re_mybrains: (Gun-toting!Tom)
[personal profile] re_mybrains
It's a pleasant March afternoon in downtown Harrisburg, Pennsylvania -- sunny, partly cloudy.

In the courtyard of Pennsylvania Apartments, the bang of the front door slamming is still echoing when it opens again.

Two dozen zombies, in varying states of decay, are staggering towards it.

A human lighting generator, a superhero, a geek, and two regular schmoes are coming out the door to face them.

Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.

Date: 2008-05-02 03:39 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
Kendra doesn't like zombies close to her friends. Were this a more leisurely pursuit, where so much danger wasn't present, she might experiment with distraction techniques, but right now all she wants to know is if she can make them keep looking at her and perhaps, if the stars are aligned, follow her.

"Up here!" she singsongs. "Hey, sooooey soooey soooey!"

Then she arches, and descends in an arc. Kendra can fly very, very fast when she's got space and time to work up speed, but gravity works almost as well in pulling her down, and she uses that to her advantage. The shamble is too close together to use her sword effectively until she picks off one or two to loosen up the crowding.

There, that guy, the male zombie at the back, pushing the shamble towards Tom.

Her mace is up with a roar - that's the fun part, when her adrenaline surges into overdrive and she can roar as loud as she can - and down it comes with a wet CRUNCH sound of breaking skull and traumatized brain matter.

If she loses her voice, there's always the throat lozenges in a pouch on her belt.
Edited Date: 2008-05-02 03:41 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-05-02 03:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
Her first suitor has slowly begun to crumple to his knees. Apparently, it takes a while for these zombies to work out that they might, in fact, be dead.

Half his head is sliding wetly down the remains of his Kings of Leon t-shirt, with bits of skull festively decorating bits of brain like particularly white tortilla chips in pink guacamole.

Meanwhile, Kendra has taken to the air again, striving for height, up, up, and up, orienting herself first to the sun, whose position reads afternoon to her. Circling, she looks down, scanning and picking out any structures, trees, overhangs, or anything else that might hide more shambling or ambling unwanted pursuers coming their way.

"Clear!" she shouts, hoping to God they can hear her. "Clear! Nothing but them for now!"
Edited Date: 2008-05-02 03:58 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-05-02 04:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
"Good shot!" she yells back. That's the spirit.

He's good at this.

Later, they can talk about how sad it all is. It is sad, this pretty Earth of Tom's that's been overrun with the dead, with nothing home in the faces of all of these people that used to eat, laugh, make love, weep, walk the dog, buy milk at the store, and simply live.

Kendra's taken the opportunity to put some horizontal distance between herself and the shamble, angling for an approach that doesn't get her in the line of fire of anyone else. That would be, after all, a bit louche. Nothing humiliates like going to the hospital and explaining that you went down due to overzealously getting in the way of friendly fire.

Then she's circling back, shoving her mace into the loop at her right hip so she can free up a hand, aiming again for the back of the shamble, flying in fast just feet above the ground, snatching at the leather collar of a jacket being worn by a sadly decrepit teenage girl.

Or what used to be a girl.

"C'mere, you."

And they're in the air, rushing upwards.
Edited Date: 2008-05-02 04:16 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-05-02 04:41 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (ain'tplayin)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
Andrew, meanwhile, has his shoulder to Tom's and is firing into the shamble.

His aim isn't flawless, but with targets packed this close together it doesn't have to be.

Date: 2008-05-02 04:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
Oh, gods, they talk. Or something close to it, because for these kind of zombies, ones that don't appear to be agents of some collective intelligence (yet), that's pretty damn close to talking.

"Sorry," she says, curtly, but with feeling. "You have to go now."

They're still airborne, going higher and higher, until Kendra judges that it'll do.

Then she lets go, watching the girl tumble and pinwheel in the air. If there's anything left after she hits the ground, Kendra will chop it up later.

She's glad she's in the air when zombie meets ground. She hates that sound of a human body being spread out into a thin paste of biomass.





Edited Date: 2008-05-02 04:52 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-05-02 04:58 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (intense)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
Andrew's not too fond of it either, and he's a lot closer.

God, this is so much messier than vampires.

(If not as messy as, say, slime demons. But much more human-looking, and that doesn't help.)

He sets his jaw, and keeps firing.

Date: 2008-05-02 05:23 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (ain'tplayin)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"Gah--" Andrew stumbles back from the grasping hand, and puts a bullet through the prone zombie's head at point-blank range.

Close enough to get splattered.

Date: 2008-05-02 05:32 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (red lit)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"Not a chance," Andrew says fervently, scrubbing a smear of zombie gore off his knuckles -- the only bare skin to be touched by it, fortunately, owing to the angle.

His shoes and pant legs are sticky with it, though.

Date: 2008-05-02 06:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
Kendra has descended more in the matter of Screaming Death from Above after dispatching disturbingly reactive zombie #2. In fact, she's in the process of being Screaming Death From Above right over their heads, until, due to the lovely intrinsic qualities on Nth metal and its habit of making gravity something she can play with, she simply stops and floats above Andrew and Tom's heads, judging her height to be just out of zombie reach (unless they can jump, but time will tell, time will tell.)

"You boys all right? Who's next?" she queries, unlooping her morning star mace and hefting it again in her right hand, poised and ready.

"Your body count is making me smile," she adds. To both of them.
Edited Date: 2008-05-02 06:14 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-05-04 04:05 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (look out now)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"For some value of fine," Andrew adds under his breath, aiming at the next zombie.

That's about half of them down now.
Edited Date: 2008-05-04 04:29 am (UTC)

Date: 2008-05-04 05:03 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (look out now)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
Andrew turns left, fires twice, hits the zombie on the second shot.

"Looks like we're almost in the behind you," he shouts.

Date: 2008-05-04 06:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
"Goddamnit," is the rejoinder. Too close, too close, too close.

"Watch yourselves, guys!"

Kendra has learned over the last few thousand years to be ambidextrous.

This comes in handy.

"Fuck this," she mutters. Her trusty morning star is retrieved from her hip as she gains altitude, twists in the air, and rockets downwards at a favorable angle.

Sometimes, it's best to go to the melee rather than have the melee come to you.

When she hits the shamble doing sixty per, thanks to Nth metal, zombies are suddenly horizontal. Her sword works with brutal economy, taking off a head in a lefthanded stroke, neatly avoiding getting hitched in any cervical obstruction.

There's less blood than she expected. She knows she can't get bitten, which is why her morning star is playing a game of Connect the Skulls.

CRUNCH crunch crunch.



Date: 2008-05-04 06:16 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (dropjaw)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
... yeah, that kind of leaves Andrew and Tom with little to do but stare.

"Wow."

Date: 2008-05-04 06:34 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (smiling down)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
"Seriously?"

Andrew grins.

"Dude."

Date: 2008-05-04 06:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] accipiterpuella.livejournal.com
Kendra doesn't hear this exchange. She's too intent on reducing that last zombie skull to something resembling ground chuck with one, two, and three blows.

Finally, after being satisifed that anything cerebral that might possibly be able to animate said zombie's body is now rendered inert, she stops.

She's festively blood splattered, but it's all in a day's work, right?

"That was quick."

Edited Date: 2008-05-04 06:38 am (UTC)

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