We Are Awakened With The Axe [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

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.]

Comments

tw character death, EMOTIONS

[andhiswife]

Greta shudders with something between a sob and a mirthless laugh when Iman pulls her in again, because what she wants has nothing to do with it. She wants everything to stop being so awful for both of them, asleep or awake, because they've been through enough. She wants to be not infected with some unspeakable illness, so they wouldn't have to do this, so she could stay - stay alive even in this terrible nightmare, because the most awful things are a little less awful when they're together and can look out for one another. She wants to stay right here, with Iman's arms around her and her hand in her hair. She wants to stop sobbing into Iman's shoulder; she wants to be braver than this, so Iman doesn't have to deal with her torment on top of her incipient loss.

But she doesn't want Iman to have to put her down like a dog, however temporary or necessary or--or merciful an act it might be. She can't ask that of her. She won't have her live with the memory of it. A small comfort, perhaps, but at least Greta and her odd twin can give her that much.

"As soon as I wake up," she says, wishing she could force it to happen on her own, wishing this didn't feel so solid and inescapably real. "The very moment, I... I promise."

As if she can promise Iman anything.

She gets to her feet, one hand braced on the wall for support, the other still clinging to Iman's. She finds herself running her thumb over Iman's knuckles, and it feels like a cruel parody of comfort, but it gives her something to focus on besides the subtle shift in Rita's stance or the alien whirring of all that machinery, and what it heralds.

She shuts her eyes, because she's not that brave, and quietly begs, "Please don't watch."

She hopes Rita will make it quick.

She's gone before she can hear the gunshot.