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Survival Revival

Contiguous United States

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a part of Survival Revival, by Vio-Lance.

None

Vio-Lance holds sovereignty over Contiguous United States, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Setting

Default Location for Survival Revival
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Contiguous United States is a part of Survival Revival.

8 Characters Here

Theodore Fischer [0] Shaggy 22 year old musician trying to find his way back home and find some semblance of his normal life intact.
Samuel Archer [0] A scientist with the knowledge of how to aim and fire a gun.
Valentina Leria [0] A fitness instructor. Her partner owned a gun shop below their apartment and is now a Zombie (SURPRISE!)
Daniel Cethin [0] A survivor of a zombie infestation.
Maxim Alexandrov [0] An ex-Spetsnaz operative who immigrated to the U.S. after the collapse of the Soviet Union
Gwen K. Smith [0] Spec Ops pilot, and heavy machine operator and explosives expert.
Kyle T. Jackson [0] A true survivor who knows way to much for his age.
Kline "Foxchild" Zanan [0] Half Apache man whom is determined to escape the teeth of the ravinous dead. He is kind, yet strong hearted.

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Samuel kept his back to the other survivors, his M14 in hand ready to shoot the moment a zombie came into view. Seeing one come from the left around a building, he steadily aimed his gun at the zombie's head. He let it get fairly close before he pulled the trigger, the bullet going through the brain of the one zombie, and taking out the one that had just come behind it.

"Now that's what I call killing two birds with one stone," Archer said, as he peered at the others. He could see the wave of zombies the others were trying to keep back. He knew it wasn't going to be long before they'd have to head for the vehicles and get out. He readied himself to run like hell the moment the group leader gave the word.

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Kline looked back at his group from the crouch he was in. Everyone looked ready to go.

"Alright everyone. Move at a stead pace to the car. Not to fast, not too slow. But don't fall behind. Try to stay in formation, but don't make it a priority. As long as we all get back to the vehicles, that's all we need to worry about. Move!" He shouted, his commanding voice slightly echoing.

He began to move at a quick pace, his bent legs shuffling across the cement as he moved. It wasnt long before the group was faced with more than a few zombies. Kline lifted the shotgun to his shoulder, his eyes gazing down the irons of the barrel before pulling the trigger. The shotgun let out a fierce thunderclap, knocking the zombie backwards, the spray blowing a few clear holes in the zombie head. Foxchild racked the lever of his shotgun again, firing in the same direction. A few of the zombies were stopped, stumbling and even tumbling as the were hit with the buckshot. Again, the mechanical 'chiikoo' filled the air as Kline again racked the shotgun.

The group was moving pace with him, and the plan seemed to be working quite well. They had short and medium ranges covered. Zombies couldnt get near the group without being shotgunned back, or picked off with rifle fire.

Kline saw a zombie moving at a startling fast paced, and towards the group. He waited for the zombie to get at least 15 feet before blasting him with the shotgun. The zombie was knocked backwards, even though the shot wasnt a headshot. He dashed a small bit ahead of the group, to where the zombie was now squirming, trying to regain his footing. Kline flipped his shotgun around, and in a massive baseball bat styled swing, brought the stock of his shotgun aside from the zombie's skull. It made a sickening crack, and the zombie slumped down, making no further movements. His adreniline was pumping now. His heart was racing, and his mind was ahead of him by miles.

He racked his shotgun, and waited for the group before they moved to their own vehicles. "Okay! Everyone get in a car. If there isnt room in anyone else's vehicle, you can get in the back of my truck. No arguing, no fighting. NO TIME TO WASTE! Go, go GO!" He said demandingly, turning around to make sure there wasnt any flesheaters dangerously close to them. Luckily, there werent...

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Maxim hopped on his motorcycle. He stuck the keys in the ignitions and turned the engine, hearing it roar to life. He began taking aim with his rifle, giving everyone else cover fire so they could climb into their vehicles. Once everyone was loaded up, Maxim slung his rifle and peeled out, rocketing up the road to catch up with the other survivors. I hope we never have to do that again.

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Daniel hopped into the truck. He saw several shambling zombies and blasted them with his shotgun. He killed several more, but he stopped to avoid wasting precious ammo. A question popped into his mind, "If it came to one person having to survive, who'd have survival priority? I mean, in terms of repopulation and stuff like that".

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#, as written by Hinasil
Gwen walked towards what looked like a Toyota, she covered her back, but she only shot zombies close enough that they were a danger which were none. She climbed into the passengers seat, but stayed on the rim, picking off zombies. "So you guys got a plan? If you do I'd like to know." She put her SCAR away and took out her Colt. "Heh, I don't have a snappy remark for this, how weird."

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#, as written by Arige
Kyle fell into position with the rest of the group. ‘Keep your cool, slow and steady shots,’ Kyle thought to himself as he moved with the group. Kyle lined up his AR-15 with the first zombie he saw. TAK! The slug entered crashed through the zombie’s skull and dropping it with a thud. Kyle repeated this seven times before something made him hesitate. It was a little boy, the boy was wearing in a baseball uniform. Kyle’s thoughts became clouded with sadness and grief as he remembered the first zombie he ever had to kill. It was a little boy from his neighbourhood named Kalbe, he was eight and had played on the local little league baseball team. When Kyle had gone over to his house to make sure that him and his parents had gotten out of town Kyle walked in to find both of the parents dead and the Kalbe jumping at him. Kyle had struggled with the boy for and thirty seconds before picking up the boy’s baseball bat that was beside the front door and crushing his skull in. Kyle snapped back to the present to find a teardrop rolling down his right cheek. Kyle lined his scoop on the boy’s head. TAK! The slug ripped the left side of the boy’s head clean off. By this time the group had just made it to the vehicles.

“Samuel! You can ride in my Jeep. Just knock the stuff on the passenger seat to the floor and hop in,” Kyle said as he wiped the teardrop from his face and got in and started his Jeep.

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Kline watched as all of the group poured onto their respective vehicles. Anyoen that didn't have room in anything else would flop into the back of his truck. He rolled the window down, and looked around, backing out of the gas station, and slamming on his gas pedal. His truck roared, and began to speed down the road. He checked his rear-veiw to make sure the others were following.

He then noticed the enviorment....darkness was settling in around them. It was nearing winter months, too, so it was darkening around seven-thirty. They needed to find a place to hole up for the night. Even if it was their caravan of cars, they needed a system of order. He looked over to DJ with a smile.

These kids actually know what they're doing. He thought to himself.

The drive proceeded to be quiet, the only sound echoing the roads was the groups vehicles. He saw something in the distance...it was a small town. It was probably just a groups of fast food restaraunts, or something as the such. He looked around the buildings. There was one stuck out from the rest: It was multi-story, probably a motel; maybe four stories.

Foxchild jammed his arm out the window, jerking his thumb in the direction of the motel, hoping the other drivers could see it. He slowed down, and turned into the parking lot of the building. He parked his truck sloppily, before pushing his door open, and turning sidways, waiting for the other drivers. Once they had pulled in around him, he looked to each one, in the fading light of day.

"Alright. Let's not fool ourselves. We'll need rest soon, and sleeping on the go isnt exactly a great idea. I suggest we hold out on the top floor of this place." He stated boldly. It instilled a commander like-feel inside of him. He didn't want to be some top dog general yelling orders. He wanted to hear what the others had to say about this plan.

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DJ nodded, "Don't forget to destroy the staircases and fill tubs with water and such. No fire, though, that would burn us all" he said. He smiled at Kline, "I already feel a family-like bond to you, but that's not important now. Only survival is until these monsters are wiped clean from the Earth".

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Maxim looked at the man called Kline. He was baking out orders, telling everyone to set up camp at the top of the motel. Maxim strode over to his bike, and grabbed a gallon of water, a ten-foot length of rope, a can of chicken noodle soup, and his double-barreled shotgun. He flicked it open, checking for the two rounds in the gun. He put the shotgun and the cans of food into his jacket, coiled the rope around his torso, and picked up the gallon of water.
He caught up with the group just in time to enter the hotel. He pulled his pistol and prepared to sweep the building.

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The M14 recoiled as Sam fired a bullet hitting a zombie in the middle of it's face. As soon as he heard the Indian bark the order, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards his car. Hearing Kyle call his name, he turned his head to look at him.

"That's fine, but I have a car!"

Running around the corner of a building, he approached his Lexus before grabbing the door handle and swinging it wide open. Sitting down quickly and slamming the door shut behind him, he stuck the key in the ignition.

"Sorry about that Baxter," Sam said as he rubbed the beagle's head with his hand, the other on the steering wheel. Stepping on the pedal, his car backed up quickly into the main road, it hitting a body as it went. "Whoops," Sam said as he looked back seeing a zombie staggering back to it's feet. Throwing the car into forward, he stepped on the pedal, and his car zoomed forward after the others.

Archer eased his grip on the steering wheel now that the zombie population was left far behind.

"Well Baxter, looks like we made it out of that one. And we seem to have found some friends too," He said as he looked at his dog. "Yep, survivors, just like us. Maybe we'll end up banding together and creating a whole new community when this crisis is finally gone," He said, his eyes on the road ahead of him.

It was quiet around Archer, save for the hum of the engine as the car drove over the road. After a while, his steady whistling filled the air, as his beagle cocked it's head at him. Seeing the Indian man's hand sticking out of the truck and waving, he looked towards the indicated direction seeing a town. He slowed down as they approached what looked like a hotel. He turned his car into another parking lane besides the truck before turning the engine off, and leaned back in his seat for a brief moment.

Getting out of the car, he stood on the pavement listening to the man talk. After a bit, Samuel said, "Sounds fine to me. We should be able to hold the fort." He looked towards his car, before turning back. "I don't suppose you guys have room for another one up there. He might get awfully lonely in the car," He said, indicating the dog's head in the back window.

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#, as written by Hinasil
Gwen got out of the truck and stretched a little. A motel didn't seem like a bad idea. She could use that time to plan ahead, and maybe learn something about these survivors. "Well, I don't know about you, but I call the bed." Checking her pistol ammo, seeing it was running out, she hoped they would get to a gun store soon. "Be careful when you're inside, it's really dangerous for close quarters."

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Kline nodded to the military woman. She checked her weapon, reminding him he needed to reload his own. He reached to his glovebox, and pulled out a box of shotgun shells. He pulled out five, replacing the five he had used to escort the group to the cars, sliding each round in with a click. He racked the lever agressively, nodding. "I am prepared for close combat, if anything." He offered a reassuring smile to her.

He walked too the hotel doorway, pressing his ear to the door. No sound. Always a bad sign. He motioned for the rest of the group.

"Everyone get ready. We're going to do this loudly, seeing as how out weapons aren't silenced. I'll go in first, and be crouching. Somone behind me will be standing and shooting. But...we need to find a way not to be caught in the narrow halls of the motel. Perhaps split up into two groups: A croucher, a standie, and a rear guard."

He waited for everyone to get ready, whatever respective weapons they needed.

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Daniel had his shotgun and his M4 with him, as well as his crowbar in case he had no more ammo, he walked to the hotel. "What position should I be, sir?" he asked. He stood behind Kline and awaited an order.

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Maxim fell into formation, leaving his rifle slung and drawing his pistol. A marksman rifle would be useless inside. He took slow, deliberate steps as they entered the building. "Yes, this definitely reminds me of my Spetsnaz days." The gear was heavy, and maxim wished he had left it on the bike. Oh well, I have been in combat with heavier equipment.Maxim hoped the room clearing would be finished soon, he hadn't slept in a day and a half, and it was starting to catch up on him.