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Post by England on Aug 15, 2012 10:02:33 GMT -5
[Now that's just nasty xD Zombie drumsticks, anyone?]
England clung tightly to the ladder with one of his hands, and stabbed blindly backwards with the other. Coupled with the pressure being put on his pack (which England assumed was Scotland's doing, unless the zombie was overweight somehow...), the zombie was quick to screech and let go, rotten fingers snapping and slipping as it lost its grip. England let out a shuddery breath of relief and briefly turned around to watch it fall. Its death-smelling hands had left an unpleasant, crawling sensation all across his skin, and England shuddered as he tired to direct his mind elsewhere.
"Are you alright down there?" he called out, twisting his body to see Scotland right below him, struggling with the straps of his pack. Although England didn't condone wasting precious supplies, he admitted that it was a good idea. Still, they had no time to waste. He'd rather not get any more unpleasant surprises such as raining zombies.
"I'm going to keep moving and secure the roof. Don't dawdle!" he knew it was somewhat pointless to remind him, but it gave him a sense of security. Nodding to his brother, he turned around and quickly started bounding up the rungs again.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 18, 2012 9:00:16 GMT -5
The zombie gave way under his pull, falling down to the ground, so one immeadiate threat was down. The remaining one was the one either clinging to England's pack and standing on his, or clinging to his. He freed his right arm and grabbed the rung with that hand to free his other arm and the pack slid off, pulled down by its own weight. The zombie screeched, and kicked him in the head again, meaning it was clinging to England's pack. He reached up and grabbed for the foot kicking at him and pulled, leaning away from the ladder, and the zombie came loose, falling down on him. Unfortunately it fell in a very awkward position, one that he might not have minded if it were a living being. With its fortuantely clothed-crotch on his face, it clawed and bit at his jacket front, head facing downward. Fortunately he had three layers of clothing on his body, and his jacket wasn't thin, making its efforts to get at his belly effective, at least until it figured out how to lift his jacket.
He grabbed one of the thighs alongside his face and shoved the zombie's hips off his head, making the feet now kick at England's departing legs. Then he awkwardly shoved the zombie's head at the ladder rungs, trying to to use them like one might use a curb to scrape chewed gum off the bottom of a shoe. To a bystander, it might look like he was amorously in love with the ladder. Catching the zombie's chin on a rung, he leaned away and backed down a couple rungs, lifting the zombie off his body until he had enough space to slam his arm into the zombie's gut and fling it away from him, off to the side. He would have just hooked his legs and hung himself entirely upside down to dump the passenger, but he was guaranteed to lose his sword then.
With the fourth zombie making a mess on the ground, he finally took the time to cling to the ladder with both hands, catching his breath. That had been quite close. Uncomfortably close. He'd barely heard England saying he was moving on to the roof, as he'd had a faceful of zombie crotch at the time, but the words came back to him now. He moved on up the ladder, chasing after his brother to a secure perch on the roof.
He flung himself over the edge to roll to a stop on the roof, letting his legs and arms sprawl out as he caught his breath and let the adrenaline fall down into moderately normal levels.
[Since you indicated something was pulling at your pack, I shifted the zombie to be hanging off your pack. You see the result. The things Scotland endures....]
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Post by England on Aug 18, 2012 23:24:41 GMT -5
England quickly bounded up to the roof, and as soon as he got up, he swept the flat area with his eyes. Carefully, he pulled out his gun and pushed the safety off, getting on his knee for stability. Firing his gun wouldn't be a problem now as the noise wouldn't attract any more zombies that there already were. Even if it did, none of them would be able to get at them, up on the roof. Hopefully.
He carefully got up, and, eyes and ears on high alert for traces of the undead, he advanced slowly, pushing his back against the cylinders on the roof and the metal crates of supplies. Ducking between the structures, he swept the entire area of the roof, and concluded that there were no menaces left anywhere by the time he got back to his starting point. He turned his safety on just as Scotland joined him, spread out on the roof to catch his breath. England sat down by his side, back given to him, and resisted to urge to inquire after his wellbeing. Whatever had happened, he knew his brother was strong enough to get over it.
"Now where to?" he simply asked. "This roof is secure, so we can take some time to assess our losses, pinpoint our goal, make a plan, and catch our breath." the last one of which Scotland was already working on with a lot of motivation.
[Sacrifices made out of brotherly love, of course. Zombie molestation EW.]
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Post by Scotland on Aug 19, 2012 11:51:47 GMT -5
Scotland finally managed to roll over and push himself up to his knees when England came back over to him.
"We find a store wit booze an' we clean it out," he said simply in response to the first question. "An' try not ta get eaten on the way."
He got to his feet and looked around the cleared rooftop. "I lost ma pack. An' I just had a zombie on ma face."
He spit off to the side as if he was worried zombie fluids may have made it into his mouth before hurrying to the edge that faced the main street. He looked back and forth, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see further. There was a convenience store and that probably had beer. He wasn't looking for beer though. A grocier or liquor store would be best for whiskey. And cigarettes, of course.
The zombies were still mobbing against the building's walls, and Scotland ran over to the other side, looking for any way off the rooftop. Besides a straight plunge down. He couldn't spot another ladder on this side, making his eyes move to the blocked door that led to the stairwell inside the building. It may be the only way down.
"How we gonna get doon?" he finally asked aloud. "Mebbe we shoulda just kept on runnin'."
[There will be small changes in his accent as I find more sources for it and learn more. Who knew his accent would require so much work.]
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Post by England on Aug 19, 2012 13:01:52 GMT -5
"I like that plan." England merely commented, pushing himself off the ground and peeking down from one side of the roof. True to Scotland's allusions, they were surrounded and vastly outnumbered. There was no way they could hit the streets again- not before having left the block, at least. So if they couldn't go by ground... then they had to go by heights.
"There has to be a ladder inside, at least." he mused out loud as he turned to the closest building around them. It wasn't very far, thankfully, and seemed to be about equal height as their building, but... there was no way they could make the jump. Olympic athletes, perhaps, but as far as he was concerned, he wasn't exactly an Olympic athlete. At least 10 feet separated them from the neighbouring building, and England refused to even attempt such a jump. Falling from about five stories and shattering all the bones in his body would have been inconvenient enough WITHOUT the undead bastards that would most probably feast on his flesh as he laid motionless (and most probably temporarily dead until the bones replaced themselves) on the ground.
No, that didn't sound too appealing to him.
"Scotland, if we can find something to throw across, we could easily reach that building there." he pointed to the building next to theirs. "A ladder won't be long enough, but maybe they've got an extendable ladder inside. Let's search the building and see if there isn't anything we could use." he suggested, making his way towards the door, and pressing his ear against it. He couldn't hear anything on the other side of the metal door, but that didn't mean it was safe. More zombies were probably roaming inside. They'd have to be careful.
"Cover the entrance. I'll open the door." he grumbled, wondering why getting alcohol had to be so difficult. He just wanted a drink, was that so hard to ask for?
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Post by Scotland on Aug 20, 2012 9:36:36 GMT -5
[Don't be. I don't go looking for it. I just run across them. Some legit people out there.]
Scotland leaned his butt against the side of the low wall that made up the edges of the roof with his arms crossed as he watched England engage in silly knees-bent, running-about advancing behavior to come to the same conclusion Scotland had. They were stuck. Just watching the blonde scurry about made him want a cigarette. One of those would be good about now. He finally looked at the span of distance between the two buildings indicated, and wasn't sure he wanted to trust a collapsable ladder. A collapsable ladder would likely do just that under him. Collapse. Such was his luck. Plus, he didn't like heights very much. He liked having solid land under his feet.
Finally England moved towards the door Scotland had zeroed in on, and the redhead began pulling his sword out of its impromptu sling. "Sure. Ya pull the door open an' hide behind it. Close it, hard, if I tell ye to. Ye ken?"
Scotland pointed at his own head with his free hand, hoping England got the reason for his instructions. If there was a truckload of zombies on the other side, that door needed to be shut and re-secured immeadiately. He moved into position a few steps in front of the door, ready to lure out or charge at anything that might appear in the doorway.
"Do it!" he called, lifting his sword in a half-way ready to swing position over his right shoulder.
[Bonus for the Monthy Python reference: Y/Y ?]
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Post by England on Aug 21, 2012 0:43:25 GMT -5
"Alright, no need to get so jumpy." England grumbled, hating how his older brother's attitude and wariness seemed to rub off on him, making his paranoia spike. What if he'd checked the roof inadequately? What if a zombie had gotten past his guard and was sneaking up on them as he spoke? What if zombies suddenly learned how to climb a ladder? The possibilities were endless, but England tried not to panic. Tried.
"Here I go." he took a deep breath and pushed the heavy wooden bar locking access to the handle. Another deep breath later, he pulled on the handle, and quickly swung the door open, the metal making loud creaking noises on the rusty hinges. If no zombies waiting inside had noticed them, they sure would now. Speaking of zombies...
England braced himself against the door immediately, ready to slam it shut and hard at that, too, if his brother gave the order. Until then, the rest was up to the redhead.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 21, 2012 10:13:41 GMT -5
He tensed while England lifted the bar on the door and held his breath when the door was swung open to reveal...an empty doorway. A dark, empty doorway. He lifted his free hand towards England in a wait gesture, relaxing just a bit as he moved towards the doorway, listening for the sounds of moans or shuffling. The inner stairwell was quiet...and dark.
He poked his head back out to speak so his voice wouldn't echo down the stairwell. "Clear up here."
Then he fumbled into his pocket with his free hand, feeling for his ear light and slipped it into place, shooting forward a small cone of light. He stepped onto the top landing, shining the light down the stairs, spotting old stains from where zombies had probably gathered, trying to get at the unfortunate four on the roof. His boots made small tapping noises as he moved down the steps, still holding his sword propped over his arm. The stairwells were too narrow for the sword to be a highly effective weapon, but he could still slide it on the stair-rails and cut things down to a more managable size.
It was highly likely the zombies were on the bottom floor, just not having figured out the stairs would help them reach the fast food. He reached the next landing that had a door to the top floor and he peered through the window set in the door. Seeing nothing, even with his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, he turned the latch and pushed the door open with his foot before peeking his head inside. Nothing moved right away in the dim hallway, even when he shone the light down both ways, and he swore under his breath.
"This be a bad idea..." he murmured to himself as he waited for England to catch up. Hopefully England would take one look at the hallway, get the same creepy feeling he had, and decide to skip it.
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Post by England on Aug 21, 2012 15:20:18 GMT -5
Once he was given the clear signal, England busied himself with locking the door mechanism so it would stay open, and then followed his brother. The inside was extremely dark, and England's heart skipped a beat. It had happened over two centuries ago, but England still hadn't gotten over his phobia of blackouts. Trying to keep calm, he swung his backpack around and quickly pulled out a flashlight before following his brother.
Gun pointed at the ground, and flashlight pointed in front of him, England didn't dare make too much noise. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he was humiliated to admit to himself that yes, cold fear was creeping down his spine. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.
"Scotland." he whispered harshly, eyes sweeping the landing for any signs of life- genuine, or unholy. Listening to his own soft breathing, he made his way down until his spotlight caught something red. His brother's hair. "There you are." he hissed, jogging lightly to catch up to him. That's when he noticed the open door and tensed, immediately smothering the flashlight against his clothing. If anything was in there, he didn't want to alert them of their presence before they even made a decision. "I... I don't like this... Should I... go first?" he suggested, though deep inside, he just wanted to teleport far far away.
He would have, but preparations would have taken too long, and he would only have energy to teleport one of them. And that wasn't happening any time soon.
The only way out is through.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 22, 2012 10:58:36 GMT -5
Scotland turned his head and ended up shining his earlight directly into England's face when asked if he should go first. "Nar /no/, we skip this floor or ye watch the back."
He spoke quietly, not wanting to draw anything from further away towards them. At least it was confirmed, neither of them liked the idea of entering the hall on the other side of the doorframe. No help for it. He stepped into the hallway first, turning his head from side to side to scan the hallway, looking for anything long and sturdy enough to get them across to the next building. They needed to put grappling hooks on the next general supply shipment.
There were a bunch of doors, some with placards declaring themselves to be "Accounting" or "Break Room." He doubted there would be anything but desks or filing cabinets in the offices. Certainly nothing long enough to make it across the gap between the buildings. Some fae would be rather nice to have around right now, some fae and a rope, even if he had to make a deal with them. He started walking to the right, reading the placards on the doors for one that might hold something they could use. He didn't want to open any doors if he didn't have to. More than desks could be waiting inside.
Finally he saw one that said "Janitor's closet," and he headed straight for it. If any room on this floor had a ladder, that would be it. With it being a closet, he doubted a janitor would have been hanging out in there to become trapped inside. At any rate, he was tense when he turned the handle on the door, ready to respond with violence should anything come shuffling out. When the handle refused to turn anymore, he jerked the door open quickly, his light shining inside the closet to find nothing moving inside. He saw a line of shelves filled with all manner of cleaning supplies. A stack of mops and brooms stood in the corner like sentries around a wheeled bucket. In the back corner, stretching up for the ceiling, he saw two metal folding ladders waiting for them. Like magic.
He looked back for England while holding the door open with a foot and gave the other a thumbs up and a nod before heading inside the closet. He shoved the hilt of his sword the hinges of the door to prop it open and went to drag out the ladders as quietly as he could.
[They have horrible luck. It was time to make something easier.]
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Post by England on Aug 23, 2012 1:29:45 GMT -5
"Roger that." England quietly confirmed, letting Scotland go first before closely following. The closed corridor was hell to him. The lack of windows made the light even more scarce around, and the flashlight in his hands was no longer doing anything to keep his demons at bay. England's heart was thundering, and his grip was tense on both his gun and his light. He swept the ground regularly with the light, hoping he didn't find anything (rephrasing: hoping there was nothing to find), and followed the sound of his brother's footsteps, trying to forget that he was stuck in a completely dark building where anything could jump at him and eat him at any given time.
England looked around as well, noticing in dismay that nothing they came across seemed to be of use to them. Why couldn't things be easy, just this once? England just wanted to go back. He regretted his foolish and childish decision to condone and embark on this search for something as pointless as booze and smokes. Where was his gentleman's logic now?
His self-pitying thoughts came to a screeching halt (as did his heart for a second there) when a sudden noise from the front alerted him. He froze in his steps and swept the area with his light before turning it on Scotland. The older one gave him a thumbs up, and England took a sharp breath, nodding. He then turned around and faced the rest of the hallway, ready to attack if anything tried to get close to them while they extracted their ticket off the building.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 24, 2012 13:20:17 GMT -5
[That means we're describing it well, yay! \o/]
Scotland pulled the ladders out as quietly as he could manage, carrying them out one at a time, and handing the first one to England. He pulled the second one out and placed it against the wall so he could tuck his sword back into his cloak like before. This would mean he'd have nothing to fight with since his hands would be full of the ladder. They would just have to move quickly.
They hadn't made much noise nor taken much time so he didn't think the zombies would have come up the stairwell. They couldn't rationalize that stairs would get them to the roof. Heading back for the door to the stairwell, he peeked out the window before opening it slowly and quietly. Propping it open with his foot and adjusting his ladder to block the lower stairwell, he motioned at England to go up the stairs to the roof first. The roof was already clear and it was highly unlikely a zombie had scooted past them to set up an ambush.
He watched down the stairs as he waited for his little brother to get out first. There was no sign of the zombies having even entered the stairwell a few floors down, though there was faint moaning somewhere. As soon as England was up the top set of stairs, Scotland went up after him. Once they were through the roof door, Scotland chucked his ladder, without really looking, after the blonde nation to secure the bar with a loud clang!
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Post by England on Aug 24, 2012 18:46:51 GMT -5
When England was handed the ladder, he hesitated for a moment. To be able to get a good grip on it, he'd have to let go of his gun. Quasi-paranoid as he was, though, not having his weapon in his hands made him feel queasy and unprotected. Even though there were very low chances of zombies being on the top landings (they can't climb stairs, England reminded himself, breathing deep to calm himself down, they can't climb stairs), he still didn't feel safe without his weapon ready. The weight on his upper body would have to do as reassurance. England flipped the safety on and let the gun drop, carefully carrying the ladder and balancing the flashlight in his hand. Once he was sure his brother was following, he opened the pace and cleared the distance with swift steps.
Once they stepped through the threshold to the dark hallway, England felt momentary relief flood his veins. From the dirty, shattered windows and the open door to the roof above them, faint light was filtering down, enough for his phobia to start receding. He'd had enough darkness for one lifetime. He couldn't wait to step outside.
Scotland may or may not have understood his need to get back outside before he had a panic attack when he motioned for him to go first. Screwing all sense of being careful, England rushed up the stairs, hearing nothing but the blood pounding in his ears, and stepped into the welcoming light with glee. He didn't have much time to enjoy the atmosphere (as gloomy as it was, it was still much lighter than the inside of the building, and England would take this over that any day), though, as Scotland quickly came up and practically threw him his ladder. England fumbled to catch it, and finally felt his heart calming down when the door was secured again.
"Well, I do hope you will understand if I tell you I never wish to do that again." It felt like one of America's horror video games, but... much more real. The time for fun and games was long over.
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Post by Scotland on Aug 26, 2012 12:38:57 GMT -5
Scotland slowly turned to face England and rolled his eyes while moving a hand as if he were making a puppet talk and adding nonsense noises with his mouth. "Ye shoulda been wit' me an' Canada in the tunnels," he sneered just a bit. "Ya ain' seen dark an' full o' zombies until ye been there. Oh right, ya were dying' from a zombie bite already."Not even waiting for a response, he went to pick his ladder back up, having half-hoped the ladder would have taken England out at the knees when he chucked it. He rarely got the things he wanted. He carried his ladder to the side of the building and began unfolding it, finding that fortunately this ladder hinged at the top, allowing for it to unfold completely flat. He turned the ladder in its side to get it across, then turned it to lay flat. All together, it more than spanned the distance, the legs peeking out a bit on either side. Unfortunately the center was very skinny, and probably the most flimsy part of the ladder. Studying it, he then looked at England's ladder. "Ye think side by side? One foot on each?"He waited for England to make the call, like he often did. It was win-win for him. If the call was good, he could claim credit for having England make the call. If the call was bad, England was an idiot. There was no down-side for Scotland. He might as well get to play the card, considering for the longest time, he wasn't allowed to make decisions for them.
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Post by England on Aug 27, 2012 0:34:20 GMT -5
England opened his mouth to reply, freezing up immediately at Scotland's jabs, and wanting to retort with some kind of smart comment. What could he say, though? 'Fine, next time, you get your ass bitten, and see if it's so much fun'? He didn't like how desperate that sounded. But what could he say? He elected to say nothing. Honestly, he was alright with the building they'd just been made to go through. England hated hated hated the dark, and if what Scotland had said was true... then he hoped he'd never have to go through any sewers- ever.
"Nobody asked you." he simply huffed, bringing his ladder over to where his brother was setting up his. It looked like the length was good enough, but the width and stability was worrying. The width could be easily resolved with Scotland's suggestion, but what about stability? Even if one of them did hold the ladder while the other crossed, would they be able to keep a firm grip if ever the other toppled over? England doubted that. They weren't America, they didn't have super strength. Falling over was not an option at all.
"Alright, here. Let's do just that." he finally answered to Scotland after a while, copying his previous movements and unfolding his ladder as well before extending it across the gap. Once their contraption was ready, he turned to Scotland, and eyed him nervously.
"So. Should I go first, or do you insist?"
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