Tribeca

Atlas had now been walking for an hour with no signs of life or sighting any of the infected. The distinctive sound of gunfire snapped Atlas back into the world; he drew his 10mm from his holster and gazed around the corner. He saw a survivor being accosted by a trio of the infected.

Gathering his courage Atlas turned the corner and ran closer to the action. The survivor had effectively taken one zombie out of the action when he was set upon by the remaining pair.

Atlas heard a bloodcurdling scream from the individual as the inhuman creatures began to devour him. Atlas aimed down his weapon and fired twice at the chests of the creatures. They stopped what they were doing and spun around to face their attacker. He saw their blood red eyes as they let out a bestial battle-cry and shambled toward him.

Atlas was not to be deterred by their display; he aimed down his sight and fired four shots towards one of the monsters who fell to the ground in a heap. The second creature had closed the distance but it wasn’t enough as Atlas fired a round into the creatures’ leg slowing it down then firing again at the head of his target causing blood and brain matter to splatter the pavement.

The creature on the ground still advanced to him crawling as fast as it could. Atlas sighed and fired again forcing the creature to stop dead in it’s tracks. He knew he couldn’t stay long as more creatures would be coming toward the smell of blood. He ran over to the dying individual who gurgled out a final request, “Please…kill…me”, he managed to stammer. Nodding he aimed his weapon at the mans temple and turned his head away as he fired.

Atlas felt sick about what he had to do but he knew all along it was the only way. He then began to search the body for anything he could use. Atlas managed to salvage a single clip of 10mm ammo, a flashlight, a lighter, and a journal from the deceased’s body. He placed the journal into his bag and the clip onto his belt.

Atlas stalked off into the night feeling even more depressed then he was just a few minutes prior.

Lower Manhattan, Swat Building

Andrew had run into a ton of people, one was off turning on a Generator that probably would not even work anymore, and the others were around a fire, from what he knew there names were Dave, Jason, Alex, Jason, and an unknown man. Andrew walked up to the fire and sat down beside it, just then a Dog appeared out of no where, it was a German Shepard. Andrew pet the dog, after petting the dog the man who failed at turning the generator on came back upstairs, he too sat down by the fire.

There was allot of people which surprised Andrew, he thought the entire city would be the creatures outside by now.

"So, does anybody really know what those creatures are?" asked Andrew.

Tribeca

Reman had found that his pursuers only went about half the speed he could, at best. Continuing on and jumping a brick wall was sufficient to end the pursuit. He had reached Tribeca. The whole Island was a dangerous place, but there did seem to be less Zombies in the Tribeca area. It was getting dark and he needed shelter, he had found a Warehouse on a small dead end street near the docks. But before he could enter it to secure it, and take a break, he heard weapons fire.

He knew the sound, throughout his years he had owned ones like it, been shot at, and even been hit by them. It was a 10mm pistol. He would be back to secure this Warehouse, it was a small one and seemed like a safe place for the night, but first he had to investigate. So far, he hadn't seen anyone alive, and his only attempt to reach any failed.

If there was anyone alive, he would find them. The weapons fire was close. Reman went around the corner, and down a couple blocks, just to see a real person walking down the road, but also a Zombie, that was previously feasting on a corpse come right at Reman. He let out a burst of fire from his Chinese Assault Rifle, eliminating the threat it posed...

"Hey, it's not safe out here, but I found a place close if you want to come with me." Reman spoke

Jason sat by the fire with everyone else. He unloaded his pistol clip with another and put it in his holster, just then one of them whose name was Andrew spoke.

"So, does anybody really know what those creatures are?"

“No clue, the people who have been turning into these things must be infected by a type of virus. I even encountered a super mutant with the skin on its head clear off and its spine sticking out, it infects all living life forums on this damn island from what I have seen. I’m guessing the air born strain has disappeared sense we still have our skin on. I also took a look at some of the infected body’s; there were bite marks on most of them that were normally on their torso or head. That maybe another way that the infection spreads through the bite into the person bitten, damn I sound like a doctor in reality I’m just a mechanic from megaton looking for his so called parents. Hell the only reason I know about infections and viruses is frequently going to the doctor to get stitched up after fights. What about you guys, what’s your stories? ” Jason answered

Jason threw more wood that was lying around in the fire to keep it going.

Alex leaned against the fractured concrete wall behind him as he ruffled the back of his hair with the cracked palm of his hand. His head cocked back casually, looking up at the grimy ceiling that dripped with anonymous goo, which softly impacted the recently inhabited grounds below it. Two men from earlier crowded into the room as Alex and David awaited a response from their most recent encounter. Having stumbled upon so many people at once was definitely out of the ordinary. Alex silently observed each new arrival, biased assumption flooding through his mind. For some reason, it didn't feel right to be with this many people so suddenly.

"So, does anybody really know what those creatures are?" one of the men said. If Alex remember correctly, his name was Jason.

Just as the Alex opened his mouth, at least 5 more of the undead slammed into the recently assembled barricade, sending items of all sorts toppling over to skid across the wooden floorboards.

"[censored]! Everyone get up!" Alex shouted as he pushed off of the wall and slid both of his M9s out of their holsters.

He sidestepped in front of the barricade, raising each pistol to a fresh hole in a board that covered the doorway. He fired a few rounds through the hole, two of which pierced through the chest of one shuffler, sending him off balance as he slammed against the pavement, clearly still moving.

"You've gotta be [censored]ting me..." Alex said under his breath, as dozens more infected flooded towards the building, slamming themselves against every surface they could. "Alright, we've gotta get the hell out of here! Wheres the farthest exit from this building?" Alex asked, urgency flowing through his every word. He'd only been in this one room, how would he know where anything was?

Aaron Young, Lower Manhattan, SWAT Building

"Alright, we've gotta get the hell out of here! Wheres the farthest exit from this building?"

Word after word and place after place toppled through Aaron's mind. He had only been at the building for a day, though when he entered it, he did his best to explore most of it. This put a good layout of the place in his mind. For all he knew, he could probably get them all out of the next best thing to hell alive. Then something crossed his thoughts: They needed a radio.

Zombie after zombie slammed itself into the barricade, which managed to hold up decently well do to the heavy weight. He knew it wouldn't hold long though, and if there were super-mutant zombies, that only made things worse. Attila shot up at the sound, a small growling sound crawling its way from his mouth. Aaron raised his LWRC, and in seconds several bullets shot their way into the small opening which now welcomed itself into the building. The barricade was still blocking the zombies, but nonetheless, the door was soon bust open, and it wasn't a good idea to be near it when it happened. Aaron jumped up from his crouch stance.

"Come on, follow me."

He yelled some German word, which sounded to be "Ouuse!". He wasn't German, but he studied some of the old German commands used for the shepherds, especially that one. The dog to him.

"Attila. Out! Out!"

He pointed in one particular direction of the room opposite from the basemant door, which apparently lead somewhere in the back of the building. The dog took off, and Aaron followed.

The building apparently was set up as a square, followed by a narrow hallway going to the north. The hallway was probably about 8 feet long, being obviously very narrow. There was an office door at about every 30 feet, and the hallway was coated in an old green paint, already coated in gray, dirty spots and chipping off due to the war. It appeared someone had tried to repaint it, but had stopped after a short while. There was a small opening on the left side of the middle of the room, which opened up to an old water fountain and two restroom doors, one for each gender. After nearly one-hundred yards of walking (or hurrying) through the central NYPD police department network for Manhattan, the hall opened up to a rectangular room, empty vending machines hung on either side. An ordinary wooden door sat in the middle of the room, battered and torn. Off to the left, a large metal door sat. Evidence of red stripe paint was shown on it: it was probably a fire escape door before the war. With the power out of the city, or at least that building for two centuries, no alarm would sound.

"The wooden door will probably take you to the main building...and I think there are a damn lot of them in there. The only quick way to get out would be the front, and they'll hear us. If we take this emergency door, we can slip out the back."

Attila stopped at the exit, sniffing around and huffing air in and out, panting.

"Now, gunfire usually doesn't set off these things unless they are looking for you. Right now, they're alert. Anymore gunshots will have them coming to get us. We don't need to shoot anything for the next few minutes at the least. When I open this door, hop out quietly, and don't fire at them."

Aaron drew his machete, pulling the rusty fire hatch open quietly as possible. He jumped out onto the cement ground beneath him; Attila followed.

"Shh..boy...shhh..."

Aaron motioned for the others to follow.

David was alert when the zombies began to beat themselves against the doors, the strong barricade he had erected was beginning to fail, death was quite literally on their doorstep. David quickly threw on his backpack and buckled the straps, he picked up his M14 as well. Quickly sticking his crowbar and sawed-off shotgun back into his pack, he readied himself.

"Alright, we've gotta get the hell out of here! Wheres the farthest exit from this building?" Yelled Alex. He was right, they had to get as far away as possible. Since they may be going in some close-quarters situations, David slung his rifle around his chest, securing it tightly, he drew his crowbar with and held it in his right hand.

"Come on, follow me!" Yelled the man dressed like a SWAT. He then yelled something that sounded German, and ordered his dog to run ahead. The canine faithfully ran ahead slowly, staying in sight and sniffing and huffing as he went. The entire group began running down the halls, passing doors and rotting paint, old wood chipping of the walls and other marks of decay and desolation left from hundreds of years of neglect and violence. Not to mention the Great War had a serious lasting impact on the place.

The group stopped with the SWAT-man (As David deemed him, still not knowing his name). He explained that the fire-exit led to a place where there were likely the least amount of undead to deal with.

"The wooden door will probably take you to the main building...and I think there are a damn lot of them in there. The only quick way to get out would be the front, and they'll hear us. If we take this emergency door, we can slip out the back."

He opened the door very slowly, ordering his dog "Attila" to be easy and silent. David followed out next, crowbar at the ready. The night was growing thick, and to make matters worse, the wind began to pick up a little bit along with something else, a heaviness in the air, David had only experienced it maybe 10 times before in his life. The night sky was illuminated with the moon just a few hours ago, now the sky was black.

David looked at the sky, still trying to remain aware, in the distance he heard a rolling rumbling noise, and on his face he felt a few drops of wet. First thinking that maybe a zombie was drooling on him from the roof, he backed against a wall and checked, but nothing was there. Soon, more drops came, David opened his mouth. It was rain.

"Guys, I think its raining? Damn. Well, maybe it'll give us some cover from the infected?" David whispered ever so silently to the others. Suddenly he heard a shuffling behind him, David whipped around, and sure enough something was there. It was a scrawny, half-starved looking zombie, it didn't moan, it didn't scream, it simply stared at David. Taking the chance, David quickly slammed the sharp beaked end of the crow-bar into the things skull.

The thing died then and there, David caught it by the arm and lowered it slowly as not to alert the others if it made a sound while falling. The rain began to pick up a bit, now coming down in a heavy drizzle, puddles beginning to form.

"We have to hurry."

The group's newest addition, donned with multiple articles of SWAT equipment, seemed to know the way out of the building that would surely serve as the group's tomb if they didn't leave, and fast.

"Come on, follow me." The man said, as he stepped forward.

He quickly but silently advanced down the crumbling hall before them, whispering something, that Alex perceived to be German, to his canine companion. The dog bounded silently down the hallway, with the group following at its heels. As the group drifted down the dilapidated corridor, Alex's eyes shifted across the room, observing the various commodities littered across the floorboards. Flakes of dried paint accompanied the random miscellaneous on the floor, along with subtle trails of aged blood.

Nearly one hundred yards later, the group poured from the cramped corridor into a wide, rectangular room. The first thing Alex noticed were two, large doors on different sides of the room. The first being a rotted, decaying wooden door, and the latter being rusted and metal, with a faint red stripe across it.

"The wooden door will probably take you to the main building...and I think there are a damn lot of them in there. The only quick way to get out would be the front, and they'll hear us. If we take this emergency door, we can slip out the back." The anonymous man announced silently.

Alex nodded in acknowledgement as they advanced towards the emergency exit.

"Now, gunfire usually doesn't set off these things unless they are looking for you. Right now, they're alert. Anymore gunshots will have them coming to get us. We don't need to shoot anything for the next few minutes at the least. When I open this door, hop out quietly, and don't fire at them." The SWAT decked fellow warned as he carefully opened the rustic door before him.

The group emerged from the dimly lit structure into the pitch black streets of Manhattan. Alex slid his hand behind his back, pulling his improvised crowbar from it's sling as he cautiously examined every alleyway.

Crack!

Alex whipped around to see David lowering a single deceased zombie to the grimy sidewalk, its brains pouring onto the pavement. The noise didn't seem loud enough to have alerted any of them. If it did, they'd probably be sprinting towards them right then. Alex kept moving, crowbar in hand, diligently observing his surroundings.

"We have to hurry." David whispered.

Alex nodded in agreement as he felt cool drops of water drip down his exposed forearm. From where they were standing, they were practically zombie chow.

Andrew, Lower Manhattan, Swat Building

Andrew had just asked if anybody knew what the creatures outside where, Jason, the man who went to try to turn on the Generator answered him.

No clue, the people who have been turning into these things must be infected by a type of virus. I even encountered a super mutant with the skin on its head clear off and its spine sticking out, it infects all living life forums on this damn island from what I have seen. I’m guessing the air born strain has disappeared sense we still have our skin on. I also took a look at some of the infected body’s; there were bite marks on most of them that were normally on their torso or head. That maybe another way that the infection spreads through the bite into the person bitten, damn I sound like a doctor in reality I’m just a mechanic from megaton looking for his so called parents. Hell the only reason I know about infections and viruses is frequently going to the doctor to get stitched up after fights. What about you guys, what’s your stories?

Before Andrew could reply to Jason, some of the barricade scattered across the room, the Zombies were breaking in, the group had to leave the building. [censored], no fuel and know we are as good as dead! Andrew thought to himself. Alex, one of the people who were in the SWAT building got up and quickly said, "[censored]! Everyone get up!" Andrew nodded his head, not saying anything. The group got up and continued on through the building, they got to a room wit a Wood door that was clearly rotted. They decided to go through the wooden door, Andrew followed his his SCAR-H in hand, just then someone said that if any guns were shot it would alert the Zombies, Andrew agreed but kept his SCAR-H in hand still. They got out of the building, but were in a bad situation, they would have to get by the Zombies without any attention being drawn to them, or they would be good as dead.

Tribeca

As Atlas began to continue his lonely stroll along the dilapidated sidewalk he heard someone call out to him saying’ “Hey, it's not safe out here, but I found a place close if you want to come with me.” Atlas cautiously walked over to the person speaking to him.

“If you’ve got a safe place to sleep I’ll stay the night and be on my way in the morning”, Atlas replied. Atlas shifted his gear on his back and said, “Names Atlas Riley by the way who are you?"

Tribeca

"Reman Hunter, it's a warehouse just back around the corner." He replied

A minute later, Reman opened the door to the Warehouse, peering inside, there was the main room, mostly empty with a few bare shelves, maybe a cabinet and a toolbox, the standard leftovers. There was another door to the outside at the other side of the room, and a sealed large heavy metal loading bay door. Then the final room was a small office in a corner of the building, it consisted of a table, maybe a file cabinet, and there might be a computer or some other surviving electronics, stuff like this was becoming rarer in operable condition.

There were distant noises of the dead outside, entering the Tribeca area, they weren't right upon them, and they didn't seem to detect them, they weren't in view, but nonetheless there was approaching danger. There were a few battery powered lights in the building illuminating the rooms, the good news, there were no zombies inside, and no windows. Reman entered with his .32 pistol in hand, as soon as Atlas entered he was locking the door. He motioned to him to enter...

OOC: I have a suggestion, very minor suggestion (it's alright if you say no), I'm getting a little confused whether it's day or night so is it alright if you say what time it is when you write what location you're at?

Tribeca (I would write what time it is, but as i said I'm a little confused :S)

Hiding under a rusty van, lay Iain holding his trusty binoculars. Scouting for enemies he liked to call zombies now...

Before, when he had killed the zombie at the docks he had run off down the street, confused and scared, thinking there were actually civilians who lived there. Halfway down the street civilians were now zombified and roaming the streets wild. So Iain retreated back to Tribeca to find his raft that he had built by himself. As he approached the docks he noticed that someone was sailing with his raft away from Manhattan! Furious, Iain shouted every name under the sun to the desperate thief who stole his raft, but realised it didn't do much good because a number of zombie moans were heard through the city, suggesting that they heard him. So quickly Iain ran into the Tribeca area and hid under a van which provided him decent cover. From there Iain took out his binoculars and planned about how he would escape.

Nope, it's all good. No zombies in sight... Wait...
In the distance were two men running down the street, they couldn't be zombies because these people were much faster and more human-like. One wore a Mercenary Troublemaker Outfit and carried a Chinese Assault Rifle, the other wore Recon Armor and a Recon Helmet and carried a Military Assault Rifle. Curious, Iain abandoned his cover and ran quickly to find the two men, perhaps they would help each other to escape. While running, some zombie moans were heard in the distance, giving Iain's heart a little leap in pace. There was a left turn he remembered seeing the two men take, so as Iain took the left turn he came across a warehouse, these men were pretty smart because the warehouse would be a brilliant defence point.

Quickly Iain ran to one of the doors and attempted to open it, he knocked lightly and whispered,
"Oi... Hey I'm human, it's all good, let me in!"

OOC-It's night.

Tribeca

Reman and Atlas had just entered the building, and he had locked both doors and was just getting ready to step away from them when he heard the voice at the door. It was the last thing he was expecting, but he turned back.

He looked out the small peephole and spoke against the door, he would hear Reman. The moans were getting easier to hear as groups of Zombies began walking down nearby streets.

"Have you been bitten? No? Then get in here fast, those things are getting closer." He replied in a stern cautious voice, muffled by the door

He opened the door, and closed it just as fast, the industrial door was strong and heavy, with multiple strong locks. Designed to prevent break ins, it would do well in this circumstance. He sealed the locks, with a sigh of relief.

Tribeca

Atlas followed Reman a short distance to a warehouse which was in surprisingly good condition. Reman led the way inside and was just about to lock the door when a knock was heard.

Atlas heard the distinctive sound of a person’s voice, "Oi... Hey I'm human, it's all good, let me in”! He watched as Reman looked through the tiny peephole and spoke to the person on the other side. “Have you been bitten? No? Then get in here fast, those things are getting closer."

Atlas watched as his new acquaintance pulled in the stranger and then began the process of locking the heavy-duty door. Atlas sighed to himself and walked away from Reman and the stranger to check out the warehouse.

Atlas took out the flashlight he took off the dead body and turned it on surprised to see it work. He then drew his Desert eagle .44 and slowly began a thorough search for infected and a back door.

Keeping the flashlight in his left hand Atlas slowly edged himself forward half expecting to be jumped by infected. Atlas found the warehouse to be devoid of infected and he had found a back door just in case the infected swarmed the front. He checked the many locks and found them to be secure.

Satisfied that the area would be safe enough to spend the night he returned to the others who still stood near the entrance. Atlas trudged back and found the pair standing about Atlas spoke out, “Reman, you picked well not an infected in sight”, he said as he turned his light to a nearby crate. He sat down and waited for a response from the pair.

Tribeca, in Warehouse, 0000 Hours

“Have you been bitten? No? Then get in here fast, those things are getting closer."

Quickly Iain dashed through the door and one of the men locked the door. The other man sighed and left to explore the warehouse, this gave Iain time to get his breath back. When the man who left came back they both looked at Iain as if expecting an introduction.

So Iain spoke, "Alright? Name's Iain Scott, most people usually call me Scotty, came here today to escape from the Raider life, didn't help much coming here however. Anyway I was gonna leave but some idiot stole my raft! So I guess I'm stuck here..." finished Iain with a sad face.

He then added, "So um... What's the plan? I know I'm getting the hell outta this island, but where the hell can we get a boat or anything that floats? Are you planning to escape?"

OOC: I've made a small change to my character's loadout, a battered repeating rifle (think Lincoln's repeater except nowhere near as prestigous or effective) I just realised that a shotgun would be pretty pointless in this situation :rolleyes: Oh and I know they aren't ghouls.

Tribeca

Jarvis sat, contently, inside the warm confines of the small storage building. He was leaning backwards on an old wooden office chair with his feet atop a storage crate and his hat drawn over his eyes. Now Jarvis, no stranger to sleeping rough, knew the importance of a secure bed for the night. No doubt, failure to appropriate a residence of sufficient safety would often result in empy pockets at best and a slit throat at worst. The sliding door for the building had been jammed shut with part of a desk. Some people might call it squatting, Jarvis called it "Surprise Accomodation". Lining the nearby storage crates were several, empty, bottles of Bourbon, pieces of splintered wood and a crowbar.

Jarvis rose slowly and hazily, finding his balance. He grabbed his walking stick and walked slowly around the room. It turned out there was plenty more than just Whisky here. Several of the crates were marked with names, "P.Johnson, T&C Co., Ofiices of J.L , K.Parker" and several more. Must be some sorta pre-war storage place, ah heck I'm sure they won't mind me peepin around for a second. He found the crowbar he had used the night before to liberate the unwanted drink and began working on the aged wood of the crates. They came apart easily, many of the nails had rusted and the wood had already began sagging in most places. He craned his kneck over the contents of the crate and found several old books, the pages withered and the ink faded. Several photographs of the (now) deceased and some letters. Crap, just piles of good for nothing junk... he mumbled under his breath. Going through the rest of the crates in the room was, after sifting through several crates of hats, promotional gifts and cereal boxes, eventually quite profitable. Aside from the usual trinkets and objets d'arts Jarvis had managed to find a much longer metal box with the label "For the Est. of Mr G.D.Edwards: The 2rd Amendment Store". The cover had been damaged and cracked in places and rust was present on the outside so he doubted the contents would be in a pristine condition. He beat the rusted parts of the case in and reached through towards the lock and lowered the pin by hand. With a creaking sound the case opened. Inside was a rusted metal tube, some pieces of rotten wood and various mechanisms. After a short while Jarvis realised that this was, or had once been, a rifle of some kind.

Occupying the other half of the box were several large metal containers, none of which were rusted. He heaved them from their resting place and out onto the concrete floor. He beat the small padlocks off with some effort and lifted the hinge. Oh jeez... Inside each of the containers were layer upon layer of 7.62 x 63 mm rounds. Holy Jesus... Jarvis removed his hat reverently and shed a single tear.

"God bless the 2nd Amendment." He whispered.

Leaving the treasure trove below, the old man skipped over to his drink and grabbed several bottles before heading for the roof to enjoy a new day of prosperity. His luck, it would seem, had made a turn for the best. After the final flight he wrestled momentarily with the old roof door and finally lifted the heavy bolt. The blinding sun of a fresh day greeted Jarvis as his feet crunched upon the gravel of the roof. He smiled and walked over to the edge of the buiding overlooking the warehouse.

Jarvis stopped smiling and removed his hat.

He couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be a massed crowd of people walking around, along and through the street. Clearly the local form of Government had raised taxes or lowered the water rations, as all the people were shouting, no, moaning. In particular, a one armed man seemed intent on finding a way through the closed steel door of the warehouse. He stood, motionless, just watching the door. Jarvis removed his spectacles from their case and leaned on the low edge of the roof with his foot. The man appeared to be dishevelled, as was everyone else on the street, but something appeared wrong. No placards, no actual words spoken and, more importantly, the man's arm was lying on the floor next to him, the bloodied stump revealing a bone-white protrusion. A little way off to the side, it appeared that several of them were feasting on something, a body. Then it dawned on Jarvis. Ghouls.

Now some may call him bigoted, others just downright racist, but Jarvis had always had a problem with these folk. They didn't smell nice, they complained about everything and they were an eyesore to anyone who actually had the decency to still have skin. This was one step too far. Jarvis had no idea how, but these ghouls had somehow gathered together and were on a violent protest. I'll be damned if I'll let those sons of [censored]es take this country's fine land! he seethed. Red faced and furious, the old man hurried down back through the door and down the stairs towards the suddenly appropriate armoury on the first floor. Grabbing a stool in one arm, filling his pocket with rifle rounds and haphazardly carrying the majority of the ammo boxes in his other am he struggled up the stairs towards the roof. Positioning himself on the corner of the building, Jarvis sat on the wooden stool and loaded his rifle angrily, cursing at the monstrosities below. He took a generous sip from one of the many bottles, then threw it down towards the crow, striking one of the Ghouls in the head. Jarvis chuckled. "Take that ya commie bastard!" he yelled, saluting to the crowd below. Jarvis noticed that none of the other ghouls responded, odd, even for a ghoul.

He disregarded the thought with a final swig and started opening fire on the crowd, laughing and hooting as he went.

Sorry to interrupt your RP guys, but can I join in? I know I'm supposed to PM the guy in charge, but I'm just confused on who that is exactly. You list three different people as the host. AND YES I know you already have a millon people on this RP, but I have a million ideas in my head to match that. What do you say?

P.S. Very funny post Muffin Man.

((OOC: I'd say Pm Woolymammoth, but he's rarely on, so just pm Jonas or Ringman.))

OOC-I don't understand, are you actually on the Roof of this very warehouse?

Tribeca

Reman took a look at Scott, the new guy, he indeed looked like a Raider. It was interesting to meet one that wasn't taking shots at him.

"Im Reman Hunter, mercenary. I came here for caps, but it seems like the only thing left here is death. Of course, I want out, but I don't know where any working boat is in this place. I found some people in a Police Station south of here, but there were too many zombies, I couldn't get to them. I think we should group up with whoever is left alive here, and then find a way out, we cant do this alone, there are too many damn Zombies. As for my friend here, I don't know what he has planned. " Reman replied

He backed up, leaning against the wall, taking a gulp of Whiskey out of the glass bottle he carried.

"Anyone want some?"

OOC: No I'm on the other side of the street. In a different building from your mall warehouse

OOC:

I get on at least once a day. Usually twice. Most of the time you can't see me because I am in the ES fanfiction section. I do check this, though.

I just sorta have a life, you know. I'm at school from 8 to 5 everyday, then I have 4 siblings, homework, sports to play, etc. You can PM me, I'm on. I actually would have been on longer today if it weren't for the damn power going out. I'll post in a little bit.

((OOC: Sorry man, wasn't trying to offend you or anything. I understand how it is, I'm on break from university right now, and I'm just trying to make the best of all the [censored] rainy days I'm getting.))

Tribeca Depository Building

To anybody else this sight would seem odd at best. But to Jarvis it was the American Dream manifest. This land had risen from the ashes along with hope, freedom and liberty and these fleshless monstrosities aimed to take it all away. The bearded, elderly man sat on the edge of the roof peering down at the crowd below through his armless spectacles. He took another swig and resumed firing. By now the majority of the ammo boxes had been spent and various road signs and pavement slabs had born testament to just how accurate Jarvis could be. Occasionally a shot or two might strike its target and even less regularly one of the shots would drop one of the ghouls. Such an occasion was promptly celebrated by a whoop and a swig. Even with the hand calming effects of alcohol it became a more infrequent occurance as he spent round after round. The crowd itself had adopted a swaying motion after a long while that Jarvis just couldn't pin down. He threw another bottle down.

"Let's see how you fellas like a bit of United States military hardware!" He called down below, then continued his practice of firing, laughing and drinking with almost military precision.

OOC: Jonas, Post when you want to, you know the plan.

Time to give old Jarvis a little something to deal with. This will be short and sweet. *Incorporates Left 4 Dead creativity*

Muffin man, post the outcome. I'm not going to kill you, not this early :hubbahubba:

IC:

Smoker: , Tribeca

http://www.videogamesblogger.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/smoker-left-4-dead-zombie-character-artwork.jpg

A lone zombie emerged from the alley. The others were in front of him, the old man on the roof firing at them with ease. Unfortunately for him, he didn't know what he was dealing with. While most of the zombies could be easily outsmarted, there were a few exceptions: enough to kill someone. The zombie approached his way in front of the apparently now closed warehouse. As the old man fired off shots left and right, he might notice a long, red, oozing thing shooting towards him like a bullet.

A long tongue stretched across the street, heading for the feet of the older man. The zombie almost seemed to chuckle, blood oozing from its mouth. This man would not toy with mere zombies. They were here to get their meal, and it would be a terrible thing to let their prey escape, much less bully them around.

Lower manhattan

Jason was tossing more wood in the fire when more infected bashed at the barracade.

"[censored]! Everyone get up!" Alex shouted

Jason jumped up from his place and unshefed his knife and held it in his hand.

"Come on, follow me." Aaron yelled

Jason got behind Aaron and followed him to the a hatch that led them outside.

"Now, gunfire usually doesn't set off these things unless they are looking for you. Right now, they're alert. Anymore gunshots will have them coming to get us. We don't need to shoot anything for the next few minutes at the least. When I open this door, hop out quietly, and don't fire at them."

Jason buttoned his pistol in his holster so it would keep still. Jason made his way up the fire escape along with the group and slowly steped on the cold cement. Drops of water came upon the ground, after just a few drops it turned into a full storm.

"Guys, I think its raining? Damn. Well, maybe it'll give us some cover from the infected?" David said,as soon as he said that he found a zombie behind him but with his crowbarb david bashed his head in.

"Wait, if there was one there... then" Jason followed, he took a deep breath and thrusted his knife to do a spinning motion. Jason looked to see what he hit and to his luck there was a zzombie on the ground with the top of its head missing.

The rain kept getting harder and harder.

"We have to hurry." David whispered

Jason looked around and could see a lone ally way, no infected inhabited it.

"Guy there is a ally way we could escape" Jason

OOC: If wooly and jonas have a plan ignore my final words on the ally, OR we could spilt up in two groups and see what we find?