Team Nova (Scotland and Argentina)//Complete

[Scotland]

His arms were starting to tire by the time they neared the doors. As efficient as the swings were, it was still swinging a heavy sword around repeatedly, with repeated impacts as well. He was glad to see they were reaching their destination. The Center for Biochemical Research the full name of the building read. Definitely looked like the proper place. The zombies were starting to bunch up, encircling them from all sides as they neared the doors.

When they reached the landing in front of the doors, the redhead marched straight to the doors and then turned, stepping around Canada to put him again to his back and allow the other nation to work the doors. He faced outward and swiped at the zombies that moved in, cutting off reaching arms and taking off the heads of the more pushy zombies.

"Yer gonna hafta take lead 'ere, lad," he said without worry about his volume. The zombies knew they were there. No point in hiding. The moaning crowd around them kept shuffling in, forming a solid mass like shoppers at the door of a store on the morning of a big sale. What Scotland wouldn't give for a flame thrower. Fire killed everything. Maybe he should rig one of those up and go for rides on the bikes in the cities. He'd be moving too fast to catch, and could set fire to all zombies in the vicinity, then come back around to clean up. Scotland liked fire. Especially with the shivering starting to wrack his frame in the wind and flying snow. He couldn't wait to get inside the building for the windbreak. He's gotten far too soft in the years of peace. He would have to do something about that when they finished this mission and saved England. If they saved England wasn't even an option.

Once they were inside, Scotland would just have to find everything he could to throw in the way and block the advance of the afflicted while they searched for the necessary papers.

[Zombies]

The zombies outside moaned louder as they scratched either thin air or one another in an effort to reach their prey. The snow that was now swirling around with the wind was obstructing their view and messed up the delicious smell of fresh meat emanating from the two nations, but the zombies' guts told them to just keep going forward, because that's where their meal was. None of them paid attention to the fact that they were being mowed down as they approached. Their rotted eyes were set on the goal, and nothing in between them and it.

The noise attracted more of them. Soon enough, they were circling the two nations, moaning loudly over the sharp whistle of the wind and blocking off all means of escape. With the way they were positioned, the only way out, now, was in.

[[x] Canada]

The doors, the doors, the glazed glass doors. Right there in front of them. Canada scooted past Scotland, who stood his ground and warded of any of the rotted bodies that got too close, and pressed against the slippery glass. They were surrounded, encircled, cornered, and all those good words. Their mindless, repulsive moans filled the air and drilled tenaciously into his head, threatening to drive him over the edge. Breathing heavily, Canada squeezed his eyes shut to try to block the sounds out, and discovering rather unsurprisingly that it didn't help. Whatever! Just get working on the door already!

He knew it was his job to do that, but how was he supposed to do that anyways? Mentally he went through the contents of his pack and then glanced at the way the doors were secured. The thick, opaque glass had metal handles attached, so it was one of the few research buildings that still had to be manually opened. Which was good. The handles had several loops of chains wrapped around them, and this iron mass rounded off in a series of locks. Three locks, to be exact.

Well, he sure had his work cut out for him. Stealing a quick peek over his shoulder to check on his uncle's status, he crouched down and un-shouldered his rifle, laying it on the snow next to him, then his pack. His black gloves made unzipping the thing a fumbling task, but he made it fast enough, and reached in, pulling out a lock gun. It was a sleek affair, and he brought it up to the first lock, inserting it into the keyhole, and thumbed the switch. There was a vibrating, buzzing sound and the lock popped open. Allowing himself a small smile, Canada proceeded to rapidly deal with the other two locks, dropping them with a plonk onto the white washed ground.

That done, he felt around in the bag and closed his hand around a small tube. As he brought it out, he examined the black chains and found some parts that had some rust developing on them. Going closer to the door handle, he pointed the tube at the rusted parts and pressed the button. A tiny, red-hot laser thrust out and started melting the deteriorated metal. He willed it to go faster and moved it over any rusted part he could find. The sounds of fighting came from behind him and made him nervous. This was similar to a siege, with him being the one to dig out an escape route. Every minute count, with Scotland's stamina dropping and the zombies increasing.

At last, with sweat budding and freezing on his neck, the bunch of chains fell apart with his pawing at them, and access was granted. Shoving the turned-off laser back into his bag and shouldering it again, he swiped up his rifle and kicked the doors open. "Scotland! Let's go!" Knowing that he had to find the papers while the redhead kept him safe, Canada rushed inside first, his boots thudding on the tiled floor, and gun held out in front of him in case something nasty popped out.

Whatever papers there were were bound to be somewhere deeper within the facility, since they supposedly had valuable information on the outbreak. He made his way through the once-revered halls, looking at the signs on each door, and hoping that he would find some hint that would help them end this whole thing already.

[Scotland]

He couldn't see what Canada was doing, but it seemed to be taking longer than he'd anticipated. Why didn't he hear the glass breaking? It wasn't as if they were being sneaky any longer. The zombies knew they were there, and were pressing in hard, keeping him working just as hard to keep them back. As soon as he cut off reaching hands on one side, he had to swing to the other side to cut off reaching hands there. Trying to cut them down or throw them back was ineffective at this point. When he hit one, it just bounced off its neighbors and fell back into place.

He could hear the clinking of metal behind him, and yelled "runnin' oot o'time, lad!" Zombie limbs were starting to pile up, littering the ground around him. At one point a zombie grabbed onto his sword and Scotland jerked back enough he felt his boot bump into Canada's. He had started giving ground, backing up small step by small step.

He was cutting down zombies that had pressed close enough they were being a threat to Canada when he felt fingers raking at his other arm. His sword drug through the crowd in front of him with a strained grunt of effort before he severed the offending hand from its owner. The fingers had locked into the material of his sleeve and hung on despite no longer being given orders by a rotted brain. Now that was freaky and finally gave him a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

With a scream of disgust and anger, he began using up his strength reserves, his sword plowing hard through zombie bones and dessicated flesh. He was panting heavily, the steam making a cloud around his head, making vision even more impossible. He was swinging blindly, using the sounds of the moans to tell him where the zombies had moved in too close.

Once he heard Canada's call, he rapidly backed up, slipping through the open doors and kicking them shut in front of him. The zombies pressed up against the doors as soon as they closed, scrabbling against the glass. He knew they would break through in a moment, but he had to pause and plant the tip of the sword so he could lean on it and cough, sucking air through a dry throat. If the doors had been locked, the chances were good there were no zombies inside. Which is why he felt confident enough to leave his back to the other nation and catch his breath. He heard a crack from the doors and started to look around as he panted, still shivering, for things to throw in front of the door.

There was the receptionist's desk, which he scrambled to, threw his sword on and shoved the computer off of, the machine crashing to the floor. He pushed the desk across the floor to brace the doors, the telephone ripping off the top when it reached the end of its line.

"Go on lad!" he called as he cast around for other things to pile in front of the doors. "Shoot anythin' tha' moves!"

There was a small table that held a dead plant, and a couple heavy planters that sat on the floor with dead trees in them. The planters were slid across the floor to brace the desk, and the smaller table thrown on top to act as an obstacle. He grabbed his sword off the desk and moved further back into the foyer of the building to find more things to use.

[England]

((Hello, England here with an important message :C

Canada has just resigned from her position, so that leaves you partner-less for your mission. I honestly don't know what to do, so if you've got suggestions, I'm all ears. Either we abort the mission entirely and send you home (I can work with the Zombie Mod to pull off something semi-realistic, like being surrounded by hundreds of zombies inside the lab and being forced to retreat, or something...), or I put you, Norway and Lithuania together until the end, since Romano, on their side, isn't replying either. What would you rather have? If you want to do anything else, please, feel free to tell me.

//EDIT:// Also, Argentina wanted to be a part of the mission, so at worst, if you want to keep going, we could switch her in with Canada. It's however you want, really (:

Anyways, I apologize for this, I really do. And I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I hope this doesn't disappoint you too much :C

~England))

[Scotland]

[[Poor Canada. She did have a busy schedule.

I'm up for anything and can work with it. But we are currently holed up and surrounded, so I don't realistically see anyone getting in, or meeting up with anyone until we can get out. We are also near the end of the mission.

So I can:
1) end this thread (say I've got the papers and moves like Jagger), and meet up with the other team on the way back if they need it (say Canada is heading straight back).
or
2) come straight back and aim for a different mission with a new partner (supply run, etc)

I just need to know anything the zombie mod wanted to interject, such as clues or other revelations]]

[England]

(( LOL. Moves like Jagger. Okay, sorry, I digress.

Alright. How about... Since you're already inside the building, just magically find the papers lying around somewhere and exit to the roof. And Argentina goes all ninja and joins you up on the roof to help you make your way out of the city. Or something. Bah, you can tell I'm not good with this kind of stuff.

I don't want to make it too long, like starting it over again, because the other teams have gotten quite far, and close to the end, so unless you and Argentina roleplay like the wind, you won't be able to catch up :I

Either way, it's your choice in the end. The zombie mod will find a way to drop clues, whatever the turnout is (: ))

[Scotland]

[[I'll go with Argentina ninja. Say they switched out with one of England's summon spells. Unfortunately I cannot be like Canada and have the moose like Jagger.

Let me write up a post.]]

[Scotland]

The zombies had been held up by the reinforcement built up at the doors, so Scotland ran back to join Canada in searching for the elusive papers. The quicker they could find them, the faster they were on their way out. He relied heavily on his ear light to save him from bumping into walls and desks, as he searched papers left in the rooms. Anything that looked promising was rolled and shoved into a small pack resting at the small of his back. He froze when he came face to face with a zombie preserved in a glass tank full of fluid, floating limply with its rotted face against the glass. Shuddering at having one so close to his face, he retreated from the room and moved onto the next.

Anything in his way was thrown aside to crash or flutter to the floor. Somewhere between the two of them, they had to have the information England was looking for. Canada had shoved many handfuls of papers and folders into his backpack.

He heard a loud crash and tinkling glass coming from the front of the building, meaning the zombies had managed to knock some part of the barricade over. "Com'on lad, we gotta go!"

Scotland scanned the hallways until he saw the sign for the stairs and shoved the door open, scanning the stairwell for zombies before he led the way up the steps, the blonde nation following at his heels. One of the things he really liked about Canada was he didn't ask too many questions. He just did what needed to be done.

Already winded from fighting, moving furniture, and then running through the rooms in a scramble, he wasn't getting up the stairs as fast as he would have liked. Canada slowed with him, but Scotland refused to look back at him. He didn't want to see the unspoken questions on the other nation's face anymore than he wanted to admit to being tired. He just grabbed onto the stair rails and used them to haul himself quickly up the rest of the flights.

The door to the roof had a lock on it, so Scotland just battered the lock with the hilt end of his sword until it broke. Heading out onto the empty rooftop (save for a lot of swirling snow), he gave the young blonde the hand signal to wait, and moved to the edges of the roof, looking for the best way off it. Peering down over the edge at the zombies below, he didn't see the sudden flare of light behind him, or the ritual circle that appeared on the rooftop. Nor did he see Canada sinking down into it. If he had, he would have cursed England from highlands to lowlands, wishing unpleasant events upon him that would have involved vinegar-soaked cacti, car batteries and jumper cables. Those ritual circles were only meant to hold one person at a time.

Fortunately, his view of the street five stories down showed most of the zombies in the area were crowded at the front of the bulding with just a few stragglers moving in from streets further away.

[There, room for Argentina to magic her way in]

[Argentina]

Argentina poked her head out of the center of the glowing ritual circle on the roof. She blinked a few times and squinted through the light before finally crawling all the way out. Tina stood and dusted herself off, cringing at the snowfall that suddenly hit her skin. This Canadian weather was absolutely horrid, especially for Argentina, who had experienced first-hand some of the highest heats in recorded South American history. No exaggeration.

Tina glanced back at the spiritual circle, watching in awe as it suddenly disappeared. Just like that. Wow. Did that seriously just happen? Maybe she just needs a freaking break. Argentina felt as though she were losing her marbles. Yeah, that's it. As soon as this whole zombie ordeal was over, Tina was going to go back to her home, and relax in a bath with some nice candles and a bottle of the best Argentine champagne. What she wouldn't give for that right about now...

For this "special occasion", instead of wearing her hair down with a braid over her shoulder on one side, Argentina wore all of her hair in a single braid down her back. She only occasionally did this for three reasons;

A.) She planned on fighting and wanted to keep her hair out of her face,

B.) She was out somewhere fancy,

or C.) She was planning on going swimming.

The first option seems a bit more reasonable at this point, because... well.. showing up in a skimpy string bikini when she was supposed to be on a mission with Scotland seems kind of inappropriate and frowned upon, now doesn't it? That, and Tina would also freeze to death in this cold.

"...Ahem." Argentina awkwardly cleared her throat, as Scotland seemed to have not noticed her switch out with Canada yet. "Argentina, here for assistance. Before you ask anything; England sent me. Canada was needed back at the warehouse immediately." A small smile appeared on her face as she patiently awaited a reaction out of the red-haired man.

(Ninja Argentina, reporting for duty! >D Also, should I even bother asking what the hell Scotland has in mind for England that would involve vinegar-soaked cacti, car batteries, and jumper cables? Honestly, I'm kind of scared to...)

[Zombies]

There would be no time for a reaction. Downstairs, the zombies finally broke through the barricade with a collective moan and literally poured in, a lot of the ones on the front lines stepped upon and killed as their brethren rushed in a frenzy to find their prey and eat. Led by their instincts, and more specifically, their noses, the zombies made quick work of understanding that their prey wasn't on the first floor.

One of them wandered close enough to the stairs to catch a whiff of human scent. That one, what used to be a middle-aged woman, moaned loudly and hazaphardly put one foot in front of the other, stumbling on the stairs. Using her hands, she crawled up the steps, although her efforts were in vain as soon enough, the rest of her undead companions spotted what she was doing and followed her example, rushing to move up the stairs and crushing the undead woman below them.

[Scotland]

Scotland looked over at the next building over, trying to gauge if they could realistically jump from this roof to that one. Since it was a story lower, they might make the distance, but landing was gonna hurt. He moved to the back of the building and spied a metal ladder built into the side of the building, enclosed in a metal cage that traveled down the back of the builidng and stopped maybe 10 feet from the ground. That was their way out. He was ready to turn and tell Canada about his find when...

"...Ahem. Argentina, here for assistance. Before you ask anything; England sent me. Canada was needed back at the warehouse immediately."

He spun in shock at hearing a female voice and found his nephew had turned into a small brunette girl. He clutched at the low wall behind him in surprise, and if his eyes weren't covered with the goggles she would have seen there was more white showing that normal. As it was, his earlight just lit up her face and probably wasn't allowing her to see much anyway.

"Ach! Dun ya be sneakin' up on folk!" he snarled. "'Ow ye get 'ere?"

Then her words actually registered and his skin flushed. Not with cold or embarassment, but rather with anger. England could have just snagged them both and brought them home instead of putting this little girl into harm's way. Whatever was he thinking? If he wasn't dead by the time they got back...scratch that, even if he was dead when they got back, he was still owed a punch in the face.

So he took stock again. He had Argentina, and the papers Canada had were already back at the stronghold. So now he just had to get himself and Argentina home with the rest of the papers. And he had found their way out. He clutched at his bandanna-covered head and even slammed his palm against the side of it a couple times for good measure.

"OK. 'e's a dour bampot 'e is /miserable idiot/," he muttered before straightening. "We about ta' run fer it, lassie."

He pointed over the edge of the building to indicate their direction of travel before he started to shuffle the strappy scabbard for his sword forward over his shoulder so he could slide his filthy sword into the holding straps. If she could properly see him, he would look a fright, splattered with rotten and congealed zombie blood, and a zombie hand still attached to his right upper sleeve that he'd ignored after gaining. He also wouldn't smell very pleasant if it wasn't for the cold wind and snow supressing it.

Once his sword was secured to his back, he climbed over the low wall, seeking the top rung with his feet, and trying to avoid catching the tip of his sword on the cage. He intended to go first and keep the ground clear while the girl came down. Plus he could enjoy looking back up while she was on the ladder.

[You might be able to guess where things would fit and be attached to. Feel free to use your imagination.]

[Argentina]

Argentina listened to Scotland's short-lived freakout about not sneaking up on "folk". Scotland was just lucky she hadn't walked up to him and tapped his shoulder like she'd considered... but then again, if she'd done that, Scotland probably would've swung around and stabbed her, thinking she was a zombie. Honestly, she found his reaction pretty funny, but she wasn't about to laugh. Now probably wasn't the best time.

"About to run for it?" Tina questioned with raised eyebrows. She was about to ask why, as she did not know what exactly Canada and Scotland had been up to before she popped in, but the echoing moans from the entranceway to the roof made the shuffling zombies on their way upstairs sound closer than they were. She immediately took this into account.

Argentina walked over to the lowered wall that Scotland had disappeared over and peered down. She waited until he was a reasonable way down before grasping the railing and making her way down as well, hooking her toes around the bars as she came down. As she lowered herself down, Tina tapped at the portable gun strapped to her waist and slipped a clip from her belt.

Single-handedly, Argentina opened the bullet chamber and snapped the clip in to reload, before nodding down at Scotland. She'd come prepared, and despite not being able to see Scotland clearly through the snow, Tina could tell he would have already been tired. Perhaps even over-exerted.

The snow made the bars slippery and wet, to say the very least. Argentina had to quickly put both hands back on the ladder after filling the gun. She continued to climb down before finally coming to the end of the ladder. Tina let go and let herself drop to the ground the rest of the way, managing to land on her feet perfectly fine.

She glanced over at Scotland. "Which way to home?" Tina asked as she collectively fixed the cuffs of her sleeves, ready to run in whichever direction Scotland headed. Seeing as England had beamed her here with his so-called "magic", Argentina wasn't quite sure how to make their way back herself. Although, after her question, Tina honestly felt sort of peeved at herself for using the word 'home'. Probably should've used the term warehouse. The warehouse certainly wasn't home, at least not in her eyes. Just a temporary placement.

Right, only temporary.

Argentina peered down the snow-coated road in both directions. No zombies. All of the zombies to a certain radius must've heard their bretheren in search and gone to check it out themselves, although, she and Scotland were bound to run into a few stragglers here and there. Many of the creatures were probably still inside the building, sauntering hungrily up the long staircase. She could almost picture in her head a hoard of moaning undead heading straight for the elevator, and a cheerful attendant opening the sliding doors with a bing. "Sorry, the elevator is out of order. However, you are welcome to take the stairs."

If worse came to worse and Scotland was indeed as tired as Argentina suspected, she'd back him up. If he started lagging behind, Tina would be right there to shoot away any followers they might have on their tail and give him a chance to start up again. Hell, she'll probably shoot and run if opportunity perhaps pops up.

[Scotland]

Scotland kept looking down to watch for zombies, and fortunately their section alleyway remained clear as the zombies flooded into the building instead. He also couldn't help looking back up, and his ear-light would light up his view of the girl's...assets. He looked. He couldn't help it. It was like the joke he'd heard from America once, you've got something on your butt. My eyes.

There were advantages to working with women. Especially women with nice attributes. He knew the women of South America had nice attributes in abundance. It was one of the things he'd actually paid attention to when England had ranted about his troubles with those countries.

When his feet ran out of rungs, he made sure his equipment was clear of the cage and then let himself drop to the ground, landing with a great bending of his knees. Hand flying to his sword hilt, he scanned the area to ensure it was still clear. Argentina would be on the ground any time now, so he had to decide if they were going back for the grate into the sewers or finding another path. At least with the grate, he knew the way back. And it should be mostly clear on the way back. So they were going to have to go for the grate.

He heard Argentina's boots hit the ground and he pulled his sword free, his shoulders aching a bit at the familiar motion to remind him they wouldn't be able to keep the same pace as they did on the way in. That was okay. He didn't expect to have to fight as hard on the way out. Since they were fleeing now, they could use their guns. His uzi had hung patiently against his belly for its turn to be used. It was already loaded. All he had to do was release the safety mechanism to rock and roll.

He looked over to Argentina when she asked which way and he pointed around the side of the building that led back toward the front. "We're gonna run back tha' way. Thar be a grate we come up. Lead us right back out to th'bikes. We be runnin' righ' back past 'em, so no stoppin'. I open th'grate, I go firs' n'ye follow. Ye shoot e'erythin'. Ye ken?"

[Sorry for the delay. Concentration, was est das?]

[Argentina]

(It's no problem. I've been blessed enough to not have that trouble and feel rather literate the past couple weeks. Probably because the weight of school has been off of my shoulders. Leaves me with a lot of spare time and bubbling thoughts a-plenty.)

Scotland is just one lucky bastard that Tina didn't catch him sneaking a peek. Let's leave it at that.

Argentina nodded in response. "Ken, right. Gotcha." She replied and slipped her gun from its holstered sling on her belt. Argentina fixed her hand against the trigger, enjoying the familiar feel of the rubber-on-metal against her palm. She peered over at Scotland out of her peripheral vision before taking off sprinting where he had directed, not bothering to look behind her to make sure Scotland was following. Tina was positive he was. After all, she knew enough to tell that the man could take care of himself.

As she rounded the corner of the building, she headed straight for the original path of Scotland and Canada. Hopefully the zombies still heading up to the roof were incompetent enough not to realize that their prey was no longer atop of the building and now running right under their noses.

Once in a while there was the irritating moan of a zombie who hadn't been in the building and had spotted them, but Tina shot most of them down with a single headshot to the side of herself. She assumed Scotland would handle the ones that wouldn't stay down after a fired shot from her weapon.

The buildings that loomed over their heads almost made her nervous. Many of them seemed crumbled and unsturdy, but Tina tried not to pay them much attention, and instead focus on shooting and running.

After a bit of running in long, even strides, a metal grate came into view in the distance. This one stood out from much of the ground due to not being covered with snow like the rest of the roads. It had been recently used. Argentina threw a glance towards Scotland. "Oi, Escocia!" She said and pointed. "That the grate we're looking for?"

(Escocia = Spanish for Scotland. Just making it clear that she didn't insult him.)