[Go to the diner]
Carlos decided that it was best to head to the diner after a second of thinking, then quickly kicked into gear and drov… moree into the night. Hopefully a good bite to eat would help calm him...
Carlos relaxed, the tension in his mind at ease suddenly, as he laid back in his seat and breathed. He pulled up to a red light and stopped, and relaxed again. However, he was sure he saw someone watching him from the side of the road, a large grin on their face. All that he could think of was Richard Freemore, watching him from the side of the road.
He knows I know he knows I know
Carlos thought quickly, his heartbeat rapidly going up at a steady rate, and he was relieved as the light changed green. Carlos pulled into the diner, a place with checkerboard floors and the name of Porkton's. He stepped in and ordered a plate of barbecue, then sat the tinfoil plate down, grabbing a plastic fork from his table. He looked around the … [view original content]
[Go to the diner]
Carlos decided that it was best to head to the diner after a second of thinking, then quickly kicked into gear and drov… moree into the night. Hopefully a good bite to eat would help calm him...
Carlos relaxed, the tension in his mind at ease suddenly, as he laid back in his seat and breathed. He pulled up to a red light and stopped, and relaxed again. However, he was sure he saw someone watching him from the side of the road, a large grin on their face. All that he could think of was Richard Freemore, watching him from the side of the road.
He knows I know he knows I know
Carlos thought quickly, his heartbeat rapidly going up at a steady rate, and he was relieved as the light changed green. Carlos pulled into the diner, a place with checkerboard floors and the name of Porkton's. He stepped in and ordered a plate of barbecue, then sat the tinfoil plate down, grabbing a plastic fork from his table. He looked around the … [view original content]
[Go to the diner]
Carlos decided that it was best to head to the diner after a second of thinking, then quickly kicked into gear and drov… moree into the night. Hopefully a good bite to eat would help calm him...
Carlos relaxed, the tension in his mind at ease suddenly, as he laid back in his seat and breathed. He pulled up to a red light and stopped, and relaxed again. However, he was sure he saw someone watching him from the side of the road, a large grin on their face. All that he could think of was Richard Freemore, watching him from the side of the road.
He knows I know he knows I know
Carlos thought quickly, his heartbeat rapidly going up at a steady rate, and he was relieved as the light changed green. Carlos pulled into the diner, a place with checkerboard floors and the name of Porkton's. He stepped in and ordered a plate of barbecue, then sat the tinfoil plate down, grabbing a plastic fork from his table. He looked around the … [view original content]
[Go to the diner]
Carlos decided that it was best to head to the diner after a second of thinking, then quickly kicked into gear and drov… moree into the night. Hopefully a good bite to eat would help calm him...
Carlos relaxed, the tension in his mind at ease suddenly, as he laid back in his seat and breathed. He pulled up to a red light and stopped, and relaxed again. However, he was sure he saw someone watching him from the side of the road, a large grin on their face. All that he could think of was Richard Freemore, watching him from the side of the road.
He knows I know he knows I know
Carlos thought quickly, his heartbeat rapidly going up at a steady rate, and he was relieved as the light changed green. Carlos pulled into the diner, a place with checkerboard floors and the name of Porkton's. He stepped in and ordered a plate of barbecue, then sat the tinfoil plate down, grabbing a plastic fork from his table. He looked around the … [view original content]
[Go to the diner]
Carlos decided that it was best to head to the diner after a second of thinking, then quickly kicked into gear and drov… moree into the night. Hopefully a good bite to eat would help calm him...
Carlos relaxed, the tension in his mind at ease suddenly, as he laid back in his seat and breathed. He pulled up to a red light and stopped, and relaxed again. However, he was sure he saw someone watching him from the side of the road, a large grin on their face. All that he could think of was Richard Freemore, watching him from the side of the road.
He knows I know he knows I know
Carlos thought quickly, his heartbeat rapidly going up at a steady rate, and he was relieved as the light changed green. Carlos pulled into the diner, a place with checkerboard floors and the name of Porkton's. He stepped in and ordered a plate of barbecue, then sat the tinfoil plate down, grabbing a plastic fork from his table. He looked around the … [view original content]
[Go to the diner]
Carlos decided that it was best to head to the diner after a second of thinking, then quickly kicked into gear and drov… moree into the night. Hopefully a good bite to eat would help calm him...
Carlos relaxed, the tension in his mind at ease suddenly, as he laid back in his seat and breathed. He pulled up to a red light and stopped, and relaxed again. However, he was sure he saw someone watching him from the side of the road, a large grin on their face. All that he could think of was Richard Freemore, watching him from the side of the road.
He knows I know he knows I know
Carlos thought quickly, his heartbeat rapidly going up at a steady rate, and he was relieved as the light changed green. Carlos pulled into the diner, a place with checkerboard floors and the name of Porkton's. He stepped in and ordered a plate of barbecue, then sat the tinfoil plate down, grabbing a plastic fork from his table. He looked around the … [view original content]
Biography: She is the daughter of a rich (and corrupt) politic. Her mother died in a car accident 2 years ago. She bullies people in school and thinks she is better than all the others. She buys everything she wants when she wants to. She lives in a penthouse in New York.
Appearance: blonde long heddle hair , blue eyes , caucasian , 5.7 feet tall
Biography: Third generation Immigrants. Raised by a tight knit loving family. Graduated top of her class from the dedication of parents had in nurturing and providing and assisting her. Mother was a nurse and father was an engineer. She served as a medic in the army and then after her tour was employed as a surgeon at a hospital in Washington who works in ER. She enjoys the fast pace environment and challenge. She is single.
Appearance: Korean-American, short black hair, glasses, chocolate brown eyes, 5’6” tall, lean and physically fit.
Other Special Things: Likes to play badminton and tennis. Hobby is Kendo to take off stress from work.
Biography: She lived all almost all life in a orphan. She works as a hooker because her "boyfriend" , Dan , (pimp) turned her into one. She also as a stalker which is member of a gang.
Appearance: Black long heddle hair , brown eyes , light-brown skin , 5,7 feet tall. Very thin.
Biography: He lived a normal childhood. He started a band with his friends called "Rolla and Rock" when he was 17 and they were famous. But he still thinks that he is famous and everyone knows him. His father died of cancer and her mother was killed by a serial killer. He is sterile.
Appearance: white short heddle hair ,blue eyes , caucasian , 5,4 feet tall
Other Special Things: He hates hipsters and dumb people
If you enjoy my writing style (which, to be fair, is completely different in most of my stories) then I suggest checking this out. Keep in mind I won't be writing for it for a while, this is just for preparation.
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who had not shot looked over to the one hovering over the Asian girl's head, then began to scream. "She's not fucking infected! Don't fucking shoot!" He cried out, and the other continued holding the gun up. "She was near that guy. She's infected." He said, as his finger began to pressure on the trigger. "She's not showing symptoms! Don't you fucking shoot!"
The man finally squeezed the trigger, just as the other tackled him and the gun fired off. Nozomi screamed as a bullet whizzed past her head and crashed into the wall. The soldiers struggled behind her, as the protector pushed over the other and whipped his own gun out. The AR-15 popped off six rounds before the soldier lay on the floor, bloody and dead. Nozomi's own ears were ringing as she lay on the floor, her eyes tear-stained. She looked up and viewed the soldier's name tag, which read "David Archer." She watched as the man did some fumbling around with the other's body, before backing up and leaning against the wall. He placed a palm to his face, and Nozomi could just make out that behind the gas mask his face was twisted into a frown, and his eyes were looking towards her. David held out a hand and said something unintelligible, and Nozomi curled into a ball.
DAY FOUR OF THE OUTBREAK
"Sir."
"Sir, are you listening to me?"
"Sir!"
George Lottman suddenly awoke from his trance, as he stared at the man directly in front of him, holding an assault rifle in his hands. A gas mask covered the soldier's face, and George blinked a few times, nodding his head up and down. "Yes?" He croaked from his throat, as the soldier pushed him back. "You're coming with us, you hear?" The soldier said, and George stayed silent. "Do you hear?!" The soldier repeated, this time sounding out every syllable in the sentence. It made George slightly annoyed, with this jackass thinking he was smarter than George. Who the hell did this soldier think he was? George himself had met with people like this before, and of course, none of them were smarter than he. George scowled and nodded, and the soldier raised a hand, lightly patting George's face before sending him reeling back from the last hit. "Start moving, civilian." He replied, and pushed George forward. George cringed as his back felt the gun being compressed against it, and an audible crack was heard. He grunted in pain, then, stumbling forward, he began to walk.
Surrounding him were hundreds of soldiers and barricades, lining the streets of New York City. The best city in the world (as some would say) was currently under full lockdown and quarantine, as a strain of influenza had been passing through. At least, that was what he had heard from the soldiers. Just a small little bit of the flu, and it had touched down on sweet old America. George himself couldn't figure out why this many soldiers were here if it was just a simple case of a common cold, but he could figure it out if this wasn't any old disease that had stricken a person here in this city. He had noticed a lot of people coughing lately, but it was flu season after all. These winters months sure contributed greatly to such matters. The soldiers however, were scaring him quite a bit. About two days ago, they had come storming in to the town. He had heard before that they had entered into a little town called Arnette, Texas, and had been placing it under lockdown as well. When George had seen these reports, he had been curious, but never expected they would come here to New York, much less choose him as a guinea pig. But alas, here he was, walking along with a neanderthal of a soldier, and being forced into a jeep just up ahead. The soldiers had come into his home just mere minutes earlier, and taken him from his apartment.
Three soldiers were standing by the jeep as well, and one waved to whom George at first thought was himself, but then realized it was the shitface behind him. The aggressive soldier stepped past George and walked up to the jeep, quickly hopping into the back, crossing his arms and pouting. The soldier who had waved stepped up to George and took him by the arm and pushed him into the backseat. The other two soldiers then walked into the driver's seat and the passenger's, and the driver started the car up and began to take off from the military outpost. George looked at the men around him, and decided that if they didn't have any names, he was going to give them ones. He decided the driver's name was going to be Baker, and the passenger's name was going to be Private Ryan. George smiled at his own sophomoric wit, and sighed and leaned back. The soldier who had thrown him into the car looked over at him and pushed him on his shoulder. "What are you laughing at?" He asked, what seemed like a genuine question rather than an insult like normal. George raised an eyebrow, and grinned fiercely. "Your friend's dumbass face." He moved his thumb backwards and pointed at Shitface, who immediately responded with aggression. "Fuck this guy!" He said, and the other soldier shook his head. "I didn't think it was that funny." He said, and George began to take to calling him Deadpan. Baker and Private Ryan did not snicker or laugh either, and George crossed his arms and leaned up against the seat. Filthy soldiers, don't know any good jokes.
As George began to slowly drift off to sleep approximately four hours later of navigating militarized New York, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. An abnormality, if you will. A normal person, not a soldier, wearing a striped hoodie and with a large...something, draped across their back, a weapon, as it appeared. He was standing on top of a small building, and George himself was surprised that he could see him. How could the others not? The soldiers simply stated put, not looking at him at all. The four of them seemed distracted by their own personal things, one of the advantages George had over them. No ties to him, meant less distractions. And of course, that meant more willing to pay attention. The building the man was on wasn't particularly big, quite small actually. He looked like he was about to attack, or maybe even issue a command. George looked at him, and then watched as he took the weapon from his back.
An RPG-7.
It became increasingly obvious the man hadn't been there for long. He would be long found out by now, considering he was standing right in front of an outpost just up ahead. Tents and jeeps and gas tanks littered the streets, along with military running around and about. George watched in terror as the man appeared to look inside the jeep and make eye contact with him for a brief second, then pointed the weapon at the outpost, directly in front of them. He wanted George alive, for some reason, but why? He was going to stop the jeep, as it appeared, but what did he want, good or bad? George looked at the man loading the RPG, then at the soldiers in the jeep with him. Did he really want them to die either?
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot… more, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who… [view original content]
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot… more, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who… [view original content]
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot… more, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who… [view original content]
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot… more, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who… [view original content]
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot… more, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who… [view original content]
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot… more, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who… [view original content]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit the brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he looked over to where the man with the RPG had once stood. Now, his body lay hanging over the building, riddled with bulletholes. George vomited, falling over on his hands and knees. The other soldier picked him up again, screaming something unintelligible as a stream of blood burst from his chest. He fell to the ground, dead.
George felt another large hand grab his back, and heard more inaudible screaming. He turned his head, eyeing a few soldiers running out into the smoke, lights from the gunfire shining through the thick sheet. The driver was lying dead on the hood of the jeep, his legs Spread Eagle and twisted. Private Ryan was on the ground, his brains sifting across the pavement. Finally, two men in red shirts and holding AK-47s emerged from the smoke, firing wildly into the air. George turned back to where the soldier, who he had deduced as Shitface, was carrying him to. An apartment building came into view, and the doors slammed open as George was pulled through. The soldier dropped George to the ground, then fell to the floor, blood seeping out from his stomach. George then deduced that Shitface had also jointed the ranks of the dead. George laid there for a moment, catching his breath and watching the blood sink into the floorboards. The butterflies in his stomach began to flutter a little more, as he realized what his current issue was.
They're coming for you. You know that, right?
George turned over on his stomach, got on his hands and began to crawl over to the dead soldier. He turned him over, clumsily pulling the mask off, then grabbing the assault rifle and standing up. He found it harder than he had originally thought, staggering and nearly falling over once. The gun's weight also added to this, along with the pain in his face and the utter terrified feeling inside. George looked down at the hand holding the trigger of the gun, realized it was shaking. He turned around, then stumbled over and ran up the stairs. He slowly went up at first; at first, that is. Then he heard the door downstairs opening, and his adrenaline kicked in as he began to run. He didn't want to take the elevator, as he had no idea how long said elevator would have taken. No, he'd rather take his chances with his good old, jelly legs rather than the metal coffin.
He was going across entire floors. Two, three, four, five, they all flew by and by. He reached he sixth floor and clambered in, rushing down the hallways and into 607. Inside of Room 607, a disgusting, black couch sat. A white and chunky liquid caked it, the milky substance covering the armrests. Apparently someone had been puking their breakfast out on this very couch. George looked ahead, off into the kitchen, eyeing the dead man hanging from a drawstring noose. George stepped back, and instead walked for the bathroom. He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, and waited.
The sound of the front door opening.
Silence.
The sound of a body being dragged.
Silence.
Mumbled ramblings.
Silence.
DAY ONE OF THE OUTBREAK
Sydney Hill was, to put it quite nicely, fucked.
Simply, fucked.
That was the only word to describe it, even though she considered it crude. Fucked. Fucked in all the wrong places.
Frankly, Sydney wasn't doing too well in the first place. It wasn't like New York City was a cheap place to live. Added on to that, was the fact that Sydney had no job. She decided early on in her "career" that she would no longer be a "working class individual with a boring life." No, she had instead decided to become a writer. Decidingly, she had just run out of gas here in Fucktown, USA, surrounded by who knows what kind of criminals. Sydney sat in the front seat of the car, pouting and whining. Why did it have to happen to her? Her parents were dead, her boyfriend was dead, and now she was about to find herself with a chunk displaced from her head. The curse of the Hill family, and all who fuck them. Dead, dead, dead. And here she was playing Family Final Destination, realizing that she was next on the list to bite the bullet. And honestly, Sydney would have accepted her fate any other day.
But today, she did not want to die.
The first glimpse of hope in her life for a while occurred today, as in she was going to be getting a job. A job! An actual job that wasn't simply scribbling in a notepad while she waited for her computer that would never come. She stepped out of the car, and began to walk.
The gray blouse she currently wore fit a bit too tight on herself, as she realized. It wasn't like she was particularly ugly, and if she could get any other ways to get a job, well...she didn't like it, not one bit, but you give what your momma gave you, as the saying goes. Was that the saying? She thought it was. Maybe.
Sydney's thoughts exploded and cleared away suddenly, and she flipped around to face the hum of an engine before her. A red pickup truck pulled up next to her, hitting the brakes and coming to a smooth stop. Sydney braced, stepped back as she prepared for the gun to stick out of the window and KABLAMMO! Dead. The window rolled down, and her fears seemed to be all but confirmed. She felt a tear began to dab her eyes, and closed them in order to stop the dribble. But the tears would not stop. Here she was, about to be gunned down by some bored fucking punk, and she would never be remembered. Just dead. Maybe she wouldn't even get a grave. Actually, she probably wouldn't.
As the last remaining Hill prepared for her demise, the tinted window finally rolled down and revealed the man in the driver's seat. He was a relatively high-strung looking one, with an odd attractive aura around him. He had long, stringy brown hair and wore a denim jacket. On the jacket were a multitude of buttons, and the man smiled. "What are you doing out here, lil' lady?" The smile was kind, safe. Sydney felt a sudden warmth surround her. She waved a hand, and blurted out "I'm Sydney Hill. My car ran out of gas, and I need to get to my job. So I started walking."
"Oh yeah?" The man grinned. "What's your job?"
"I work at a, uh," Sydney paused. "A processing plant."
"Which one?" The man cooed the line out, as if he were talking to a small child.
"Randall Brawn Chicken." Sydney cringed. A factory job was not something that she had ever wanted, at least not when she was nineteen. But as the saying goes, beggars can't be choosers.
"Well, Sydney, the name's Randy Fletcher. I just so happen to be heading over that way myself, and I'd be willing to give ya' a ride."
Sydney paused. It did seem like a reasonable offer. She really wasn't wanting to lose out on her job. She needed the money. The girl didn't want to live out on the streets, and her rent was almost due...
"We'll shake on it." Randy said, holding out a hand.
[Warn them to pull the jeep over]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit th… moree brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he lo… [view original content]
[Warn them to pull the jeep over]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit th… moree brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he lo… [view original content]
[Warn them to pull the jeep over]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit th… moree brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he lo… [view original content]
[Warn them to pull the jeep over]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit th… moree brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he lo… [view original content]
[Warn them to pull the jeep over]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit th… moree brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he lo… [view original content]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the passenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs and philosophy on the world. Randy simply grinned again, and did the all knowing nod. "I believe in fate, Ms. Hill. It was fate that we met each other. It was fate that you're getting a job at this processing plant."
Sydney nodded as well, somehow in understanding of this man. She didn't know what it was about him, but she liked him. He seemed like such a nice, nice guy. "Hey. Why don't you look in the glovebox?" Randy suddenly popped into and broke her thoughts, as Sydney took a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened. "Huh?" She asked, her brain's cogs still trying to turn. "Look in the glovebox. It's a long ride, might as well check the stuff out."
Sydney finally computed what Randy had said, and then looked down at the glovebox and opened it. Immediately, a book came tumbling out, along with a yellow notepad and a pen. She immediately picked up the book, looking over it. Fahrenheit 451. The front cover read, and immediately she recognized it. Of course she recognized it. It was her favorite book. She flipped through the pages, every single one still in perfectly mint condition. "Wow. Thanks." Sydney told Randy gratefully, a bit of a stutter coming from her voice. "This is my favorite book." Sydney grinned, and Randy performed the all-seeing nod again.
"Mine too, Ms. Hill."
"Mine too."
TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK
As Captain Trips was only a thought in some scientist's mind, Allan Lettvin was running really damn fast. He dodged trees and hopped over roots in an effort to not cut his little runaway game short, but the ever prevailing police only continued to sound ever the more closer behind him. Keep on keepin' on, Allan. You got it. You got it good. He reminded himself with positive thoughts, but these disappeared as the sound of a man yelling at him screamed through his head again. Gotta keep on keepin' on.
Allan hopped over a rock, stumbling over and smashing into the cold mud below. Quickly he brushed off the blue jumpsuit strapped around his body and bolted off again. The police were closer now...maybe they were Feds. Would they really bring the Feds in for this? Allan had assumed a K-9 unit would have been here by now, but currently he only heard jumbled yells and excited screams. It felt like an insane Frat party to him, one full of much more jail time penalties. For sure, if he was caught, he wasn't getting out for good behavior. In fact, he may get a few more years added to his sentence. Then again...
He had a full blown life-sentence. Organized, serial, and all-out murder. Manslaughter was the term they used. Allan still remembered the night he had cranked up his Camaro and had proceeded to run Travis Daniels the fuck over, a middle finger held up in the sky. Of course, some asshole had been taping his kid opening up some Christmas presents, and had gotten the drunken teenager getting a few chunks of brain all in his car's grill, on camera. Fucker. Allan had declared that he had purposely killed Travis and had enjoyed it, and proceeded to go to jail. Him and his big mouth. Allan's big mouth wasn't of concern right now, however. He was more focused on how fast his feet could run. And run they did, and Allan began to run...and scream...
A sudden ridge appeared in front of him, and he was slammed off, sliding through mud and leaves and disgusting dew. His back slammed into a tree, and Allan clamped his teeth together in order not to scream. He ended up nearly biting his own tongue off, and after a few minutes of excruciating pain, began to cover himself in the leaves and mud, never to be seen by the law enforcement again.
DAY OF THE OUTBREAK
Lucy Lettvin was reclined in a chair, quietly pondering the ringing cell phone next to her. It was her brother, of course. Allan Lettvin, the problem child as he was considered. He had killed a guy, and this doesn't exactly get you brownie points with the folks. Lucy herself couldn't figure out if she hated Allan's guts or not. He had always been an asshole. He hated Travis because Travis had once dumped milk all over him. It was on purpose of course, and in front of the entire high school cafeteria. It was but a petty high-school tragedy however, not something to seriously worry about. But Allan took too many drinks and then...
She wanted to say fuck him. He could call someone else, because Lucy wasn't having any of that shit. He had gotten a cell phone and a less than legal job after escaping from prison. Their parents knew he was free, of course, but Lucy knew where he was. She knew his number. She didn't dare out Caller ID on, lest her parents decided to investigate her phone for an hour or two. Lucy looked at the phone, at her feet, then back at the cell phone again.
[Get in the truck]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the pa… moressenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs a… [view original content]
[Get in the truck]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the pa… moressenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs a… [view original content]
[Get in the truck]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the pa… moressenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs a… [view original content]
[Get in the truck]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the pa… moressenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs a… [view original content]
[Get in the truck]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the pa… moressenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs a… [view original content]
Lucy knew she shouldn’t do it, but...she had to, didn’t she? Of course she did. That was the way the cookie crumbled, and did Lucy ever so love crumbling cookies. She picked the phone up, and quickly answered it. "What do you want?" The girl asked fiercely and angrily, wondering why her brother was calling. He knew the stakes, so why wouldn't he follow them? His voice came through the phone and into her ear, and Lucy nodded to nobody in particular.
"Lucy, I think something's wrong." Allan's voice came sharply through the phone. He sounded desperate, scared even. That's what he was though, at least to Lucy. A little bitch boy who escaped prison after murdering somebody because he couldn't handle his food being so mushy.
"What does that even mean?" Lucy harshly rasped through the phone, waiting for the receiver to respond. "I've been having dreams." Allan quietly stated once more, and Lucy squinted. She was being harsh to him, sure. But he deserved it, didn't he? "What?" Lucy asked, pondering why she even tried. "They were dreams...about this guy dressed all in black. He had a hood on. I remember being terrified of him. The dreams were so vivid, and the guy never talked, but I was scared of him. I don't even know why I was. But I was scared. Wait...I remember some things. He kept making this motion with his fist, as if he were knocking on a door...I don't know what that means, but..."
Lucy began to question his bullshit again, but was stopped as the other end of the line went dead. "Hello?" She asked the static, but her brother couldn't hear her. Nobody could.
Except for one man.
Lucy looked up as two sounds came from the door.
Knock knock.
DAY OF THE OUTBREAK
Oliver Bennett sat on a bench with his brother, both of them with black skin and green backpacks on. Both, the same noses, the same white teeth, the same shoes, looked quite alike, something Oliver had resented very much about his younger brother. Oliver Bennett despised Jake Bennett, he despised the stupid grin he had on now, and he despised the whiny way he always got his way. What a little prick. Oliver crossed his legs and then his arms, looking away from Jake.
"We're going to Disney."
Oliver looked over at Jake, who had just enthusiastically yelped. "Yeah. We are." Jake replied, swallowing. What was his game this time?
"I can't believe we're actually going to Disney World!"
"Yep, Florida."
"No parents!"
"None."
"Just us, and your friends!"
Oliver tilted his head and looked down at Jake. "Yeah, MY friends."
Oliver had just so happened to win a trip all the way to Disney World, simply because of his inclusion in band. It had made him so happy. And he could bring along one friend? Hell yeah! But then his mother had busted in and forced him to take Jake with him.
Little prick.
Oliver looked ahead as he saw a bus pull around the corner, and stop in front of the bench, the automatic doors opening.
DAY TEN OF THE OUTBREAK
"Are you having fun yet?"
Richard Freemore stared down at the man before him, sitting on his knees, duct tape draped around his mouth. His hands and feet had been bound and tied by ropes and he sat with his wrists behind his back. The man was crying. The water was drenching his suit and tie, which had previously been very nice and neat. The man screamed from behind his duct tape, only a muffled cry coming out. Richard held a finger up to his mouth then wiped the tears from the man's eyes. "No, no no no. Shh, it's okay, shh shh shh shhhhh..."
He looked the man in the eyes, then smiled. The man looked away, a chill going up the back of his spine. Richard's grin quickly turned into a grimace, as his eyes filled to the brim with anger. "Look at me. When I'm talking to you!" He yelled, but the man closed his eyes. Richard grabbed his tie and pushed him over in a furious rage. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" He screamed, and the man opened his eyes to stare up at Richard Freemore. Richard smiled once again, then sat down on a little folding chair across from the man. "Okay. Now. Me. And you. Can start talking. Talking. It's good, right? Just us. Talking. A little conversation." Richard smiled and laughed, throwing his head back and slapping his knee. He wheezed, and finally caught his breath.
"Oh, oh, oh my God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Ha. Haaaaaaaaaa."
The man let another muffled cry come out, and Richard shook his head after his laughing fit. "Oh no. They can't hear you. This basement is ten feet under the ground, and between the building and us is solid concrete, okay? You should have known that when you drunkenly stepped down here five days ago, right? No?" Richard watched as the man fell to the floor and touched his forehead to the floor. "I'm not right?"
They stood in silence, the man in the suit still crying. "Oh! I know!" Richard said one more time, as he suddenly touched a visible lump at his hip. "Uh, you want to know what's going on, right? Am I wrong?"
The man struggled and squirmed around once more, and Richard smiled. "I don't hear a noooooo!"
"Well buddy, New York is under martial law. Some wackos stole some military weapons and started shooting back. Now, I wonder who gave them those, right?" He deviously grinned, and pointed to himself. "Ooh, and Texas has been surrounded by military forces. Crazy huh? Talk about some disease, right? Some people are calling it Captain Trips. Neato. The government's been telling us that it's just some strain of flu, but the dead guys with the flabby necks say otherwise." Richard drifted off into space, looking at a fly drifting around the ceiling, before averting his attention back to the man on the floor.
He ripped the gun from his pocket, and lazily pointed it at the man. "I could shoot you right now. End your pain. You'd probably get sick and die anyways. I should shoot you, actually. Be easier than the rest of that."
The man furiously cried out and shook on the floor, attempting to escape his restraints.
"But who am I to decide for you? I'm sorry. Do you want me to shoot you or not?"
The man shook his head, and Richard cocked his own to the side. "So you don't want me to shoot you?"
The man nodded, and Richard raised the gun. "Wait, so you do want me to shoot you?"
The man shook his head again, mumbling and huffing out yelps from behind his now sweaty duct tape, the aforementioned swear now lining his brow.
"You were saying yes to me not shooting you then?" Richard said while watching the man nod. Richard chuckled, then stuffed the pistol back into his pocket. "You...you'll have to excuse me. My mind's not what it used to be, y'now? I mean, I almost shot you! For a simple misunderstanding. But now? Me and you are going to be good friends. I can tell that."
Richard Freemore smiled, having found a new friend and a place to stay.
After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
END OF EPISODE 1
Annnddd it's question time!
Favorite character?
Least favorite?
Favorite PoV?
Least favorite PoV?
Any predictions?
Overall view of the episode? Definitely open to criticisms!
[Pick it up]
Lucy knew she shouldn’t do it, but...she had to, didn’t she? Of course she did. That was the way the cookie crumbled, and di… mored Lucy ever so love crumbling cookies. She picked the phone up, and quickly answered it. "What do you want?" The girl asked fiercely and angrily, wondering why her brother was calling. He knew the stakes, so why wouldn't he follow them? His voice came through the phone and into her ear, and Lucy nodded to nobody in particular.
"Lucy, I think something's wrong." Allan's voice came sharply through the phone. He sounded desperate, scared even. That's what he was though, at least to Lucy. A little bitch boy who escaped prison after murdering somebody because he couldn't handle his food being so mushy.
"What does that even mean?" Lucy harshly rasped through the phone, waiting for the receiver to respond. "I've been having dreams." Allan quietly stated once more, and Lucy squinted. She was being harsh to … [view original content]
Hair/Color: Brown, mid-back length hair, tied back in a ponytail.
Beard: Full beard, same color as his hair, with a touch of gray.
Appearance: Denim Coat, Black T-Shirt, Blue Jeans, Hiking Boots.
Weapons: Sniper Rifle, Handgun, Bowie Knife.
State of Origin: Las Vegas Nevada.
Personality: Intelligent, compassionate and kind, but will not hesitate to kill someone who is threatening the group.
Family: A Grandson. His Wife, Daughter, and son-in law were lost to the plague.
Backstory: Enlisted in the Marines at 20, and served in Vietnam as a sharpshooter in 1970.
After the war, he became a fireman at the age of 23, figuring that after he had taken so many lives in Vietnam, that he would now like to save lives if all possible.
For 10 yrs he served as a firemen.
After his stint as a fireman, he moved to Chicago, where he joined the police force and served as a beat-cop for 15 years.
He was later discharged from the force for beating a suspect, who had been arrested for domestic violence against his wife and 12 year old daughter.
For Mike, women and children was his soft-spot, and when he saw how badly their husband abducted father had beaten them- his own family, Mike went to a rage and beat the man within an inch of his life.
After being discharged, Mike received a court-order that he see a psychiatrist.
After seeing him, Mike was diagnosed with PTSD, something that he had acquired in Vietnam.
Afterward, Mike moved to New Mexico, and began a P.I business, at the age of 50.
And has done so for the last 15 yrs.
His Grandson being the only thing he has left, Mike will kill anyone who tries to harm him.
During this time of disaster, Mike's attitude about Vietnam is: "The only good thing I ever got from that god-awful war, was tools needed to be able to protect those that I care about."
Quote: "After Vietnam, I swore I would never kill another person ever again. But now with all this happening, and my grandson being the only thing I have left, I will do whatever I have to do to keep him safe.
Favorite character? Little bit biased, but I loved Rachel. Other than her, I enjoyed Kincaid and Nozomi a lot. Oh, and Uncle Thomas of course
Least favorite? I honestly have none, though I'm always terrible at choosing least favourites.
Favorite PoV? That serial killer guy was pretty amazing
Least favorite PoV? I've thought about this a lot, but decided that I can't choose again. They all had their unique part to play and all of them were great!
Any predictions? Maybe some PoV's will meet up... I have to admit I have never read the novel, but I think things are going downhill
Overall view of the episode? Definitely open to criticisms! I absolutely loved it! It was a really great introductory episode. As always, I love the flow of your writing, it's simply amazing to read!
[Pick it up]
Lucy knew she shouldn’t do it, but...she had to, didn’t she? Of course she did. That was the way the cookie crumbled, and di… mored Lucy ever so love crumbling cookies. She picked the phone up, and quickly answered it. "What do you want?" The girl asked fiercely and angrily, wondering why her brother was calling. He knew the stakes, so why wouldn't he follow them? His voice came through the phone and into her ear, and Lucy nodded to nobody in particular.
"Lucy, I think something's wrong." Allan's voice came sharply through the phone. He sounded desperate, scared even. That's what he was though, at least to Lucy. A little bitch boy who escaped prison after murdering somebody because he couldn't handle his food being so mushy.
"What does that even mean?" Lucy harshly rasped through the phone, waiting for the receiver to respond. "I've been having dreams." Allan quietly stated once more, and Lucy squinted. She was being harsh to … [view original content]
Gah, I think I'm just going to end this now. As it stands, this is no fun to write simply because I'm so limited by the source material. It's just that, well, writing these stories is a hobby, and The Stand is just so specifically done that i have to follow Mr. King's storyline if I want to make a story based on his book. I'd suggest just finding the book at your library (yep, all 1000 pages of it) and reading it then. It's one of my favorite books by far.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight. Sorry for ending this so prematurely! it just wasn't fun anymore to me.
Ah, these are sad news. I really liked this story and would have loved to read more. However, I can understand your reasons behind ending the story. It can be very hard to write stuff that isn't fun to write for whatever reason. I have never read the book though and your writing made me very interested in the source material, so I guess I will buy it soon.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight.
Gah, I think I'm just going to end this now. As it stands, this is no fun to write simply because I'm so limited by the source material. It'… mores just that, well, writing these stories is a hobby, and The Stand is just so specifically done that i have to follow Mr. King's storyline if I want to make a story based on his book. I'd suggest just finding the book at your library (yep, all 1000 pages of it) and reading it then. It's one of my favorite books by far.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight. Sorry for ending this so prematurely! it just wasn't fun anymore to me.
Gah, I think I'm just going to end this now. As it stands, this is no fun to write simply because I'm so limited by the source material. It'… mores just that, well, writing these stories is a hobby, and The Stand is just so specifically done that i have to follow Mr. King's storyline if I want to make a story based on his book. I'd suggest just finding the book at your library (yep, all 1000 pages of it) and reading it then. It's one of my favorite books by far.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight. Sorry for ending this so prematurely! it just wasn't fun anymore to me.
Gah, I think I'm just going to end this now. As it stands, this is no fun to write simply because I'm so limited by the source material. It'… mores just that, well, writing these stories is a hobby, and The Stand is just so specifically done that i have to follow Mr. King's storyline if I want to make a story based on his book. I'd suggest just finding the book at your library (yep, all 1000 pages of it) and reading it then. It's one of my favorite books by far.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight. Sorry for ending this so prematurely! it just wasn't fun anymore to me.
Gah, I think I'm just going to end this now. As it stands, this is no fun to write simply because I'm so limited by the source material. It'… mores just that, well, writing these stories is a hobby, and The Stand is just so specifically done that i have to follow Mr. King's storyline if I want to make a story based on his book. I'd suggest just finding the book at your library (yep, all 1000 pages of it) and reading it then. It's one of my favorite books by far.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight. Sorry for ending this so prematurely! it just wasn't fun anymore to me.
Comments
[Push Jason over]
Great chapter!!!
[Hide]
Richard Freemore is the crazy assassin I hope I don't see.
[Push Jason over]
[Push Jason over]
[Push Jason over]
[Push!!!]
Name: Lindsay Lawrence
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Biography: She is the daughter of a rich (and corrupt) politic. Her mother died in a car accident 2 years ago. She bullies people in school and thinks she is better than all the others. She buys everything she wants when she wants to. She lives in a penthouse in New York.
Appearance: blonde long heddle hair , blue eyes , caucasian , 5.7 feet tall
Other Special Things: She is racist
Name: Quinn Lee
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Biography: Third generation Immigrants. Raised by a tight knit loving family. Graduated top of her class from the dedication of parents had in nurturing and providing and assisting her. Mother was a nurse and father was an engineer. She served as a medic in the army and then after her tour was employed as a surgeon at a hospital in Washington who works in ER. She enjoys the fast pace environment and challenge. She is single.
Appearance: Korean-American, short black hair, glasses, chocolate brown eyes, 5’6” tall, lean and physically fit.
Other Special Things: Likes to play badminton and tennis. Hobby is Kendo to take off stress from work.
Name: Camille
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Biography: She lived all almost all life in a orphan. She works as a hooker because her "boyfriend" , Dan , (pimp) turned her into one. She also as a stalker which is member of a gang.
Appearance: Black long heddle hair , brown eyes , light-brown skin , 5,7 feet tall. Very thin.
Other Special Things: She has a fear of dogs.
Name: Clyde Monroe
Age: 59
Gender: Male
Biography: He lived a normal childhood. He started a band with his friends called "Rolla and Rock" when he was 17 and they were famous. But he still thinks that he is famous and everyone knows him. His father died of cancer and her mother was killed by a serial killer. He is sterile.
Appearance: white short heddle hair ,blue eyes , caucasian , 5,4 feet tall
Other Special Things: He hates hipsters and dumb people
As one of my other stories comes to a close, I've already prepared for the next.
http://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/91597/60-000-000-world-war-2-interactive-story-character-submissions-open?new=1
If you enjoy my writing style (which, to be fair, is completely different in most of my stories) then I suggest checking this out. Keep in mind I won't be writing for it for a while, this is just for preparation.
[Push Jason over]
Nozomi quickly placed both of her hands on Jason's rib cage, then pushed him over. He vomited on to the bed. It was hot, sticky but not sweet, and it covered him from his head to his feet. Nozomi began to wonder if she was delirious herself considering the horrible joke she had just made, as the door behind her cracked open and two men ran in, both in military uniforms and garb. Gas masks covered their faces, inviting an intimidating appearance into the room.One of them held up an assault rifle, a red laser sight focusing on Jason's head. The gun fired, and the bullet impacted the top of his head, slamming blood into the wall as Jason's eye lolled back and his face slammed into the wall. "No!" Nozomi cried out, instantly tears coming to her eyes as she grabbed his arm and shook it. The soldier who had just killed Jason then moved the assault rifle over Nozomi's head, the red line resting in her black hair. The soldier who had not shot looked over to the one hovering over the Asian girl's head, then began to scream. "She's not fucking infected! Don't fucking shoot!" He cried out, and the other continued holding the gun up. "She was near that guy. She's infected." He said, as his finger began to pressure on the trigger. "She's not showing symptoms! Don't you fucking shoot!"
The man finally squeezed the trigger, just as the other tackled him and the gun fired off. Nozomi screamed as a bullet whizzed past her head and crashed into the wall. The soldiers struggled behind her, as the protector pushed over the other and whipped his own gun out. The AR-15 popped off six rounds before the soldier lay on the floor, bloody and dead. Nozomi's own ears were ringing as she lay on the floor, her eyes tear-stained. She looked up and viewed the soldier's name tag, which read "David Archer." She watched as the man did some fumbling around with the other's body, before backing up and leaning against the wall. He placed a palm to his face, and Nozomi could just make out that behind the gas mask his face was twisted into a frown, and his eyes were looking towards her. David held out a hand and said something unintelligible, and Nozomi curled into a ball.
DAY FOUR OF THE OUTBREAK
"Sir."
"Sir, are you listening to me?"
"Sir!"
George Lottman suddenly awoke from his trance, as he stared at the man directly in front of him, holding an assault rifle in his hands. A gas mask covered the soldier's face, and George blinked a few times, nodding his head up and down. "Yes?" He croaked from his throat, as the soldier pushed him back. "You're coming with us, you hear?" The soldier said, and George stayed silent. "Do you hear?!" The soldier repeated, this time sounding out every syllable in the sentence. It made George slightly annoyed, with this jackass thinking he was smarter than George. Who the hell did this soldier think he was? George himself had met with people like this before, and of course, none of them were smarter than he. George scowled and nodded, and the soldier raised a hand, lightly patting George's face before sending him reeling back from the last hit. "Start moving, civilian." He replied, and pushed George forward. George cringed as his back felt the gun being compressed against it, and an audible crack was heard. He grunted in pain, then, stumbling forward, he began to walk.
Surrounding him were hundreds of soldiers and barricades, lining the streets of New York City. The best city in the world (as some would say) was currently under full lockdown and quarantine, as a strain of influenza had been passing through. At least, that was what he had heard from the soldiers. Just a small little bit of the flu, and it had touched down on sweet old America. George himself couldn't figure out why this many soldiers were here if it was just a simple case of a common cold, but he could figure it out if this wasn't any old disease that had stricken a person here in this city. He had noticed a lot of people coughing lately, but it was flu season after all. These winters months sure contributed greatly to such matters. The soldiers however, were scaring him quite a bit. About two days ago, they had come storming in to the town. He had heard before that they had entered into a little town called Arnette, Texas, and had been placing it under lockdown as well. When George had seen these reports, he had been curious, but never expected they would come here to New York, much less choose him as a guinea pig. But alas, here he was, walking along with a neanderthal of a soldier, and being forced into a jeep just up ahead. The soldiers had come into his home just mere minutes earlier, and taken him from his apartment.
Three soldiers were standing by the jeep as well, and one waved to whom George at first thought was himself, but then realized it was the shitface behind him. The aggressive soldier stepped past George and walked up to the jeep, quickly hopping into the back, crossing his arms and pouting. The soldier who had waved stepped up to George and took him by the arm and pushed him into the backseat. The other two soldiers then walked into the driver's seat and the passenger's, and the driver started the car up and began to take off from the military outpost. George looked at the men around him, and decided that if they didn't have any names, he was going to give them ones. He decided the driver's name was going to be Baker, and the passenger's name was going to be Private Ryan. George smiled at his own sophomoric wit, and sighed and leaned back. The soldier who had thrown him into the car looked over at him and pushed him on his shoulder. "What are you laughing at?" He asked, what seemed like a genuine question rather than an insult like normal. George raised an eyebrow, and grinned fiercely. "Your friend's dumbass face." He moved his thumb backwards and pointed at Shitface, who immediately responded with aggression. "Fuck this guy!" He said, and the other soldier shook his head. "I didn't think it was that funny." He said, and George began to take to calling him Deadpan. Baker and Private Ryan did not snicker or laugh either, and George crossed his arms and leaned up against the seat. Filthy soldiers, don't know any good jokes.
As George began to slowly drift off to sleep approximately four hours later of navigating militarized New York, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. An abnormality, if you will. A normal person, not a soldier, wearing a striped hoodie and with a large...something, draped across their back, a weapon, as it appeared. He was standing on top of a small building, and George himself was surprised that he could see him. How could the others not? The soldiers simply stated put, not looking at him at all. The four of them seemed distracted by their own personal things, one of the advantages George had over them. No ties to him, meant less distractions. And of course, that meant more willing to pay attention. The building the man was on wasn't particularly big, quite small actually. He looked like he was about to attack, or maybe even issue a command. George looked at him, and then watched as he took the weapon from his back.
An RPG-7.
It became increasingly obvious the man hadn't been there for long. He would be long found out by now, considering he was standing right in front of an outpost just up ahead. Tents and jeeps and gas tanks littered the streets, along with military running around and about. George watched in terror as the man appeared to look inside the jeep and make eye contact with him for a brief second, then pointed the weapon at the outpost, directly in front of them. He wanted George alive, for some reason, but why? He was going to stop the jeep, as it appeared, but what did he want, good or bad? George looked at the man loading the RPG, then at the soldiers in the jeep with him. Did he really want them to die either?
[Warn them to stop the jeep and get ready]
[Stay silent]
[Warn them to stop the jeep and get ready
[Warn them to stop the jeep and get ready]
[Warn them to stop the jeep]
[Warn them to stop the jeep and get ready]
[Warn them to stop the jeep and get ready]
Awesome Chapter!!!
[Warn them to stop the jeep and get ready]
[Warn them to pull the jeep over]
"Stop the jeep! Stop the jeep!" George screamed out, as the driver instinctively slowed down and hit the brake lightly. "What the hell is your problem?!" Private Ryan turned around to face George, just as the jeep parked in front of them exploded in a ball of hot fire. "Shit!" The driver screamed, slamming on the brakes and sending Colonel Shitface into the seat in front of him. The other soldier grabbed the seat readily and nearly came face to seat with the chair. George himself flew up as well, his nose instantly breaking as he hit the jeep's wall that kept the front seats from the back. His nose instantly began to ooze blood, and he rose a hand to stop it. He turned his head to see Shitface climbing out of the jeep, as more explosions rocked the street. The other soldier grabbed George and climbed out, gunfire and explosions around them. Screaming and shrieking also burst through George's ears, as he looked over to where the man with the RPG had once stood. Now, his body lay hanging over the building, riddled with bulletholes. George vomited, falling over on his hands and knees. The other soldier picked him up again, screaming something unintelligible as a stream of blood burst from his chest. He fell to the ground, dead.
George felt another large hand grab his back, and heard more inaudible screaming. He turned his head, eyeing a few soldiers running out into the smoke, lights from the gunfire shining through the thick sheet. The driver was lying dead on the hood of the jeep, his legs Spread Eagle and twisted. Private Ryan was on the ground, his brains sifting across the pavement. Finally, two men in red shirts and holding AK-47s emerged from the smoke, firing wildly into the air. George turned back to where the soldier, who he had deduced as Shitface, was carrying him to. An apartment building came into view, and the doors slammed open as George was pulled through. The soldier dropped George to the ground, then fell to the floor, blood seeping out from his stomach. George then deduced that Shitface had also jointed the ranks of the dead. George laid there for a moment, catching his breath and watching the blood sink into the floorboards. The butterflies in his stomach began to flutter a little more, as he realized what his current issue was.
They're coming for you. You know that, right?
George turned over on his stomach, got on his hands and began to crawl over to the dead soldier. He turned him over, clumsily pulling the mask off, then grabbing the assault rifle and standing up. He found it harder than he had originally thought, staggering and nearly falling over once. The gun's weight also added to this, along with the pain in his face and the utter terrified feeling inside. George looked down at the hand holding the trigger of the gun, realized it was shaking. He turned around, then stumbled over and ran up the stairs. He slowly went up at first; at first, that is. Then he heard the door downstairs opening, and his adrenaline kicked in as he began to run. He didn't want to take the elevator, as he had no idea how long said elevator would have taken. No, he'd rather take his chances with his good old, jelly legs rather than the metal coffin.
He was going across entire floors. Two, three, four, five, they all flew by and by. He reached he sixth floor and clambered in, rushing down the hallways and into 607. Inside of Room 607, a disgusting, black couch sat. A white and chunky liquid caked it, the milky substance covering the armrests. Apparently someone had been puking their breakfast out on this very couch. George looked ahead, off into the kitchen, eyeing the dead man hanging from a drawstring noose. George stepped back, and instead walked for the bathroom. He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, and waited.
The sound of the front door opening.
Silence.
The sound of a body being dragged.
Silence.
Mumbled ramblings.
Silence.
DAY ONE OF THE OUTBREAK
Sydney Hill was, to put it quite nicely, fucked.
Simply, fucked.
That was the only word to describe it, even though she considered it crude. Fucked. Fucked in all the wrong places.
Frankly, Sydney wasn't doing too well in the first place. It wasn't like New York City was a cheap place to live. Added on to that, was the fact that Sydney had no job. She decided early on in her "career" that she would no longer be a "working class individual with a boring life." No, she had instead decided to become a writer. Decidingly, she had just run out of gas here in Fucktown, USA, surrounded by who knows what kind of criminals. Sydney sat in the front seat of the car, pouting and whining. Why did it have to happen to her? Her parents were dead, her boyfriend was dead, and now she was about to find herself with a chunk displaced from her head. The curse of the Hill family, and all who fuck them. Dead, dead, dead. And here she was playing Family Final Destination, realizing that she was next on the list to bite the bullet. And honestly, Sydney would have accepted her fate any other day.
But today, she did not want to die.
The first glimpse of hope in her life for a while occurred today, as in she was going to be getting a job. A job! An actual job that wasn't simply scribbling in a notepad while she waited for her computer that would never come. She stepped out of the car, and began to walk.
The gray blouse she currently wore fit a bit too tight on herself, as she realized. It wasn't like she was particularly ugly, and if she could get any other ways to get a job, well...she didn't like it, not one bit, but you give what your momma gave you, as the saying goes. Was that the saying? She thought it was. Maybe.
Sydney's thoughts exploded and cleared away suddenly, and she flipped around to face the hum of an engine before her. A red pickup truck pulled up next to her, hitting the brakes and coming to a smooth stop. Sydney braced, stepped back as she prepared for the gun to stick out of the window and KABLAMMO! Dead. The window rolled down, and her fears seemed to be all but confirmed. She felt a tear began to dab her eyes, and closed them in order to stop the dribble. But the tears would not stop. Here she was, about to be gunned down by some bored fucking punk, and she would never be remembered. Just dead. Maybe she wouldn't even get a grave. Actually, she probably wouldn't.
As the last remaining Hill prepared for her demise, the tinted window finally rolled down and revealed the man in the driver's seat. He was a relatively high-strung looking one, with an odd attractive aura around him. He had long, stringy brown hair and wore a denim jacket. On the jacket were a multitude of buttons, and the man smiled. "What are you doing out here, lil' lady?" The smile was kind, safe. Sydney felt a sudden warmth surround her. She waved a hand, and blurted out "I'm Sydney Hill. My car ran out of gas, and I need to get to my job. So I started walking."
"Oh yeah?" The man grinned. "What's your job?"
"I work at a, uh," Sydney paused. "A processing plant."
"Which one?" The man cooed the line out, as if he were talking to a small child.
"Randall Brawn Chicken." Sydney cringed. A factory job was not something that she had ever wanted, at least not when she was nineteen. But as the saying goes, beggars can't be choosers.
"Well, Sydney, the name's Randy Fletcher. I just so happen to be heading over that way myself, and I'd be willing to give ya' a ride."
Sydney paused. It did seem like a reasonable offer. She really wasn't wanting to lose out on her job. She needed the money. The girl didn't want to live out on the streets, and her rent was almost due...
"We'll shake on it." Randy said, holding out a hand.
Was she really going to do this?
[Shake Randy's hand]
[Continue walking]
[Shake Randy's hand]
[Continue walking]
I'm scared he'll kill her. ;-;
[Shake Randy's hand]
[Continue walking]
[Shake Randy's hand]
Great chapter!
[Get in the truck]
Sydney placed her hand firmly in the palm of his, and brought it up and down in a handshake. She climbed aboard the passenger seat, and the truck sputtered and fired off. Randy looked up in the rearview mirror, eyeing behind the truck for a second before bringing his eyes back down to the front window. "Seems like it's just my lucky day." Sydney said, leaning back into the chair and searching with her arm for the lever that would move it backwards. Randy nodded. "I personally don't believe in luck." He replied bluntly, happily smiling and staring straight ahead. Sydney raised an eyebrow, and a light smile formed at her lips. It was odd. She felt uneasy yet...so strangely close to home. She didn't know why. But she knew that she felt really good in here. Safe. Maybe safe wasn't the word for it. She felt protected, yes. But safe, it was not.
"What do you believe in?" She asked, suddenly curious with this man's beliefs and philosophy on the world. Randy simply grinned again, and did the all knowing nod. "I believe in fate, Ms. Hill. It was fate that we met each other. It was fate that you're getting a job at this processing plant."
Sydney nodded as well, somehow in understanding of this man. She didn't know what it was about him, but she liked him. He seemed like such a nice, nice guy. "Hey. Why don't you look in the glovebox?" Randy suddenly popped into and broke her thoughts, as Sydney took a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened. "Huh?" She asked, her brain's cogs still trying to turn. "Look in the glovebox. It's a long ride, might as well check the stuff out."
Sydney finally computed what Randy had said, and then looked down at the glovebox and opened it. Immediately, a book came tumbling out, along with a yellow notepad and a pen. She immediately picked up the book, looking over it. Fahrenheit 451. The front cover read, and immediately she recognized it. Of course she recognized it. It was her favorite book. She flipped through the pages, every single one still in perfectly mint condition. "Wow. Thanks." Sydney told Randy gratefully, a bit of a stutter coming from her voice. "This is my favorite book." Sydney grinned, and Randy performed the all-seeing nod again.
"Mine too, Ms. Hill."
"Mine too."
TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK
As Captain Trips was only a thought in some scientist's mind, Allan Lettvin was running really damn fast. He dodged trees and hopped over roots in an effort to not cut his little runaway game short, but the ever prevailing police only continued to sound ever the more closer behind him. Keep on keepin' on, Allan. You got it. You got it good. He reminded himself with positive thoughts, but these disappeared as the sound of a man yelling at him screamed through his head again. Gotta keep on keepin' on.
Allan hopped over a rock, stumbling over and smashing into the cold mud below. Quickly he brushed off the blue jumpsuit strapped around his body and bolted off again. The police were closer now...maybe they were Feds. Would they really bring the Feds in for this? Allan had assumed a K-9 unit would have been here by now, but currently he only heard jumbled yells and excited screams. It felt like an insane Frat party to him, one full of much more jail time penalties. For sure, if he was caught, he wasn't getting out for good behavior. In fact, he may get a few more years added to his sentence. Then again...
He had a full blown life-sentence. Organized, serial, and all-out murder. Manslaughter was the term they used. Allan still remembered the night he had cranked up his Camaro and had proceeded to run Travis Daniels the fuck over, a middle finger held up in the sky. Of course, some asshole had been taping his kid opening up some Christmas presents, and had gotten the drunken teenager getting a few chunks of brain all in his car's grill, on camera. Fucker. Allan had declared that he had purposely killed Travis and had enjoyed it, and proceeded to go to jail. Him and his big mouth. Allan's big mouth wasn't of concern right now, however. He was more focused on how fast his feet could run. And run they did, and Allan began to run...and scream...
A sudden ridge appeared in front of him, and he was slammed off, sliding through mud and leaves and disgusting dew. His back slammed into a tree, and Allan clamped his teeth together in order not to scream. He ended up nearly biting his own tongue off, and after a few minutes of excruciating pain, began to cover himself in the leaves and mud, never to be seen by the law enforcement again.
DAY OF THE OUTBREAK
Lucy Lettvin was reclined in a chair, quietly pondering the ringing cell phone next to her. It was her brother, of course. Allan Lettvin, the problem child as he was considered. He had killed a guy, and this doesn't exactly get you brownie points with the folks. Lucy herself couldn't figure out if she hated Allan's guts or not. He had always been an asshole. He hated Travis because Travis had once dumped milk all over him. It was on purpose of course, and in front of the entire high school cafeteria. It was but a petty high-school tragedy however, not something to seriously worry about. But Allan took too many drinks and then...
She wanted to say fuck him. He could call someone else, because Lucy wasn't having any of that shit. He had gotten a cell phone and a less than legal job after escaping from prison. Their parents knew he was free, of course, but Lucy knew where he was. She knew his number. She didn't dare out Caller ID on, lest her parents decided to investigate her phone for an hour or two. Lucy looked at the phone, at her feet, then back at the cell phone again.
[Pick it up]
[Let it ring]
[Pick it up]
[Pick it up]
[Pick it up]
[Pick it up]
[Let it ring]
Awesome Chapter!!!
[Pick it up]
Lucy knew she shouldn’t do it, but...she had to, didn’t she? Of course she did. That was the way the cookie crumbled, and did Lucy ever so love crumbling cookies. She picked the phone up, and quickly answered it. "What do you want?" The girl asked fiercely and angrily, wondering why her brother was calling. He knew the stakes, so why wouldn't he follow them? His voice came through the phone and into her ear, and Lucy nodded to nobody in particular.
"Lucy, I think something's wrong." Allan's voice came sharply through the phone. He sounded desperate, scared even. That's what he was though, at least to Lucy. A little bitch boy who escaped prison after murdering somebody because he couldn't handle his food being so mushy.
"What does that even mean?" Lucy harshly rasped through the phone, waiting for the receiver to respond. "I've been having dreams." Allan quietly stated once more, and Lucy squinted. She was being harsh to him, sure. But he deserved it, didn't he? "What?" Lucy asked, pondering why she even tried. "They were dreams...about this guy dressed all in black. He had a hood on. I remember being terrified of him. The dreams were so vivid, and the guy never talked, but I was scared of him. I don't even know why I was. But I was scared. Wait...I remember some things. He kept making this motion with his fist, as if he were knocking on a door...I don't know what that means, but..."
Lucy began to question his bullshit again, but was stopped as the other end of the line went dead. "Hello?" She asked the static, but her brother couldn't hear her. Nobody could.
Except for one man.
Lucy looked up as two sounds came from the door.
Knock knock.
DAY OF THE OUTBREAK
Oliver Bennett sat on a bench with his brother, both of them with black skin and green backpacks on. Both, the same noses, the same white teeth, the same shoes, looked quite alike, something Oliver had resented very much about his younger brother. Oliver Bennett despised Jake Bennett, he despised the stupid grin he had on now, and he despised the whiny way he always got his way. What a little prick. Oliver crossed his legs and then his arms, looking away from Jake.
"We're going to Disney."
Oliver looked over at Jake, who had just enthusiastically yelped. "Yeah. We are." Jake replied, swallowing. What was his game this time?
"I can't believe we're actually going to Disney World!"
"Yep, Florida."
"No parents!"
"None."
"Just us, and your friends!"
Oliver tilted his head and looked down at Jake. "Yeah, MY friends."
Oliver had just so happened to win a trip all the way to Disney World, simply because of his inclusion in band. It had made him so happy. And he could bring along one friend? Hell yeah! But then his mother had busted in and forced him to take Jake with him.
Little prick.
Oliver looked ahead as he saw a bus pull around the corner, and stop in front of the bench, the automatic doors opening.
DAY TEN OF THE OUTBREAK
"Are you having fun yet?"
Richard Freemore stared down at the man before him, sitting on his knees, duct tape draped around his mouth. His hands and feet had been bound and tied by ropes and he sat with his wrists behind his back. The man was crying. The water was drenching his suit and tie, which had previously been very nice and neat. The man screamed from behind his duct tape, only a muffled cry coming out. Richard held a finger up to his mouth then wiped the tears from the man's eyes. "No, no no no. Shh, it's okay, shh shh shh shhhhh..."
He looked the man in the eyes, then smiled. The man looked away, a chill going up the back of his spine. Richard's grin quickly turned into a grimace, as his eyes filled to the brim with anger. "Look at me. When I'm talking to you!" He yelled, but the man closed his eyes. Richard grabbed his tie and pushed him over in a furious rage. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" He screamed, and the man opened his eyes to stare up at Richard Freemore. Richard smiled once again, then sat down on a little folding chair across from the man. "Okay. Now. Me. And you. Can start talking. Talking. It's good, right? Just us. Talking. A little conversation." Richard smiled and laughed, throwing his head back and slapping his knee. He wheezed, and finally caught his breath.
"Oh, oh, oh my God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Ha. Haaaaaaaaaa."
The man let another muffled cry come out, and Richard shook his head after his laughing fit. "Oh no. They can't hear you. This basement is ten feet under the ground, and between the building and us is solid concrete, okay? You should have known that when you drunkenly stepped down here five days ago, right? No?" Richard watched as the man fell to the floor and touched his forehead to the floor. "I'm not right?"
They stood in silence, the man in the suit still crying. "Oh! I know!" Richard said one more time, as he suddenly touched a visible lump at his hip. "Uh, you want to know what's going on, right? Am I wrong?"
The man struggled and squirmed around once more, and Richard smiled. "I don't hear a noooooo!"
"Well buddy, New York is under martial law. Some wackos stole some military weapons and started shooting back. Now, I wonder who gave them those, right?" He deviously grinned, and pointed to himself. "Ooh, and Texas has been surrounded by military forces. Crazy huh? Talk about some disease, right? Some people are calling it Captain Trips. Neato. The government's been telling us that it's just some strain of flu, but the dead guys with the flabby necks say otherwise." Richard drifted off into space, looking at a fly drifting around the ceiling, before averting his attention back to the man on the floor.
He ripped the gun from his pocket, and lazily pointed it at the man. "I could shoot you right now. End your pain. You'd probably get sick and die anyways. I should shoot you, actually. Be easier than the rest of that."
The man furiously cried out and shook on the floor, attempting to escape his restraints.
"But who am I to decide for you? I'm sorry. Do you want me to shoot you or not?"
The man shook his head, and Richard cocked his own to the side. "So you don't want me to shoot you?"
The man nodded, and Richard raised the gun. "Wait, so you do want me to shoot you?"
The man shook his head again, mumbling and huffing out yelps from behind his now sweaty duct tape, the aforementioned swear now lining his brow.
"You were saying yes to me not shooting you then?" Richard said while watching the man nod. Richard chuckled, then stuffed the pistol back into his pocket. "You...you'll have to excuse me. My mind's not what it used to be, y'now? I mean, I almost shot you! For a simple misunderstanding. But now? Me and you are going to be good friends. I can tell that."
Richard Freemore smiled, having found a new friend and a place to stay.
After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
END OF EPISODE 1
Annnddd it's question time!
Favorite character?
Least favorite?
Favorite PoV?
Least favorite PoV?
Any predictions?
Overall view of the episode? Definitely open to criticisms!
Favorite character? Without counting mine i will say Rachel or Lucas
Least favorite? The Serial Killer thta changes names
Favorite PoV? The Serial Killer
Least favorite PoV? George Lottman
Any predictions? People are going to die.
Overall view of the episode? Definitely open to criticisms! It´s awesome! :P. I just think this was a indroductional chapter
Name: Mike Davidson.
Age: 65.
Gender: Male.
Race: White.
Height: 5'10 ft.
Weight: 160 lbs.
Build: Slender/ muscular.
Hair/Color: Brown, mid-back length hair, tied back in a ponytail.
Beard: Full beard, same color as his hair, with a touch of gray.
Appearance: Denim Coat, Black T-Shirt, Blue Jeans, Hiking Boots.
Weapons: Sniper Rifle, Handgun, Bowie Knife.
State of Origin: Las Vegas Nevada.
Personality: Intelligent, compassionate and kind, but will not hesitate to kill someone who is threatening the group.
Family: A Grandson. His Wife, Daughter, and son-in law were lost to the plague.
Backstory: Enlisted in the Marines at 20, and served in Vietnam as a sharpshooter in 1970.
After the war, he became a fireman at the age of 23, figuring that after he had taken so many lives in Vietnam, that he would now like to save lives if all possible.
For 10 yrs he served as a firemen.
After his stint as a fireman, he moved to Chicago, where he joined the police force and served as a beat-cop for 15 years.
He was later discharged from the force for beating a suspect, who had been arrested for domestic violence against his wife and 12 year old daughter.
For Mike, women and children was his soft-spot, and when he saw how badly their husband abducted father had beaten them- his own family, Mike went to a rage and beat the man within an inch of his life.
After being discharged, Mike received a court-order that he see a psychiatrist.
After seeing him, Mike was diagnosed with PTSD, something that he had acquired in Vietnam.
Afterward, Mike moved to New Mexico, and began a P.I business, at the age of 50.
And has done so for the last 15 yrs.
His Grandson being the only thing he has left, Mike will kill anyone who tries to harm him.
During this time of disaster, Mike's attitude about Vietnam is: "The only good thing I ever got from that god-awful war, was tools needed to be able to protect those that I care about."
Quote: "After Vietnam, I swore I would never kill another person ever again. But now with all this happening, and my grandson being the only thing I have left, I will do whatever I have to do to keep him safe.
Favorite character? Little bit biased, but I loved Rachel. Other than her, I enjoyed Kincaid and Nozomi a lot. Oh, and Uncle Thomas of course
Least favorite? I honestly have none, though I'm always terrible at choosing least favourites.
Favorite PoV? That serial killer guy was pretty amazing
Least favorite PoV? I've thought about this a lot, but decided that I can't choose again. They all had their unique part to play and all of them were great!
Any predictions? Maybe some PoV's will meet up... I have to admit I have never read the novel, but I think things are going downhill
Overall view of the episode? Definitely open to criticisms! I absolutely loved it! It was a really great introductory episode. As always, I love the flow of your writing, it's simply amazing to read!
Gah, I think I'm just going to end this now. As it stands, this is no fun to write simply because I'm so limited by the source material. It's just that, well, writing these stories is a hobby, and The Stand is just so specifically done that i have to follow Mr. King's storyline if I want to make a story based on his book. I'd suggest just finding the book at your library (yep, all 1000 pages of it) and reading it then. It's one of my favorite books by far.
I have another idea for a story based in the land of Skyrim, so be expecting that sometime tonight. Sorry for ending this so prematurely! it just wasn't fun anymore to me.
Ah, these are sad news. I really liked this story and would have loved to read more. However, I can understand your reasons behind ending the story. It can be very hard to write stuff that isn't fun to write for whatever reason. I have never read the book though and your writing made me very interested in the source material, so I guess I will buy it soon.
Fus Ro Hell Yeah! That sounds awesome!
First emmotion: Sadness
Emotion after re-reading
HELL YEAH!
Aw, I am a sad to see this one go. But if you weren't having fun then I completely understand why you don't wish to continue.
The Elder Scrolls?! This is gonna be awesome!
How unfortunate
I'll look into your next story, I'm interested in the elder scrolls.
http://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/94818/the-forum-scrolls-skyrim?new=1
Here's the link to all those interested!