Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Caz]

Before Petro could open his mouth, Melanie had marched up to Silver with a glower that could have melted the polar ice caps.

Without a second thought, she slapped him across the face.

"Darek," she said, her voice a hell of a lot softer than her palm had been. "We need you."

And as she glanced back to Petro... "The same goes for you."

[Dark Silver]

The head rocked back with the slap, the face taking on a dreamy quality to it. In his mind, he heard Melanie's words, and his grin took on a vagueness.

Gently, he patted her on the shoulder, almost soothing, it would seem. "You know.." he whispered oh so softly, "The only reason we're not trying to take your head off right now" the change in voices was shocking this close, the tone had changed almost completely, the differences while not very obvious at normal tone, was painfully obvious this close, hearing it this softly, ".....is because Petro loves you....back off Red....while I'm still incharge."

[Josh]

"Get back, Mel," he said gruffly.

[Caz]

She stared, open-mouthed. It was like what had happened with Jared a few days back... like there was a completely separate entity inside him. She backed away slowly, not breaking eye contact, searching for something in his gaze that would explain what the hell had just happened.

[frigidmagi]

"You know Hoss, Muntiny is a sin. Look it up." Came a hoarse whisper has a pistol was rather loudly cocked. FM held the pistol easily, green eyes hard has they bored into the back of Silver's skull.

[Dark Silver]

"You would shoot a man in the back? Who isn't even armed?"

Silver turned towards the source of the voice, as Mel walked away, the dreamy quality still on his features.

"At least come out of the shadows if your going to shoot me. I haven't exactly hurt anyone or even made a move to do so.....your the ones who came find me..."

Silver's hands where up, his wrist bending slightly, as the axe fell to the ground, the strap given the chance to slip away. The heavy metal weapon clattered to the asphalt, "You got me covered gunman.....what are you going to do?"

[frigidmagi]

FM grinned. He heard all that shit and worst in the desert. He didn't care then and didn't care now.

"I've done much worst. " He replied to Silver.

"What you want done?" He called to Petro.

[Josh]

He tossed his rock away. "Kick the axe away, Darek. And dump the glove. We're gonna settle this. If you can't do it like a man..." He glanced at FM. The other man would know what to do.

Oh fuck, was this going to hurt. And that was the best-case scenario.

But if Darek was still in there, he'd take one for the team.

[frigidmagi]

FM kept the pistol steady. He did not like this bullshit, but Petro was in fucking charge after all. So he said fist fight, there would be a fucking fist fight, even if it was a damn stupid civie idea. He also made a mental note to change where he slept, he didn't make this far by being a trusting soul.

[Dark Silver]

"It wouldn't be fair...."

Silver's tone was calm, we he looked over his shoulder at Petro, "But if it's a whuppin you want..."

Silver's foot slide out, kicking the head of the axe. It skidded away from him, clattering against a building. The gauntlet followed suit a few minutes later, slipped from his hand, and tossed lazily towards FM, "Make sure it doesn't get fucked up...hard to find new ones."

He turned towards Petro after that, arms spread, "You want to do this....."

It was both a statement and a question.

[Josh]

"Been a few years since the last time," he said, advancing forward. Much as he tried to hide it, he still had a noticeable limp. "Figure I've learned a couple of tricks since the last time."

He feinted left, then laid his best sucker-punch uppercut right into Silver's chin.

The other man's head rocked back, then snapped forward. Silver shook his head once, twice, then looked at him.

Oh fuck. This is gonna hurt.

[frigidmagi]

FM bit back a groan. Well at least there were docs enough to put Petro back togather again and he had the pistol to keep Silver from snapping his neck. But still... Sometimes Petro acted dumb enough to rate a Sir...

[Dark Silver]

The first shot was good, solid, but still in the end, lacking. The fact that Petro had come in thrwing a punch meant something.

Silver took another two hits while he mulled it over, forcing the voices back.

they tore at the edges, but he let himself steel up for this. It had been a few years since the last time they went at each other.

Silver was rocked back as another punch hit his jaw, his head snapping back. He took a few steps to steady himself, and the other man was already laying a right jab to his chin.

Petro had learned a few tricks, Silver mulled, bringing a hand to cover his chin, as another fist hit Silver's stomach. The wind blew out of him at the moment of impact, and he buckled back to soften the blow.

With Petro getting closer in, Silver rushed forward, the meaty fist flying out, two quick jabs to the ribs, followed up by a hook to the stomach. Silver took a step back from his handwork, his neck cracking loudly as he rubbed his jaw.

[Josh]

He staggered. He'd taken a lighter shot from a god damned cinderblock, once. He wasn't even trying to cover the limp as he circled, gasping. "That... the best you got?" he asked. "Put... some fucking snap into it..." he mocked him with Darek's own words from the last time they'd sparred.

[Dark Silver]

"You couldn't beat Brand....how the hell you expect to beat me?"

Silver moved back in on Petro, his left fist feinting a hook, as the right swooped down, driving home into Petro's stomach again, aimed at the Solar Plexus.

The name Brand pulled out the memory, Silver's sparring partner back in College, back when the four of them trapaised off, the Malton Do-gooders society, as it where. Silver smiled at the memory, temporaril distracted, and left his body open.

[Josh]

He managed to slide aside, taking the shot on the ribs. Which was a bit better than the plexus. Except that maybe something had given when Silver hit him. He whirled with the punch, spun around, and tackled the larger man. No breath left for trash-talking at this point...

[Dark Silver]

Silver staggered back as Petro ran into him, the other man's arms wrapped around his stomach. Silver's forearms came down like a hammer on Petro's back, once, twice, three times.

But the damn bastard was plucky, he'd give him that.

[Josh]

He collapsed to his knees, his entire body becoming one colossal ache of pain. His vision tunneled down as consciousness threatened to fade away.

He refused to let go. Gasping for breath, he spat out a mouthful of blood and looked up at Silver.

"That... the best you got... you fucking cunt..." he slurred as he rose up to his feet. "Getting... old, shithead." He lifted his fists once more.

[Dark Silver]

"Give it up Petro.....you can barely stand up. While I'm still fresh as a daisy."

Silvers hand cracked as he remade the fist, if Petro didn't give up, he was going to finish this before the other man had more than a few bruised ribs to show for it.

[Josh]

"I ever tell you about the time I fucked your mother up the ass?" he said, grinning through bloody teeth. "Let's see what you got, Darek. Show me what's there..."

For fuck's sake, hurry up before I fall over on my own, you cocksucker.

[Dark Silver]

Silver reared back, and threw the punch.

It stopped just short of hitting Petro's face, and instead, his finger flicked out and plunked him on the forehead.

"I win. Give it up before you spit out your god damn lung."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the voices seethed.

[Josh]

He stared for a long moment. "You realize," he said slowly. "That I let you win..."

With that, he fell back on his ass, still conscious, but his legs didn't have much motive power left at the moment.

[Dark Silver]

Silver shook his head, grinning to himself as he fell down next to Petro, and the pain finally kicking in. It was an useful ability he had, even before the outbreak, he could block out most pain when he was prepared for it.

The soreness of his jaw and the pain in his ribs slowly made themselves known, and he winced, "Yeah yeah, and one day you'll kick my ass right proper..."

With that, Silver got in one last shot, a light, backhanded slap in Petro's groin. "Bulk up Pet....I was pulling my punches"

[Josh]

He flinched, then flopped on his back. "I shoulda let him shoot your ass," he mumbled.

As Melanie made her way to his side, he stared at the sky, the light drizzle dripping down into his eyes.

It occurred to him that for the first time in his life, he was not the craziest bastard in an outfit that he was part of.

And that's what it took the end of the world to bring about.

"Jesus fuck," he moaned. "Anybody get the number of the fucking train..."

[Hedgecore]

Outside the Mall...

Some people just love anticipation, but they’ve probably never been on guard duty at a fortified mall in a zombie infested town that’s been abandoned by the rest of the known universe. Tedious, but tense: that’s what it is.
What do you do when you see a figure appear at the mouth of the boulevard leading to the mall? His gait is somewhere between a march and a stagger, but he’s clearly was not of the undead persuasion. The first clue is that this man carries a body across his shoulders. Shamblers haven’t taken to using victims as a fashion statement, not yet at least. The second clue is the singing:

As I walked out on the streets of Laredo,
as I walked out on Laredo one day
I spied a young cowboy all wrapped in white linen,
all wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay

It was faint at first, of course, but as they drew closer you could make out two voices: one with an American accent, the other Scottish, joined together in tone-deaf harmony. The American’s voice was tinged with either liquor, or delirium…or both.

Oh, beat the drum slowly, and play the fife lowly
And play the dead march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley and lay the earth o'er me
For I'm a poor cowboy and I know I've done wrong

On the roof, they watched, and waited as they slowly approached. They were growing impatient. How much longer? Having to wait, and watch and wait, and watch until they get close enough. Then comes the confrontation.

Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin
Get six pretty gals to sing me their song
Put bunches of roses all over my coffin
Roses to deaden the clods as they fall

Its no better if you’re the one down on the street either. Being out in the open when who knows what’s in the shadows, encumbered by the weight of another human being, who by the way, you’ve never seen before in your life, and the tension builds. Not only that, who knows what these mall-folk are like? They even gonna let you in, or are they shooting trespassers on sight? They’re up there, waiting, watching…

We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly
And bitterly wept as we carried him along
For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome
We all loved our comrade although he done wrong

No matter who they are, it’s a confrontation. So they’re not zeds. Doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous. Worse, in fact, ‘cause you don’t know where they stand right off the bat. How much longer now? Finally, they cross the parking lot. The man lets his passenger down, not quite gently enough.
He rights himself and reaches his arms back, stretching trying to get the knots out of his shoulders. He’s over 2 metres tall, and packing a lot of muscle on his frame. He has a shaved head, strong jaw, and wearing a somewhat grimy white t-shirt. Scavenged military web gear circles around his waist, and for some reason, he’s wearing red plaid kilt. Stranger still, he has an enormous sword, that’s right a sword, slung across his back.
His companion rests on the asphalt. He’s not quite as tall, and far lankier. He’s got dark dark reddish-brown hair, short and messily cut: The best he could do on himself, and using wire-cutters. He’s clad in a dark blue paramedic jumpsuit, with orange highlights, and a nametag reading ‘Lasko.’ “We there yet, Gator?â€Â