OOC: Folks... things are about to get interesting!

IC:

David was creeping through the dark alley, eventually he made it to where the alley let out, opening up to see the desolate streets of burnt-out cars and other vehicles. The once awe-some buildings of Manhattan were now missing chunks of floors and every single window-pane was blown out. David simply sighed, it was no different than D.C. but this devastation crap was getting old. Throwing these inane thoughts from his mind, David came back to reality and the situation at hand.

They needed a radio, and double-time if they wanted some semblance safety. David peered around the corner of the alley, both ways before discerning it was safe. He waved his hand in a 'follow-me' fashion, and began a slow run down the side-walk. By now, the rain had picked up, David pulled the hood he wore over his head, and ducked beneath the bombed-out, low-roofed buildings.

"God I hate the city." David said under his breath, as a crack of lightning flashed in the sky. David was confident the others were behind him, so he kept running, his days as a mercenary paid off as he could easily run for a two an a half miles without tiring. David stopped just before the end of the street, pulling his sawed-off. Down an alley he heard something... big.

Trash-cans were being knocked around, one even flew out of the alley and crashed into a car, crushing the frame of the driver-side. David hesitated, making sure his sawed-off was loaded. He waited... a few seconds passed before a lightning bolt cracked once more overhead, illuminating the alley as David chanced a glance down it.

He spun around facing the 8 foot monstrosity. David's reaction reminded him of his younger, less-hairy days, as he squeezed trigger on his sawed-off. He had been packing slug rounds into the shotgun, "max damage" he always said. This happened in seconds.

The lightning flashed.
David looked.
The infected Super-mutant saw.
David raised his sawed-off
The thunder boomed over head with a loud Crack & Rumble!
David aimed, only 4 feet away from gun-muzzle to mutant-face.

BOOM!

A headless, dead, super-mutant zombie fell to the ground like a big dumb sack of potatoes. David discharged the spent round, chambering another. He looked back at the others, then continued being as stealthy as possible. The other infected weren't aware because of the tactic David had used. He continued down the sidewalk, confident once more the others were behind him.

David waited at an intersection, then quickly bolted across the rest of the street, sliding behind a car and checking for more infected. None could be seen. He got up from his crouch, and walked down the remainder of the street. He walked down another alley, "You guys keeping up?" He whispered loudly behind him, just so the others could here him. But he remained walking.

David reached the end of the alley, making it back to the boardwalk where he found himself nigh 6 hours prior. He saw a few zombies down at the other end, but he wasn't going that way. Shoving his sawed-off into his backpack, David drew his crowbar and... a .22 Pistol? Where did that come from?, thought David as he pulled it from his backpack.

No matter, it was a rather silent revolver able to carry 12 bullets. He held it in his left hand, crowbar in right. Suddenly, Samuel walked out to a much more open area, and he saw a huge garbage truck... and something he knew all too well... Raiders. Ducking behind an old burnt out kiosk, David motioned for the others to come over.

OOC: Alright guys, wooly and I have a plan worked out, so just stay put and let us work this out. You'll all have a part in it though.

The group quietly advanced through a sopping wet alleyway, with each step small splashes of water soaked into Alex's jeans. This was the first time he'd experiences rain in his life. It was amazing to him. The cool liquid dripped down his exposed forearm, a sense of refreshment spreading through his body. He was almost in a state of bliss, had not the whole, 'Zombie apocalypse' thing ruined it for him. The bunch emptied out of the dark alley into the wrecked car cluttered street, the rain constantly pounding the roofs of the burnt out autos.

"God I hate the city." David sighed as the group advanced down the cracked sidewalk.

"Heh, you said it." Alex replied, observing the ruins of the once glorious city.

Lightning boomed in the distance, the subtle illumination revealing small rodents scurrying to shelter through the unfamiliar weather. In the distance Alex heard a distinctive booming that clashed with the pitter-patter of the falling rain and rumbling of thunder. Trash cans could be heard rolling down the street, along with the squeals of the scurrying rodents. A trashcan launched out of an alleyway, connecting with a rusted car, the sound echoed through the darkness. Alex drew his M9s.

"[censored]..." Alex swore. "What the hell's going-" Alex was cut short by a terrifying bellow that came from behind.

He whipped around just in time to see a beast of at least 8 feet falling to its knees, headless. Blood splattered onto Alex's face as he cringed, jolting his head backwards. He immediately ran his hand across his face, wiping the gore onto his hand and shaking it onto the already blood soaked asphalt.

Alex didn't make a sound.

Alex remained directly behind David, able to keep up with his fast pace with ease. The two slid across the soaked pavement behind a burnt out car, shortly followed by the others. The coast was clear. As the group moved onward once again, Alex holstered one of his M9s as he re-equipped his crowbar, his opposing hand still carrying his second handgun.

Alex's eyes shot up abruptly at the sight of movement. A group of raiders huddled beneath an old newspaper kiosk, there weapons drawn. The group hadn't been spotted. Alex hoped it would stay that way.

OOC: Bring it Mammoth, the Old Man can take him

Tribeca Depository Building, Roof

Another bottle span over the edge of the roof, crashing amongst the crowd below. The old man began to question the stability of the entire building, as was the nature of the rocking movement. An earthquake perhaps? Maybe the crowd were trying to push the building down. As the world swam around his vision he gripped the edge of his stool for support. After a short while he brushed some of the whiskey from his beard and steadied himself as best he could. He rose the rifle once more, its barrel swaying as if there were a strong wind.

Down below, unbeknownst to Jarvis, was a monstrosity far worse than the crowd below. Its bubbled skin inflating and deflating with each smoke filled breath. It peered from the shadows at the erratic figure on the roof opposite and watched, curiously, as he rained death down upon the various scenery of the street and, occasionally, one of the shadowy creature's brothers. The creature craned its neck forward and, with a lurching motion, fired a flesh red tongue towards the old man's legs.

Jarvis fired. The shot from the rifle was true and straight, finding its target amongst a cluster of garbage bags along the warehouse wall. Debris and refuse spilled out onto the street. The recoil from the rifle unbalanced the old man and he toppled from his seat onto the gravel roof with a curse. The red tongue latched itself around the stool and, with a strong jerking motion, pulled it strongly down towards the street. Now the creature, expecting a much heavier target, had planned to pull him with such sudden force as to knock the old man to his death below. The much lighter stool on the roof shot backwards towards the creature with an almost bizarre speed, the tongue going lax and trailing in its wake. The creature's eyes widened as it realised it was about to meet a very messy end at the hands of a four legged pine-wood stool.

OOC: This is the only OOC post I'll make, but I'm laughing so [censored] hard right now! That post was hilarious. God dang Muffin Man, and to think I was gonna decline your sheet. Glad I didn't!

OOC: You know what kind of stairway I'm talking about, right?

IC:

Smoker, Tribeca

The Smoker stepped back, doing his best to steady his tongue. The stool lunged towards him as his ruthless, bloodthirsty mind made no move. For a moment, it seemed the stool would fly straight at him, likely giving him a good splash of pain, but that wasn't the case.

The stool slammed into the masses of zombies in front of him, causing one to completely lose its already torn arm. The stool fell to the street, the crowd of zombies continuing to bustle with each other. Having the old man lost his footing, now sited without balance on the roof, the smoker took the opportunity to get himself into a better position. Debris still crept on the street, no doubt the men inside the warehouse would hear it. The smoker crept into the alley to the right of the building where the old man was standing. He could see one of those metal stairways along the building leading up to the roof, with the exception of the last ladder not being let to the ground yet. He shot his tongue towards it, attempting to release the ladder. His tongue immediately was caught between a series of bolts, as the ladder came tumbling down. The creature moaned in pain, his tongue literally being ripped from the inside out. One thing about the smokers was that they still had a sensitivity of pain in their tongue, unlike the rest of their body, or any of the regular zombies.

The rusted ladder hit the ground with a thud, and then something happened. Part of the metal stairway came crashing to the ground, forming a ramp. The bolts had been loose and rusted from the 200 years of decay. Each and every zombie in the area turned to face the newly formed ramp, attracted by a metallic sound. Then they charged.

Infected after infected made their way up the ramp, up three floors total. While some of them could probably get to old man Jarvis, soon, the entire ramp would fall from the rust. Zombies were intelligent, but then again, they weren't always aware of every circumstance, especially since they couldn't learn.

The smoker blended with the emerging crowd of zombies, making his way up the stairway.

OOC:

Josh. I swear. You are about to be eaten by a [censored] mass of zombies.

If you are going to posts in other RPs, but not this one, then get out. Jonas, if you could please post again for the raiders. I have some work to do.

I don't mind people not posting for lack of time, but not doing so here and doing so in another RP is immature. If you dedicate yourself, you shouldn't leave unless something in life comes up, or you lose time.

Andrew, Lower Manhattan

Andrew had continued along with the group from the SWAT building, they went through an alley and were greeted to a Super Mutant Zombie, before Andrew could do anything to it another group member easily dispatched of it by blowing the zombie's head off. They had continued on and ran into something across the street a group of Raiders, it was just what they needed at a time like this, a group of Raiders. If they were lucky, the Raiders might not be looking to kill them, maybe just the Zombies, but Andrew was still prepared if they had other ideas, he had his SCAR-H in his hand pointed at the Raiders.

OOC: Sorry for the inactivity and the short post, not much to work with at the moment.

The six raiders were looting the bodies of the innocents they had gunned down. But with a stroke of luck, David saw something that may make life easier on them: A Garbage Truck. And it was a running one seeing as how there was a .50 cal mounted on the front... and keys in the ignition. David turned to the others, leaning on the crowbar in his right hand. He looked at them, serious as could be. A plan had formulated in his head, he had a double-take at the sight of the raiders hacking up the bodies of the dead man and woman.

"[censored] cannibals." He whispered under his breath, he turned back to the other, "Alright, here's what'll go down. While they're busy," indicating the raiders, "I'm gonna sneak over to the truck and clock the guy on the 50 cal. so he's unconscious, we may need him later. Then I'll signal for you guys to come to me in the back of the garbage truck. One of you get on the .50. the rest, just stay in the truck itself, since the back is opened up and its been picked of parts, its just a big hollow bed with walls. Keep watch and if anything gets near it, be it zombie or those raiders, kill it. Everyone got that?"

But David didn't wait. He peeked around the kiosk once again, trying to discern his course of action. Suddenly, he bolted from behind, soon enough sliding right behind the garbage truck. David had his crowbar ready, he stepping lightly up into the bed of the truck, seeing the man on the machine gun, perched high up on a small makeshift stand. The man surveyed the area. Thuck!

David's crowbar clanked the raider over the head, making him fall off the stand and into the bottom of the truck. David looked back at the kiosk, and waved his hand, signaling for the others to come. What David did next was something, a hardened merc who'd fought and killed for years, would be a huge mistake.

"Hey you cannibal [censored]s!" He roared, the raiders turning their heads, their mouths dripping with bits of flesh and blood. The blood was caked on their clothes and knives. "I'll see you in hell!" With this last word, David took hold of the .50 cal. Before a raider could raise a weapon, a peppering, devastating hail of .50 caliber rounds came pummeling into their bodies and the gravel around them.

Again, this was a mistake, for not but a minute after, their were screams heard from a ways down the road. "Hurry!" David shouted to the others. The gunfire had attracted the zombies. "[censored], I'm such an idiot!" David said to himself. He hopped out of the back of the garbage truck and quickly ran and hopped into the drivers' seat. He turned the key, the engine revving and sputtering, "Come on you old [censored]!" As soon as he said that, the engine roared to life.

"Come on guys! Move move move!" David yelled one last time, checking the gas gage, the tank was full. "Well, some good news."

Jason watched david curse the raiders for being cannibals, it was a grusome sight. Then david turned toward the group

"Alright, here's what'll go down. While they're busy," indicating the raiders, "I'm gonna sneak over to the truck and clock the guy on the 50 cal. so he's unconscious, we may need him later. Then I'll signal for you guys to come to me in the back of the garbage truck. One of you get on the .50. the rest, just stay in the truck itself, since the back is opened up and its been picked of parts, its just a big hollow bed with walls. Keep watch and if anything gets near it, be it zombie or those raiders, kill it. Everyone got that?"


Jason nodded and made on in the darkness. Before Jason had time to react David sprung into action, he ran to the garbage truck and hit the gunner on the head and then using the 50. cal to kill the raiders inside the truck. David made a huge mistake the zombies heard the 50. cal and came running towards the truck.

"Come on guys! Move move move!" David yelled

Jason got right up and sprinted to the truck. He got the door that held the seat next to the drivers. There was an infected running towards the door, Jason opened the door with a stong motion and hit the zombie making it land on its ass. Jason fired a round into the beasts and and got in the truck. The gs tank was full and the engine check light was not on so it seemed to be running well, Jason looked down to see a MAC 10 and a machete next to the seat (Sorry but I think jason needs more than a M1911) that was from one of the raiders david killed. Jason picked up the MAC 10 and the machete and looked at his old knife, there was a zombie rushing to the door but Jason threw his old knife at its head killing it.

"Guess I can use this now" He chuckled

"Guys get the hell to the truck! Some one man the 50. cal" Jason yelled

OOC: I shall man the .50 Cal!

Andrew, Lower Manhattan

Andrew watched as David got on the .50 Cal and unleash hell on the Raiders, it was a stupid move but Andrew did not blame him, he hated Raiders more then anything, except his boss. After David killed the Raiders with the .50 Cal he jumped into the drivers seat and told everybody to get in, Andrew ran to the Garbage Truck and hopped on the .50 Cal, it was a devastating weapon that could easily tear through allot of zombies.

"Now this is what I call a gun!" Andrew said aloud.

OOC-I suppose this was what you were waiting for.

Tribeca

Just as Reman began to take a break, he heard very close-by weapons fire.

"Damnit, what now." He grumbled, taking a look out the peephole

There was yelling, drunken yelling, by some old man up on the roof of a warehouse next door, and zombies were after him, coming up an unstable looking set of adjustable stairs.

"Well, I guess we should give him a hand, before he get's himself killed. You two better back me up." Reman spoke tiredly

Reman calmly opened the door, Chinese Assault Rifle in hand, and walked out toward the Zombies. Pointing his rifle left, right, left, and right again continuously letting out bursts of fire, he began putting unsuspecting Zombies out of their misery, four were already dead. Hopefully, him and his new found survivors could wipe the group out. To be able to repel a Zombie horde would be a sure morale booster...

Alex peered around the corner of the rusted car frame he was using for cover, his body concealed by the shadow it casted. He watched David swing himself atop the large garbage truck, dispatching the raider that was manning the .50 cal silently. He hopped into the gunner seat of the .50 cal as he aimed it downwards.

"Hey you cannibal [censored]s!" David shouted at the top of his lungs as the blood thirsty raiders spun around, gobs of flesh hanging from their mouths. "I'll see you in hell!" He added as both of his thumbs pressed down onto the turret.

As the mounted gun revolved faster and faster, a volley of lead tore through the air, perforating the unsuspecting raiders below as if they were sheets of paper. Blood painted the musty pavement, and chunks of flesh and bone decorated the area.

[censored]...

Just as Alex was expecting, several bloodcurdling moans and shrieks emanated from the darkness before them, followed by hundreds of feet pounding the asphalt. Before David said a word, Alex bolted toward the truck, hopping onto the back of it where a trash collector would stand. He pulled one his M9s from his pocket, grasping it tightly with his right hand as he clung to the metal hand-bar with his left. Alex's body shook subtly as the engine of the beat-up rig roared to life. A smile spread across his face.

"Come on guys! Move move move!" David shouted as he fumbled with something in the drivers seat of the truck.

The others shortly followed, all hopping into the truck, their weapons glued to their hands. Alex's eyes narrowed under his blood-speckled aviators as the horde of horrors emerged from the shadows, some sprinting, some shambling, some jogging, but they all wailed like maniacs. Alex unleashed seven rounds into the crowd, several dropped to the ground with blood pouring from the foreheads, as others tripped over their lifeless corpses. Alex knew they'd all be doomed if David didn't get this truck moving, and fast. With his left hand, Alex beat on the side of the truck.

"Come on Davey-boy, let's get this trash heap moving!" He shouted as he unloaded several more rounds into the nearing mob.

"Aim for the head boys!" Alex shouted over the morbid cries of the approaching threat. He prayed they'd make it out alive.

Tribeca Warehouse

Total silence was abruptly interrupted by insane gun fights which sounded out in the distance. Zombie cries grew louder and louder and louder... There was gun fire particularly close to the warehouse where Iain was in at the moment, perhaps the warehouse next to them?

"Damnit, what now." grumbled Reman who was looking throw the peep hole on the door.
Sighing, Reman looked back at him and Atlas and spoke tiredly, "Well, I guess we should give him a hand, before he get's himself killed. You two better back me up."

Whoever "he" was, Iain was reluctant to help him, it seemed cowardly of Iain. It was cowardly of him, but he wanted to get on the good side of both Reman and Atlas and also save a person in need. Already Iain's heart was beating, it wasn't a good feeling knowing that your risking your life when going out there. The night gave the threatening feel and the groans and crys... brrr... send a chill up your spine... He was no gunfighter, never had Iain fired a gun in his life of being a Raider, one time in his life he was forced too, but refused and got the beating of his life. Hence the bashed up nose.

Reman walked towards the warehouse door and opened it, he walked out carefully with his Chinese Assualt rifle on his hands and disappeared into the darkness. Iain was a master of the Machete, and probably most melee weapons seeing as most could perform the same skills, but how the hell could he take down a horde of zombies?! He wouldn't.

Walking out with his machete in his right hand he advanced towards the neighbouring warehouse and gulped down his fear. Reman was already firing at some zombies, Iain was guessing Atlas was right behind him. Both of his teammates had guns, Iain didn't, so teamwork would need to be sufficient. Crouching, Iain sneaked down the darkest part of the area and examined his possibilities from a distance.

The zombies were running like mad men towards a ramp which was created by the demolished stairs and a drunken old man was at the top of the warehouse (zombies were running to him). Iain still had 3 Molotov Cocktails in his bag which he could throw at the horde, but he could need them in much graver situations than this...

Thoughts ran wild in his mind:

Maybe I should just leave him...
That's horrible, I should help him!
I do have two other teammates, we could work together and kill the zombies...

Alright. Molovtov Cocktail was last resort, Iain would wait for his team to make the first move, then he would follow their lead.

As Reman introduced himself to the newcomer, gunshots rang out in the distance. Reman looked out through the peephole and saw and old man firing into a gathering horde of zombies. Reman opened the door and beckoned for Atlas and the newcomer to aid him.

Atlas still taking a load off was quite annoyed at the repeated interruptions, and having no time to rest or have something to eat. Rising slowly from the crate he was resting on Atlas drew his Desert Eagle and made his way out the door.

In the distance he could just make out the sight of what appeared to be the man Reman saw seconds prior. "Looks like it's game time", Atlas said as he stood next to Reman.

OOC: Sorry for the delay

Tribeca Depository Building, Roof

The old man placed his hands behind him on the gravel floor of the roof and, with a groan, eased himself onto his feet and propped himself up on his rifle. Jarvis shook his head, reviewing his current situation and trying to discern what exactly had just happened. He walked to the edge of the roof and looked down upon the crowd. The group of ghouls had thinned out and several splintered pieces of wood lay on the other side of the road at the entrance to a dark alley. Thankfully, whatever poultergheist had decided to displace his stool in such a manner had elected to preserve his drink, it lay tentatively on the edge of the roof. The old man thanked fate for providing him with his good fortune and stumbled over towards the edge. As he drew up to the shallow wall that the drink stood on, he caught a glance at a sight below that made his heart skip a beat. Jarvis cursed fate for this subsequent misfortune.

A shuffling, blank-eyed procession of ghouls had somehow began climbing the fire escape, slowly ascending with each foreboding step towards their wrinkled meal.

Jarvis blinked, wide eyed at the sight and filled with fear. He blankly downed another bottle and dropped it absent mindedly; it bounced off the edge of the roof and shattered on the pavement below. The old man observed that his situation was not one with which escape was likely. Solemnly and reverently he prepared himself for the end. Loading his rifle, Jarvis Whittaker took position on the edge of the roof, farthest from the fire escape. Bringing the rifle up to his eye, the old man waited for the first grizzled head to appear.

The sound of gunfire rang out from the rooftop as the tired, drunk and elderly man fought desperately for his life...

Tribeca

Reman reloaded his Chinese Assault Rifle, after putting two more Zombies out of their misery. He released the bolt, with a loud clunk, metal upon metal sound, he chambered a round.

He stepped forward, walking over the corpses, the crowd of Zombies was now significantly diminished by the combined arms of Reman and Atlas. And Iain? Well Reman did not know for sure where he was at the moment, he couldn't have gone far though. Being unarmed except for a Machete he really didn't blame him for staying back from the horde.

He run up the steps, firing at them as he went, all the Zombies at ground level were dead, the remaining ones were all on the stairs, heading up towards the old man at the top. Would they make it in time?...

OOC:

Have Aaron not make to the truck, but escape from the zombies. I'm going to sit out until the start of June. Good luck.

OOC: Ok I think jonas has the honor of making that post for he is in the drivers seat.

((OOC: Sit out? Lol.))

OOC-Tell you the truth man, this topic may not even exist by June. I had real high hopes for this one, but it seems to be dying off like all to many of them. And we're relatively early on too. I sure hope it starts moving again, I was really enjoying this RP, I check in on a daily basis.

OOC: I PMed Jonas about the situation, he said that he will get it going as soon as he can

"Hold on to your asses!" David shouted, slamming his armored boot on the gas pedal, the hulking machine lurched forward slowly but soon enough it built speed. The things' momentum was awesome, David was plowing his way through the empty shells of cars as well as oncoming zombies. Every once in a while, he'd have to stick his sawed-off out the window to blow the heads off of "clingers". Spotting the place where the parking lot let out onto the open road, David made a sharp turn, the truck skidding and smashing into zombies.

"God Damnit to hell! Someone plow these bastards!" David shouted as a horde of the undead came spilling out of alleyways. The group in the truck were now flying down the main road, smashing through cars and zombies alike. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, David spotted something... a radio! He clicked on the comm and picked it up, pressing the button on the small speaker device.

"Mayday, copy, whatever the [censored] it is! I have a group of people armed to the teeth and we gotta get to safety, there's a [censored]load of these things after us! Does anybody read me!" David yelled into the mic, he fired off a few more shells, hitting a couple oncoming zombies, then a crackling came over the radio, then the voice of a haggard sounding woman.

"The Empire State Building, the top 5 floors are a safe haven, we got guns too buddy. Get the hell to the building and haul your sorry asses up pronto!" The voice commanded. David made no reply, only looking out the window to see the towering building looming in the distance, "Alright guys, we have a destination, hold onto your hats!" David floored it.

It was only a matter of time now, they had to get to the Empire State Building... the truck only had a tiny bit of fuel left. Another minute, and they'd be hoofing it with a load of bloodthirsty cannibals after them.

"Whoever's on the gun, mow em down behind us!"

(OOC: Still waiting for someone to rescue me; leaving it open for some lovely person to meet me. Damn you have a truck and I have a rooftop )

OOC: Apologies for the delay.

Tribeca Warehouse

Slowly but steadily, Reman and Atlas began to cut down the zombies with their rifles. Whilst hiding in the darkest part of the area he noticed small clouds of smoke rising in the horde of zombies that were racing up the fire exit stairs. The old man was out of sight, probably staying as far back from the fire exit as much as possible. Some of the zombies in the horde turned around and started to run to Reman and Atlas, some attracted to them, than a rusty old drunken man.

There were around about fifteen zombies going after the old man and ten after Reman and Atlas. Iain knew that both of his teammates could handle themselves so he decided that he would go after the old man by himself. Fear and drained out from Iain and adrenaline rushed in, he knew the risks but hardly cared. If he had his senses together he would realise it was insane to go after fifteen zombies, armed with only a machete! Oblivious, he ran towards a pipe which travelled up to the top of the warehouse. The pipe was made of iron, which had already undertaken heavy rusting, but luckily it was fairly solid so Iain began his ascent up to the roof.
When Iain was almost at the top he nearly puked, the height he was at... never had he been so high up before! At the bottom there was a bin with piles of cardboard and polystyrene inside. Breathing out, he continued to climb up and after a few seconds he had reached the top. Exhausted, he pulled himself up and kneeled on top of the roof. Iain had beaten the zombies to the top, but only just. And when they reached the top the first person they noticed was Iain. Blood drooled out from their mouths, their eyes were deep red jewels and their heavy breaths were more like snarls.

Adrenaline had now flooded out from Iain and the fear rushed in. He started to panic,
"Oh crap arghh!!! Help me!!!!!"
Screaming he ran towards where the old man was, "You gotta help me!!! There's hundreds of them! Well... There's only fifteen, but still!!!"
Even though Iain was asking for help like a wussy, he equipped his Molotov and set the cloth, where the cork was meant, alight with a match. The zombies where now running towards Iain and the old man, knowing that throwing the Molotov on the roof would leave Iain trappped to burn alive, he ran down the roof again towards the zombies. Once again they had their attention on Iain and began to chase him. It looked as if Iain was running right towards them, face on, but as soon as he reached them he turned right and jumped off the edge of the roof.

Iain had been planning this as he was running; as he was climbing up the pipe before, he noticed the bin with piles of cardboard and also some polystyrene inside. Hopefully they would lighten his fall, he hardly cared if it didn't because he didn't fancy getting mauled by zombies or become one.
Once again adrenaline rushed in and time felt slow to him, even though it wasn't, if that made sense.

Dying isn't so ba-
*Thud*

Iain had landed inside the bin, winded but otherwise unharmed. Groaning, he pushed himself up and vaulted out from the bin with his left arm. Immediately he fell off the bin in pain, realising his left arm had been broken when falling off the building. Quickly Iain got to his feet and looked up to notice that around about ten zombies were so desperate to eat him that they jumped off as well.
All ten of the zombies produced a loud crack when they fell flat face onto the ground. Forgetting his pain, Iain howled in laughter, he ran away from the now crippled zombies and when he was at a safe ditance he threw his Molotov towards them with his right arm.

The flames devoured the zombies after ten seconds, making them groan loudly, not in pain but in anger that they could not get a taste of Iain's flesh.

Iain then set off to his teammates holding his left arm in pain but suddenly remembered that not all of the zombies jumped off the buildling...

Tribeca Depository Building, Roof

Th old man was staring down a small crowd of zombies spilling out onto the roof from the fire escape. Jarvis had tried his best, but one geriatric with poor eyesight and a rifle could only do so much against the crowd of spineless communists. As he reloaded what would have possibly been his last clip and spat down on the gravel roof he heard a faint sound. Within moments a bedraggled young man had appeared at the side, the old man stared back and forth between the crowd and the man, firing blindly into the crowd. What in the hell is he... The man ran towards Jarvis and shouted something about "hundreds of ghouls" and "help" - the old man couldn't be sure. As quick as he had appeared, the man was soon gone. Amidst the chaos, Jarvis caught a glimpse of something orange and glowing in the man's hand as he was followed by a large group of the assailants. The man, the glow and the ghouls disappeared over the edge.

Facing the fire escape once more, the old man was greeted with the sight of 5 or 6 of the stinking, fleshless ... things. Bringing the rifle to bear one last time, he gripped the handle tightly and squeezed the trigger. Pausing halfway through this motion, Jarvis heard a creaking, twanging sound. The pops and snaps of bolts shearing and metal twisting rang out over the rooftop. Within an instant, the remainder of the crowd and the top part of the fire escape had gone. They had left his sight in a cloud of rust and concrete as the supports ripped the edge of the wall out from under them. The old man stood for a moment and took in several, long, breaths.

He stumbled over to the roof near the wreckage, removing his hat and holding it to his chest tightly. Leaning over the edge of the building he saw a twisted pile of metal, bodies and twitching extremities. Righting himself, Jarvis back over to where the man had vanished and where a thick, smelling black smoke billowed past the rooftop. Looking out he saw the man, stood in the middle of the road, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

"Much obliged sir! I'll meet you out front" he said, waving his hat down towards the street and pointing behind him towards the front of the building.

The old man walked through the roof door and back down the stairwell to the main room. After a short while, Jarvis had managed to remove the wooden plank wedged against the door. With a grunt and a shove, he slid the old rusty door open. Light from the street spilled into the dusty storage room.

(OOC - cheers man, good of you to break your arm for me :wink_smile: )