Andy
Full Member
Rufus probably
rick gets all his ideas from the sorting hat's cousin - the bad advice bag
Posts: 119
active character(s): Rick
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Post by Andy on Apr 12, 2015 21:07:46 GMT -6
"Yeah, yeah..." Rick sighed good-naturedly, rolling his eyes at her teasing as they drove on the rest of the way in silence.
He was just thinking about food himself when he heard his companion's stomach rumble not once, but twice, sounding angrier the second time.
" 'Scuse me, I believe dis is fer me." He remarked, before reaching over and poking Skylar's stomach before holding his hand up to his ear like he was answering an imaginary phone. "Yes, hello, dis is Rick. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, I see. I'll get right on dat."
He put his hand back on the wheel again, regarding Skylar with a cool indifference like this was a perfectly normal conversation taking place.
"Dat was yer stomach. It tells me yer hungry, n' I should feed you. Unfortunately, until we're in a safer spot dat I can cook, ya'll have ta settle fer some rations."
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Post by kryss on Apr 12, 2015 21:23:34 GMT -6
Skylar: She squeaked when Rick booped her belly. She covered it defensively, blushing slightly as he played out his routine. Still, she wasn't going to argue, although the mention of Rick's cooking set off another growl. She shooshed her tummy like it was Mr Whiskers, accepting the granola bars that Rick handed over. At least he wasn't obsessed with fruit like the Furher. Seriously. What was with that woman and dried fruit?
Skylar munched, her stomach satiated for the moment. As they moved along, the landscape slowly changed from fields to forest, more and more trees springing up around the car. Skylar could have sworn she saw shapes moving behind a few of them, but they all remained indistinct, and were probably her imagination. Besides, the sun was still shining and that helped banish some of her greater fears, despite the fact that low clouds were beginning to march their way across the sky.
The music kept switching back and forth, with Rick stretching his "every five songs" as much as he could. After lots of chatting, singing, and light arguing, they settled into the roadtrip lull, letting the music fill the void as they each fell into their own thoughts.
Skylar slowly became aware of the lyrics playing, and grinned sardonically at what they made her think of.
"Somewhere another pretty vein just dies
I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see
That you’re the antidote to everything except for me, me"
Just as the "So light 'em up, up, up"s started, she spoke,
"So, have you made a proper move on Mein Furher yet?" she asked, a wicked twinkle in her eye.
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Andy
Full Member
Rufus probably
rick gets all his ideas from the sorting hat's cousin - the bad advice bag
Posts: 119
active character(s): Rick
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Post by Andy on Apr 12, 2015 23:31:09 GMT -6
That almost had Rick steering the car directly off the road and right into the nearest obstacle, unclipping his seatbelt at the same time so he could tuck and roll his way out of the windshield as he went flying off and running away as he left Skylar to deal with the fact that she had just fucking asked that like it was nothing.
"I dunno, has de rabbit made a proper move on you yet?" He shot back, a little too defensively.
He was chewing on one of his thumbnails, the other hand gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly and aggressively to look casual. Not that anything else about his demeanor was screaming 'Your question doesn't bother me in any way what-so-ever', either.
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Post by kryss on Apr 13, 2015 0:05:58 GMT -6
Skylar: She laughed a little at his reaction. It was painfully obvious to absolutely everyone except Lorna that he had a major, major thing for her, but Skylar still hadn't expected THAT intense of a reaction. When he brought up Conrad, she shrugged one shoulder.
"The Rabbit couldn't make a move if I was in a bikini and laying on his bed," she quipped, laughing a little, then added, still maintaining a half smile, "Besides I'm pretty sure he likes Jane more." Skylar was fully aware that she was skilled at flustering Conrad, but he paid Jane lots of special attention, and did her favors. "But who could blame him?" she asked. Jane had the delicate beauty of a porcelain doll, even if her face was pretty young, and her voice sounded like an angel, and, well, she was pretty standoffish, but at least to Skylar she came across like someone who needed to be protected.
Moving past her tangled romantic pretty-sure-nobody-else-here-is-polyromantic, and Jane-is-almost-definitely-straight troubles, she tucked her knees up and grinned at Rick over them.
"I do take that as a no, though?" she asked, giving him a cheshire grin. "You gotta step up your pace, man. The apocalypse has already happened, you can't wait around for that time marker anymore."
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Andy
Full Member
Rufus probably
rick gets all his ideas from the sorting hat's cousin - the bad advice bag
Posts: 119
active character(s): Rick
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Post by Andy on Apr 13, 2015 0:42:30 GMT -6
To say Rick was surprised by Skylar's view of things would be an understatement. Conrad? Not interested in Skylar? He felt like bursting out laughing again. Granted, yeah, the kid paid some special attention to Jane, but Rick thought most of them did, in different ways. She kind of had... special needs, from what he understood. What with her being some kind of big music sensation before all this, and her obvious anxiety issues now-a-days, it made sense to him. Heck, Skylar seemed to pay special attention to her, too, but the underlying implications of that went so far over Rick's head, he couldn't catch them if he jumped.
"I think her n' Rabbit jus' have some stuff in common." Rick shrugged one shoulder, mirroring her gesture. " 'Sides, if ya want, I could push him on toppa ya again."
He thought back to the time he had caused such a scenario in the past, which had turned out... less than pleasant. Grimacing, he quickly backtracked.
"Or maybe not. Look, don't take dis da wrong way, but if da kid is too stupid to appreciate havin' a girl like you fawn over him, he's not even... worth it, ya feel?"
It felt odd to be talking about Conrad that way. He was a nice kid, all things considered. Rick really liked him, and in a way, considered him a friend. Even if their age difference made it kind of hard to completely relate to one another, and their personalities were so different. Regardless, they had fun together, when they could. Kind of like how Rick had fun with Skylar, which was why he could speak so frankly about someone else he cared about with her. He didn't want to see either of them hurting each other, in the end.
In regards to his own romantic entanglements, he gave no further comment, focusing on the road instead. It was better off left unsaid; At least the two of them could bond over the fact that both of their feelings seemed unrequited, from each of their perspectives.
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Post by kryss on Apr 13, 2015 1:19:22 GMT -6
Skylar: She bent her head over, resting her temple on her knee, and her smile twisted to the side as he spoke. She hadn't meant to imply she thought Conrad wasn't interested in her at all, just that he like Jane more and, more importantly, was the biggest virgin she'd ever met.
"Rick," she said, accusation in her voice again, "are you trying to make me blush?" she said, teasing. She really was touched though, even if she wouldn't say it. She and Rick messed around so much, sometimes she failed to stop and see that they were real friends, too, and that she cared about this stupid giant whatever-it-was fan who definitely hated the Pirates. Probably even more now than he did then.
They rode a little longer in silence. Skylar pulled the blanket a little tighter and watched the clouds roll inevitably forward, dimming their surroundings into a calming grey.
She peeped a little hand out, grabbing her iPod. She figured Rick had been behaved enough, and she'd rattled him enough, if unintentionally, to reward him a little. She chose an album at random and set it to shuffle, and the lyrics began drifting out,
"Hawaiian sunset peeping from the sea
Smiles and says Aloha to his sweetheart Hawaii
The drowsy islands slumber one by one
Close their sleepy eyelids say goodnight to the sun"
She looked at him sideways for a moment before saying,
"She will probably come around, you know. She just doesn't think that she deserves anything good. I don't know why, but I've seen it with my own eyes." Like when she went nights without sleeping. Or didn't eat. Or sat scowling to herself, fingers tracing over her facial scars and brow knitted so tight you could plant crops in the furrows.
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Andy
Full Member
Rufus probably
rick gets all his ideas from the sorting hat's cousin - the bad advice bag
Posts: 119
active character(s): Rick
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Post by Andy on Apr 13, 2015 20:11:17 GMT -6
"Guilty as charged." Rick smiled devilishly, shooting Skylar a quick glance. "But only if it's workin', n' I don't see any red on dos cheeks, kitty cat."
Despite the pallor of the sky signifying the inevitable of oncoming rain, which would only add difficulty to their trip, the pleasant conversation and familiar music drifting through the car left Rick unable to wipe the grin off his face. If he had anything to say in reply to Skylar's perception of Frown Brow, he kept it to himself. Although, secretly, he had to agree, even though the history between Fuhrur and Skylar went much further back than he was really aware of.
Instead, he chose to sing along, turning the car down a small offshoot of the road as he did.
"Then Hawaii like millions of times before Blossoms in her lover's arms once more Too soon the sunrise will wake her from her sleep So until tomorrow, sleep Hawaii sleep."
Though the sign had long been destroyed, a vehicle looking like the culprit crashed and abandoned underneath the remaining debris lying on the side of the road, it still helped function as a road marker. Rick looked out his window and upwards, seeing the grey of the sky above them getting darker by the minute. Hopefully they would be in and out of there soon enough, so they could be back in the car and on the way home before they got caught out in rain.
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Post by kryss on Apr 14, 2015 0:14:24 GMT -6
By the time she thought it might be evening, although that might just be the cloud cover, they finally found the gas station. Rick pulled up, stopping the car and opening the gate to the fence.
"Lissen, kitty cat, since SOMEBODY didn't bring her gun," Skylar made a noise of indignation. "I'll go an check out da place. You stay PUT, young lady." He took his nail-ridden bat and crossbow with him as he went. Skylar let out an offended click of her tongue, but did as she was told. She settled down, wiggling into her seat and pulling out her iPod, hooking her omnipresent headphones up to it for the better sound quality.
Rick made it into the gas station with no troubles. Skylar pulled up a game as music filled her head, content to wait.
Off in the trees, several lumbering forms made their way to the car, even though its engine had been silenced.
Skylar sighed as she died. You'd think that, living in the apocalypse, she'd have gotten better at Zombieville USA, but nope. She put her iPod down, glanced out the window, and nearly choked. Her breath caught up in her throat sharply and painfully at the sight of the corpse smacking its hand against her window. There was another directly behind it, two at the windshield, one at the back window and, as she glanced behind her, three at the driver's side. She let out a high pitched scream, instantly turning her throat raw.
She kicked herself backwards, tripping at the divide between the two seats. She screamed again. Dessicated fingers began shoving their way through the small crack in her window, grasping and yearning for her. She grabbed the bat Rick had given her earlier and brought it upwards, smashing the fingers back, accidentally taking a couple of them off. Her stomach violently heaved at the sight of the detached decaying digits. The moans and thumps of the walkers filled the air around her. She covered her ears, looking for a way out, but there was none. She was completely surrounded.
"RICK!" she screamed as loud as she could, hoping he would hear her before the glass gave way. "RICK! RICK!" One walker was stupid enough to put its face too close to the crack in the window, and received a knife in the eye for its troubles. One down, about.... eight to go. Oh God. "RICK!!!"
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Andy
Full Member
Rufus probably
rick gets all his ideas from the sorting hat's cousin - the bad advice bag
Posts: 119
active character(s): Rick
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Post by Andy on Apr 14, 2015 20:24:54 GMT -6
After double-checking to make sure all the car doors were properly locked (he frowned at the open crack in Skylar's window, but shrugged seeing as it couldn't be helped), Rick strode away from the vehicle, his crossbow at the ready and bat swinging from its trademark position on his belt.
Damn, he really sucked at being stealthy. Since the last time he had been here, it looked as though the weather had taken its toll on the surroundings, and there were tree branches and other smaller debris scattered all over the place. Every step he took was met with a crunch underneath his boots, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. It made it hard to differentiate between the sound of his own footsteps and any potential danger that might be creeping up behind him, which had him doing small circles as he made it towards the abandoned gas station. And with the wind picking up as the clouds darkened further overhead, the whistling in the trees just made it that much more disorienting and unsettling.
After what felt like far too long, he found himself facing the fence that closed off the small building, his hand coming up to grip between the holes in the chainlink. This, too, was a little worse for wear, but that wasn't too surprising. He remembered with a scowl how he had personally roughed it up a little, in their haste to deal with the threats surrounding them and escape the last time. The thought had him whipping around on the spot again, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and telling him 'something's wrong'.
He was about to let the feeling slide without further acknowledgement and head into the gas station when he heard Skylar's screaming, a chill going down his spine that had nothing to do with the wind barreling past him.
"SKYLAR!" He screamed in return, running back to the car.
The closer he got back to her, the further his heart dropped. Even at a distance, he could make out the dark shapes surrounding the car, pressed against every possible corner of it and banging against it trying to get inside or reach her. He thought of the open crack in her window, heart dropping into his stomach and making him feel sick. It disgusted him to think the sounds of her still screaming where a relief that at least she was still alive. For now, if his damn legs couldn't move any faster.
He debated if he was close enough to try firing an arrow - but he also didn't want to risk hitting the windshield. He didn't know enough about the durability of car windshields to know what that might do to it.
"ShitshitshitfuckfuckFUCK!" He repeated over and over under his breath, "SKYLAR!"
It was like one of those nightmares were you're trying to get away, but no matter how far or how fast you run, you don't seem to be making it anywhere. Only in this case, he was desperately trying to REACH the monsters.
He was just trading his crossbow for his bat when an ear-shattering blast of noise rang out, something whistling past his head and straight into the awaiting temple of one of the walkers. There was an explosive reaction - brain matter splattering all over the hood of the car as Skylar screamed again from the inside.
"Shit!" Rick breathed, unable to hear himself over the ringing in his ears as he stumbled when the sound rang out again, another walker going down. What the hell was going on?!
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Post by Vulcanus on Apr 15, 2015 20:16:16 GMT -6
“When I was seventeen…”
Gil gazed out from his window through narrow eyes, watching the sunset.
“It was a very good year…”
He winced at the faint sound of pounding on his door.
“It was a very good year for small town girls and soft summer nights…”
He leaned back in his chair, pretending not to notice. The sound faded.
“We’d hide from the lights…”
He saw his door open in the corner of his eye, just before tugging his beanie down over his eyes.
“On the village green… when I was sev—”
His earbuds were yanked from his ears and his beanie from his head.
“Attention soldier! Time to make a choice!”
Training kicked in, and Gil shot to his feet. The ASAP stood behind him, but his voice was familiar enough. He was an American pup, about half Gil’s age. His name was Locke.
“Good choice, Callum… I hope you weren’t planning on relaxing anytime soon.”
Gil simply stood still and silent. He could hear the ASAP rummaging through his things for a moment. “Wine glasses? Where the hell did you get these? Callum!”
“I’ve been saving them, sir!” His voice came out in a thick, Scottish accent.
“Why aren’t these accounted for in the inventory?”
“They are, sir!”
“But,” Gil felt the pup’s breath on the back of his ear, “what about my inventory? My personal inventory?”
Gil glanced to the side, just long enough to see who else was in the room. Two privates. He recognized them as loyal underlings of Locke.
“When did you come across these?”
“Eight months ago, sir!”
“And… how long have you been under me?”
“Eleven months, sir!”
“Almost a year? My, how time flies…” Locke stepped around in front of Gil. The pup had the chiseled face of a movie star, and his teeth shone bright from his smile. He stood just above Gil’s eye level. In one hand was Gil’s MP3-player, in the other was a wine glass. He hefted the latter. “But that means you found these… while you were under my command… Which means you had a choice, Callum. And you chose to keep them for yourself…” Locke gave a mock pouting face. “That’s not very compassionate.”
Gil did his best to stand at attention and not make eye contact.
“See, this is why you are always going to be stuck at corporal—I try to teach you new tricks, but the old dog just won’t learn. Richmond! First of Locke’s rules!”
“Compassion in the company, sir!” shouted one of the privates.
“Define compassion for me, Sutherland!”
“Considering the state of others before your own!”
Locke smiled. “Very good. See Callum? Do you see where you failed me?”
Gil clenched his jaw.
“Callum, you have a choice…”
“I failed to…” He almost had to swallow before continuing. “I failed to consider that you might want the glasses.”
“Very good, Callum. Very good.” Locke’s grin grew wider. “You made a poor choice eight months ago, but at least you can recognize that you were wrong. Maybe you can make it up to me now… You have another choice tomorrow, you see.”
Gil resisted the urge to scowl questioningly. His eyebrows twitched.
“They haven’t announced it yet, but tomorrow there will be an organization of a scouting party. I want you to volunteer.”
A scouting party. The words sent shivers up Gil’s spine. The last two parties hadn't come back with all their members, and the one before those hadn’t come back at all. The base had been running on fumes and the search for supplies had been growing steadily more and more desperate, punishments awaiting any soldiers assigned to scout that did not return with a significant number of supplies. Gil had dodged most of the drafting, due to his skills in the tower, but they wouldn’t stop him from volunteering.
Locke circled around him like a vulture. Indeed, there was a good chance that if he volunteered he was a dead man walking. But why would Locke want him volunteering? Was he finally tired of playing with Gil, deciding to be rid of him? No, there was something larger here. Gil just wasn’t sure what.
“You have a choice, of course. If I command you to do it, it’s not volunteering, now is it? You have a choice…”
Gil could always refuse. However, he knew that whatever chances of dying he may have on a scouting party, Locke could make living quite unbearable. As if to prove this point, Locke hefted Gil’s MP3-player.
“Since I can’t exactly take the glasses, you having registered them and all, I am going to take this from you. Temporarily, of course. I have to punish you somehow… How else will I ever teach you?”
Gil stood silent.
Locke sighed. “You have a choice. What should your decision stem from?”
“Compassion.”
“Very good,” Locke said, nodding. “Very good. I will leave you to contemplate on that, then.” He held up the glass in his hand, eyeing it, admiring it. “Oh, and clean up the mess, will you? It’s dangerous like that.”
“Sir?”
“Shards like that? Just laying out in the floor? What if you stepped on them without your boots? You could get hurt!”
Gil’s mind worked just slow enough that he was barely surprised as he turned to look at the floor to find nothing there.
“Callum! Stand at attention!” Locke said, dropping the glass, shards scattering everywhere.
Gil blinked for a moment just watching the beautiful destruction before him. Almost in slow-motion, shards of glass spinning and bouncing, the last rays of the sunset reflected within each shard.
“Callum!”
He shot back to attention.
Locke clicked his tongue. “When will I ever teach you? Stand at attention…”
Gil heard the crunching of glass under boots, and then another shattering clatter.
“Compassion for the company…”
Another glass shattered behind him.
“Keep your quarters clean!”
A glass flew by his head and shattered against the wall by the window, causing Gil to jump. The crunching of boots on glass preceded Locke’s reemergence into Gil’s field of vision, holding what Gil knew was the last whole glass.
“…Make a decision.”
Locke held the glass up against Gil’s chest. He held it there for what seemed to be an eternity. Gil knew it was a test: Would he break attention to take the glass?
He held. Somewhere in that moment the sunset ended and the room turned dark. Eventually, Locke let go of the glass, and it fell at Gilchrist Callum’s feet.
Locke scowled at Gil, almost as if perplexed. “You made the correct decision. Maybe you are learning… We will see tomorrow, I suppose?”
With that, Locke took his underlings and left Gil’s room, shutting the door behind him, leaving him in the darkness and the silence. Slowly, Gil’s straight, at-attention posture slumped over, bending slowly, eventually leading into a squat as he picked up the intact stem of the broken glass at his feet.
“…Fine…kegs…” he mumbled.
Leaning back, he lowered himself carefully into his chair, making sure he was not sitting on any glass.
“…brim to the dregs…”
He made a motion as if pouring wine into his broken glass.
“…poured sweet and clear…”
He tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he swirled the imaginary liquid around in his broken glass.
“…It was a very good year.”
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Post by Vulcanus on Apr 15, 2015 21:25:50 GMT -6
"All of your stemware is broken."
Private Duval turned her head inquisitively as Gil spontaneously spoke in French. She was very young. Very thin. Very French. "What?" she replied back in the same language.
"I... I broke all of your stemware."
Gil had waited until the two of them had drifted behind the rest of the scouting party. Duval completely stopped at this point. "What?" Her tone had shifted from shock to anger.
"I left them out. Locke found them." Gil passed her.
Her anger seemed to simmer out of her nostrils in a rough, slow sigh. "Fuck Locke." She began marching again, following behind Gil.
"I am... so sorry. I know how much--"
"Just forget it, okay... I don't want to think about it."
They walked in silence for a while.
"Is that why you volunteered?"
"Hm?" Gil raised an eyebrow.
"Did you come just to..." She shrugged her rifle onto her shoulder. "Surely you didn't come just to get a chance to apologize to me."
Gil gave a halfhearted grunt of a chuckle. "No. That's why Locke was there. He wanted to make me volunteer."
Duval scowled. "Why?"
"I wondered for a while myself, until I saw the actual team." Gil pointed at the other members of the scouting party spread out before them. "Tell me what you know."
"No." Duval frowned at him. "I'm not playing your stupid intellectual brain exercise games. Just tell me."
"We're all from different companies."
Duval scowled, giving the scouting party an extra look over. "So?"
"So, this was deliberate. They were spreading this out as much as possible. If any one company was tasked with a scouting mission, do you know how much trouble that would cause? Locke put me here because that guaranteed he would not have to be on it."
"I know people haven't been coming back from scouting, but--"
"53% chance of survival." Gil interrupted. "On average."
"You did the math?" Duval asked wearily.
"Chances are, only half of this party is coming back alive, simply based on recent trends."
"So, between you and me, only one of us will be making it back?"
Gil sighed. "That's not how statistics works."
"Well fuck your statistics. And fuck your problems with Locke. He wants you dead, boo hoo, grow up."
Gil glared at her. "Telling your elder to grow up..."
"Grow. The fuck. Up."
Gil simmered for a moment. "I'm sorry I broke your stupid stemware, but--"
"It's not stupid!" Duval shook her head. "And what, did you have it just lying around from your last party?"
"They were in my bag, and he searched them!" Gil gesticulated wildly for a moment. "It's fucking Locke! You know how he is!"
"I know how you say he is."
Gil blinked. "Are you calling me a liar?"
"No," Duval backpedaled, "I'm just saying I've never seen it myself. He seems to be rather respectful, at least when I'm around."
Gil scowled. "He puts on a good show when he has to. But trust me, he's the most sadistic little pup I've ever laid eyes on, and I'm old enough I saw Hitler."
"Are not."
"He's just a..." Gil searched for a word. "I don't know. He tortured me with it. Breaking the stemware. He did it in front of me just to watch me not do anything about it. I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. I haven't an ounce of respect from any of his superiors, so--"
"Just shut up already!"
"Excuse me?"
"I've heard all of these stories and excuses before, grandpa." Duval shook her head. "I'm just so tired of them. We're on a God damn suicide mission and... shit, you're bitching about the same bully you always bitch about."
Gil scowled and raised an eyebrow simultaneously. "Grandpa!? You were just telling me to 'grow up' a moment ago."
"Well, I think it's rather childish to still get caught up in the whole 'I am Scottish,'" she said in a mock accent, "'and that means I'm oppressed.'"
"If I were an American I would actually be able to get by without constant harassment from everyone."
"I'm not American and I am doing just fine!"
"Well I'm sorry I'm not an exotic female youth able to sleep with my superiors!"
Duval's face contorted into a disgusted sneer. "You take that back!"
"You tell me it's not true!"
"Fuck you! Take it back!"
"Make me!"
"Whoa!" The lieutenant leading the party stepped in between the two of them, holding his arms out. "Now, I can't understand a word the two of you are saying--and I've been pretty lax with that--but this sounds like its getting out of hand." Gil didn't know him very well. His name was Norton. He was tall, bald, and soft-spoken. Roughly thirty. "Let's give each other some space, alright?"
"I never should have trusted you with that stemware." Duval spat in French.
"Walk away..."
Gil simply stood still, anger slowly replaced with shock, both from what she had said and what he had said. The look on her face was murder as she turned and marched on past the rest of the party members who had stopped to watch. Slowly, everyone began moving again.
"So what was that about?" Norton asked after a few minutes.
"Nothing to concern yourself with, sir."
"That's fair." Norton nodded. "I trust you."
"Do you, now?" Gil gave half a smile. "You barely know me."
"I know what your commander told me. Locke, was it?"
Gil stiffened.
"He said you're the best marksman to survive this whole clusterfuck." Norton gave Gil a nod. "And he said you are a very efficient soldier. Told me about your sleep cycle. You'll need a nap here in about an hour?"
Gil blinked. "Yes, that would be nice."
"Well, let's make a deal," Norton said, giving him a smile. "We will stop for your naps, and in exchange you take the majority of the watch time. We'll have someone else cover during your night sleeps and we all end up well-rested and efficient. Sound reasonable?"
Gil hesitated. This was frightening to him. Why would Locke put in any kind of good word about him? What was his game? Was it to mess with Gil one last time before his probable demise? Or was it a play to improve the chances of success of the scouting mission? Gil knew one thing for sure: it wasn't some convoluted attempt at an apology.
"Yes," Gil finally said. "I think that will be very efficient."
"Good." Norton increased his stride, taking the lead of the group again. "Break in one hour, soldiers!" He passed Duval who was now beginning to lag behind, her head held down.
Gil contemplated something to say to her as he passed. He wanted to give some apology. He wanted to offer to get her new stemware. He could hear her answer, though: "But it won't be the same." And she would be right. He wasn't sure anything was worth saying, and as he contemplated his choice of what to do, Locke's voice invaded his head. "Compassion." Almost as a knee-jerk response he rejected it, clammed up, and passed her without a word. Her head did not turn.
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Post by Vulcanus on Apr 17, 2015 17:51:31 GMT -6
The boy said nothing as Gil sat down beside him. His hands were shaking, gripping tightly to his rifle which was aimed at nothing in particular.
"Was that your first fight?"
He turned to look at Gil a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir." Gil gave him a nod.
"Yeah. You did good. You had our backs."
This only seemed to make the boy quaver more.
"Why don't you... set this down?"
Gil gently took the rifle from the boy's hands, setting it down underneath the bench they were sitting on. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments.
"Does it get any better, sir?"
Gil gave the boy a glance. "What's your name, son?"
The boy stammered for a moment. "Robert, sir."
"First of all, you don't have to 'sir' me."
"You're a corporal, though? That's above private, right?"
Gil smirked. "It's pretty much an honorary title at this point. I may as well be a private. Call me Gil."
The boy gave an awkward scowl. "Okay... Gil," He looked Gil in the eyes. "Does it get any better?"
Gil sat in silence for a moment. "Well, Robert will change. Unfortunately, Robert will--given enough exposure--get used to it." Gil sighed. "But even so, the battle itself... the horrors of war... they never get any better. About the most you can do is distance yourself from it."
The boy nodded, seeming to understand.
"But look at it this way," Gil said, smiling. "We've found this cache of resources." He motioned to the entrance of the gas station they had secured. "We get to go home."
The boy simply nodded.
"I'll tell you what I know. I know we are alive. I know you are good in a fight. You won't give up or run."
"I wanted to run."
"But you didn't," Gil emphasized. "You stood your ground as any good soldier and you helped your teammates. And we all made it out, no casualties, no wounds. That is a resounding victory in my book."
"It's just..." His voice trailed off as Duval stepped out from the doorway of the gas station and gave a curt jerk of the head.
"Looks like they want us inside..." Gil glanced over at the boy. His hands were still shaking. "You can stay out here if you want." Gil slowly rose and left the boy there, following behind Duval. The two of them didn't speak.
"Callum!" Norton was beaming. "There's a decent stock of untouched supplies here--enough that I think we are going to want to go back and get a vehicle."
Gil raised an eyebrow. "That much?"
Norton nodded. "But I'm going to want you to stay and watch over it, if you would."
Gil, eyebrow already raised, curled it further. "Sir?"
"Someone needs to watch it, and we discussed it," he motioned to the rest of the soldiers. "And we think you would do the best job watching over it for us. Considering your superb marksmanship--if I may compliment you myself--and your work ethic and efficiency so far, along with your sleep cycle... it's the obvious choice."
Gil gave a half smile, relaxing his eyebrows. "I suppose I might be willing, if that is what you think would be best."
"Credit where it's due, my friend, Duval suggested it."
Gil glanced over at Duval. "Did she, now?" She shot him a glare.
Norton nodded. "Yes, she says the two of you have worked together before. Nothing but compliments."
Duval and Gil kept their eyes locked for a moment more. "Sir, could I speak to you alone?"
"Certainly." Norton led him off into one of the back rooms--a janitorial closet. Norton began dismantling one of the mops. "I figured this would make a good walking stick. Now, what did you want to say?"
Gil frowned for a moment. "Sir, is there any way I could change companies?"
Norton frowned. "What do you mean? When we get back?"
"Yes."
"You want..." Norton gave him a questioning look. "You want to serve under me?"
"I would find that most agreeable."
"May I ask why?"
Gil considered for a moment as Norton struggled with the mop. "You have a choice," ran through his head, and he chose his words carefully.
"You are a very respectable individual, and I have been very impressed by your leadership in the short time we have been together."
Norton gave Gil a glance. "While I think you're telling me the truth, I don't think that's why you want to move. You're a good soldier, Callum. Why haven't you been promoted?"
"Sir?"
"You've been stuck at corporal forever, and yet now that I have seen you in action I can tell you are an excellent soldier. The one problem I've had with you is that little spat you had with Duval, and she still managed to compliment you like you were the second coming when I asked her about your character and work ethic. That's lieutenant material if I ever saw it. Hell, I would guess you've had experience in command before. Am I right?"
Gil nodded. "I led a group of snipers back in Scotland."
"And somehow you got stuck here when everything went to hell?"
"Pretty much, sir."
Norton gasped as the mop head finally came loose. He held the wooden handle up like a staff and leaned on it. "So why have you not been promoted?"
Gil hesitated for a moment before finally answering. "I do not get along with my superior."
"Locke?"
Gil nodded.
"Sorry to hear that." Norton shook his head. "But I'm not going to shift you into my company..."
Gil closed his eyes, forcing himself not to sigh in disappointment.
"I'll do you one better. You stay here, do your job, watch the supplies... and when we get back, I will pull some strings and see if I can't get you promoted into a command of your own. How does that sound?" He held out his hand. "Deal?"
Gil's mind was in a slight fog as he looked up at Norton's eyes. No sign of deception. No sign of mockery. It was too good to be true.
"Deal." He shook Norton's hand.
"Good!" Norton smiled brightly. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go ahead and start back towards the base--we've still got plenty of daylight left today and I do not intend to waste it."
"Sir."
Norton stepped out from the closet, shouting, "Ten minutes and we're leaving! Grab what you can easily carry, food and other short-term supplies only, we'll be back for the good stuff!"
Gil sat down on an overturned bucket, putting his face in his hands. He almost began to pray for Norton to be the honest and just man he seemed to be, but he stopped himself. A moment later and he heard footsteps. He looked up to see Duval standing in the doorway.
"I'll tell you what I know," she said in French. "I know you are a good man and a good soldier. You do your very best to be a compassionate human being, and you do your very best to do what you are told. Your problem arises when the two contradict each other. But at heart..." She began picking at a hangnail. "...I know you care. Seeing you with that boy only... reminds me. If only things were..." She gave a small grunt as she pulled the hangnail, ripping skin. She pressed her thumb against the small wound, wincing. "...different. Situations and all... for the both of us..."
A thousand things were running through Gil's mind, leaving him unsure of what to say.
"You're a good man, Gilchrist Callum... and you'd better damn well stay that way, I don't care if they make you a general."
She left. Gil took a few moments before he followed, but Norton intercepted him, giving him one last firm handshake and wish of luck. The rest of the party left, and Gil stepped outside to watch them leave. He sat down on the bench facing the gas station and contemplated his situation.
Just when he was considering looking for something to eat, he heard heavy footsteps and turned to find Robert running up and skidding to a stop in front of Gil.
"Did you forget something, Robert?"
"I did," he said between pants, reaching under the bench and grabbing his gun.
"Ah," Gil, exclaimed, smiling. "You might need that."
"Yeah," Robert said, turning and running back the other direction. "I might."
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Post by Vulcanus on Apr 21, 2015 17:42:19 GMT -6
Gil knew that it was too early for the party to be returning when he saw the vehicle. He wasn't worried until they quite deliberately drove up to the gas station. He didn't consider them a threat until he saw the boy step out of the car armed with crossbow and bat.
Lying face down and propping his gun against the edge of the roof of the gas station, Gil began to take aim at the boy, readying for a warning shot; however, looking through his scope, he could see the boy in detail--his tattoos, his face, his build...
This young man was the Code Spes.
Gil perplexedly watched the boy as he slowly approached the gas station. What were the odds that Gil would just stumble upon him, or rather that he would stumble upon Gil? More importantly, what was Gil to do? He knew that the army wanted him alive. So how would he accomplish this?
Upon examination, Gil guessed he might be able to take the young man in a fight, but maybe not if Gil was attempting to capture and not kill. And this was in a one-on-one fight, which Gil realized it might not be, looking back at the vehicle to find a figure that had been left behind. A young woman. His mind shot back to what he had heard about the boy--that he had escaped with the help of a woman. If an entire military camp couldn't hold these two down, Gil was almost sure he couldn't.
And yet, Gil could see draugar approaching the vehicle, attracted by the noise. The woman seemed oblivious. Gil looked back at the man, still slowly approaching. Despite all of his paranoid turning in circles like a pup every few feet, the boy was clueless as to what was about to happen. Gil contemplated firing a shot to get the young woman's attention, but a voice in his head interrupted.
"You have a choice..."
Gil watched as the draugar approached, slowly. Should he help these individuals, or not?
"What should your decision stem from?"
Compassion. Gil instinctively hardened his heart. Surely the army would not condone aiding these people. He would let things happen as they happened. That is what they would want...
...that is what Locke would want.
The young woman screamed.
Compassion.
Gil cursed under his breath, turning his gun to a draugr, releasing the safety and taking aim. He considered how the bullet would travel, and aimed so that should it penetrate then the bullet would not fly through the window. He considered his distance from his target. He considered his height. The temperature. Humidity. Wind. He waited until the bottom of his breath, waited until between heartbeats, and fired.
Perfect, if a bit messy.
And so he lined up the next one... and the next... and the next...
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Post by kryss on May 7, 2015 0:24:03 GMT -6
Between momentary gaps in the corpses, she saw Rick running to her. She felt awful calling him to such a likely massacre, but she couldn't keep it out of her head. He was immune. He could get out of this alive. She couldn't One of them had just barely managed to crack the windshield - it was almost nothing, but it gave Skylar a heart attack. She kept hitting their fingers away. Where was Rick? Why had he left her here. Had he? Had he abandoned her, and gone running the other way?
No. He would never.
But he was taking too long, probably trying to figure out how to approach such a horrifying situation. She felt tears start to come as she hoped he would hurry. There were no time for tears now. There may never be again.
Suddenly she saw one of the zombies drop. At first she thought it was a crossbow bolt, belatedly registering both the blast and the fact that crossbow bolts don't explode zombie heads. Actually not much did, but just the right shot from a gun might. Then went another, then another and another. Most of them went down cleaner than the first. After only a handful of minutes (they began dropping much faster when they started heading towards the gunshots) every single one was dead. Skylar shakily opened the door to the car, looking down, barely able to stomach the sights of the dead walkers but needing to know for certain that they were now inanimate. Finally she climbed out, her limbs feeling like jelly. When she got to Rick, she clung to his arm for support, then looked warily over at the gas station, asking the question that was weighing down the air.
"Where did those come from?"
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Andy
Full Member
Rufus probably
rick gets all his ideas from the sorting hat's cousin - the bad advice bag
Posts: 119
active character(s): Rick
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Post by Andy on May 8, 2015 13:02:41 GMT -6
The echoes of the gun shots still ringing in his ears, Rick had been stunned into absolute silence during the massacre of the undead surrounding the car. He was just starting to register that, hey, he could probably move again now that shots weren't flying past him (past him, he noted with a great deal of interest) when he saw the car door open. His heart leapt up into his throat again at the sight of Skylar, looking just as confused and terrified as he felt. He jolted so suddenly into movement he almost tripped, stumbling over a corpse near his feet before reaching Skylar and helping her remain upright.
"S'long as dey don't start shootin' at us now, I'm gonna 'sume dey're on our side." He waved briefly at the gas station, having no clue if the mysterious rescuer would or could even acknowledge the gesture in any form. Still, it felt necessary to do something before they started heading towards it again. He glanced down at Skylar, seeing her legs still trembling like she might collapse and decided just to pick her up and book it. It prevented him from wielding any weapons, but unless any of the shamblers had inexplicably developed a brain and were waiting for the perfect moment to strike, he figured they could risk the distance between the car and the fences.
Once they were in what could pass for a relatively safer spot, and Rick figured whoever was supposedly guarding this place might prefer to greet them at the door instead of the two of them letting themselves in. He put Skylar down again, busying himself with brushing hair out of her eyes and giving her a once over for any noticeable injuries.
"You good? Did dey get ya at all?" He asked, hands cupping either side of her face anxiously. He couldn't see anything noticeably wrong, but just because she was standing didn't mean she was okay.
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