Urban Dead: No Rest For the Wicked

[Cynical Cat]

Reaper looked around alertly. Trouble other than shamblers or leaders. Life was too complicated sometimes.

[Josh]

And come they did, a trio of gaunt ferals, moving slowly and sluggishly in the cold. Instinct had driven them into the buildings, but hunger drew them back out.

The man thrashed around as he saw them, screaming again.

[Caz]

Sherry cursed, hefted the thin man. Marley readied his gun, but she shook her head. They were headed back. Reaper could stay and do his thing if he wanted.

"You gonna stay? We're getting him to Dorian," she said.

[Cynical Cat]

Wendigo blew apart the first shambler's leg and dropped it. He blew apart the second one's skull at close range, splattering putrid ichor and rotting brains all over the area. He drew his axe to handle the third.

[Caz]

Well that answered that question.

"Sniff ya later, then!" she said with another wave. She and Marley began to carry the thrashing man to the mall.

[Cynical Cat]

The feral blocked the axe with his left forarm. The bone broke and gore splatted from the wound. Wendigo swung low, breaking the thigh bone. The shambler toppled. A finishing blow caved in the top of its skull. The ghoul jerked the axe out and walked over to the leg shot shambler.

He swung and took off a hand and then amputed the other arm at the elbow. The axe fell again and it was over.

[Rukia]

-Crash-
'Ell's eyes flew open. She sat up, and waited... -CRASH- This time it was followed by a yell. She was out of her bed not bothering to let her eyes adjust to the dark. She stumbled out of her room and down the hallway to the living room. She found her father and brothers all in their night clothes. She yelled out to them but they didn't acknowledge her. She looked around and realized what they were fighting, zombies. Shit. Before she could react, the rotters number grew, they came in through windows and broke down the door. She watched as her family was torn apart. All she could do was yell...

=========

And yell she did... Little did she know she was failing around in her bed at the hospital, yelling and coughing. Tears were streaming down her face and she was still asleep. She was mumbling other things but, her brothers names, "No" and "Dad" were coming out rather clear. She thrashed about in her bed, trying to wake up from the nightmare but couldn't.

[Pcm979]

Well, at last he was out of the Trauma section. Looking at the six walls of his curtained-off area had been driving Punt insane. Although, to be honest, he was still stuck in six walls. They were just further away.

Time to count roof tiles again, he supposed.

Gwen had begun to recover from the shock to her system due to the internal trauma, and although she could hardly lift her head, she still attempted to get the hell out. Finally, after going through yet another set of stitches, she relented.

As they carefully transferred Punt to the new bed, she watched with one half-open eye. As Riley and the helper had left, she watched him.

Punt looked as though he'd been sent to Hell and back, with perhaps a side trip to World War One and its more popular sequel. This was largely his own fault, of course; First that damnfool last stand which had killed him, followed by months of near-manic bloodlust. It left marks. Oh, and his more recent escapade. But Punt always had the half-baked concept that he was supposed to be protecting everyone, so he went over the ramparts time and again with a dogged sense of duty, when not actual glee.

Gwendolyn watched the man curiously, not recognising him. He looked... Well, damn miserable was a good way to put it. But that didn't stop her. Propping herself up a bit, she reached out and brushed her hand over his arm.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Nyeh?" He said, startled. He turned to look at her. "'Lo." He croaked.

She smiled a bit. A pretty, friendly smile that was off-putting in such a place. And despite her pale complexion and the bits of bruising still around her temple, she hardly looked as though she fit into the infirmary at all. She didn't say anything. Just smiled.

Punt blinked, adjusting his eyepatch a little. Several weeks before, and for four months prior to that, people had been afraid of him. So what had changed, really? "Er?" He said uncertainly.

"You look lonely," she said. "Just figured I'd say hi."

Or perhaps he'd just looked in pain and it was she who was the lonely, desperate-to-converse-at-all-costs one. But Gwen would never admit that.

"Ah." He said. "Well. Hi, then." A pause, he licked his lips. "I haven't seen you 'round 'ere before."

"I'm not from here," she said. "The mall, I mean."

"Ah." He nodded sagely, then stopped as the world reeled. At this rate he'd be here forever. "Th' call me Punt." He said, trying to stick his hand out before remembering that it was in a sling. "Second Irregulars."

She smiled and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Gwendolyn Sinclair. Daughter of Garvin Sinclair, former mayor of Malton."

"Ah." He said for a third time, feeling flattened. He knew that social status was gone along with Malton's infrastructure, but there was a strong streak of subservience in Punt's psyche that had always kept him in the background. "I s'pose this place ain't quite like home." He said with a weak grin, trying to break the ice.

"I like it here," she said truthfully. She lifted her shirt to reveal the foot-long gash down her side as well as the incision scars. "They took care'a me. Would'a died otherwise."

"I know what y' mean." His scars were prominently on display, including the dark shadow underneath his hair where his skull had once been smashed open. "They're a good lot." He concluded.

She nodded, collapsed down onto the bed. She winced a bit as her sides strained.

"I have t' say," he continued after a moment, croaking slightly, "I'd hate t' be the docs. Gets them down. Y' can see it in their eyes."

That caused her to frown. "Gil Sheehan died yesterday. I don't know if Dorian can finish his shift. He looks like he's falling apart."

"Died? How?" Punt was instantly in protector mode, ready to crawl over to some Zombies and give their ankles a good talking to. It was rather amusing, really.

Her eyes fell to the ground. "One of the patrol towers collapsed," she said quietly. "Not sure how it happened, but... I heard Petro had to finish it."

"Ouch." He said, flopping back to the bed. "Glad I'm not in charge." He wheezed.

"I liked Gil," she said softly. "It's like the only ones getting hurt are the ones I know now.â€Â

[Rukia]

'Ell woke up to the chaotic sounds of people talking loudly over someone for lack of a better word, freaking out. She groggily opened her eyes to a tall young woman about her age bringing carring in a man with.... she shook her head to make sure she wasn't halucinating. No she was right the man had no arms and was bleeding profusely. She watched as they laid him on a bed next to hers, Dorian followind close behind. The taller girl yelled over the mans groans something about hostiles. He just nodded, looked at 'Ell and said, "You're awake. Had some bad dreams last night?" then patted her shoulder before getting to work on the man.

[Cynical Cat]

Reaper brought his axe down a final time. So much for the rotters. He removed the left arm of the last one with a single axe blow, cleaned his weapons, and began walking back while nibbling on his snack.