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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:22:46 GMT -6
April 9th, 2026_________________________
Principio Ad Finem: Latin. Translation: The Beginning of the End _________________________ zykrinnox: "What do you mean 'different?'" "The patient's wound has started healing over, ma'am. There are obvious signs of continued blood flow to the area." Lorna froze mid-way through flipping through the patient file and the page that had been previously pushed onto the other side rustled quietly as it finished turning. The scientist stared up at the woman, brow furrowing without her realizing it before she snapped the file shut and replaced it under her arm. "Where?" "East. Detroit area, ma'am." "Walk with me." Lorna spoke briskly as she turned on her heel and headed down the hallway of one of the last running (if you could call it that) hospitals in America and the woman followed after her. It was a grimy hospital, as far as those went, considering cleaning wasn't much of a thing that was happening. At most, they kept certain rooms 'sterile' (which here means, as sterile as possible given the apocalypse) but at least there were definitely /some/ supplies in /some/ of the rooms. The building itself was falling apart and didn't have nearly enough lights-- many of the hallways were lit by only one light, and none of the fluorescents overhead were running. Even on a generator, the only lights they could get to work were the high-grade military lights, all hooked with extension cords to strips at the ends of the hallways. Lorna's feet expertly avoided these, but the woman following her had a bit of trouble navigating through the wires as Lorna spoke to her quickly and began taking her lab coat off. "I'm a busy woman, Corporal. I see probably a hundred different case files everyday, and seldom do I leave. People in all sorts of different places trust me for my work and because I was military myself. I'm also medical and I'm also a teacher. I leave maybe once a week, at most, and often I am disappointed." She stopped at a room and turned to open the door when her hand rested on the doorknob and she aimed her good eye at the Corporal. "Let me get one thing clear. If this is an exaggeration to get me to leave my post, I will never send supplies to your encampment again. Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, Sergeant." "That was a long time ago, Pullman," Lorna said as she opened the door and made her way in. After arriving to the locker with her name on it, she ignored the combination lock and opened it without touching it (none of them worked anymore) before tossing in her labcoat and putting on her vest and belt. Lorna took down a box and opened it to reveal two glocks, a small amount of ammo, car keys and some other basic necessities, and took down an already loaded backpack from a hook, which she shoved a few things into-- including her labcoat. She smiled crookedly as she turned to the woman, now prepared, and said, "Call me Fuhrer." The woman stared at her with incredulity on her face until Lorna pulled back her lips in a crooked grin and said, "Lorna Fuhrer."
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:26:54 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: Safety In Numbers.
It was graffiti scraped into the wall opposite the hunched shoulders of a man with his head angled downwards, a well-worn baseball cap pulled over his eyes and obscuring his face. He walked with a slight preference for one leg, the other one limping just enough to be noticeable when he tried to put his slightly hefty weight on it. His mouth twisted into a sneer at the graffiti when it caught his eye, and he aggressively kicked dirt in its direction, suddenly furious. He stomped away, thoughts stormy and whirling with flashes of images from months and weeks ago.
Several months ago, this same man was walking through a different part of the same city, if one could call it that. His shoulders weren't hunched and his head was angled higher, although he still often found himself staring at his feet. If questioned about it, he would insist he was just shy, while flashing a small, but charming (or so he had been told) smile and blushing slightly. But the truth was more likely that looking forward at all times was at once a hopeful and an anxious action. Looking forward meant always seeing what was coming for you. Looking forward meant you had to deal with whatever inevitably crossed your path. Looking forward usually implied you had a plan for how to deal with things as they cropped up. And he was seemingly incapable of any of those things. So instead, he chose to stare at his feet, which carried him forward, always but blindly.
When he first woke up, he thought he was blind. He cried out and threw his arms ahead of him, unable to see the action. Everything was dark, but suddenly so loud when just a moment ago they had seemed so quiet. He went to touch his face, still trying to see his hands, and felt... bandages? He ripped them off and attempted to sit up, only to flop back down, dizzy and disoriented.
"You might not want to try that," A 'doctor' had warned him, "You've been through a lot..."
And he had.
Not-so-several months ago, he was walking through that other part of town - the 'nicer' part of town - with a girl who loved him, then, on one arm and the other holding his mother's hand. She, in turn, was linked arm-in-arm with his father, and he was holding another man's hand. A son, and an older brother. There was another life in tow, but it hadn't come into the world as it was, yet. Sometimes he thought about what he would give to somehow keep it in the womb of the woman he loved, where he thought he could protect it so much easier and they would all be safe, and eventually happy, when this all blew over. But he knew such things were impossible, and so he never voiced these thoughts, not once.
There were times he wondered how it happened. If the walls caved in behind them, and they just never noticed. They came crawling and clawing out of alleys, their shambling not completely giving them away just yet. They were silent, like the dead. It was only fitting, of course.
When the first one got close enough, he felt a tugging on his arm and he tried to sound encouraging.
"Jus' ignore him, he doesn' look so--"
He had been going to say 'hot', and then reiterate they should just mind their own business and keep moving. But then the stumbling, delirious-looking man lunged towards them aggressively, his lips pulling back in a feral snarl. He pulled his love behind him in an attempt to keep them safe as he shouted a 'Whadefuck!?', not having any idea this was the worst possible course of action as the rest of them closed in behind them, a circle forming around the group.
Safety In Numbers.
Sweaty, white-knuckled hands make it hard to hold onto things. His mother's hand slipped out of his grip as she screamed, red blooming on the cotton of her blouse as ragged teeth sunk into her neck. The sound cut off in a gurgled whine and then she never made a sound again. Just the tearing of teeth through flesh, the flow of blood and rip of tendons as the bite was swallowed whole, no chewing necessary. He watched her still-twitching body slump to the ground, fixated. He'd never seen so much blood before. He hadn't even know it could spray like that. It was all over him, and he didn't even realize it wasn't just hers for the longest moment. His brother never screamed - he never even knew how he died. (The doctor told him that it happened. How? Why? They didn't have the answers to those questions - and the second one was the answer he wanted most of all.)
His father grabbed his hand, fingers rough and steady. He wasn't a sweating, quivering mess.
"Where is she?" He pleaded, looking for the person he'd pushed behind him to specifically protect.
"She's gone."
He refused to believe that. He saw a shock of ginger hair that could pass for hers, and pulled away, diving into the crowd.
"You'll die!"
"I know." He breathed, positive his voice wouldn't carry over the sounds of terror and mayhem all around him. Something - no, not something, he knew what it was - met the back of his ankle, and tore into it. He screamed, pain shooting up his leg. He saw a familiar hand and he grabbed it, yanking hard. She came towards him, covered in blood and tears streaming down her face.
The doctor asked him how he managed to run with his achilles tendon in complete ruin, and he shook his head (which hurt). He didn't know. He didn't worry about it when he was running for his life from fucking zombies.
Is my mother dead?
'Yes.'
What happened to my brother?
'He has also passed.'
How?
'I don't know the exact details.'
Why?
'He was attacked, as were you. It's amazing you survived.'
My father? My wife?
'They're here. They're infected, as are you.'
Why?
'You've all been bitten. That spreads the--"
No, why?
The doctor had run out of answers.
Weeks ago, he had been hustled into this place. Sorted away with the rest of the 'undesirables'. He was in the same town - the 'bad' part of town, now - but he didn't want to be. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to /be/. He knew what was left of his family was here, too, somewhere. He wasn't told where. He hoped to run into them - he tried. But it was too late when he finally found them. His dad was rotting away, letting more than skin and bones. His wife looked at him with hollow, empty eyes. Her expression was as flat as her stomach. She told him she wanted to wait to be able to tell him she'd made her choice - she was going to take her chances outside the city walls. She was already infected. What was the worst that could happen? They were never officially divorced. Is marriage still binding when you never really die, but you're not exactly alive anymore either? He let her go. He watched his dad die, and then turn. He strangled him at first, before deciding on breaking his neck. There was no punishment, nor even reprimand for his actions. The body was quietly disposed of when he wasn't looking. That's how it was here.
Safety In Numbers.
He never knew there were so many people packed in this area. He had known of it, for sure. Everyone did. Warned to stay away from it. Every once in awhile, someone without access to the area would try to get in, and they would be warned to back away or face punishment. The guards had guns. That kept most people away. But some people were really determined - mothers who wanted to see their children. Children who wanted to see their mothers. One time, he lifted a kid up onto his shoulders, giving them a chance to wave both of their arms wildly at their frantic mother on the other side, who began bawling. The kid bawled, too. (And so did he.) He lowered them from his shoulders, and gave them a hug.
"Ya see dat? Dat means she misses you n' still loves you, ver'much." He explained. The sobs turned to hiccups. Red-stained eyes stared resolutely behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see an approaching guard.
"Designate yourself, citizen."
"Rick." He grunted, keeping the child next to his side. ('Don't push them behind you, never behind you. Always where you can see them and keep them safe.')
"Your full name, citizen."
"Richard Cunningham." He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and tried to shift his weight to one leg - his bad one. He winced and was forced to stand upright, instead. He was taller, for christ's sake.
He was rewarded with a broken nose and blurred vision that prevented him from doing much when he was forced into an examination room. They rattled a bunch of numbers off at him he didn't care about - the number of days since the 'accident' happened, the number of days since he was infected, the number of days he had been in here, the number of days it usually takes a man of his size and build to turn, the numbers of numbers that didn't add up to make the fact that he was still alive make sense.
His wound was healing. His head still hurt, among other things. The hole inside of his chest where something used to be complained loudly that it hurt the most, but he ignored it. They told him he could either explain why he wasn't a zombie, or they would figure out why, and Rick scowled viciously. He swung at the one nearest to him, and was only allowed to be satisfied with the feel of skin smashing against skin for a moment before something else struck him in return and he crumpled, like an old alluminum can being crushed underfoot. He wheezed and laid on the floor, shaking all over as they closed the door to the room he was in and left. Their footsteps echoed away from him and he was alone.
Safety In Numbers.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:27:24 GMT -6
zykrinnox: Lorna stepped out of the military-grade jeep on the outskirts of some sort of encampment. It looked stronger than it actually was, apparently, but that was part of the trick. Even zombies knew they couldn't climb a 20-foot wall, and that would keep them away even if it was flimsier than paper. Or. For the most part, anyway. From the looks of these reports they've certainly had their fair share of infected, even since they've been inside the walls and even though the separate part of the city is closed off with gunmen at the gate. She closed the files and began walking toward the gate, where, as expected, she was stopped for ID.
She pulled out her military ID and flipped it open for the Private to see. "Former Sergeant Lorna Rae Fuhrer, Medical Team. Minneapolis Region."
He looked surprised. "What's your business?"
"Code Spes."
"Here?" he turned to the other guard on duty, who looked just as incredulous. "I haven't heard anything about that."
"Maybe you would have if you were a rank higher. The rest is a need-to-know basis, Private."
It was the other guard's turn this time. "Look, ma'am, I think we woulda heard if there was a Code Spes here--"
"Stand down, Privates. She's with me. Forget it and let us through."
The first guard turned toward the woman, recognition forming on his face before saying, "Yes, Corporal," and signaling to the gatekeepers to open the gate.
As Lorna and Pullman (Michelle, apparently) passed the checkpoint, Lorna heard the guards behind her muttering something about having to obey a Corporal-- someone who's only one rank higher than them. She couldn't help but smirk, but this quickly faded as she realized how worse-for-wear this encampment was. Everyone was in a dismal state. Even children looked like they could use some Lexapro. Lorna couldn't blame them, but it was something that never failed to bring about her regular furrowed brow-- seeing how hopeless the encampments were.
Michelle turned into a building that looked a little less shabby than all the others and the two of them were scanned at the door and they checked their IDs a second time. The Corporal explained who Lorna was to the guards and they nodded, seeing her in but leaving the Corporal outside, who no longer had clearance for the area. She was ushered to another set of people who explained his condition-- again.
"I read the file. Where's the patient?"
"He's in the back-- I'm warning you though, he's been giving us some trouble. Not very good at staying still. Very agitated most of the time."
Lorna raised an eyebrow. "The file said he was more soft-spoken than anything."
"Yeah, well that was before the tumor. We got lucky-- we were able to get an X-Ray." The man pulled out a penlight and illuminated the X-Ray from behind as Lorna looked at it.
"The Frontal Lobe." It all made sense, now. The frontal lobe was where the personality center was-- as well as the problem-solving and tactics part. She couldn't judge yet, but it appeared to be a mixture of personality differences (thank God someone made the new filing system much more involved. It was easier that way to keep track of behavioral traits when someone lost their family or friends or whoever knew them best) and poor decision making to not cooperate with people who were trying to help him and all of mankind.
"Right. We think it could be very important."
She nodded before handing back the X-Ray. "Take me to him."
"Not yet. I'll send someone in with you--"
"For God's sake, Sergeant. He's a man, not a zoo animal."
"Well, alright. It's your call. I'll take you down there but I'm coming right back. You sure you don't want me to send someone in with you?"
Lorna rolled her eyes in response and the man nodded before leading her down the hallway and out a door. There was a stark contrast to this part of the building than the rest-- it was significantly colder, for one, she could guess it had to do with the cement, and for another she was pretty sure she hadn't seen one in tact window.
"This is where you're keeping him?"
"He's infected."
Lorna said nothing, but the crease on her brow deepened when he opened a metal door with one of the keys on his ring.
"Cunningham, this is Sergeant Fuhrer. She's just going to take a look at you."
Rolling her eyes, she said, "Lorna. I'm not a Sergeant anymore. Thanks."
The man left and Lorna pulled out her notebook and the pen that was behind her ear, making some notes before approaching him. She needed a way to befriend him so he'd at least listen to her. His file had said something about him being a smoker, right? It was small, and probably against the rules, but hell if she cared.
"You mind?" she asked, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from the side pocket of her backpack as she did.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:27:51 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: Pacing back and forth, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears and he switched for crouching in the corner instead. With his back pressed against the wall and one hand on the floor, ready to help push him forward if he needed (more like, really wanted to and decided to say hell with the consequences), he stared at the door as it was pushed open and a figure stepped inside.
He immediately scowled, but the intensity of it was hard to maintain when he realized 1) this wasn't one of the pathetic excuses for professionals he'd dealt with already, 2) it was a woman. Not that that was necessarily very RARE, but... if he felt like wolf whistling, he certainly might. 3) She had cigarettes and he was pretty damn sure those were not only contraband (well, for him they were) but that they were definitely banned in this area.
Pushing himself up the wall, he leaned against it on his good side to take weight off his bad leg as he raised a sceptical eyebrow.
"Naw'a all, miss." He tipped his hat to her, trying to hide his wince as it brushed over the angry, inflamed spot on his forehead.
As she took a drag of her cigarette, his mouth had settled into a fine pressed line. He couldn't tell if a scowl or a smirk was more appropriate anymore. After a minute of watching her smoke, he decided to go with something he hadn't already shown her - a wolfish grin.
"So wha'brings a preddy lady like yerself ta ma humble abode?" He asked with another raise of his eyebrow, keeping his tone as informal and slack-jawed as possible. He could wager a guess why she was here, but he wanted to see what answer she could come up with.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:28:16 GMT -6
zykrinnox: She took a drag of her cigarette and sighed, allowing the smoke to float through the air toward the top of the cold, cement room. Her arms moved to fold in front of her chest, and she tapped the cigarette which sent a few glowing ashes to the ground.
"Mr. Cunningham-- may I call you Richard? Or, you preferred Rick, right?" she didn't wait for an answer before continuing, but did acknowledge the slight nod of his head while ignoring the grimace he gave at the use of 'Richard,' "I don't get called away from my post very often, and when I do I find that I'm thoroughly disappointed. In fact, I wasn't serious when I said it, but I threatened the person who asked me to come here. Said if they were lying or exaggerating how... different your condition was, I would stop all shipments of medical supplies to this area. Hell, maybe I was serious at the time. I don't know. The point is, I'm not disappointed this time." She thought back to the Sergeant and ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. After a moment and another drag, she looked over at Rick and leaned against the wall. "What have they told you?"
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:28:53 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: He was surprised she knew about his preference for Rick, but was grateful to be given the opportunity to go by anything other than his full name for once. Everyone else here seemed inclined to be as infuriatingly formal as possible.
His mouth twitched back into the direction of a smirk, amused at her supposed threat to stop supplies to this place.
'They'd deserve it.' He wanted to remark, but refrained for the time being as he let her continue speaking. 'My condition is different?'
"Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait," He said, one too many times but he held his hands up and closed his eyes in confused agitation. "Hold up. Dey haven't told me jack shit! What condition? Different how? Ya better start talkin', lady, or I'll--"
He cut himself off, realizing the threat was pointless as he pinched the bridge of his nose and thumped his shoulders into the back of the cement wall. He kept his head bowed, eyes closed and fingers still pressed into the corners of them.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:29:10 GMT -6
zykrinnox: Lorna sighed and held out her cigarette to him. "You're going to need this far more than I will."
After he took it, she pulled her backpack off and took a file out of the back pocket, where she put things that needed to stay flat. She took a seat on the floor in front of her bag, scribbled a few things in her notebook and shook her head before clicking the pen and replacing it behind her ear.
"You might want to sit down."
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:29:33 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: Though his anxiety was increasingly mounting with each minute he spent in this strange woman's company, there was no way in hell Rick was going to turn down a cigarette when offered.
Taking a long drag, he decided to agree with her advice and sat on the floor across from her. He blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth, not wanting to blow it right into her face when she was about to start filling him in on something that he definitely wanted to know. And, you know, she had given him the cigarette to begin with. He could pass out certain niceties for the time being.
"Start talkin'." He instructed once they were both situated.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:29:56 GMT -6
zykrinnox: She didn't hesitate.
"They're calling you a 'Code Spes', Rick. Spes is the Latin word for 'Hope.' They think you could be the key to a cure. You're infected, but you haven't become an infected. For some reason, you're immune."
She watched his face carefully before pulling a small box of cigarettes out of her bag and handing him the whole case.
"Thing is, I think they're going to ask me to operate. I'm not a surgeon, but we're kind of short on those now. The surgery is fatal-- you wouldn't survive and there's no guarantee I would even find anything." She raised a hand as he opened his mouth to silence him. "If they ask, I'm going to pretend like I'm cooperating, but I won't."
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:30:13 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: Frowning deeper than he could ever remember doing before, Rick hunched his shoulders and rested his hands on one of his own ankles, his legs now crossed under him.
He leaned slightly forward, tilting his face to one side to blow out smoke when necessary and only lifting a hand to flick the ashes off his cigarette. He quickly finished two before moving onto a third, obviously unsettled.
"N' Why would ya naw wanna agree widder milit'ry buds, huh?" He accused, wringing his hands back and forth over his ankle. It was his weaker one. "Ya saiddit yerself, I'm 'mune. So ta me, it sounds like yer jus' tryin' ta butter me up." He was tempted to put out his cigarette on his boot and chuck the pack at her face, but he didn't want to give them up. Instead, he yanked up his pant leg, demonstrating to the scar over his now-healed achilles tendon. "Did they tell ya wha' happened ta me? Ta my family? Did dey tell ya it was safe here?" Standing up, his pant leg still rolled up slightly, he glowered down at her viciously. "Don't feed me excuses. I've had enough of it."
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:30:34 GMT -6
zykrinnox: Actually visibly insulted, Lorna's brow furrowed and her lip curled as she stood up, creating a wrinkle around her nose and making her scar even more visible. She wasn't as tall as him, in fact, she was a good four inches shorter, but she could still look intimidating, and she was going to make sure he knew she meant business.
"I don't need you to like me, Rick, but I do need you to trust me to at least some degree. Maybe they won't ask me and we won't have to worry about it at all, but I'm pretty sure they didn't ask me here for my health or my own personal curiosity." She sucked in a breath through her nose and narrowed her eyes. "No, I don't know what happened to you or your family, other than hearing you don't have one anymore. All I know, is you're immune and they're probably going to want me to try to dig around for an answer that I simply don't have the knowledge or ability to find in these conditions-- and even if I did find something, there's no guarantee we could do something about it. I'm not trying to win you over or even be your friend, I'm trying to be a decent human being because this team of idiots out here who spout out bullshit like this," she gestured to the etched 'Safety In Numbers' on the wall with a scowl, "think there's some miracle cure and killing one person to find it, even if actually finding one is such a low probability that we don't have computers anymore who can calculate it is a good idea. They don't care about what we have to do to end it, whereas I would like to keep my dignity and care for people in general which are the only things separating us from the shamblers out there."
Even Lorna, master of being firm and strict and not caring what anyone thought of her, knew she was laying it on a little thick with that. She put a hand on her head and turned away from him, staring at her bag for a moment before picking it up and putting it back on her shoulders. The truth was, she had other theories about how he could help with finding a cure, but she didn't have the resources (or the test subjects) to carry through with testing them-- but none of them involved rooting around in his brain and killing him in the process.
"I'm sorry about whatever happened, and I can't begin to make up for it with words. I will say this, though, family doesn't end in blood, and neither will the apocalypse. I know that, and I'm sorry they've forgotten." Lorna put her hand on the door to push her way out, but hesitated before doing so. She sighed and pulled the last box of cigarettes she had on her from the side pocket of her backpack and the lighter she had just refilled with gas and tossed them on the floor behind her.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:30:51 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: Surprised and infuriated with her and himself, he grit his teeth and tucked his chin against his chest, breathing hard and his whole frame tense. He felt his eyes prickling but furiously blinked the excess moisture away, his lungs joining in on the burning sensation now. It made breathing in his cigarette even harder, but he refused not to.
"Ya can't be serious..." He said, very quietly. It was taking everything in him not to shout, because that would likely draw the attention of the guards and he really didn't want to deal with that right now. He just wanted to talk. "Yer naw jus' throwin' cig'rettes a' my feet like some kinna animal yer feedin' scraps. Either 'splain what de hell ya're tryin' to do wit' me, or GEDDA HELL OUT N' NEVER COME BACK HERE AGAIN!" He finished, raising the volume of his voice now that he realized they entirely expected him to throw a fit and if he wasn't, they'd get suspicious.
When Lorna turned to aim an unimpressed look (god, wasn't he even worth a glare?) in his direction, he shot her back a meaningful one, indicating this wasn't over but she really did need to go now to pull the act off. It would aid to her supposed 'playing along with them' thing. She had to know that, right? ... She wasn't actually going to leave and he be locked in this cement room for the rest of his life until he was dissected or something else, right...?
He quickly put out his other cigarette and flicked it in the pile of other used ones. Those could be passed off as Lorna's. He scooped up the cigarettes and lighter and outright shoved them in his pants, instead of in the pockets. If they needed to frisk him, they wouldn't think to do so besides a quick pat down to check. He definitely wanted to keep these, and shot Lorna a disgusting grin and waggle of his eyebrows as she saw him do this.
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:31:10 GMT -6
zykrinnox: She squinted at him when he waggled his eyebrows and shot her a grin, but after rolling her eyes and looking away for a moment, she heard the guards padding down the hallway. Surprising not only Rick, but also herself, she smirked at Rick before saying firmly, "Civilian, trying to order around your superiors won't get you anywhere. Stay put and wait for our decision."
With that, she pushed open the heavy metal door and let it close behind her with a loud, metallic 'clang' that echoed down the hallway. The Sergeant and a guard stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her exit.
"Sergeant Fuhrer, what happened in there?"
"About what you expected. He kept his distance, though, so don't worry about that. Guess I can handle myself better than you thought." She pushed past them and made her way down the hallway as they clamored after her. "Now, Sergeant, I take it I'm not here for my health. You're wanting surgery, aren't you?"
"Yes. That tumor came from nowhere. If we could just take a look, and soon, there might be a cure."
By the time they entered the other part of the building, Lorna turned to look at him with a steady eye. "You acknowledge there's no way Ri-- Cunningham," Don't show attachment, Lorna. "will survive, yes?"
"It's a loss that won't go unseen or forgotten. I will remind you, though, that not going through with the surgery is an act of direct insubordination."
Did this guy ever say anything useful? Or at least not a lie. "I'll do it," she said with a hand wave. "When?"
"Tomorrow. First thing. You can leave directly after the surgery, and if you need to take a sample of the brain back to your area, you can. We obviously don't have a variety of equipment here."
No way in Hell. "Yes, sir."
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After the man sickened Lorna by giving her what was likely one of the best rooms they had, she packed up anything she thought she might need and stealthily made her way back to the building. She flashed her ID at the guard, but it wasn't necessary, since he remembered her. She got in without any trouble, she just had to mumble something about checking some files. He didn't even appear to care why she was there anyway.
It was then that Lorna began rifling through rooms that were currently unoccupied and stealing things that she thought might be useful. Everything from bandages to syringes to medication went into a bag she picked up from a locker (it did belong to someone else, but she was clearly past that point now). When she was satisfied with what she had, she made her way to the back-- guards. Shit.
Lorna looked around frantically and ducked in a room to try to find anything useful. No good, they didn't have anything in here. She had to think fast-- killing them would be... well, in poor taste to say the least, considering that was exactly what she was trying to avoid. She could probably knock at least one of them out with some pressure to the carotid artery, but she'd have to separate them for that-- wait... She made her way back to the front desk where they checked her ID. Sure enough, he had a tranquilizer gun. Lorna sucked in a breath and released it slowly before lowering down into a crouched stance. For insurance, she pulled out her gun as she crept around the corner.
The man looked bored, he was twiddling a pencil on his desk. He had no crime, so Lorna did feel bad, but she didn't have a choice. As she made her way to him and began to stand up, though, her shoe squeaked on the tiled floor and the man jerked around only for his neck to hit the handle of Lorna's gun-- hard. She tried to aim for his carotid artery, but it didn't quite work. He was certainly hurt, but he was not out. He opened his mouth to speak-- or yell, more likely, but not before Lorna tried one more time to nail him. That time it worked, and he fell back on Lorna, who, with some difficulty, placed him down on the floor. She pulled out his tranquilizer gun and heaved a sigh before crouching and making her way around the corner in the hallway where the other two guards were stationed. The gun went up, made two shots and they were both down. Only when she went over and kicked each of them to find that they weren't stirring that she went through to the other building.
"Hey! What are you doing over here?"
Lorna didn't think, she didn't answer, she just shot, and another guard went down. She aimed at the second guard that was posted outside of Rick's holding cell to find that she had used up all the ammo. The man wasn't asking questions either, instead holding up his gun and firing a few shots at her. All she could think at the time was shit shit shit shit shit-- she was trying to avoid the noise, thank you very much. A bullet grazed her ankle and that was when she had had enough and she acted once again without thinking, throwing the gun at him while aiming for his jaw. The man was so surprised that he didn't react in time, and when the gun hit his jaw, Lorna realized, in a stroke of luck, she must have hit the nerve she was aiming for because he fell to the ground just like the guards before him. There was no way they had any longer than a minute, though, so she frantically dashed down the hallway, took one of the guard's sets of keys and threw open the metal door.
"Rick," she hissed into the darkness. "We need to get out. Now."
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:31:33 GMT -6
CommanderStarseed: Though he certainly hadn't been sleeping, Rick had jolted at the sudden sound of bullets outside his door, but kept his eyes closed. He could take a couple guesses at what that noise was, but he hoped for the best it would work out with his favour in mind. At the sudden assault of light on his eyelids, he knew things indeed had turned out to benefit him.
Lurching out of the darkness, he spared no more than a second to acknowledge the various bodies of guards littering the ground before nodding at Lorna. He hadn't even realized no one was actually dead and merely unconscious.
"I like yer style, miss!" He declared brashly, clapping her on the shoulder as they started sprinting. He hadn't even asked what the plan was yet, so he did in his own way. "So what now? Ya takin' me ta yer place fer sex n' coffee, er what?"
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Post by ashestoApples on Jul 24, 2014 1:31:50 GMT -6
zykrinnox: "You're vulgar," she said, somewhat surprised. Just whose life had she offered to save? "Yes, we're going to my place, and no, I'm afraid we're not so 'lucky.' All those guards are merely unconscious and we probably have about thirty seconds to hotwire a jeep and get the hell out of he--"
"Sergeant Fuhrer? What are you doing?"
Lorna froze. "S-sergeant," she said breathlessly. "I'm--" she glanced at Rick and looked back at the Sergeant. The man looked like he was working something out in his mind, and he slowly began reaching for his belt. Lorna panicked and bounded off the ground, used his shoulder as a springboard and landed behind him to put him in a sleeper hold. He struggled in vain and she tightened her grip-- she could put him out in 20-30 seconds, but Lorna still frantically looked up at Rick.
"Run."
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