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The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-07-31 06:16 pm

We Are Awakened With The Axe [Open to All]

 photo zombie dream party_zpsbb0hfksu.jpg


The city has been abandoned.

Its infrastructure has been slowly deteriorating for quite some time, now. Traffic has long since ground to a permanent halt, taxis and trucks rusting by the curbs or abandoned mid-intersection. Most of the ground-floor windows have been shattered. Electricity is spotty, if it can be found at all. The eerie silence is broken only by the wind, the calls of crows, or the gentle collapse of some structure or other. And, of course, the occasional screams.

The city has been abandoned, but it is not empty.

What caused the various outbreaks hardly matters. Viral infection, fungal infection, some new or ancient bacterium suddenly released into the general populace - who knows? What does matter is that the city has become home to thousands if zombies, some slow, some fast, some mindless, some retaining a savage kind of intelligence. And they are all so, so hungry.

There are weapons to be found or improvised, and places to hide if you're lucky enough to come across someplace well-fortified and otherwise empty. Others have clearly had the same idea, leaving hastily constructed barricades in some places. You might even take those as a blessing, if the conspicuous absence of the original builders doesn't bother you. They're probably living on a nice farm somewhere.

One thing is certain: if you don't want to succumb to whatever plagues have ravaged this place, you will have to fight for your survival.

[OOC: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome to participate, and characters can remember or forget at the players' discretion. Also, usual zombie rules apply: if you get bitten, you'll be turned into the sort of zombie that bit you. Whether your characters deal with comically dim shamblers or the terrifying sprinty variety is up to you.

Finally, let's just go ahead and say tw: violence and gore for the post as a whole, because it's gonna get messy, folks.]
lottawork: (social conventions??? more like what)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-01 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)
He does not inquire as to what the fuck e-blocker could possibly be, as clearly a dearth of it would make it utterly irrelevant to the set of circumstances.

"Yes," he says. "Well."

He regards the hand extended toward him uncertainly, debating its purpose and the intent behind the gesture before he may conclude that she intends to lead him in a very literal, very physical sense, that which would result in little more than a somatosensory nightmare.

"Fine," he says, edged and wary, eyes flicking away from the hand in silent disregard for the unspoken offer. "We move slow."
all_the_gifts: (cautious)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-01 09:56 pm (UTC)(link)
She lets her hand drop, neither surprised nor offended by the rejection. The offer was made more for his peace of mind than hers.

Melanie approaches the doorway at a slow creep, more for demonstrative purposes than because it's necessary out here. Inside, it's a different story. There's a dilapidated entryway featuring a toppled bin and a row of dusty mailboxes. There are two hallways to choose from, but one only extends a few feet before the floor opens into a jagged-edged hole. She might be able to edge around it, but Nick probably couldn't. She leads him into the other.

Down at the far end, the hungries are immediately visible. They stand like statues in the back doorway, completely still except for the faint stirring of their tattered clothing. She points to them, keeping her motions smooth and easy. Then she points to a second doorway, this one half the hall's distance away. The stairs.

She finishes by lifting her finger to her lips. Then, she starts down the hall, choosing each step carefully.
lottawork: (lost)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-01 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
He studies the slow fluidity of her movements before mimicking said motions, his weight kept low and evenly distributed.

Apparently this would be an environment with which she would be exceptionally familiar. This makes complete sense given her explanation for the state of her native D-brane.

The stillness of the silhouettes at the end of the hall provokes a faint chill, which he ignores utterly. The breeze continues its intermittent directional vector, pulling the clothing of the static figures in a continuous catch and flutter.

Rush dips his head in a careful nod and looks away.

That's not a lingering image he needs.

He takes care to place his feet in as similar a configuration as hers as possible, in avoidance of the inevitable creaking or shattering of the regrettably hardwood floors, cutting a steady, unbearably protracted toward the fucking stairs.
all_the_gifts: (bsod)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
Melanie knows better than to let impatience get the better of her. She tests each stretch of floorboard before putting her weight on it, acutely aware that even her full weight is nothing compared to Nick's. But if anything feels the least bit spongey or giving, she draws back and tries again. It is slow... but it's also quiet, and that's the most important thing.

When she finally pulls up to the staircase, she leans over and glances up, making sure there's nothing unpleasant waiting for them on the first landing. From what little she can see, the stairwell is clear. She moves past the entryway, planting herself between the hungries and Nick like a tiny sentinel, and motions to him from behind her back. He should take the lead, at least until they've left this specific threat behind them.
lottawork: (i DID leave the stove on)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
He decides to interpret that as an indication that their current roles should reverse, and he treads cautiously, pipe upraised, testing the integrity of each step with the toe of his foot before incrementally increasing the allotment of weight and transitioning to the next stair.

Roughly three-quarters of the way from the top, Rush encounters their first problem.

Rather, the problem announces itself rather transparently in the form of a step whose foundations appear to be severely unstable, courtesy of the inexorable creep of rot eating steadily through the boards.

Fucking hardwood.

Rush shifts to the wall to brace himself against its support as he attempts to clear the unsteady area entirely with an overly long stride.
all_the_gifts: (spooked)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
Half of her focus remains on the hungries in the doorway; the other is on Nick as he starts up the stairs. He seems to be making good progress, not too fast and not too slow. As he nears the landing, she starts to ease her way back into the stairwell.

She becomes aware that he's pausing a bit longer than usual a moment before one of the stairs creaks below his foot.

There's no time to look astonished or disapproving. Melanie glances at the doorway to see heads turning sharply in their direction. No time for sneaking anymore, either. She turns and legs it up the stairs with a frantic, hissed, "Go!"
lottawork: (mother fucKING SHIT)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 02:24 am (UTC)(link)
The ear-splitting shriek of rending boards does not need to be punctuated by Melanie's wild urging for Rush to become aware of the fact that the requirement for stealth has become irrelevant. He sprints unflinchingly upward, clearing the remainder of the steps even as they begin to disintegrate beneath his weight.

"Fuck," he hisses, brusque and tense, as he distantly hopes that his smaller charge has the requisite speed or agility to cross the gaps his passage has formed.
all_the_gifts: (thousand yard stare)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 03:08 am (UTC)(link)
The gaps in the stairs are no obstacle for Melanie; she vaults up onto the railing and scampers up to the landing. One of the pursuing hungries blunders into the hole Nick's left behind and goes down, and the other three trample heedlessly over it and continue to climb.

Can they really outrun three of them?

"Keep going," Melanie says tersely. "Shout if there are more."

She spins on her heel, then leaps back down the stairs towards the frontrunner. Her bare feet curl over sharply defined hip bones, her hands grip its desiccated shoulders. Its teeth snap together once, a reaction to the impact but not to her, because she is nothing to them. It stumbles back, colliding with the others, already wavering uncertainly at the loss of stimuli. It won't last long, but it will buy Nick more time.
lottawork: (oh thats fucking excellent)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
Yes. This can in no fucking way go completely wrong.

Particularly now that it has become increasingly evident that (a) as Melanie has claimed, the 'hungries' appear to be ignoring her utterly, (b) they are fair fucking fast, and (c) he will not need to worry about Melanie's physical capabilities in terms of her getting up the stairs.

That's a mild relief.

The organisms lurch blindly toward them in a disorganized surge, their bodies emaciated to the point of -

Rush realigns his focus to climbing the stairs in a relatively expeditious manner.

"Oh, fuck off," he snarls in profound disgust, rounding the next landing to discover a secondary cluster of the intolerable things moving in unerring synchrony toward the source of the chaos.

He swings the pipe from his shoulder to smash it into the approaching head of the first one with a sickening sound of metal impacting pulpy flesh.
all_the_gifts: (focused worry)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Nick's voice rings out down the stairwell, and Melanie shoves herself away from the hungry she was holding at bay. It wavers, but not for long - she might not smell like anything, but the sight of her sprinting back up the stairs is enough to pique their interest. She's faster than they are, though, and they're tripping over one another in their haste.

She takes in the scene farther up the stairs with a glance. More are closing in, but Nick's holding his own. She launches herself at one of the hungries in the back, scaling its body like an angry cat and sinking her teeth into the back of its neck. Her jaw works with automatic rapidity until its spine is severed and it collapses to the floor in an ungainly heap. Turning to the next, Melanie leaps, her mouth and chin smeared with grey and glistening red.
lottawork: (did i leave the stove on)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
One of them pins him to the wall, jaws working mindlessly to tear into flesh and he strains, back arching, forcing the horizontal barrier of the pipe into its open mouth. He twists with violent precision, employing force and gravity and momentum to his advantage to thrust the thing back and down the stairway, sending it crashing into its fellows and through the crumbling wood.

Rush spins neatly to curve the pipe's end into the head of one of the rapidly approaching monsters, clipping it at an angle that separates the lower half of its jaw from its skull. Undeterred, the thing continues to surge at him.

Wordless, Rush takes the legs out from beneath it with a well-executed arc from his weapon and slams the pipe's haft into the center of its chest.

The softened flesh caves immediately beneath the increase in pressure, and Rush looks away.

He looks to Melanie, who is apparently holding her own, and employing an atypical method of attack to do so.

He lifts the pipe to chest-level, regarding her warily, taking note of her tactic of severing bone and nerves via application of teeth, seemingly unaffected by whatever virulent strain or organism have mutated the formerly human host bodies beyond recognition.

Significantly atypical.
all_the_gifts: (not safe)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The last hungry goes down, and Melanie finally takes note of the way Nick's looking at her. She stares back at him just as warily, wondering if he's going to swing that pipe at her, next. Then, moving as slowly as she would if she was sneaking past hungries again, she rises out of her crouch. Almost as an afterthought, she lifts an arm and wipes her face on her sleeve.

"Are you hurt?" she asks quietly.
lottawork: (adrift)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm fine." The pipe hovers indecisively until he lowers it, his expression locked. The level of control demonstrated for the duration of the incursion would indicate that she is - dissimilar.

What this may connote, he has no idea.

"Is this, perhaps, what you meant to specify by 'different'?" he says, the words edged and his diction sharp.
all_the_gifts: (downcast)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
"Half-hungry," she explains, dropping her gaze. "My parents..."

Well. Any one of these bodies littering the floor could have been them. Except not really. Hers would be in England, and chances are nothing remains of either of them anymore.

She wipes at her face again, self-consciously. She must look like a mess. "I can control it. And I still have a mind." Both truths just sound like feeble excuses considering what she's done - what Nick watched her do.

"I'll leave you alone," she concludes, stepping over the bodies as she backs away from him.
lottawork: (go away)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Some sort of physiological hybrid, by her own admission. Rush retreats to evaluate her, eyes narrowed.

Her sense of self-control would be admirable, assuming she is openly resisting an instinctive drive to assert herself in a destructive and openly cannibalistic manner.

He has even less of an idea pertaining to how one should conduct oneself around a brand of composite child, roughly fifty percent of whose biology directly opposes his and encourages a potentially insatiable anthropophagitic urge.

"You're capable of exercising restraint," he says, the question implicit, his tone no less wary.
all_the_gifts: (concerned)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Melanie pauses mid-exit, eyeing him uncertainly. "Yes. I... I don't want to hurt people."

Part of her does. But she doesn't have to listen to that part. It wasn't even roused by attacking the hungries, though that doesn't surprise her. It's not in the cordycep's interest for her, or any other hungry, to attack those already infected.

She could point out that she hasn't attacked Nick so far, but she's not entirely convinced he wouldn't be all right without her. Either way, she's not going to push her company on him. He might prefer it if she just left.
lottawork: (distrust)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
One way or another, he will have to initiate some decisive action, as he is loathe to do so in front of a child but is distressingly lacking in alternatives.

Desire does not necessarily align with reality, but circumstantial evidence would indicate -

He has a fair idea of what it might indicate, and he would prefer not to examine it in any great length but suspects he may be forced to if this situation persists.

He watches her balance on a premeditated asymptote of her own making, her body language telegraphing her doubt and her irresolution.

Rush sighs.

He lowers the pipe in a deliberate downward arc, dropping it to his side.

"Obviously you've no plans to hurt me," he says tiredly.
all_the_gifts: (uh oh)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-02 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"No." Melanie watches the pipe drop, and her own stance relaxes a little in response. She doesn't move closer, though. Nick knows what she is, now, and the time she spent with Parks and the others has taught her better.

She drags her gaze up from the pipe to meet Nick's gaze. "If you want me to leave, I'll go."
lottawork: (bruh what up)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-02 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"What the fuck would that accomplish," he snaps with roughly twenty percent of his typical rancor, the weariness of prolonged physical activity beginning to seep into the slope of his shoulders. His free hand curls around the back of his neck as he looks up the remainder of the stairs.

"You're certainly welcome to." He opens a hand in the opposite direction without looking at her. "In my experience, there is some credibility to the notion of safety in numbers."
all_the_gifts: (cautious)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-03 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
She'd thought it might make him feel safer, but it seems knowing what she is hasn't completely soured him. If she wasn't already certain he wasn't from her universe, that would cement it.

"Oh." She considers the implicit offer to stay. It's not even an offer, but a suggestion; he thinks they'll both be better off.

Well. She glances down the stairs - no more hungries will be coming from that direction, she'd guess - and then cautiously resumes climbing, edging past Nick to lead the way up the stairs.
lottawork: (life isn't ur goddamn photoshoot rush)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-03 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
The wind outside whips past the building exterior, gliding over the contours of the paneled wood and stone, dislodging the shattered fragments of glass still clustered along windowsills.

Rush watches a child, aged roughly somewhere between eight and ten, an unprecedented biological event, anomalous in every sense of the word, clearly capable of incredible amounts of self-discipline in extremis, climb a flight of stairs.

He follows her.

It is not often that he does not know what to say.

What does one say to a child who presumes herself a danger to those around her, save for the mindless masses that seek to exterminate and devour the mindful?

"You are very young," Rush remarks, inanely, like a man who does not know how to hold a conversation with eight-to-ten-year-old possibly-cannibalistic hybrid children.
all_the_gifts: (sidelong)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-03 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
Melanie glances back at him, surprised by the non-sequitur. "Yes." Her steps slow as she considers how better to respond, but it's hard to guess what he's really asking, if anything. "I don't know how old, exactly. The Breakdown was twenty years ago, but Dr. Caldwell guessed I must have been born in the last ten."
lottawork: (splainy | eye contact is for nerds)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-03 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
"You experienced something similar to - this, then." He gestures vaguely in the general direction of the cityscape outside, indicating the perpetual state of architectural and cultural and societal deterioration in which the city seems to exist.

"And you were translocated to Manhattan shortly thereafter, I assume." Establishing a tenuous timeline of Melanie's life may not be the most practical use of their time, but it is Rush's understanding that conversation involves discussion of certain personal events, to some extent.
all_the_gifts: (welp)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-08-05 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Something like this," she agrees, a bit vaguely. It was different in her universe. There were only two kinds of hungry, and she understood how things worked, and the only human she had to worry about protecting was Miss Justineau. Here, she feels as if she has to protect everyone, because this isn't the way things are supposed to be for them.

It was easier back home - easier to let humanity go, because they only would have destroyed what little hope was left if she hadn't.

"ROMAC kept me safe for the first few months," she offers, since he seems curious. "But someone brought me out before they fell."
lottawork: (sighhhh | so done w this bullshit)

[personal profile] lottawork 2015-08-05 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
"Good," he snorts, with somewhat more emphasis than is perhaps requisite given the subject in question. "ROMAC's protection management was shoddy at best."

Their management had, in general, left much to be desired in all areas, until he had contributed to the immediate and inevitable engineering of their collapse into modern, Rift-adapted society.

Rush turns his mind from the subject.

He runs two fingers along the edge of the stair railing and notes the even distribution of dust.

Given the remaining organisms' difficulty with the stairs and the general deserted air pervading the building's upper levels, he is eighty percent confident that they there will be no further confrontations for the duration of their ascent.

Possibly closer to seventy-five percent.