Theory of Evolution (Limited open)

[England]

((There is a time constraint to joining, after which you cannot join. See planning thread for more details if you are interested.))

England hadn't had much time to idle within the fantasy worlds created by fiction books or the new scientific ideals that research papers presented ever since the apocalypse hit. Though he somewhat missed being able to indulge in some good reads, whether fictional or academic, he often found himself thinking that he didn't really need new knowledge to stay alive in this brave new world that had been laid out in front of them. Whatever he knew, he could use to his advantage, and whatever he didn't know, he learned first-hand when he made mistakes.

England tightened the straps on his leather gloves with a dry snap.

He sometimes laid in bed at night, unable to sleep, and found himself guilty of picking nations apart, categorizing them into sections, from the ones best fitted to survive, to the worse. Though he knew it was wrong, and that he should treat everybody equally, he had to admit that some nations just knew how to handle themselves better. His goal was to protect everyone, and to do that, he had to assess strengths and weaknesses.

England swung his gun over his shoulder and tightened the diagonal strap over his chest.

Then again, in his defense, it was only done so that he could create balanced teams, specialized in certain types of expeditions. Small and efficient had always been better than large and crude, of course, so as he stood by the front door, waiting for the rest of his team to arrive, he mentally defended his choice of companions. He trusted all of them (to a certain degree), and even if it wasn't much, he still knew that the ones he'd picked to accompany him on the rather delicate operation were the ones that optimized the chances of success.

England zipped his reinforced leather boots all the way up to the knees.

It was all basic in his head. He'd read the academic papers long ago, he was very much acquainted with the Theory of Evolution, Darwinism, and Mendelian genetics. Since he recently had no time to get acquainted with any other similar theories, he went with what he already knew.

England slipped his sharpened trench pikes into their leather holsters on his belt.

It was, in the end, only the survival of the fittest.

[Scotland]

The season was turning into spring, which was one of the main reasons for his choice of dress. It was warming up and his nethers needed to enjoy it with the rest of him. He'd entered zombie-pits underground, on rooftops, in streets and buildings, and walked out of each unscathed. Dirty and sloppy with zombie fluids, exhausted and grouchy, but without injury. His track record was excellent and should speak for itself.

He wore his usual blue jacket draped with a red plaid over it patterned with green, blue and yellow lines, that matched his kilt. Thick white socks rose up to his knees, mostly hidden under his tall black boots. Only his knees were left exposed. With the snow melting away he expected mud and puddles, which he didn't want inside his shoes. A grey scarf wrapped around his neck and a pair of leather gloves finished his ensemble. If he was going to find himself bitten, it would likely be on his upper body: the neck, arms or hands, because they would be closer to zombie mouth height, so a little extra armor in those places was a good idea.

Over his clothes he strapped his freshly cleaned and sharpened sword to his back, adjusting the straps for it to be under the plaid. The belt to hold his hand axes went around his waist, and he left his uzi behind. There were enough nations going with guns. Nations that were shooters, meaning they wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. He'd be there to take care of anything close up the shooters couldn't get.

He was aware there were other nations going, but he wasn't very clear on what they were going to get. Not that it mattered. If England said they were going out, he was going out. That was the way things were. He could throw a hissy fit, but it didn't change that he was going. It wasn't like he had a busy schedule. However, he still took his time showing up to meet with the others. He went outside and smoked, stretched a bit, took a leak, and then headed back inside. He made a show of yawning as he approached, stretching his arms up over his head to show how unworried he was, even inconvenienced a bit.

He figured he would be fussed at, but he was looking forward to it. It was the duty and privilege of the big brother to annoy the younger siblings.

[This is the plaid. Just to avoid confusion. It's the name of the piece of clothing, not the pattern. The pattern is actually called tartan.]

[[x] Spain]

Spain couldn't believe the news when he heard it. It was warming up which meant he could finally, FINALLY head back outside and not be thrown back in with frostbite.

And on an expedition no less.

He sat cross-legged on the floor of the warehouse, making minor repairs and cleaning his axe. His tight black t-shirt was brought back out and his pants were loose but not so much that he'd get yelled at and forced to change. He was oddly at home in his boots (as much as he disliked wearing them sometimes) and expertly continued cleaning his weapon. His shotgun sat to his right, freshly cleaned and fully loaded with extra ammo in the square pouch next to it (to be clipped to his belt). Two knives to to his left were waiting to be cleaned and inspected.

The slightest bit of unusual movement caught his eye and he looked up, seeing Scotland yawning and stretching.

Sleepy, or confident.

Knowing him, Spain went with the latter.

He looked back down, concentrating on finishing the blade. It had a little dried guts on it he missed the last time he cleaned it and scrubbed it off until the weapon was shining again. Setting it aside, he rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tightness in his shoulders. He hated it when that happened and prayed that it wouldn't bother him on the journey or any battles.

[Argentina]

Argentina had just finished lacing up her knee-high leather boots, and buttoned up her navy blue coat. Not sure whether to trust the Canadian weather or leave it up to Mother Nature to decide, Argentina decided to drape a black cloak over her shoulders, hood down. Just for good measure. After all, everything felt so backwards so far North in the Americas. In her home, it would've currently been nearing the middle of summer. Time to lean back in her beach chair and relax in the sun...

Tina shook the thought out of her head as she tightened the draw-string of the cloak before casually sauntering off to the appointed rendezvous point. That was where they would await the other nations' arrival before heading off. But, to Argentina's surprise, she really wasn't that late... at all. The only other nations who had been waiting on her were England, Spain, and Scotland. The Scotsman looked as though he had only just arrived anyway.

After the situation where Scotland had gotten into a scuffle with Spain, Argentina really hadn't spoken to the man face-to-face. If anything, she had mainly tried to avoid him up to this point. Call it childish of her, but at times, Tina even resorted to getting on her hands and knees and crawling behind crates and couches to avoid being spotted, and waited until the elder nation had passed before going on her merry way.

It wasn't necessarily that Argentina was still angry at him. No, no - quite the opposite, really. She's not one to quietly plot her revenge. Rather, Argentina takes the approach of bluntly telling someone to their face. When Tina was mad at someone, one could easily call her out on it. She wasn't mad at Scotland, she was more or less trying to escape from giving any sort of apology. Saying 'sorry', 'excuse me', or even a simple 'thank you' has always been her weakest points.

It is for this reason that Argentina tried not to give him a second glance. Instead, she kept her focus directly on his "gentleman"-of-a younger brother, putting the thought into her mind that she would just try not to poke at Scotland by bringing anything up. Tina would rather be praying that he would have forgotten the whole thing by now, so they could go on with the mission as usual and avoid any awkward tension. However, it didn't help that Spain was apparently to be tagging along as well.

"Quite the fiesta, sí?" Argentina commented. Her ready, eager hands were gripping her gun, which was strapped around her body. "Where are the others?" A better question would also be, "And why the hell did you drag us out here this early on some kind of fucking expedition?"

[America]

America wasn't exactly excited to be going on a mission, so to speak. He knew of the dangers that he would be facing, and while danger was thrilling for him (he was a thrill-seeker, he couldn't deny that), it was also a frightening prospect. He was to be on his toes at all times when he went out, watching after both himself and his teammates. He couldn't afford to make even one mistake. He had to be strong and ready for whatever was to come his way.

So the excitement wasn't a product of actually going on a mission. That excitement actually stemmed from the fact that he was chosen for such an important mission, that he was trusted enough to do this. However, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't, and all the other nations knew this. He had great ideas, he could stop his silliness and actually be serious when need be, and he was a great fighter. He was a vital asset to any expedition, especially one that involved quick-thinking and quick-fighting.

He could think real quickly when he had to.

So he grabbed the necessitates that he should bring on such a mission. Of course, he pulled on his trusty bomber's jacket, the rich smell of leather quickly greeting him as he was enveloped in the warmth of his favorite coat. He was pleased he had washed it just the day before. He couldn't imagine going such a long length without this jacket, especially when the weather was perfect for it. Not too hot, not too cold. It wasn't the warm weather his own country provided in the spring season, but it was fair enough outside.

Just for good measure, he also pulled on a pair of thin gloves. He didn't know how far they would be traveling, and it was always best to plan ahead. If they went further up north, he would be quite grateful for these gloves. And if they were stranded somewhere and had to sleep outside, he knew the chilly night would be less harsh with a pair of warm gloves covering his fingers. Besides that, he had also grown quite used to wearing gloves. It had originally seemed that the winter months would never end.

Once he deemed his clothes ready, he began to grab his weapons. His knives went in the sheaths on the side, still gleaming from when he last took time to clean them. He loaded his pistol before also placing that by his side, in the holster specifically set for his pistols. His rifle, after being loaded, was flung over his shoulder, the strap keeping it held up just fine. Last but not least, he wrapped the ammunition belt around his body, making certain it had the right amount of ammo for a long mission.

It did, thankfully, and he finally slid down the fire pole closest to his bed and walked the short distance to the front of the warehouse, blinking when he saw the others. He wasn't sure if he was late or not, but he had arrived just in time to hear Argentina's question. "Well, I'm here!" he announced, that usual grin plastering itself to his face. "What time are we heading out?"

[England]

England was extremely pleased that the nations he'd called had gathered so quickly. For a moment, he praised himself for making the right choice of nations, and then he realized it would be more appropriate to praise the other nations for being trustworthy enough to be chosen. Arms crossed, he stood in front of the door, nodding as the nations came up to him, geared and ready to go. His eyes went across his entire team, and he finally spoke up once America, the last one, had arrived.

"Right, I'll explain why you're all here, as we'll be setting out as soon as the explanation is over. As you all know, having such a large team for an expedition is impractical, and you may have wondered if I had made a mistake," though he gave them no time to confirm that, as he expected at least Argentina or Scotland to do. "I have specifically chosen you for this infiltration because I've seen what you are capable of doing and I need that skill. "

"This is an infiltration type expedition with a variable level of conflict. We'll be heading three hours south-east from here, to a small town of about two or three thousand, that came to be noticed when amateur astronomy-interested high school students handed in a report on the Sigma Meteorite as their final project. As they were not scholars, it was quickly dismissed, but recently, we've all gotten a bit desperate, and we believe that this amateur report could help us greatly in locating the source of the initial radiation. That's why we need this report."

"The school archives are kept at the community centre right next to it, so this is the building that we'll be infiltrating. The only problem is that it's a community centre. As the name suggests, there are high chances that the first place the community fled to when the outbreak began was that centre. To put it simply, we are going to be entering a building that could possibly be crawling with five hundred, or even up to a thousand zombies," he paused to give them time to digest the information.

"The expedition in itself is not very complicated, it's a search-and-retrieve type, which we should have no problem with. The territory is what worries me, though, which is why all of you are around. I found that you were best suited to infiltrating a territory like that. Now let's get going, if there are no questions. Spain, grab a survival pack. We won't be long, but a lot of things in there could serve us well. The rest of you, let's make our way to the motorcycles."

((Weak backstory is weak OTL. Anyways, that's not the point! Ignore it xD))

[Scotland]

As the other nations showed up, Scotland kept shifting his position to stand behind them. Once they had all arrived, he stood right behind them, as if sandwiching the other nations in between two slices of UK. He also made sure he could be seen by England in between the heads of the others.

Scotland made a smirky face when England said they may wonder if he'd made a mistake. When England spoke about having seen what they are capable of and needing the skill, he shoved his tongue against the inside of his left cheek to make it bulge and curled his fingers into a circle to mime sliding something in and out of his mouth while pointing at America's head with his free hand.

When he stood behind England at a meeting, he tried to stay somewhat serious because they were the UK. When he was facing England behind others, he couldn't resist trying to make England crack and lose his composure. When England cracked, Scotland could step up and play being the responsible one looking after his wayward little brother.

When he heard they were going after a report written by students in high school, he plastered his hand to his face. Really? It wasn't even a college thesis? They were desperate enough to go after a project written by teenagers in secondary school? Unless these kids were geniuses, they were fucked. All of them, right up the ass with a vinegar-soaked cactus.

When England explained the community centre may be crawling with zombies, Scotland lifted both hands with oddly curled hands and fingers in a zombie stance, made a horrible howling grimace of a face, then moved his hands like he was clawing desperately at the back of Argentina's head but his arms were too short to reach her. Much like a T-Rex. Should anyone but England happen to glance at him, he would in an instant drop his hands and assume a blank face and then go back to what he was doing when they looked away.

When England gave out the final orders, Scotland dropped his antics to rush out the door so he could get another smoke in before they left. It also didn't give England any time to fuss at him for his behavior. He liked letting England stew over complaints he didn't get to voice.

[[x] Spain]

[[FUCK I'M STILL HERE I SWEAR JUST DEALING WITH A LOT OF SHIT--]]

Anton smiled when Argentina arrived, thank goodness he'd be working with at least someone he liked. He was excited for this whole expedition thing, but honestly, he really wasn't in the mood to be dealing with someone he didn't care for. "Si~! Pero it's really exciting~" He moved to begin sharpening his blade, noting how he should probably get something around his neck since he could easily get bitten there and he really couldn't have that happen. "Y I wake up early anyway; maybe I should start getting you up with me to get used to it~?" He joked with his sister, grinning mischievously.

Though the grin faltered just a hair when he heard a slightly more obnoxious voice.

"Buenos dias, America." He shrugged, giving a half-smile. "You'll have to ask Inglaterra about that. I've just been minding my own business~" And still trying to do so as he finished sharpening his axe and moving onto his knives. He did actually listen to England, however, as he worked, nodding and grunting to show that he was paying attention (and totally not snickering at the antics Scotland was up to). Although he didn’t see why they should go after some high-schooler’s papers, the more information they had the better. The pack he could grab quickly and nodded at his order, setting his weapons aside, standing up and stretching. “I’ll grab it on my way to get something to cover my neck, sound good, Arturo~?”

[England]

England was desperately trying to ignore Scotland, because that's what he did when his brother's antics became insufferable: he ignored. Still, the effective imagery of his gestures proved to be quite a distraction, and he looked away from Scotland, choosing to roam his gaze across America, Argentina and Spain instead. They were all listening, which England was glad for, because he wanted to do this quick and easy, though he wasn't very eager to get to their destination. Besides, he wasn't stupid. He saw the incredulous looks in their eyes, questioning his common sense when he explained that they'd be risking their lives for an amateur piece of work. They didn't understand, though. Those kids hypothesized on the location of the crash site, something that astronomers had not been able to do. Sure, their research was probably 50% guesswork, but it was better than what they had now. Any lead they could get was better than what they had now. Because they had nothing.

With all his wiggling around, England was surprised it took him so long for his eyes to trail back to the furthest row, to Scotland, more specifically. The bloody bastard thought he was being funny, gesturing wildly and then stopping right before England's gaze darted to him. All the whilst cursing his brother, he also had to keep going with his explanation, and it wasn't the easiest thing to do. Sometimes, he really wondered who the older brother was between them.

"Please do," he merely nodded to Spain's affirmation and then motioned to the door from which Scotland had just left with his head. "Someone's taken the advance. We should all move fast as well so we can be back before night falls. The sun still sets a bit early nowadays, so we should go in and get out as quickly as possible," he then turned on his heel and started off, hoping the others would follow in just a moment.

[Argentina]

(Scotty, sounds like you had fun making that last post.)

Argentina hadn't even noticed Scotland's little tom-foolery he pulled during England's given instructions. If she had, she probably would've gotten extremely annoyed with him. Tina hated to admit it, but, for once, she really wanted to pay attention to England's long monologue. It could keep them alive, at the very least.

Like most of the others, Argentina resisted the sudden urge to slap her palm to her forehead (Or England's) at the mention of going through all this trouble for a high school paper. If it were up to Argentina, perhaps she would've gone for a less... juvenile approach. Yet, an old high school report was a better lead than none. If only Tina could see it that way, maybe she'd feel more obliged to follow along.

Tina's eyes followed Scotland in his hasty retreat towards the closest exist. Presumably to take a smoke, she guessed. And apparently she guessed right. While watching Spain pose the offer to get the survival pack on his way back from changing, Argentina turned in a similar motion to England and began to head off after him, towards the door.

"Ché, You sure the survival pack is necessary, Inglaterra?" She questioned with a raised brow as she followed close behind the Englishman. "From what you said, we really shouldn't be out very long..." As long as Argentina had her gun and her daggers, she was perfectly fine.

[America]

America wasn't sure whether or not he voiced the same opinions as the others (well, he was pretty sure everyone was voicing the same opinion- at the mention of a high school paper, he noticed the looks going around). Sure, it was silly to base an entire mission off a silly piece of teenaged writing, but from the looks of it, this might be their only chance. They'd need the information, and if what England said was true, the accuracy they had in predicting the collision site, then the paper might lead on more clues than he thought.

Once Scotland left, the others started to follow, and America certainly wasn't going to be left behind, not on such an exciting day (a thousand zombies! he enthusiastically thought, feeling silly for getting so worked up over a massive amount of undead creatures). He glanced over at Spain as they walked out of the door to the warehouse, wondering if perhaps Argentina was correct in what she was saying. England said they wouldn't take too long, so what was the point? Still, he had to be realistic with this. No need for thinking that everything would turn out fine and dandy.

"Probably for the whole 'what if' situations," he said before England got the chance to respond. "Like, what if we get trapped? Or what if someone gets bitten? Or what if the zombies have mutated even more and are now, like, ten feet tall and can talk?" So much for being realistic. He wanted to be more lighthearted than anything, though. Sure, this was a serious matter, but if everyone acted so serious like this, they'd be too stiff and paranoid to do much of anything.

[England]

"I heavily doubt they'll ever evolve to such a state, considering that dead parts of their brains would have to come back to life in order for them to accomplish such feats," he explained in a low voice, not too keen on attracting attention to himself. He had already created a sense of doubt within his team, and that was not good at all for their team unity, so there was no use proclaiming his presence and widening the gap. He just didn't want to let the claim slip by without some kind of reassurance that it was impossible for that to happen.

Then again, nobody would ever have thought that an undead outbreak like this was possible, and yet here they were.

"A survival pack is made for flight or bunking situations, yes, but it does contains supplies that could be beneficial to us, such as a first-aid kit, flashlight, water, extra weapons, switchblades, lighters, etc. That's why I only want one survival pack for the whole team, because we're not actually going on a survival mission, we're just going to use the resources inside the ready-made pack instead of running around and collecting things we think could be useful for our mission," he continued his explanation, hoping they'd understand and leave it at that. Of course, he was conscious of the fact that he was using up resources that were only for emergencies, but one survival pack would be no problem to refill once they got back.

"Alright, folks, grab a bike, as soon as Spain gets back with his gear, we'll be off. Just follow me, I'll take you to the town. Once about a hundred meters from the town's first houses, we'll disembark and proceed on foot. The town's pretty small and silent, so roads are pretty much clear, and places to duck are limited to roadside alleys. Let's not get ourselves seen and just proceed to the centre of the town, where the community centre is. From there, we'll study the building and decide on our next course of action."

Of course, he knew that going in without a plan was suicide, but the request for sending photography drones had been denied, the higher ups deciding that he didn't have enough of a valid reason to deploy costly resources. Thus, he had no way of knowing what the community centre looked like in detail from the outside (satellite maps could only do so much), and even less what was in the inside, and had just had a vague idea of what they were looking for. But with a team as quick-witted as theirs, there was no way they would fail... of course...

[Scotland]

He lit up as soon as he got out the door. Once he reached the bike shed, he stood there and enjoyed defiling his lungs as calming nicotine flooded back into his blood. He did his work well. England had gotten pretty good at his poker face. The first time England had gotten flustered enough to pull off a boot and throw it at him in a meeting was a priceless memory. He'd been bored of teacups being flung his way and asked for something original.

It had taken a while to get to the point where Scotland was comfortable enough to goof off. The first hundred years or so of the union he'd spent meetings sulking and glaring. He'd been extremely suppressed at the time. It wasn't until about the time of America's civil war that he really began speaking and engaging in meetings.

While he waited for the others, he tried to play out scenarios in his head. Should they find a million, jillion, bajillion zombies around the outside of the community center, forget it. Everyone go home. If they find the normal amount of zombies outside but if the community center is full, maybe America could lure the bulk away while the rest clear the building. If the zombies are drunk, unleash Spain on them. If the zombies are... uh...stabbable, unleash Argentina. They should really make molotov cocktails for zombie crowds. Why hadn't they done that yet?

Was he the first one to think about how cleansing fire was?

[ermahgerd...he's just standing there, smoking and I can't think *wastes time*]

[America]

America still didn't know if it was a good idea to go out with only one survival pack, especially if they were unsure of how many zombies they would run into. England had said there might be a thousand zombies, and how on earth would just a few nations defeat a thousand zombies? They were as mortal as any human against these undead creatures, and America had no wish to get himself killed just like that.

He wasn't going to say anything, though. He knew England was stressed enough as is (and America didn't blame him- despite how much he enjoyed leading, being the leader of this warehouse meant that many tough decisions had to be made, and America was quite aware of all the thought that went into those tough decisions), so he wasn't going to add anything else to that stress. Besides, so long as they took precautions and stayed silent and safe, they wouldn't need the survival pack at all.

He exited the warehouse with nothing but a simple nod England's way, acknowledging that he heard and was ready to face whatever dangers needed to be faced. Once he reached the bike shed, he sent a grin over to Scotland, who, unsurprisingly, was smoking a cigarette. America wondered if the red-haired nation went to sleep with the death sticks in his mouth; he always seemed to be smoking one. "So," he started, hovering about just a bit and waiting for the other nations to join them before grabbing a motorbike. "You excited?"

He didn't want to start a full conversation with Scotland (he doubted he would, anyway, since they were all due to be leaving very shortly), but he did want to make a little small-talk, lest he just be standing there awkwardly.

[England]

((Okay, we're replacing Spain and Argentina with Czech Republic, sooooo- Let's get this started :U Just... pretend Spain and Tina weren't even here in the first place :'D PLOT HOLE YEY. Let's say Czech was the one coming along for the entire time trololol OTL))

England grabbed an emergency pack from the wooden box where they were all piled up on top of one another and swung it on his back before heading out after America and Scotland. He found them by the bikes, and was momentarily glad they'd moved quickly as not to waste more time than they should have. Scotland was blowing a fag, and England only got slightly irritated at that, knowing he wasn't going to do wonders for their relationship if he told him to turn it off right away. Instead, he took a different approach and stopped besides them, disregarding the tension hovering above their heads.

"We're just going to wait for Czech Republic, and we're off," his eyes darted from his brother to his lover, and he raised an eyebrow. "Did I interrupt something?"