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Snippet #2395701

located in Earth, a part of Nervous, one of the many universes on RPG.

Earth

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Robin Character Portrait: Pruella Labelle
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Pretty things, trinkets, bracelets...

They lined the shelves. Useless things, now. Things society deemed beautiful, that were just distractions. They'd get caught on branches, hurt you, make you susceptible to the disease. Pruella still adored them, though. These amethysts, diamonds, rubies. Greed was never a sin to the young lady, and aesthetics was always a virtue.

But it wasn't what she came there for. She wouldn't risk her life for a bangle, as confident as she was in her survival. So she gracefully lifted things off those dusty white shelves as she passed, keeping a flitted eye out for any lost soul, and always on the ground, happen she step on something dangerous.

Raid, ammonia, sunscreen, lye.

It wore on her, too. Her bones ached, reminiscent of an older version of herself. Mom. She would just have to have stronger shoulders.

Blood dripped off the end of one of the bladed metal poles that Robin carried. Her breathing was heavy, her heart-rate still high. The man had snuck up on her while she was peering through the window of a pharmacy; she’d barely seen his reflection in the glass in time to duck away from his clumsy, lurching tackle. To call it a man was a stretch, she thought to herself. Maybe it had been a man once, now it just had the body of one... whatever it was. A parasite, an animal... it was something much less than human, anyway.

It hadn’t been hard to dispatch it, a heavy two-handed swing of the half-shear across its throat, followed by stabbing it through the eye when it fell. It had been one of the slower ones, and she was fairly certain its lower leg had already been broken. That had probably saved her life.

She hadn’t stuck around to wait and see if it had friends.

The teenager nudged open the rear entrance of the store, slipping into the old storage room. She cast her eyes around, scanning for anything useful that hadn’t already been taken. The food was long gone, but she spied a roll of duct tape discarded on the ground and pocketed it. You never knew when that would come in handy. A few more items were grabbed before she moved through into the store itself.

Movement. Robin froze, narrowing her eyes towards the source of the noise, somewhere down one of the aisles, and gripping the ‘hilt’ of her improvised weapon. “Hello?” she called, “If you’re actually alive, answer me. Groaning mindlessly doesn’t count.”

Pruella looked toward Robin's voice.

Then she looked toward the shelves again. She needed foods. Canned foods, of course. Ones that wouldn't expire for a while. Or rather, hadn't expired. She knew the ones. Green beans. Tomatoes. Canned oysters. Oysters.

"Not all'a 'tem groan. Some'a 'tem say words." she said, or mostly whispered. "Just one word, though. Only counted one. Maybe it's 'tem hangin' onto deir past lives."

She turned, and her bags turned with her, swaying and hitting her hips when they landed rather harshly. It'd be a rough journey home. She rounded the corner, peering at Robin. Only enough of her eye peeked out that she could take it back fast enough for only some of her hair to be shaved off if the innocent-seeming gal decided to wave a gun around.

She wouldn't be the first one, really.

"Ya friendly?"

“Friendly’s a stretch. Let’s stick with non-hostile, not set ourselves unrealistic expectations.” Robin replied, lowering her shear. The teenager stepped forwards, cautiously, keeping half an eye on what she could see of the woman while she scanned the nearest shelves. The straps on the hiking backpack she wore clattered against each other.

“You already cleaned this place out?” Or hidden whatever you can’t carry somewhere other people won’t look, like Robin made a habit of when she found a stash of un-looted supplies that she couldn’t carry all at once.

"You're either friendly or not, here, 'cause it's becomin an awful nice 'ting not to hurt someone." Pruella said. "No, theres 'tings on the shelves, still. No sense in takin' two'a sometin when I'm only one girl."

She raised a hand, adorned with beautiful jewelry and dismissively patted the air. "I'm done. I keep watch. And I put the dead repellant at the door, so 'tey don't come in, if you like."

A small smile crept on her face.

“Fighting when I don’t have to fight would just leave me tired and probably wounded for when the next opportunistic bastard, or walking dead man, came along.” Robin replied, shrugging, “So don’t take it for the kindness of my heart.”

She stepped closer to the shelves and began to pack what she could carry into her backpack, filling it out where before it had hung limply, depleted. The contents of that pack were, with a few exceptions, the sum and total of what she possessed. She’d decided it was a bad idea to leave anything important behind at her shelters, for fear she’d come back to find them looted.

Just then, something that Pruella had said registered in her mind. “Dead repellent?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean by ‘dead repellent’?”

"'Ta mixture 'tat repels the dead. 'Tey're vampires, n'tey won't come in if you don't want 'tem to. You just have 'ta have a different way of closin' your door." she said, turning her head from Robin.

Cautiously, Pruella moved to the entrance. She had opened the door, and looked onto the streets. Quickly, she looped a finger around a small unlabeled spray bottle with marker scrawling across the front and spritzed it into the doorway.

A zombie, a vampire to her, had lumbered to the door. She backed away, and walked to Robin. A cautious eye had been kept backward.

"It may not last long but tat don't matter, he's gon't wander away. Y'should hurry up."

“Vampires?” Robin repeated incredulously, “Aren’t they supposed to suck blood? Never read a vampire book where you got turned by sniffing plants.” She muttered, shoving the last of the supplies into her back before fastening it back up and hauling it onto her back.

“Whatever. Looks like it’s working, whatever you think it is. That’s what matters.” Maybe Robin could persuade this woman to tell her what was in that can if she humoured her. The teenager grabbed up her weapon from the ground and jerked her head back towards the storage room. “If there’s one of the dead fuckers out front, back way was clear when I came in.”

She began to make her way back towards the door from the main store into the darkness of the storage room, keeping her ears alert for any noises. One thing she had learned was that just because somewhere was safe the first time you crossed it, didn’t mean it would be if you turned around and came back.

"'Ta hungry ones, tey're still human. 'Tey need to eat, and if you're in 'ta way 'ten tey'll very well eat your flesh." she said. "And 'tey don't have morals, not like us."

Pruella raised an eyebrow at Robin's proposition. The back way was clear when she came through. She hadn't put herself out as kind, but advice was just as much. The young woman smiled; she was right. You're either kind, or you're hurting someone.

She followed her, Robin, to the storage room. Of course, her fingers had lightly graced her pocket (one of many) where she kept a wrapped shard of glass, something she found neatly effective in cutting.

And her other hand brought her scarf up. They were mostly in the inner city, but she had seen them around. Those shambling vampires with those deadly pustules on them.

God forbid she'd cut one of those.

Robin’s own scarf had yet to leave her face. It got uncomfortable at times, but she didn’t often allow herself the comfort of removing it outside of wherever she was staying at any given time. The seconds it took to lift it over her face could be the difference between life and death if one of the faster, less decayed zombies came up on her, felled either by the creature’s hand, or by the spores if she failed to lift it.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Robin remarked scathingly, “I’ve been here since the start too. I’ve seen what they do.” She’d stumbled across the things... feeding, more than once. It hadn’t been a pretty sight. And the smell...

The dark storage room remained undisturbed, it seemed, and Robin crossed with little difficulty. Her eyes fell on a shape in the corner she hadn’t seen on her way in. It was hard to make out in the dark, but it looked like a corpse. Thankfully, it wasn’t moving. She grimaced, and moved on. Probably someone killed by another survivor in a scuffle over supplies.

With a creak, the side door swung open onto the alleyway Robin had entered through. To the right was the street the storefront opened on, and the zombie the other woman had seen. Robin turned left, heading further into the small maze of alleys that would lead them out onto the opposite side of the block.

Passing the dead body, Pruella crossed her heart and whispered a prayer. Two words.

Then her eyes came to the alley, and she wondered quite why she was following Robin. The young girl wasn't exactly kind, not too trustworthy, by Pruella's judgement. She would probably try and save herself even if the two of them could be saved. Perhaps she'd even stand someone else up at the end of a blade, if they were worth it.

"You have a safe house?" she asked.

“No.” Robin said. It wasn’t a lie – she wouldn’t call the rooftop where she’d left what she didn’t want to carry ‘safe’. It was more of a stash than a house, though it was one of the places where she slept. This woman didn’t need to know that, though. She didn’t make a habit of telling anyone that sort of information. “I stay on the move except when I’m catching some sleep. I have a few places that I know are approaching ‘safe’, but nothing permanent, or even long term.”

It seemed like the stranger was following her. Maybe once they were clear of the alleys she’d split off. Maybe she wouldn’t. Robin didn’t much care, as long as she didn’t cause her any trouble and didn’t make a move on any of her supplies.

“You?”

"I don't like stayin' in the same place too much, until I get enough supplies to start makin' my own 'tings. Growin' my own stuff." Pruella said. "I have a place 'ta sleep, though. A safe place. Most survivas do."

She sighed.

"It would just be nice 'ta have a group of people 'ta stay wit. Bein' alone isn't too safe, I don't think. I figured I would ask."

Her eyes flitted to Robin, then.

"You want me to leave you afta we get out of here?"

“Hmph. Do what you want.” Robin shrugged, “I don't care if you stick around, just don’t make any trouble for me.” Much as she professed ambivalence, the teenager was glad to have someone to exchange more than two words with. It had been a while. “I suppose there’s some truth in that old saying: safety in numbers... unless one of them is an idiot. I added that last bit myself; think it makes it a touch more accurate, no?”

Robin had run with other survivors before. It had never ended well, but while it had lasted, the company had been... something. If not always nice, it was better than being left alone to your own thoughts every day.

“You think you’re ever likely to find anywhere that permanent? Seems like a pipe dream, to me. Why put so much effort into something that’ll inevitably get found, eventually?”

"I like 'ta think I don't bring trouble." Pruella noted. "So there is no reason for any hostility, yeah?"

She had, of course, noticed Robin's hostility toward her. It wasn't as if the girl made an effort to hide it, but hostility was far from being hostile. She had almost gotten the impression that the teenager had an air of superiority about her; how she was leading ahead, commanding that the other not make any trouble.

It was, well, interesting. Pruella still hung onto the ideals of the old world, so it was endearing just as well.

"Nothing wrong wit' being found, it's just how you handle it." she said. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Robin," the teen replied, "Just Robin."

"Pruella Labelle. Both of 'tem work."

They rounded another corner, and the exit out onto the street became visible at the end of the stretch of alleyway. "Fuck." Robin cursed.

Between them and the street, picking through the gruesome remains of what looked like it had once been a dog, a lone zombie crouched, producing a series of grunts and growls as it chewed. By the looks of it, the zombie had been a woman of considerable size before she was infected. As she staggered to her feet, her girth easily filled the entire alleyway. Robin had to assume she'd... expanded since the spores took root in her.

"And I thought these things couldn't get any uglier..." she muttered, taking a step backwards as the infected woman started to ... waddle, was the only word for it, towards them.

Pruella was almost inclined to see how Robin handled the situation. After all, it was only one zombie. One really big zombie.

But she pulled the shard of glass from her pocket, the one she'd been tapping on since they had started alley-hopping. Even though she was happy to support, she felt she had been backup, still. The other girl had a much longer weapon.

"I am afraid 'tat she might explode." she said, adjusting her scarf.

And just then, the rather large woman let out a piercing, ear-rattling shriek. One so high in octave and loud that it couldn't have possibly have inhabited such a large woman's vocal chords.

Robin winced at the ear-splitting scream, tightening her grip on the long shear handle. "Haven't seen one of the fuckers do that yet," Robin muttered, "If we're lucky, the fat ones won't follow left for dead logic. She hasn't started vomitting yet, anyway..."

The girl edged forwards, then with a high-pitched grunt of effort, she thrust her weapon forwards at the fat woman's throat. The blade pierced the flesh, and the zombie started to gurgle sickeningly. Thick arms came up to bat at the shear, and Robin was forced to release it before she could pull it back.

Robin reached for the second shear that jutted from her backpack, wrenching it free and swinging it down like an axe at the thing's skull. It caved, and the spluttering creature dropped like a sack of potatoes. She spasmed on the ground for a few moments, before lying still. Green oozed from pustules on her skin.

Careful to avoid touching the dead thing, Robin stepped forwards to retrieve her other shear, tentatively plucking it off the ground where it had been flung in the woman's fall.

"Slow in life, slow in... almost death, I guess."

More grunts and growls began to come from the alleyway behind them, then, and Robin briefly made eye contact with Pruella. "We need to move." she said, starting forwards. It took some careful footwork not to tread on the corpse of the fat woman, but before long she was making a break for the end of the alley.

Pruella didn't hesitate in stepping over the arm and body of the now-deceased woman, though she had stopped to witness the relentless brutality of Robin beforehand. When she ran, the cans in her pockets happily clinked together, hitting against her sides, and making for a regretful journey.

"'Ta where?" She edged in, between breaths. "Ya got someplace?"

She was forced to slide her own weapon into her bag again, to keep the crossed straps of her satchels from strangling her.

"So far I'm working on a 'not here' basis," Robin replied over her shoulder, though her head was largely obscured by her backpack. "I haven't got much further than that... We can work on it once we lose these fuckers."