to know exactly what was going on. The last time she'd stayed for an extended period of time with anyone, it hadn't turned out so great, which was obvious from her current situation. "Oh, and by the way, you don't have a fever, do you?" Her tone was bored, almost as if she wasn't really paying attention, and in fact she wasn't; she was so far past tired now that she wasn't sure she would have cared if an Infected strolled in and started dancing and singing for them. However, in the past while she'd learned to be able to continue functioning without sleep. At the moment, it had been fourty-eight hours.

Day 1 , April 7th, 2009

A surveying team had discovered something... monstrous. They reported it as an eel of some kind although it was reported as an Unidentified Species. The origin they reported, was labeled 'Unknown'. Another aquatic creature had been discovered. The physical difference reported was written 'slightly bigger and with a pale red coloring, and deep red crest from the head along to the back.' Their diet was... indifferent from anything we've seen. It was reported that the eels had fed off their own kind, as well as humans. The shipment came in four of these eels were in a tube of water. It was a challenge securing these ... eels up, but we managed to do it. The only casualty was Wallace's lost finger, attempting to bottle the specimen in a capsule. Their aggression was nothing like we've ever seen. More fierce than a shark, more agile than a cheetah. This truly is ... an amazing discovery.

Ray had closed the diary.

'Amazing discover they say... his thoughts trailed, his eyes peering the area for any unwelcoming guests. The alley way had been trashed with random debris; newspapers, broken bottles, cardboard boxes. They were all here. The corpse with the body had been swarmed with maggots and flies, its guts oozing down the alleyway into a nearby gutter. Ray rolled the diary up and stuck it in his back pocket. The air echoed with shrieks, it was haunting. Up ahead, was the main street. Turning his back, he marched the opposite way, alley way after alley way he traveled. Hoping to find a dwelling of some sort. A fork in the alleyway. There was a path leading the the left, the other to the right.

As his eyes quickly scanned and surveyed the area, he marched to the right. He spotted someone, or was it something...? He didn't want to find out. He began to turn his body, his feet shuffled. In effect, he kicked a soup can. The alleyway echoed loudly. Looking back, the figures eyes had a crimson coloring to them. Ray felt like his heart had just stopped.

"Am I... going to die?" he asked himself, hoping to receive an answer. The figure ran towards him, growling with anger. Ray's spine began to shiver. Quickly shifting his body, he ran straight down the pathway. He spotted a door to his right, taking the opportunity to open the door. Luckily the door had been unlocked. Throwing his body in the door, he shifted his body once more and locked the door. Looking for something to barricade with, he spotted a metal pipe propping it against an Air conditioner unit and the door.

'BAM!'

The door vibrated, Ray's body flew back. He was now on the dusty ground. The slamming continued, the door began to crack. Shuffling his body back, he stood up running up a three stepped stairs, another door appeared. He hastily opened the next door and locked it as well. He found himself in a boiler room. Where the hell am I...? he thought to himself. His feet began to move forward, he checked his back pocket. The diary was still placed in his back pocket. He peered around the room for anything of use. It was too dark to see anything since the electricity gave out awhile back. He ran his hands against the wall, making them slide across. Dust began to fill the air. He felt a metal box. "A flashlight!" he exclaimed. Behind him he heard the door that he had locked cave in and the newly locked door was now being banged on. He had to hurry. Gripping the flashlight with his left hand, he quickly turned it on. There was no light. Slamming the flashlight against his right palm light began to pierce through the darkness. There were stairs up ahead. Running now, he climbed the stairs and rammed into the door with his right elbow. The room echoed loudly as the door swung open. Turning back, Ray slammed the door and locked that one was well.

He found himself behind a counter now, he was in a lobby of some sort. A hotel it appeared to be. The moonlight from outside seemed to pierce through the windows, providing a little light.

"More stairs..." he told himself quietly. The flashlight shone onto the staircase, and he slowly followed. It seemed abandoned, and hopefully there were some supplies. His left foot connected with the stairs, an eerie creak began to echo the lobby. As Ray progressed half-way his foot sunk in. One of the stairs caved in. His heart beat raced wildly. Recovering, he placed his right foot onto the next stair.

"Hello!" He shouted loudly. Well that was smart... he thought to himself, lightly slamming his right palm into his forehead. He prayed that no one would respond back.

Winter had her eyes close as she accidently fell asleep. Since the whole breakout..falling asleep was somethign impossible to do. She would constantly wake up in cold sweat dreaming about flash backs. She had to kill them, even though they were her family, her friends...they weren't themselves anymore. They were infected, destroyed, gone. She had to always have her eyes open; she never knew what could happen.

She had her legs crossed and her head back in the chair as she slept. It felt so good to sleep for once. It's been weeks on top of weeks of jut staying up, watching out and sleep was just the best thing to finally come around. The white light that was under the door, drowned dark as footsteps appeared. They were smart, being silent was there game. Winter was so caught up, she couldn't hear a thing; she was trapped in death's nightly hold. It still is unreal how they did it but they slowly opened the door and seen her laying there. Without a moment to spare they already went for the kill. With one swift motion, winter took up her gun off the nightstand and held it under the zombies chin and clicked the trigger blowing his whole top off. She then kicked her chair back so she could purposely fall back and and rolled back. She quickly took out her machete and threw it straight at the other zombies head striking him right between the eye sticking right in his head. She raised up pushing herself up with the tips of her fingers and grabbed the machete out his head.

She then swung around cut off both of there heads. She then looked behind her twisting her torso around swift without moving her stance and shot another one in the head. "Time to move now!" She kicked down the headless bodies and ran out the room slicing off the heads in the process. She charged through some of them out the hallway and began running. She carefully made sure she didn't accidently fall on one of the many needles in the hallway because there's no telling what's been on them. She jetted up the stairs to another floor trying her best to get away from them.

Ryin got up, pulling a shot gun from his locker, finally he ran downstairs out the door, staying in the shadows. Too long was he stuck inside, alone, with no one, too long hearing screams from the night, it scared him. He walked quietly now, ready to take down anything that chose to get in his way.

((OOC: First of all, Aya, please read a little closer in the introduction to the thread. They can't open doors.

Aden, no, long posts are good. Excellent job ;D))