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Kylie "Bullet" Braxton

0 · 302 views · located in Nova Scotia, Canada

a character in “A Sudden Outbreak”, originally authored by Revisionist, as played by RolePlayGateway

So begins...

Kylie "Bullet" Braxton's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vanessa Borne Character Portrait: Weston Olan Character Portrait: Kylie "Bullet" Braxton Character Portrait: Morgan Matthews Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Location: Driving through back roads//Abandoned house ||
|| Car Radio:Miike Snow- Black & Blue// Coldplay - Yellow || Time: 12:15am ||




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Feeling; distressed, depressed, exhausted

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Nothing . . . it's what Morgan saw out the car window, nothing but endless darkness of the back roads and sky that seemed to blend into one. Some times you couldn't seem to tell which way was up or down if it wern't for the half moon illuminating the sky. Her breath fogged up a small part of the cold window as her puffy red eyes scanned the darkness . . . waiting for something to pop out of it. Her heart ached for the friends she lost and the pain Nessa must be feeling. She took in a shaky breath before softly turning her head from the window to look at the people she rescued, a small petite girl and a tall tanned guy. She couldn't save her friends and it still angered her just thinking about it but at least she saved someone, that counted right?

Her eyes briefly landed on the petite girl but quickly switched over to her friend sitting in the passenger seat. Morgan shifted in her seat and leaned up a bit in order to reassuringly squeeze Vanessa's shoulder gently. She couldn't imagine the pain she was going through, I mean Morgan wasn't romantically involved with any of her guy friends so she didn't know the pain that came with that emotional connection but she did know that losing someone close to you hurt like hell. Even though Morgan was a year older than Vanessa she had always seen her as a little sister figure to her. She did her best to look out for her when they were younger and if anyone picked on Nessa, Morgan and the boys were always there to protect her.

Morgan sat back and gave out a small yawn. Honestly her hands were still shaking from what happened only a couple of hours ago. There was so much blood and gore . . . she was so traumatized that every time she closed her eyes she would see those events play out in her mind over and over. See her friends being eaten alive and not being able to do anything to help. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Morgan ran her dry bloodied fingers through her hair and tried focusing on the music that softly poured out from the speakers, fully expecting a panic attack to settle into her body but instead her attention was caught by Henry who yawned audibly. His eyes were drooping and he was falling asleep at the wheel, swerving a bit as he did.

Morgan quickly tapped his shoulder to wake him up and he jumped slightly at the gesture. "Henry, your falling asleep again, we should really pull over and get some rest." Morgan suggested in a low voice so she didn't disturb those who were already sleeping. Henry slightly shook his head sleepily. "W-We got to get a-away from here." he stuttered out in a half sleep, half scared tone. Morgan shook her head. "Henry please, if those things didn't kill us, you are if you don't pull over and rest." she stated in a gentle tone, trying to make him see reason because if they honestly didn't stop he was sure to get them all into an accident. "Hey, remember that abandoned house we use to ride pass? It should be coming up any second now right? Pull over there, it's been sealed for years with wooden boards and I'm pretty sure I can open the lock on the door pretty easily. It's cover at least, please?"

Henry finally agreed to her pleas and not ten minutes were they pulling into a smaller dirt road to their left. The drive up to the house was a good five more minutes but it felt like forever to Morgan. Once the car came to a stop at the front of the house Morgan told Henry to keep the head lights on so she could see because the lights were directly on the front door. The whole house had a creepy feel to it, the windows were all boarded up and the big trees cast odd shadows against the house with the dim glow of the moon. Upon the boards that covered the windows were graffiti designs, wholeheartedly made by teenage vandals but they looked the same as when they put it up, untouched, unmoved or damaged.

Shifting around a bit, Morgan sat on her knees, her back facing the back of the drivers seat as she rummaged around the back of the car. It was a bit of a mission to find her backpack in the back since it was really dark and the tail lights didn't really do anything to help. That was another thing, the tail lights illuminated a couple of feet in front of it but the rest was dark. Morgan did her best not to look out from the back window because the irrational fear of something popping out of no where was rising in her and her heart pounded against her chest wildly. Finally she snatched the back pack from the back and looked through it before she found two paperclips. She undid them from their normal curled position and made them straight as possible before stepping out the car cautiously.

For a couple of seconds she stood there in total and utter terrifying silence. There were no sounds what so ever outside, as if everything had died. No crickets, no wind, no nothing and this unnerved her greatly. "It's now or never." she spoke under her breath to herself. Her feet hastily moved in front of the car and up the creaky steps. Her eyes tried not to shift from the door and look into the darkness of the forest surrounding her. Morgan got down on one knee in front of the door and began to work her magic and after what seemed to be a hopeless three minutes the lock finally clicked and she knew it had unlocked.

Jogging back to the car she asked Henry for the flashlight in the glove compartment then jogged back to the house. The flashlight flickered on with a single movement of her finger and illuminated the living room of the old house as she stepped in. Morgan decided to do a quick sweep because even though the house didn't look broken into, she still had her doubts and just needed to make sure. She didn't want to be the reason for anymore deaths. Sucking down a mouthful of moldy air, Morgan proceeded through the house until she searched every crook and cranny that someone could possibly hide at and every time she did she held her breath anticipating something jumping out at her.

Once everything looked clear to her she jogged back down and flashed the light in there direction, signalling for them to come on because she thought it was smart to make as little noise as possible outside of the house. Once everyone was in, she closed the door, locked it then plopped herself on the old, moldy and dusty couch holding her head in the darkness. She was done with this, so done with this and her hands couldn't stop shaking. Morgan handed the flash light over to Henry who went about into the kitchen and found matches. Luckily the old house had an old fireplace that was just simple red bricks, now dull and crumbling but it still did the job as he lit one of and tossed it into the fireplace watching the old, dry logs catch fire almost instantly because of how dry they were. It was good though because the warmth from the fireplace was good to warm this place up because the chilliness from outside seemed to seep into the house.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vanessa Borne Character Portrait: Weston Olan Character Portrait: Kylie "Bullet" Braxton Character Portrait: Morgan Matthews Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Feeling; heartbroken, numb, useless


It was all wrong. This couldn't be the world, it all had to be some messed up joke. Soon she'd get a call on her from Dyl, laughing and telling her to come back. He and Josh were definitely okay and they had just gotten in on a prank to scare everyone. It's not like Dylan hadn't played some messed up pranks on her before, even some she hadn't ever fully forgave him for. She squeezed her eyes shut against the burning of the tears.

There was Dylan. He looked serious and slightly terrified as he held opened the door. She stood to his side, looking around at him at the horrid things. People were running and screaming others were being tackled and eaten ate but other people. Had the world gone insane? She turned back to Dylan, grabbing his free hand. He hadn't let go of the door yet. "Come on, Dyl! Please I'm scared! He hadn't even responded to her when he was suddenly jerked out of her hand and back into the club they escaped. She screamed and ran towards the heavy door that had just slammed shut. She tried to pull on the door but it was locked from the inside. Unless you had a keycard or it was opened from the inside you couldn't pull it open. She beat at the door, tears running down her face. And then someone's arms were around her waist and she was being pulled away. She screamed and tried to fight them but it didn't help.

She opened her eyes, jumping a little as a hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed. She gave a soft sigh, realizing it was Morgan and not some lunatic trying to hurt her. She tightened her arms around her legs, which she had pulled up to her chest and wrapped her arms around. Her feet were on the edge of the seat while her shins were resting against the dashboard. She had scooted up some earlier so they would have more room in the back seat.

Even though a few tears still rolled down Nessa's cheeks, she felt numb. This couldn't be happening. It didn't make sense at all. They weren't in some zombie movie. She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes. She didn't really feel it when the car drifted but apparently Morgan had. She listened to their conversation. "Henry please, if those things didn't kill us," Nessa winced at the word 'things'. "You are if you don't pull over and rest."

'Maybe it would be better if we died this way... Then I could be with Dylan. She thought to herself. If she voiced this opinion then her friends would probably go into some intervention mode. They weren't her parents. They didn't control her life. She could make whatever hell decision she wanted. They had no right to say what she should or shouldn't do. If she wanted to die, they should let her. But Morgan and Henry would never let her take her own life.

She remained silent, letting them fight over the next course of action. The only thing that jarred her out of her daze was when the car was parked and Morgan decided to get out of the car. She straightened up, her feet now moving to the floorboard of the car. Her eyes looked away from her friend, staring into the darkness. Her blue eyes tried to decern any figures or anything moving in general in the darkness. She saw nothing but she was still on high alert.

When Morgan jogged back to the car for the flashlight, she fished it out of the glove box then handed it over to Henry. And then when her friend disappeared inside, her heart started thumping so hard she thought it might beat right out of her chest. She didn't let herself relax when Morgan reappeared. Something bad could still happen, she knew that.

Nessa was the last one out of the car. She looked back at the empty back seat where she and Dylan had been snuggled up on the way to the club. He had taken off his leather jacket before the club and left it there. She grabbed it and her purse and followed the others inside.

She hesitated in the hall before she went into the living room. She sat on the floor, her back up against the couch. She pulled on Dylan's jacket that was too big for her. She wrapped it around her tightly and breathed in his scent. How could she have abandoned him like that? She should have stayed and faced the same death as he did. She closed her eyes. She was tired from all the crying she had been doing. She felt like someone had stabbed her repeatedly in the chest. Dylan had been her one love in her whole life. How could someone you love so much be taken away in a split second?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vanessa Borne Character Portrait: Weston Olan Character Portrait: Kylie "Bullet" Braxton Character Portrait: Morgan Matthews Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Feeling: | Drained | Uneasy | Lost |



Weston sat in the back of an unfamiliar car. Between his fits of panic and obsessive need to remove all of the blood from his hands, Wes had found a quiet place. He lulled his head back, feeling the weight of his exhaustion in his chest but unable to rest. His brain was swimming in a whirlwind of memories, of which he wished were all part of an intense nightmare. A terrifying dream that would teach him something and then let him wake up so that he could appreciate his life and his family more.

At the beginning of this dreadful night Weston had been with his girlfriend, Marcy. It was a beautiful night with perfect little stars flickering down at them, and a date that would hopefully let the two of them enter into the next phase of their relationship. Everything had come together so well for Wes that it was unbelievable that the world was falling apart just as quickly. Thinking about the events that followed had Weston struggling for air. Sitting there, half listening to the conversation in front of him, he tugged in a painful gasp and wiped at his eyes. "Shit," he mumbled, fighting with himself. He and Marcy were having dinner at a five star restaurant just hours ago, a place that Wes's mother had recommended, and the question was running through his head like a marathon runner. The chaos was sudden, and it all happened right after Marcy had excused herself to the bathroom. Weston tried to get to her, to save her, but he wasn't fast enough.

Then it was over. Everything that Weston had planned and anticipated for was ruined. Marcy was ruined. His whole life was ruined.

Weston was still fully dressed in his grey suit and tie, despite the anxious sweat that dripped down his back. A ring, size 5.5, burned a hole in his front pocket. He wanted throw that ring out the window, but he also wanted to cherish the last thing he had in memory of his Marcy. While letting his mind run, the car that Weston was in had stopped in front of an abandoned house. As if a light went on, Wes perked up and paid attention. He couldn't bring himself to fully trust these people, but he knew that he owed them. The girl who seemed to know what she was doing got out of the car with a flashlight. Weston looked over at the girls on either side of him, both rather petite and streaked with tears. Suddenly Weston was unbearably hot. After the other girl went inside the house Wes quickly opened the door where the girl with black hair was sitting and climbed over her.

"Sorry," he said as he unevenly planted himself on the ground. Weston promptly removed his grey suit jacket, threw it onto the top of the car, then rolled up his sleeves. Removing his tie, Wes looked out into the darkness, only really seeing that they were surrounded by forest.

A couple of lonely minutes passed by before the girl returned and the rest of the crew was unloading. The abandoned house was ominous, but Weston found a certain comfort in its solid figure and isolation. Anywhere was better than where they just came from. Wes threw his jacket over his shoulder and followed the people inside. The interior of the house was dusty, but showed signs of left behind supplies.

Instantly, Weston went into survival mode. He walked away from the group and began searching through a near by closet. It would be cold tonight, even with the fire that the other guy Henry lit. With luck he found a pile of three blankets, two crocheted style blankets, a small quilt, and a large wool sheet.

Wes came back to couch where two of the girls were. The girl with brunette hair sat on the couch with her head in her hands, and the blonde girl sat in front of her couch with a desolate expression. Awkwardly, Weston took one of the rocketed blankets and placed it on the brunette's shoulders gently. "Here," he said, then moved to place the quilt on the shoulders of the blonde.

A long, tiresome sigh escaped his lips before he spoke again. "I'm Weston," he finally said.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vanessa Borne Character Portrait: Weston Olan Character Portrait: Kylie "Bullet" Braxton Character Portrait: Morgan Matthews Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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cxcCแดสŸแดแดœส€s แดกแด‡ส€แด‡ แด…ส€แด€ษชษดแด‡แด… sแด›ส€แด€ษชษขสœแด› า“ส€แดแด แด›สœแด‡ sแด‹ส & ษดแดแด›สœษชษดษข สŸษชแด ษชษดษข สœแด€แด… sแดœส€แด ษชแด แด‡แด…
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โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏแ—ทแ˜ฎแ’ชแ’ชแ•ฎ๏ผดโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏโ‹ฏ
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›

๏ผฃ๏ผฉ๏ผด๏ผน ๏ผ† ๏ผฃ๏ผฏ๏ผฌ๏ผฏ๏ผต๏ผฒ๏ผ๏ผณ๏ผฉ๏ผฌ๏ผถ๏ผฅ๏ผฒ ๏ผ† ๏ผง๏ผฏ๏ผฌ๏ผค

โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”“
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โ”—โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”›
      Sometimes life just happened to you, and you couldn't dodge it. It crashed into you because it wanted to test what you were made of...Well, in this case it wasn't so much life as it was death. A wall of raging death thrashing against the lining of the world you thought you knew...

      The ineffable vicissitude overtook Bullet with such a violent jerk, she hadn't a moment to prepare herself. One second she was bobbing to the bassline that made her pulse thrum in time, and the next people were clawing to escape the confines of the tightly packed club, howling in terror. Was there a fire? She had to get out least she be trampled. Somehow she had ended up on the pavement soon after she breached to door, a body writhing on top of her, using it's blunt teeth and filed nails as weapons. Was he coked out? She couldn't tell and she couldn't get free of him...That was when suddenly someone kicked the damned guy off her and yanked Bullet to her feet. It wasn't until then as she rose that she knew, that she was sure. She had seen enough zombie movies in her lifetime to recognize one in the flesh, snapping it's dislocated maw in her direction. No matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut, when she opened them Hell had unfurled. The hallow of this horror, stomach seizing, she waited desperately for the moment to right itself, to stop the confusing motion of this creaking fear...but it never did. Her savior tugged at her wrist forcibly, dragging her toward a van, and in the hope of an expeditious get away, she didn't hesitate to climb in after her before they peeled out. Fuck this noise.

      From the tinted window of the vehicle she could see outside into the darkness of the night. She could see her face in the black. She knew at once how ghosts must have felt, this strange procession of dead feeling as she watched herself reflected in the gloom. Bullet deviated her gaze from the glass to her hands, hands with bruised knuckles that were stained red; she used them to pluck out the gravel tangled in with the strands of her hair as if it were threaded in. She worked at keeping her eyes anywhere but on the girl that had rescued her, not that Bullet had ever need rescuing in her life...or at least that's what she told herself. The rest of her company consisted of an asian guy at the wheel, a frail looking wisp of a blonde, and a dejected man in a suit with a hard jawline and grief in his eyes...they all had grief in their eyes, she realized. They had all lost someone tonight, and somehow even still had been willing to save her sorry ass. They spoke to one another in hushed and familiar murmurs, all but the man and Bullet, they were the odd ones out.

      It wasn't soon enough before they had pulled off the road at some old farm house with a pealing exterior, long since abandoned, windows boarded shut. The brunette who's gaze Bullet wouldn't meet climbed out first cautiously. She worked at breaking in, and Bullet let her, staying safely within the van. It didn't matter that she had a lock pick in the lining of her jacket, it wasn't like they were asking for volunteers. Once they got inside, she finally climbed out to take a look around the place, realizing it wasn't half as shabby as some other dwellings she had rocked in her lifetime. The nature of living after death had come to reap the earth had to be one of decay, she thought. It was perfect. She could feel the walls shuddering in this house, the damp creeping in๏ผthe kind that left a cough settling deep in your lungs. So much for purification. So much for absolution. Wasn't the end of days about those kind of things? But instead of being born-again, the world was already rotting. Bullet wandered towards a block of murky moonlight light and threw back the disintegrating curtains, feeling them come apart in her hands like old spider webs and tried the window. It would not budge - besides the slates nailing it closed, it was painted shut and must not have been opened in 20 years. No one was getting in through there, at least not with ease.

      She toed back over toward the center of the livingroom where everyone else was congregating; one of the guy's producing a blanket for the blonde in shock after starting up a fire, the women sitting on the floor, backs to the couch. Bullet wanted to join them but didn't feel safe just yet. She made herself useful by grabbing the back of a solid armchair in the corner, offsetting the couch, and pushed it with difficulty to the front door so she could brace it beneath the knob. At least it was something. She wiped her hands on her jeans in the effort to clean them of that dust that left behind a lingerng moldy scent before she turned around to meet everyone, Weson starting off introductions. "Bullet." She offered monosyllabically. She finally locked eyes with the brunette. "And thank, I guess...for letting me tag along." She couldn't choke out the phrase 'for saving my life', so that would have to do.
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
Mแดแดœษดแด›แด€ษชษดs แดกแด‡ส€แด‡ แดแด‡ส€แด‡สŸส ส€แด‡แดแดแด แด‡แด… า“ส€แดแด แด›สœแด‡ แด‡แด€ส€แด›สœ & sษชสŸแด แด‡ส€ แด€ษดแด… ษขแดสŸแด… สœแด€แด… สŸแดsแด› แด€สŸสŸ ษชแด›s แดกแดส€แด›สœ.cxc

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vanessa Borne Character Portrait: Weston Olan Character Portrait: Kylie "Bullet" Braxton Character Portrait: Morgan Matthews Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Feeling; distressed, depressed, exhausted

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"Here,"
Morgan felt something warm around her shoulders and looked up at the man she saved with teary eyes. She quickly wiped them away while he introduced himself as Weston. Though she didn't know the guy he didn't look like he was the type to do anything unless provoked so she relaxed her shoulders and flashed him a small but pained smile but before she could introduce herself the smaller woman she saved introduced herself. "Bullet." she spoke and Morgan shifted her gaze from Weston to Bullet, locking eyes with her.
"And thanks, I guess...for letting me tag along."

Morgan found her voice to have disappeared for a second and just nodded like a child. She cleared her throat. "I'm Morgan . . . and your welcome." Honestly Morgan didn't exactly know what to say. She wasn't even thinking when she saved them but she was glad she did. She just didn't know how to get that part to come out in an audible sentence. Her eyes shifted between Nessa and Henry. "That's Vanessa and over there is Henry." she added before searching her pockets for her smokes. Once she found the crinkled box Morgan looked inside to only see 3 cigarettes left. Sighing, her mildly shaking hands reached down and her slender fingers pulled out a cancer stick.

She stood up and took the blanket off her shoulders handing it to Bullet. "I'm going to go have a smoke upstairs . . ." without another word she tucked the rest of her smokes back into her pocket and took up the steps two at a time. This was seriously messed up and she was tired of trying to wrap her head around things. She needed an escape, an outlet for her emotions, something to make her forget before she lost it but all she had were smokes, I mean they did work, calmed her a bit but still couldn't stop her from remembering.

Morgan had swiped the flashlight from Henry before going up the steps and she flicked it on wandering through the dark halls of the decrepit house. Exploring was going to take more than her nerve so she lit up her cigarette and inhaled deeply. Her flashlight quickly spun around to a noise that made her jump but it was just a rat. "Fucking Christ." she cursed under her breath before letting out a puff of smoke. Her heart racing, dancing around in her chest cavity and the adrenaline of fear had her on the edge but she did have to admit. Somewhere deep down this fear was . . . intoxicating, a twisted enjoyable feeling that she loved and feared. All the doors down the hall were closed which were only about 3 but the door all the way down the hall, probably the master bedroom was wide open and pitch black.

Taking another long drag of her caner stick Morgan trudge forward and quietly entered the room only to see a normal, old, dirty and moldy abandoned room. Everything was basked in a pale light and that's when Morgan noticed that the bedroom window was only half boarded up. How could something like that happen? The hole that was left honestly didn't look like someone could fit through but it explained the pale glow in the room, it was the moon. The moon could be seen directly from the window. Looking around the room some more Morgan found no sign of someone being here and if they did they were long gone. She grabbed the old looking wooden chair that sat next to the bed and pulled it over by the window. She sat down and leaned her arms against the windowsill and blew her smoke outside, watching it lift into the air and become nothing.

That's when her tears began to flow and couldn't stop. Sadness and anger both bubbled into one as she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, breathing in the crisp outside air. Morgan brung up her arm and laid her forearm across her eyes.