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Dead Morning America

Modern-day zombie apocalypse.

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a part of Dead Morning America, by Iki.

A post-apocalyptic New York City, wrecked by the enigmatic virus that has swept the nation and brought the recently dead and deceased back to life.

Iki holds sovereignty over Modern-day zombie apocalypse., giving them the ability to make limited changes.

790 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

[url=http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/restless-corpses/#posting]restless corpses[/url] [url=http://www.thezombiehunters.com/index.php]the zombie hunters[/url] [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/dawn_of_the_dead_%282004_film%29]dawn of the dead(2004)[/url] [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/the_walking_dead_%28tv_series%29]the walking dead[/url] [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/left_4_dead[/url]

Setting

Default Location for Dead Morning America, set in New York.
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Modern-day zombie apocalypse.

A post-apocalyptic New York City, wrecked by the enigmatic virus that has swept the nation and brought the recently dead and deceased back to life.

Minimap

Modern-day zombie apocalypse. is a part of Dead Morning America.

1 Places in Modern-day zombie apocalypse.:

13 Characters Here

Nyx Goldwin [34] "How am I still alive? Baby, I'm a survivor."
Avalon Lynell Goldwin [14] "I'll do what ever it takes to survive."
Jericho Winters [14] " I don't have time to bleed."
Kaylie Thorton [11] Look alive, sunshine
Justin Case [7] God my leg hurts
Tim Flenn [6] "Geez, can a guy not get sleep around here?"
Dr. Izual Fenix [4] "Eat some watermelon and kick some ass."
Celeste Rinehart [2] "You know how they say good things come in small packages?"

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley
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#, as written by Iki
"Wake up...Wake up...WAKE. UP."

It could have been the distant gunshots that finally brought him out of the blackout - or, it could've been his subconscious screaming signals of panic through his nervous system to force him awake. It could have been anything.
All he knew, was that when he finally opened his eyes, he was lying on his face, and his head was pounding.

"Nngh~" Everything hurt; most of all, his head. It took nearly a full minute to finally roll himself over, just to realize that he was lying some metres under the bottom platform of the fire escape, "What the hell?"
Instinctively, he pressed his palm to his forehead as he groggily worked himself up to sit to try to curb the sharp aching throb pounding through his skull, but that just made it worse. It was only then, he realized, his palm was suddenly sticky and wet. Peeling his hand away from his head, he forced his blurry eyes into focus, and almost immediately wished he hadn't.

"Blood," He gulped, staring dumbly at the dark red smear on his palm. Still blinking the grey out of his swimming vision, he glanced around, trying to make sense of things. How long had he been out? The stuffed gym bag lying frumped in the alley not more than an arm's reach away made everything click almost instantly, and the fleeting instant where he'd lost his footing trying to leap from the railing of one fire escape to the next platform and caught a vending machine with his face on the way down shoved its way into his aching head.
"Christ," He swore at himself, shaking his head as he tried to rub the last bits of blur out of his eyes and wiped his bloody hand off on his brown fatigue pants, "Fall could've fucking killed me. Gotta be more fucking careful," It was an empty vow on borrowed time, he knew, because "careful" was a very relative term these days. Hell, when dead people got up again and started eating everyone, words like "safety" and "refuge" just seemed like a bad joke.
And that just raised questions in his head about why he wasn't infected yet. Surely, he couldn't be that lucky. He'd seen enough zombie movies to figure that once bitten, death and reanimation was almost a guarantee, and that wasn't even taking the other possible mediums of transmission into account: air; water; plant life, animalia; the concept was terrifying in every sense of the word.

But he had a plan, at least; which he figured was a lot more than what could be said about most people. Considering the seemingly endless hordes of walking dead, he figured it was safe to make that assumption. The thing that he still couldn't put a finger on though, was the different types he'd come across - or in some cases, had come across him. His best guess was at some kind of caste system, but how a virus identified something like that almost to the point of executive selection, he could only fathom wild hypotheses. Most of the walkers he'd come across were just that: walkers; slow, shambling; the typical zombie that he'd seen in almost every single mainstream zombie flick he could think of. But then there were some that screeched so hideously through their shredded, rotting vocal cords that he would've pegged the bird-like monsters for demons before anything - and that wasn't even the bad part. The bad part was the packs that they invariably seemed to attract - packs that didn't just shamble, but sprinted in a full-on chase.
Ironically, he didn't count that nearly as bad as the ones that he would've sworn were stalking him like some kind of animal...like some kind of undead predator.
He'd seen them move before - only in glimpses, but it was more than enough to unnerve him. They didn't walk - they prowled on all fours like a feral animal, and much the way he parkoured, they leapt around with such ease and pounced with such incredible range, that it was nothing short of a miracle that he'd survived those close scrapes when the bastards practically ambushed from an entire block away.

"Gotta get moving," He mumbled to himself as he painfully willed his limbs to move and shakily worked his way to his feet, scooping that bag up on the way. Dusting off his black shirt, black hood, and the drab green field jacket he wore over them, he was up and moving again; and it was no sooner than he'd slung the heavy pack over his shoulder and dabbed a bit at his forehead that a few shamblers up toward the mouth of the alley noticed movement and turned their milky, unblinking eyes on him.
"Fuck," He muttered, chewing his lip; wondering to himself how many Screamers were out there with them - or god forbid, Hunters. It was enough to make him instinctively check the pistol strapped to his thigh, "Good. Still there."
It wasn't a moment after, that one of those horrid, awful things somewhere in the lurching crowd opened its mouth and began to screech; that long, haunting scream that crescendoed to an almost deafening sound like a shrieking bird over nails on a chalkboard. In that very instant, every muscle in his body went tense, and his ears went back. He could see it, now. That demonic, bird-like monster was staring right at him - through him - with those horrible, sunken eye sockets; viscous, tar-like gouts of blood gushing from its slackened, broken maw.

"Oh, fuck."

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#, as written by Wry
The flashing of blinding white light. The dull roar of turbines resonating from the distant silhouettes of military choppers. The inhumane shrieks of the undead, and the soft scraping noise that only seems to grow louder and louder with each passing second. The bodily entrails and scraps of products that littered the floor. The thick, putrid scent of gore, waste, crude oils, fear, and what else God only knows.

Oh, Lord. She was going to die here.
Eden knew she was. She was going to die by the hands of... those THINGS, whatever the hell they were.

Eden recounted what she had done earlier that day, what she had done to deserve to be put in the middle of a now apocolyptic wasteland. She had flown in to NYC from her respective town of Houston, Texas, where she was assigned to cover a political scandal. After receiving no useful information from the politicians themselves, she had resorted to wooing the dirt from NYMNC News' anchor, Rod Chase. Speaking of which, Rod Chase, that sly dog. He had fled NYMNC Headquarters in a company chopper, used for filming purposes ONLY, leaving her trapped in an empty newsroom.

Those things were out there, behind the barricaded door. Eden could hear them from the small closet she locked herself in, their gurgling, snarling.. their low, threatening growls, and the snapping of their teeth. Often, did they pass by her refuge - A series of chills went down her spine, making the young woman tense and prickle in cold sweat; it felt as though they were waiting for her. Either way, Eden knew she wasn't safe forever; a clammy hand dared to explore the dark that engulfed her, searching for anything that could be potentially used as a weapon..

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She hacked off zombie after zombie head. Trying to get to the safe house as instructed, "How many off these things are there " ?she asked her self as she sliced off yet anouther head. After about tow hours of sliceing she arived, knoccked and was quickly pulled in. She shighed in relif quickly cheaking her self for bites or scrachs.

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Tim was behind his bar counter, three bikers were in his bar, nobody else. He was fixing up a martini, the fancy stuff. one of the huge biker guys walked up to Tim, who was just a little bit shorter, only an inch though. "Hey man, can you please turn up the television?" Tim nodded at the bikers request, and grabbed his remote, turning the t.v. up. “Good evening, I'm Rod Chase, reporting live at NYMNC News. For those of you just joining us, we will be remaining live on the air for the remainder of what has evolved into a nationwide crisis. As reported earlier, there have been widespread attacks all over the city by what citizens are describing as bloody corpses in a trance-like state, and the situation has only escalated further since this morning. We still have no confirmed reports as to why this may be happening, however speculations range from a bacteria or virus with a mind-altering effect, to some sort of chemical spill or behaviour disorder inducing mass hysteria. All roads and freeways are jammed with citizens trying to evacuate the city, and the governor has issued the following statement:

"All citizens are encouraged to remain in their homes until the crisis is contained. Lock your doors, lock your windows, and draw your curtains. Do not; for any reason, answer your door. Remain in your homes, and remain vigilant. CDC and law-enforcement officials are doing everything they can to safely escort and evacuate civilians to a secure location." Tim shut the TV down. `I don`t beleive this shit.` The biker man grummbled. `I gotta get home, see my wife and kids.` The biker turned the door nob and boom, he was pulled right out, and ripped limb from limb, blood and guts spraying all over. There were about 50 people out there, the dead looking one`s. The bikers jumped to their feet, and took out glock`s, and proceeded to the door. `What the fuck are you idiots doing`. Time shouted at them, as they tried to kill them, but were killed by them. Tim saw the back door was unlocked. Tim grabbed the shotgun under the counter, and shot it at the horde. Nothing came out. It was empty. He looked at where the gun was, and he saw the box of shells, and fammbled through it. The box was empty. `Who even does that!`Tim jumped to his feet, and saw an invader draw close and slapped it with the but of his gun. There was a fire axe behind him, so he ripped it off of the wall, and ran to the back door. He knew he should have taken supplies from the store, but there was no time. By now the undead had gotten inside the store, so he ran infront, and took one of the moter biker there. It made a lot of noise, but he managed to make it to an odd where house. He takked its barricaded door with his axe. `Hello. Any body inside.`

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley Character Portrait: Nyx Goldwin
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Just keep pushing. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. Running. Running. Running. Faster. Faster. Faster. Nyx Goldwin's heart pounded so viciously in her chest she was afraid it would burst as she dashed as fast as she could up flight after flight of stairs. Last night she'd locked herself in a closet on the first floor of a tall office building only to wake to the repetitive sound of pounding on the door. She'd nearly jumped out of her skin when she'd opened her eyes and found a large gaping hole in the door, a snarling, vicious hunter ripping wildly at the wood. Her first instinct had been to scream, but she'd managed to swallow it and slow her breath, allowing herself to think a little more rationally. It had seemed that the hunter was intent on completely tearing down the door before getting to her, and silently she thanked God that she'd closed the door before falling asleep because, whether it be from lack of intelligence, or something else, the hunter hadn't thought to simply jump through the hole it'd made.

So Nyx had grabbed her pack, slung it over her shoulder, and slammed the door open as fast as she could, shoving the hunter back, stunned. Without hesitating, she took off, racing for the nearest flight of stairs. A second later, a clawed hand reached out and took hold of her blonde hair, dragging her violently to the floor, but thinking-fast, she kicked her legs up into the air and caught the monster in the nose with the heel of her booted foot. A sickening crack filled the air and she was free and scrambling once more towards the stairs, this time wrapping her blonde hair into a high bun.

Too late had she realized that up was probably the worst way she could have gone. What would happen when she reached the roof? As she ran, Nyx whipped out her gun and loaded it up, the silencer on the end ensured that she wouldn't alert any other infected, now all she needed was a clear shot.

Her heart raced as she rounded the final set of stairs and slammed open the door at the top, bursting out onto the roof. The fresh air hit her face and the silence of the day was eerie. Quickly, Nyx sprinted to the end of the roof and crouched, waiting.

A second later he appeared, crawling towards her like an animal hissing and snarling on all fours. Her skin crawled at the sight of him and she breathed out, time seeming to slow as she trained her gun on the monster, waiting for the right second. One shot. That's all she'd have. She would need to hit it right in the head in order to puncture it's brain and kill it, but at the moment, it's back was turned. Turn around! She urged impatiently, trying hard to keep her hand steady.

As though it had heard her, the hunter whipped around so fast she hardly caught the movement before it leapt towards her, launching through the air with the eerie grace of a predator. Without thinking, Nyx pulled the trigger once, twice, three times.

And the hunter fell mid-pounce. She let out a breath and lowered her gun, standing from her crouch. Slowly, her heart returned to it's normal pace and she crossed to the body of the hunter and shot it once more in the forhead. Just to be safe. Nowadays, one could never be too safe.

When she was sure the hunter was history, Nyx pulled her hair out of her bun and rubbed her eyes. She'd hardly gotten two hours of sleep before the interruption and her nightmares had made sure they were anything but restful. Exhaustion made her hands shake and she glanced at the hunters body, amazed that she'd made the shot.

Suddenly, a shrieking filled the air and Nyx ducked instinctively, looking up towards the skies. One of those screamers was around. Had it spotted her? Or was someone else in danger? Following the sound in a low crouch, Nyx held her gun ready at her side as she approached the low wall at the edge of the building's roof.

Leaning over the wall, Nyx spotted the source of the noise. A screamer, like she'd suspected. It seemed to have spotted someone else and was creating a fuss. It hadn't noticed her, but, figuring it was only a matter of time, Nyx trained her gun on the screamer's head. Her hands shook a little still, but she took a deep breath and steadied them before shooting three bullets straight into the spine of the infected screamer, right where his head met with his neck. She'd severed it's spinal cord, cutting off connection to the brain and causing it to drop to the ground in a silent heap.

With a sigh of relief, Nyx leaned back slightly and wiped her forehead before leaning back over the wall and shooting another two bullets into a runner, reloading, and another fifteen into the remaining hoard.

Before a minute had passed, the hoard was nothing but a heap of bodies. Nyx narrowed her eyes on the figure at the end of the ally. The reason for the screamers wails. Was it a person? A survivor like her? Deciding to find out, Nyx flung herself over the side of the building, landing on the fire escape below. She climbed quickly down the ladder and landed gracefully ontop of a dumpster.

Lifting her gun, she held it shakily on the figure and shifted her heavy pack on her shoulder. "Who the fuck are you?" She spoke forcefully, letting him know she wasn't joking around. If he posed a threat, she would shoot.

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"Open the fuck up!" Tim pounded on the building. He noticed that the things from the bar had followed him. To bad he did not know that they were only walkers, nothing to bad. He had to stop them from getting close to him. He raised his axe at one that came to him, and slashed away at its head. He took it clean right off. He could not do that to the rest of them, so he started to run around to the side of the building, where he found a ladder. 'Fuck me!" He shouted in happoiness as he climbed up it. As soon as he reached the third floor window, he realized that it was blocked up by wood. "Why does that? They cannot climb!" He took one hand on the ladder, and one hand on the axe, and started to beat the whole wooden window with the metalic tool,until he could fit himself in. Once inside, he hacked off the rest of it, and smiled at himself. "Any body out there?" He shouted, knowing the undead could not get him up there.

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley Character Portrait: Nyx Goldwin
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#, as written by Iki
Imagine his surprise - and heartfelt relief when the rounds tore into that horrific monster and it finally went silent. It still did nothing for his aching head, and the warbling howls of the Screamer rang continuously in his ears like an unholy air-raid siren that he knew was going to plague his dreams if he actually lived that long.
"The fuck is that even coming from?" He muttered to himself as the rounds rained down and dropped corpse after corpse after corpse, glancing around. He didn't hear gunshots, only the soft punctuated thump, and abrupt snap of the supersonic rounds echoing down the alleyway from the street. It took a second for his battered head to register the angle, but when it finally clicked, he felt incredibly dense. The roof! Of course!...and whoever it was, must've had a silencer; no way it would've been such a quiet deal otherwise.
"Fuck I really must've ate that fucking vending machine," He cursed to himself, instinctively pressing his palm to his forehead. His head was pounding so hard, it was almost impossible to think! - but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whoever it was, they'd just covered his escape. Gritting through the pain that made it almost impossible to walk in a straight line, he hurried on his way down the alley, and the chainlink fence that divided it quite nearly in half, "Goddamit, this is like a bad fucking Hollywood movie," He swore outloud, and it wasn't until she leapt down onto the fire escape that he realized how painfully right he was.
The first thought that shoved its way into his head was how much noise the woman had just made, and he cringed reflexively. Jumping down onto the fire escape like that might as well have been a cannon blast, and the fact that she actually had the gall to start with him was just in-fucking-credible.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He snarled back at her as quietly as he could, "Do you have any fucking idea how much fucking noise you're making?! Fuck!" It was subtle at first; a low, shuffling rumble up the alley that made him bolt upright, and turn those keen ears to the street.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, you've gotta be kidding me. Christ, just once, I wanna be wrong about this!" Runners. He hated Runners, almost as much as Screamers, and there was no way every corpse within miles hadn't heard the unholy summons of this last one before she managed to drop it. There was always more; always. Flocks of them; herds of them; hordes of them. He almost didn't want to see what he already knew was coming around the bend, but as the first few started to round the corner, all he could do was turn tail to the tidal wave of corpsed flesh that was rolling down the alley.
"Fuck! Fucking RUN!" She could shoot him for all he cared - it'd be better than getting chewed up by those freaks. Adrenaline surging through his aching body, he broke into a dead sprint down the alley. A dumpster, and a few stacked crates were all that stood between him and his temporary freedom, and if it weren't for the looming sense of doom that was forcing his aching body to push harder, he might not have made it down the alley with that heavy bag and so much head trauma. Forget the girl, she could obviously take care of herself, if she could shoot like that from the roof with a pistol. Right now, the only thing he could focus on was getting his ass over that fence!
So when he reached it, he didn't waste any time slinging that heavy bag off his shoulder, using its arcing momentum to heave it up and over the fence. Backing up a few paces, he broke right back into a sprint. Bounding off the wall to gain a little extra momentum and height, he streamed easily up onto the top of the dumpster, and took the stacked crates stride by stride until he reached the top. Another bound off the wall lifted him up high enough to plant one hand and effortlessly vault the fence, tucking into a roll as he landed on the other side. Without missing a step, he snatched up that gym bag, slung it over his shoulder, and just kept running. Time to leave!

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley Character Portrait: Nyx Goldwin
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Nyx watched as the figure tried to run first, but was stopped up short by a fence. She let a tiny smile hit her lips. It was selfish to be happy that he was trapped, but for fucks sake, she'd just saved his life and all he did was run. Then he turned back to her, cringing from the sound of her decent and swore straight at her. Okay, so she'd made noise, but what was she supposed to do? Stay on the roof the rest of her life? She'd wanted- no, needed to find out who's ass she'd just saved and fast. It's not like she could have just dashed back down all the stairs of the building and caught him.

"Fuck! Fucking RUN!" His panicked, words pulled Nyx from her thoughts and made her focus. What was that sound? Running feet. Dammit! She'd alerted a horde of runners. God damn, could she do anything right? Rolling her eyes, she turned to face the opening of the ally. The horde was already rounding the corner and the guy she'd rescued was making his escape at the other end, over the fence. He seemed to have picked the only way out, and there were to many to stand here and pick them off. The guy had just left her to them. She couldn't handle them all on her own with a pistol. If she had more time, she could unpack one of her other guns and probably take them with an automatic, but the first few were already reaching the dumpster she stood on, climbing their way up. Shit!

Without another moment's hesitation, Nyx pointed her gun down at the clawing hands of the runners, shooting three in the eye and one in the forehead before backing up, taking a running start, and leaping clear over their heads. She landed with a thud on the other side of them and rolled into a crouched position. It took the pack a second to realize what had happened to their prey, but by time the first one had turned, she was already racing towards the fence at the end of the alley. Runners may be quick in a chase, but they were slow climbers. If she could just get over the fence, she could shoot the rest of them down from the other side.

As she approached the fence, she found the retreating figure of whoever she'd saved, already sprinting away. Okay. Now to get over the fence. Quickly, Nyx latched herself on, adrenaline pulsing in her veins as a hand reached up towards her feet, propelling her forwards. At the top, she swiveled and threw her bag to the ground on the other side, leaping down beside it.

"Omph!" She groaned and sat up. The runners just reaching the fence. Time to get shooting. Get her ammo out. The first runner latched on the fence. Reload her gun. Two, three, four runners on the fence. Hand shaking, Nyx stood and threw her pack on her shoulder, ready to run incase one managed to make it over. She lowered her gun and aimed carefully. One, two, three runners down. Four, fix, six runners down. Fifteen down and none over yet. Reload.

Big mistake. In the time it took her to reload, the final five runners made it over the fence and dashed towards her. Trying not to scream, Nyx turned on her heel and sprinted full force down the alley, the five runners practically breathing down her neck. Had the guy she saved gotten away? How the hell was she going to get time to turn and kill these final five? As she run, Nyx kicked down trash cans and rolled dumpsters in the way of the five runners, trying to buy time before the inevitable happened.

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#, as written by Iki
Faster; harder; go, go, go, go, go! It was all he could think as tore down the alley. His head was on fire, and his temples were pounding so hard, the compounding head trauma was starting to make his vision blur again. Do or die, do or die, go, go, go, go, go! Somewhere between his sense of self-preservation and moral compass, though, he got tripped up over the clamour coming from back up the alley, and cantered up a little to dare a glance over his shoulder.
"Shit, they're still fucking coming," He swore to himself, gritting his teeth. The girl was hauling ass, with those monsters hot on her heels. "Don't do it, don't do it, don't fucking do it. Just turn, and fucking run; GO!" He was already regretting this train of thought, but he couldn't just leave someone like this! Whether she got them wrapped up in trouble again or not, it was good to finally meet someone who wasn't a rotting corpse!
"Fuck! Why'm I such a fucking - nngh! Boyscout!" He cursed at himself out loud as he slowed to a trot, ears twisting back, "Where can I...perfect!" Picking back up to a sprint, he tore down the alley a little further just to keep as much distance as he could between himself and the gaggle behind him. He wasn't set for sure on how smart or how stupid Runners were, but he couldn't afford to take any chances. Skidding to a stop at the alleyway door of the shop not more than twentyfive meters from the street, he dumped his bag, ducked down, and dipped into his pocket for his roll of 550 cord. Yanking more than he'd ever need off the meticulously wound loop, he grit his teeth through his pounding headache and aching muscles to force his fingers to tie a knot around the tubing of the switchbox right around the corner from the doorway. Running it roughly knee-high to the opposite side of the alley, he tied it off to the switchbox over there before he ducked into the darkness of the receded doorway.
"Christ, I hope this fucking works," He prayed internally, leaning out juuuust enough that he was visible enough to motion to the fleeing woman with both hands. Palms up, he thrust them upwards again and again, mouthing as blatantly as he could: Jump!

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Nyx's obstacles of garbage and dumpsters was slowing down the runners a little, but not enough. Glancing ahead, she saw that the trash cans were thinning out. Sooner or later, she'd run out of things to kick in the way, and once out on the street, the horde behind her would only multiply. Shit, shit, shit! She thought as she neared the end of the alley.

Suddenly, a familiar figure shot out of a doorway sending her a signal. Jump? Why jump? She saw it just in time. A trip-wire. Cursing, Nyx flung herself forward over the wire and rolled to a stop, groaning. She'd hit her hip hard on the fall and knew there was going to be a bruise. Rubbing her side, she rolled onto her knees and elbows and pinched her eyes shut. If the trip-wire didn't work, she was fucked. She'd already hesitated too long.

Launching herself forward, she grabbed her gun from where it had skidded from her hand and turned to face the horde. Wait- where were they? It took Nyx a second to realize that the runners were no longer chasing her. They were laying on the ground, using their hands to claw their way towards her. The wire had worked. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nyx hesitated no longer.

She jumped to her feet and used her remaining bullets to kill the final five runners. When it was done, she slipped the gun into her belt and slumped against the wall, breathing hard and rubbing her hip. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ever run so fast and hard in her life. Damn. Thank God that guy had set up the trip-wire.

After catching her breath, Nyx rose with a groan and slid her pack back onto her shoulder, turning back towards the alley. Being careful to step over the wire, she faced the figure that had saved her. "Thanks." She said a little breathlessly. "Sorry I got us into that shit." He was obviously a survivor like her. There was no need for suspicion now, though she couldn't help being a little wary.

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#, as written by Iki
He didn't waste a second. The moment she hurled herself over the tripwire, his machete was in his hand, and with an angry snarl, chopped down on one of the prostrate Runners.
"Filthy, fucking - nngh!" The wet 'splot' as the sharp blade impacted on rotting skull was beyond satisfying, and he certainly didn't stop there. Posting his foot on the halved head of the exterminated corpse, he slammed the blade down into the closest Runner he could reach, sheer rage fueling a relentless flurry of chopping strikes. Everything hurt; worst of all his head. His muscles ached, and his heart pounded in his ears as he chopped down; again; and again; and again; and again, the prostrate monster thoroughly dead before he ever stopped. She could have the others, for all he cared. After being run ragged like this for the last few days, he just wanted an outlet.

"Fuck you!" He grunted as he chopped down for the last time with a sharp clink of metal on concrete as the blade sliced all the way through. Standing over the bloody mess he'd made, he snuffed, and wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth before he wrenched the blade free, and flicked as much of the gore off of the carbon steel that he could. God, that felt good! Rotten, stinking, sprinting, monstrous bastards!
"Yeah," He panted breathlessly with a half-hearted wave of his hand, glancing over at her, "No problem, there," "Fuck, I'm tired. Thank fuck that's over with." Staring down at the broken, rotten corpses of their latest triumph over literal Hell, he just shook his head, and wiped at his mouth again, "Christ. I'd rather be in fucking Afghanistan. Taliban weren't even this fucking bad," He swore half to himself as he worked his machete back into the scabbard slung across his back and promptly - if not sorely scooped up his gymbag and jostled it up onto his shoulder, "You got somewhere you're headed?" It seemed like a totally irrelevant question when every square mile was packed with bogeymen, but anywhere was better than here, and if he was gonna travel; might as well be with someone else who was looking over their shoulder every ten paces too!

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley Character Portrait: Nyx Goldwin
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Nyx rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, slightly relieved that he'd waved off her mistake. Now that the previous adrenaline rush had run it's course, her whole body ached with exhaustion. She'd hardly had two hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours, and, looking at her company, she found that he didn't look much better off. She was running on pure adrenaline and training.

She heard him say something about Afghanistan and the Taliban. So he had been in the army? Good. If she was looking to team up with him, military experience was a great asset. "You got somewhere you're headed?" He asked, and she swept her long blonde hair up into a bun on her head, pushing her bangs from her face, thinking over the question a second. Where exactly was she heading?

She thought of home. What home? The last time she'd had a "home" she'd been twelve. And that home had been destroyed. After that, everything else had felt alien. Like she didn't belong. So where was she heading? She remembered the broadcast saying something about safe-houses and evacuation centers, but wouldn't that mean everyone was rushing there? Guessing it was the best shot she had, Nyx shrugged.

"Wherever the nearest safe house is I guess. I don't know. It's the only shot I've got. How 'bout yourself?" She shifted her pack on her shoulder and glanced towards the opening to the alley, then up at the roof of the buildings. Just checking, one could never be too cautious, though things seemed okay right now. "I'm Nyx Goldwin by the way." She added, wondering if he'd ever heard of her family and the huge scandal they'd been involved with eleven years ago. Not that it mattered. As far as the world was concerned, she was a nobody now.

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Avalon Goldwin

Avalon had been sitting on the couch in her living room as there was a loud crash of a water filled glass vase hit the floor in the kitchen. "Whats wrong hands finally stopped working?" She asked as she stood up and walked around to the kitchen. "Holy shit! What happened?!" She screamed as the figure infront of her turned to face her. It had to be her foster mother, but it was imposible! The womens eyes were a milky white and her hands were torn up and bloody as if they had been clawing at a wooden floor. She had blood seeping through her shirt on her hip and the only sounds she was making were quiet inhuman groans. Frozen in a state of shock Avalon screamed as the women grabbed her and went in to bite her.

"Get the hell off of me!" She screamed as she pulled her arm back and swung, her fist conecting with the thing's nose filling the room with a sickening crack. The creature stumbled back and slowly recovered but as soon as she did she was grabbing for her again. The Brain she thought recalling the what the news reporter had said earlier. "This shit can't be real." She said right before delivering a round house kick to the creatures chest sending her into the wall. Now. Run! She thought as she turned and raced down the hallway and into her bedroom. Quickly she slammed the door behind it and proped her chair up against the door as she raced to find anything to use as a weapon. "Fuck! The gun." She said slamming her fist into the wall. Her foster father always kept a public defender in his nightstand drawer.

She jumped as something slammed against her door, causing her to fall on her ass next to her closet. She felt herself start to cry until she saw the silvery glint of her baseball bat. "Idiot!" She said as she grabbed the bat and stood up moving the chair from the door watching as it flew open with the creatures wait. "Fuck you bitch!" She yelled as she swung the bat at her head causing her to slam against the wall. She kept swinging until the creatures head was nothing but a pile of pinkish red mush.

She sighed and grabbed a backpack, throwing a few extra clothes inside before walking out into the kitched avoiding the broken glass as she opened the pantery and grabbed mutiple things of canned fruit and other edible items that wouldn't parish. She walked to the sink and splashed some cool water on her face and then turned walking into her foster fathers room and grabbing the hand gun making sure it was loded, sadly it wasn't. "Crap!" She sighed and remembered there was a gun case in the garage. The code to it though? She bit her lip and started moving everying around in the room until she found a sticky note on the back of her foster mothers picture. "Nice hiding place." She said as she raced into the garage and opened the safe after a few failed attempts.

As the safe opened up she smiled grabbing a few boxes of ammo and the second handgun sitting on the shelf along with a few of the knives and holsters. "Time to go." She muttered as she slipped the guns into her holsters and slung her bat over her shoulder. "Nyx I don't know where you are, but if your alive, I'm gonna find you." She said fingering her mothers wedding ring that was hanging around her neck. "The bow!" She bit her lip and turned running back into the house and grabbing the bow and arrow's off the wall. "Now I'm ready." She said with a smile. She closed her eyes and opened her front door looking around. The streets were practically empty, with the exception of a few bodies laying around near cars. "Wow." She said as she started walking making sure she stayed away from the bodies.

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Character Portrait: Kaylie Thorton
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Kaylie glowered at the TV as the reporter spluttered out bad news. Everyone was watching intently, shaking in their boots. Kaylie?

Well, she was just baffled how Oprah got out of the US so fast. She was pretty convinced Oprah had some serious bank left over from those shows and probably had enough money to buy out NASA so she could live happily on Mars. Kaylie takes the last swig of her drink, sighing as she leans back, the crinkling of her movement against torn rubber stool made a harsh squeak. The bartender stares at her for a moment.

"Care for another?" He asks and Kaylie sighs with a shake of her head. She pulls out a cigarette and pops it in her mouth, then puts one behind her ear for later. Whipping out a white lighter she lights her cigarette, taking a long drag and chuckles.

Poor sucker, she had stolen this pack of Newports off a dead biker who's head was viciously ripped off by zombies.

She heard the whir of helicopters overhead and sudden screaming of people on the street and her head whips towards the sound.

"What the..." She grumbles as a zombie comes stumbling towards the bar. She takes out her pistol and shoots it right in the face.

"No one's gonna ruin my cigarette break."

"Everyone evacuate! We need the area cleared!"

Kaylie walked outside, squinting up at the helicopters for a moment then she saw what they were referring to. A hoard of homicidal villagers coming towards the bar and Kaylie begins to make a run for it.

She throws the cigarette down in gasoline residue pooled on the side of the street and a small wall of flames burst through, burning some Zombies that were running after her.

Kaylie turns her head as more zombies come in from the alleyways and she shoots a few down and then turns her head, almost running into a much larger zombie.

Without much thought she takes the gun and pulls the trigger, hitting right in between his eyes. He falls down and she keeps running, bursting into a worn down warehouse and she takes a breather. She looks up slowly after catching her breath, realizing she wasn't the only one who had this idea.

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley Character Portrait: Nyx Goldwin
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#, as written by Iki
Shifting the bag on his shoulder, he paid as much attention as he could, but quite frankly, it was getting harder and harder to focus. Tired, hungry, and hurting, he knew it was just going to be that much worse when the adrenaline finally wore off, and he came crashing down from this high. He needed to ride it for as long as he could until he could find somewhere to lay low for a bit and recuperate, and that seemed a bit more realistic with another pair of hands and eyes.
"Nyx, huh," He replied shortly as he went about untying the trip wire - one end, and then the other, before he promptly rolled it up around his fingers and stuffed it back into his pocket with the rest of the cord. Might come in handy again later!
"Well, the way I see it, we should stay away from places like that. Panicked people flocking to to'm probably made a lot of noise about it, and if these...things haven't broken down the doors already, then they're probably well into the process. That, and the way I figure, a good portion of those people were probably already bitten or infected, whether or not they kept quiet about it - and that shit prob'ly turned in on itself when the people who didn't say anything woke up dead, and started killin' everyone else," He didn't like the idea of it all, but he'd been regrettably right about a lot of things lately that he rather wouldn't have, so he was inclined to follow instinct on this one. The Runners were a fine example of how right he'd been, and really, he didn't know how much longer he could force his muscles to grind like this. He'd been through countless training rotations, and plenty of rotations in the Middle East that were worse than this, but actually being able to rest and re-fit every now and then was the deciding factor. Hell, even the Taliban called it quits when they'd had enough, and at least during breaks between movements, they could set up sleep rotations within the team. These things...they just kept coming, and having gone days without any real sleep and hardly anything to eat was really starting to wear on him. He'd lost a little bit of weight over that period of time, and was quite frankly surprised he'd survived the morning. Chalk it up to training and instinct, but even that could only get him so far.
Retreating to the receded alleyway door of the laundromat he'd set the trap from not minutes before, he peeked into the lightless shop to do as much of a sweep from the outside as he could before he crouched down right there on the spot, and slung the bag off his shoulder. Popping open the zipper just enough to get his hand in, he dug around a moment or two before he produced a fistful of Quaker bars, and tossed her the better share of five. Fuck it. If they got ambushed right now, he'd just keep right on eating. At this point, he wasn't sure how much he cared; he needed a break. He hadn't had the opportunity to check a mirror, but he was confident he looked as ragged as he felt.
"S'just a theory, though," He shrugged indifferently, "I mean; you're more'n welcome to if you want, but I'm not goin' to any kinda safehouses around here," He went on, promptly tearing a bar open to take a big bite, "Up toward upstate maybe, but not around here," Shaking his head as if to emphasize that point, he went in for another bite of that granola bar and devoured the rest of it. He hadn't hardly finished chewing before he tore open another and took a bite of it, "Way I see it though, we should try to find somewhere nearby where we can lay low for a minute before we make any big movements. Find somewhere quiet and rig somethin' up so we don't have to watch the doors and get some rest, maybe get somethin' better to eat. Don't know about you, but it's been a few days since I've been able to actually get some good sleep and get a real meal in me. These things just don't fucking quit," Chew chew chew, shaking his head. He'd decidedly taken the higher road and ignored the ugly stigma attached to the name "Goldwin" by avoiding it entirely, as if he'd never even heard her. He didn't know the whole story and figured he never would, but he remembered bits and pieces from reading the defamatory headlines in the paper, and what he did remember was all bad. Media; what could you really do, anyway?
"There's a house, actually, not more'n a block away I'm sure'll be safe. Guy who lived there was smart as all get-out; he and his wife would've made it out alright, and the place is probably still in tact," Glancing up at her expectantly, he didn't really wait for her to get in any say-so over the matter, "No more of this runnin' and gunnin', though; if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it quiet, or we won't be able to go five minutes before those things are bangin' on the door. Could always use another action arm in the meantime though, just incase shit does go sideways. Power in numbers, n'all. You game?"

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Character Portrait: Jericho Winters Character Portrait: Avalon Lynell Goldwin
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A thud, a groan and a crash.

Those were the sounds that were heard after Jericho had managed to fall through an open manhole. Now Jericho isn't your average grunt, he is one of the best and falling through a manhole was not something an ex-Airborne Ranger or current Legion Merc would do. But with all the carnage on the streets above him a blanket or shirt or whatever the heck it was had been laid above the manhole just right and made the ground appear flat. What remained of his squad and the VIP were still above when he heard a crash and without warning the manhole was covered.

Luckily when Jericho hit the bottom of the sewer he somehow landed softly in the muck. After a few seconds of trying to realize what had just happened Jericho stood up and pulled out his 1911 and switched on the Surefire light attached to the rail. A bright 180 lumen light flooded the dark corridor and revealed anything that was once hidden in the cover of darkness. He aimed his Springfield from wall to wall to properly secure the area. Once Jericho felt it was safe using his left hand he clicked on his radio while still sweeping the corridor with the pistol in his right.
"Frostbite to Spartan, how copy?" Jericho paused, no answer. "Frostbite to Irish, how copy?" He paused again, nothing. "Frostbite to Iceman, anyone. Please respond!" The only response Jericho got was static. Jericho was not the type to swear, most would make fun of him for that but he was too intimidating for anyone to really say anything, but he did say "damn."

Jericho started to rethink of what he and his squad had planned. Head to the airport. That was it, they were going to man a specialized UH-60 Blackhawk and move to some island fortress out in the Pacific. He figured his squad would proceed to the airport so Jericho thought it would be best to keep moving in that direction. He glanced at his compass and found north. He proceeded to walk in the direction he confirmed was north. Slowly moving forward with his pistol drawn and at the ready he looked for any doors or ladders to get the hell out. After a few hundred yards he found a door to his left. Jericho opened the door with his left hand while his right aimed forward. He found another corridor but this one had lights hanging from the edges of the walls, "must be a maintenance entrance from a building" he thought to himself. Jericho proceeded forward hopeful to get out of the darkness and the stench. After a good 30 yards he reached the end of the hall, Jericho opened the door carefully once again and found a body slumped on a wall near the right of the door. This poor guy had probably been dead for at least three hours judging by the smell and lack of heat. He must have been trying to get out but why stop at the entry to the sewers?

Suddenly the poor guy grabbed for Jericho's right leg. Instinctively Jericho swung his left leg and kicked the sleeper in the head. The force knocked the creature a few feet but it was still groaning and moaning. Jericho aimed his .45 at the thing's head, after wasted ammo he figured out these... things could only be stopped by a gunshot to the head. He stopped and holstered the 1911 and instead pulled his tomahawk from its sheath. He'd rather get the thing silently than attract any in the building. The sleeper crawled towards him as Jericho waited, as the thing felt like it was in range of biting Jericho it tried to grab his leg again but this time Jericho reeled back his right arm and let loose one strike at the sleeper's head with the piercing side of the tomahawk. Its arms dropped and it stopped moaning. Pulling it out of the now dead creature he wiped the piercing end on the sleeper's white shirt. Scanning the room for more Jericho cautiously moved towards the next door.

He opened the door, tomahawk in hand, and found stairs. Jericho climbed the stairs and found himself in a hallway with a door to his right and a windowed door to his left. He moved towards the left door and looked out the window. He found that he was in a store, a small market type one. There was no movement or bodies so he opened this door and proceeded towards the exit. He finally found his way back out to the streets but he had no clue as to where he was. New York is a bloody maze of concrete and Jericho could not recognize any landmarks.

But he did see a blue haired walking tank 40 meters away towards a different direction. Jericho had thought walking talk cause this girl had a bow, a shotgun, a bat and what seemed like two handguns. Not wanting to startle this girl and get shot he grabbed the pistol grip of his very expensive ACR but kept it aimed down to show he wasn't a threat. He could still bring it up and fire if she was a threat though.

He tried whistling to get her attention.

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#, as written by Acer-Ro
Say what you will about the world ending in a horrific zombie laden apocalypse. Justin somewhat enjoyed it. No lines, no dealing with traffic or the fuckers that normally ruined his day. The only difference was now they were trying to eat him. Some times you have to take the good with the bad.

Walking Down the road was easier than ever. If you stuck to the open roads it wasn't all that bad if you were well rested. There in was the real rub. Food, water and sleep were the hardest thing to come by. Every now and then you might come across a group of people to share supplies and equipment, best of all, sleep.

Justin was sitting on the hood of a car when heard the roar of a helicopter above his head. He'd been walking for the better part of two hours. The break was welcomed by his leg. It still gave him issue from time to time. He did know what was coming next. The sounds of gun fire and screams following by the moans and groans of the undead.

How right he was, and how he hated that fact.. The shots of gun fire in the distance the smell of rot..... That really strong smell of rot.... "OH SHIT! " Justin shouted as he spun and just barely missed the Hunter that launched its self at him.

Justin pulled his handgun out and fire two shots at the beast. Hit or miss didn't matter he just need a Second to run like he'll. One round just missed the things head the other hut its front leg. Justin wasn't a think twice guy. He ran like there was no tomorrow.

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Avalon Goldwin

Avalon knocked an arrow and looked around and down the allyways listening to everything around her as a helicopter roared near the other side of the city. As someone whistled at her she spun and dropped to her knee drawing her bow back and focusing the pin of the sight on the guy in case he was a threat. "Who are you?" She asked harshly watching as he kept his gun drawn. He wouldn't shoot and she knew it, his gun would just attract attention, her bow on the other hand was almost silent and could make a clean kill with just the movement of her fingers. As he moved closer she slowly let down her bow string and examined the guy. He seemed alright, he clearly wasn't showing any symptoms of the infection but she had no idea if he was the kind of person that would kill her for her supplies, in a time like this people really did start to think like that, so she kept her hand on the gun that rested on her hip ready to draw as she stood and closed the space between them. "Well?"

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Character Portrait: Owen James Calley Character Portrait: Nyx Goldwin
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Nyx watched him wrap up the wire and listened while he talked. He explained to her that most of the safehouses nearby were probably too crowded, a hot spot for the infected, and a great place for the infection to spread. She shrugged and sighed. He had a point. The broadcast she'd heard had no-doubt reached hundreds of thousands of people by now and they would all want to get to the same place. The safehouses would be a breeding ground for the infection. Shivering at the thought of all those panicked people running right to their death, Nyx tugged on a piece of hair that had come loose from her bun and tried to pay attention.

All she could think about was her sister. Was she one of those innocent people rushing right towards death? Had she already been killed? Where was she? The last time Nyx had seen Avalon Goldwin, she'd had to have been fourteen or fifteen. Six or seven years ago. The two of them had had a strong connection, but once they'd been separated, Nyx hadn't even known where to start looking. What if she'd died years before? Her hand dropped from her hair to the little gold ring hanging from a chain around her neck. Her fathers wedding ring. Her mothers belonged to Avalon. After turning eighteen and being released to live on her own, Nyx had escaped to New York in search of a new life. Was her sister even in New York? Hopefully. If not, she would find her.

Something hit her dully on the arm and fell to the ground, shocking Nyx from her thoughts. She glanced at what had hit her to find that they were Quaker bars and her new companion had tossed them to her. "Thanks." She muttered, blandly and bent to pick them up, chewing as she listened to the next part of his plan.

"There's a house, actually, not more'n a block away I'm sure'll be safe. Guy who lived there was smart as all get-out; he and his wife would've made it out alright, and the place is probably still in tact," He paused to look at her and Nyx gave him a nod to let him know she was listening before he continued. "No more of this runnin' and gunnin', though; if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it quiet, or we won't be able to go five minutes before those things are bangin' on the door. Could always use another action arm in the meantime though, just incase shit does go sideways. Power in numbers, n'all. You game?"

Finishing, her portion of the Quaker bars, Nyx wiped off her hands and rolled her eyes with a nod. "You know, it's not like I want to shoot stuff. I'm not some trigger-happy moron." She let out a slight snort. "Those things used to be people. I only shoot them if I have to." After proving her point, she leaned back on the alley wall and looked him over. He had military experience and had already thought of things she hadn't, so he was smart, and it really wouldn't be so bad to have someone else around.

Making up her mind, she shrugged, and sighed. "Yeah I'm game." She smiled slightly and took out a knife. Nowadays, she was rarely seen without a weapon in her hand, even if she didn't necessarily need it. "I never did catch your name."

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Character Portrait: Jericho Winters Character Portrait: Avalon Lynell Goldwin
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Jericho really wasn't surprised when the blue haired girl twisted around aiming the bow at him. He'd be concerned if she didn't. "Who are you?" She asked harshly
Jericho moved towards the girl with his right hand raised. She at least stopped pointing that bow at him, that was a small sign that she wasn't a bandit either. She moved towards him too. "Well?"

He was now five feet away from the girl and decided to stay at that distance. His right arm went from above his head to his stomach and bent over to a bow with his hand on his tanto just in case. "My name is Jericho Winters, Legion operative, just trying to get out of here alive." He bent back up and noticed her hand was on her hip near one of her pistols. "You know you don't have to worry about me trying to kill you or anything. Its just a relief to see Im not the only one. If I wanted to kill you I would have picked you off 50 yards back." He winked. "Besides, it'd be a crime to kill something as pretty as you. So I gave you my real name, could I get yours?"

Jericho smiled, he hoped the flirting wasn't too much but he wanted to show her that Jericho was one of the good guys. Besides he really wasnt flirting anyways. But she did have very amazing blue eyes... She is kinda cute... "HOLY CRAP GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME SHE'S LIKE 5 YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU!" He thought to himself.

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Avalon Goldwin

Avalon watched him as he took a bow and she crossed her arms over her chest shifting her weight to her other leg. "Fifty yards back huh? Well thank god you didn't. My sister would have hunted you down and ripped your throat out." She said taking his flirting to mind and deciding to ignore it for now. "I'm Avalon Goldwin." She said answering his question with a small smile. "I'm glad I'm not the only one too. I had no idea that reporter was telling the truth until my mother got the jump on me and tried eating me." She said uncrossing her arms again and turning. "We should get moving. We stay here to long lord know what will happen. Unless you want to just leave something as pretty as me on my own."

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Character Portrait: Jericho Winters Character Portrait: Avalon Lynell Goldwin Character Portrait: Kaylie Thorton
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Kaylie sighs, looking at some people huddling in the corners. Now she'd seen a lot of things, from men who had grown dread locks out of their top lips, to children who look like cigarettes. Nothing seemed to phase her much anymore. With a sigh she hears the helicopters outside and the whir of guns.

"Please... Help us!" A begging hand reaches out and Kaylie slaps it away, there was no time to be falling to other people's needs. It was an extreme Darwin world, only the best survive. She walks towards the back and heard a whimper.

"..Bosco?" She asks, turning slowly and he wags his tail, she knew that face anywhere.

"BOSCO!" She lets the 75 pound pitbull jump up on her and she tears up a bit, "I thought I lost you..." She had thought she lost Bosco one night because he ran off. She lets out a sigh of relief and checks him for any bites or scratches. A sigh of relief escapes her lips and she ruffles his ears.

"No more running away." She scolds and he whimpers. But she couldn't be mad.

"Come." She says, standing and reloading her pistol, holding it up as she pushes open the door.

She comes out to a girl with a bow and arrow and a man who seemed too flirty. She points the gun and Bosco growls next to Kaylie.

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"Fifty yards back huh? Well thank god you didn't. My sister would have hunted you down and ripped your throat out." She said taking his flirting to mind and deciding to ignore it for now. "I'm Avalon Goldwin." She said answering his question with a small smile. "I'm glad I'm not the only one too. I had no idea that reporter was telling the truth until my mother got the jump on me and tried eating me." She said uncrossing her arms again and turning. "We should get moving. We stay here to long lord know what will happen. Unless you want to just leave something as pretty as me on my own."

Jericho stepped towards her again so he could lightly put his hand on her shoulder so Avalon would stop walking. "Hold on sweetheart, I like how you're straight to the point but let's not rush into anything." He looked around "Let's head over to that store over there, we gotta talk about what we're gonna do first alright? And by the way if it were up to me I'd never leave a pretty thing like you." He winked and started walking over to what seemed like a pawn shop. When he noticed a another girl.

A girl with a gun aimed at him.

In the blink of an eye Jericho dropped to one knee and pulled out his ACR and aimed it at this girl, ok not so much the girl but more of her gun. Jericho does not like shooting girls.

"Hey, we're on the same team here. Let's just cool down a bit k? Let's drop the guns and be civil"

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She bit her lip and didn't bother hiding her smile from his comment. "Good idea." she said as she watched him raise his gun and talk to someone behind her. She quickly turned and took a step back placing her hand on the pistol on her hip. "Thats a cute dog."

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#, as written by Iki
"Never said you were," He replied levelly through a mouthful of granola, "I'm just sayin': I'm not up for more of..that, back there," Waggling his hand back up the alley and the slaughterhouse it had turned into. He was coming down from that high a lot sooner than he wanted, and his limbs were beginning to feel heavy. Time to get moving, before that rot settled in.
"And I'm not trying to imply that I'm okay with it either," He went on, habitually wiping at the corner of his mouth before he wadded up those wrappers and wearily worked himself up to his feet, forced to lean against the brick wall to even make it that far, "Radical jihadists and bomb-makers are one thing, but these are- were fellow Americans," He corrected bitterly, carefully lifting the very corner of the polymer dumpster lid to squeeze the fistful of wrappers through and just as delicately set it back down again without so much a sound, "These were friends; these were family; these were typical, everyday soccer moms and office workers; normal people just like you, and just like me," The words stung even worse in his head than they did on his tongue. The vicious irony that forced him to put down the very same people he'd raised his right hand in oath to protect was almost a laughable thing. But these were trying times, and everyone was doomed to do regrettable things. He wasn't about to lose sleep over it, "There's an easy way to justify it, though, if you can believe it," As if anyone could ever believe that. What he was getting at was almost borderline insanity. He was a bit of a misanthrope sure, but there were very few people he'd ever wish this on. The rest? Well; this was the very least they deserved, as far as he was concerned.
"Ever ask yourself how many of'm were rapists or child molesters?" He started on an abruptly alternate and morbid tangent, tilting his head at her almost accusingly, "How many of'm were thieves and murderers? Ever ask yourself how many of'm were crooked cops or corrupt politicians?" An almost smug ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lip as he smoothed over his jacket and habitually tugged down the protruding corners of his hoodie - obsessively even, so the corners were flush, "That's how I justify it; by kiddin' myself into thinkin' that every one of these things I blow away or cut down is someone like that, and I'm actually doin' the world a favor instead of just adding to a body count. But I guess that can only last for so long, eh?" Chuckling at the thought, he just shook his head and scooped his bag up again.
"In any case, we need to get moving," Adjusting the strap on his shoulder, he considered the woman briefly, and whether or not telling her his name was really a good idea. Hell; she had to call him something, right? It wasn't really fair to her that he was so..distrustful, and it wasn't fair to hold her to the same low-ball standard as other, more selfish people he'd run across. But then again, life couldn't be all roses, could it?
"And you can call me Monday," He answered shortly as he crept up toward the mouth of the alley and peeked the corner. It wasn't his real name, but it wasn't a lie, either. It'd have to do for now. Peering around the corner of the building, the streets were only sparsely scattered with Walkers from what he could tell, and none of them seemed to be paying any particular attention. Fair enough he figured, with the rest of them probably still on the other side of the block after the incident with the Screamer. Fair enough, and lucky for them; this was going to be easier than he thought.
Stooping to pick up a palm-sized stone, he beckoned back down the alley at her urgently before he hucked that stone as far as he could down the street. Sure enough, what few Walkers were paying attention turned to see what it was that was skipping down the pavement, and he didn't waste any time. Without another word, or any further gesture, he skated out into the street and down the opposite alley between the two adjacent convenience stores straight ahead of them. Not long now! Almost home free!

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