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Post by Scotland on Jun 2, 2012 10:30:15 GMT -5
Darting around the corner the building, he rammed his shoulder into the nearest zombie that the girl had just darted past, knocking it to the ground. A handful of the afflicted noticed them and started to peel off from the crowd entering the building. The girl ran faster than he did, which made sense since she was still fresh. Thankfully she also wasn't trigger-shy, shooting down zombies that got into or threatened to get in her way.
He pushed the release on his Uzi and turned his body to move semi-backwards so the nuzzle was pointing back at the zombies behind them, and pulled the trigger. The Uzi wasn't designed for single shots, so he used two to three round bursts into the zombies following them. As the gun was strapped to his body to hold it in place, he couldn't lift it up to his eyes to use the sights. As a result his shots were haphazard, and many of them were put into completely useless areas of the zombies, such as limbs and torsos. But the impact of the shots sometimes staggered zombies off their feet, and it semi-effectively slowed down the pursuit.
"Oi, Escocia! That the grate we're looking for?"
The name she used was similiar to France's name for him, Écosse, allowing him to make the connection quickly to Spanish, since the languages were rather similiar. As he came up close enough to see the grate, he pushed his goggles up off his eyes and onto his forehead so he'd be able to see when they dropped down into the tunnel. Clear glass and plastic had a bad habit of fogging up when moving from a cold environment to warmer temperatures.
"Aye! Tha' be it!" he confirmed as he ran up on her. "Watch me back!"
He ran up on the grate, gloved fingers having to sweep snow away to find the recessed metal handle. His fingers catching it, he heaved and pulled the grate up, the hinges creaking in protest. "Com'on, ye goin' in. See anythin', shoot it!"
Normally he would have gone first, but he intended to close the grate behind them. No zombie should have enough brain power left to figure out how to lift the grate up, nor have the strength if they got lucky while clawing at the grate.
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Post by Argentina on Jun 2, 2012 11:19:22 GMT -5
While Scotland lifted up the grate, Tina kept a close eye on any approaching zombies. If they got too close, she'd blow their heads off with a firing round. This was successful, for the most part, as Argentina has good aim and the required training for such.
When Scotland heaved the steel grate up enough for her to get herself inside, Argentina nodded at him and, without arguing that he had said he wanted to be the one to go in first, jumped down into the pit. Her only regret was that she hadn't brought an ear-light like Scotland, because as soon as she climbed down and touched the ground, there was nothing but pitch-blackness. Argentina relied solely on her hearing to instruct her where to shoot if there was a moan of an undead from any direction. Whenever she fired, the moans instantly went quiet, which told her that she'd gotten them. Tina wasn't going to lie to herself; it was a rather pleasing feeling.
Listening closely and waiting for Scotland to make his way down and cover their entrance with the grate, the silence of the sewer-like tunnels told her that there was no more trouble to be seen down here, at least until they progressed ahead a bit.
Or so she thought.
Argentina knew better than to put her guard down completely, but just when she felt that perhaps there was the chance that things had gone quiet, a grasp on the hem of her coat told her different. Her eyes shot wide open and Tina gave out a shriek that echoed through the tunnels, instinctively swinging around and roundhouse-kicking a zombie right in the face. The blow knocked the zombie's head clean off, and as Argentina's eyes began to gradually adjust to the dark, she watched the body fall over onto the ground, just short of the mixture of water and raw sewage flowing below. The disembodied head rolled a little farther than it's body, it's jaws snapping open and closed, almost as though it were still trying to grab at her with it's teeth. The monster wasn't quite dead yet, but because the body was now motionless without the instructions of the rotting brain, the zombie could do no harm... however, it was the appearance of the zombie that made Argentina's throat go dry.
No more than eleven years old. The nearly-unrecognizable face and body was that of a mere child's. A zombie child, of course, but still only a little boy. This realization was certainly a major bitch-slap to the face, courtesy of reality. It wasn't that Tina felt bad for kicking the zombie's head off, as the little boy would've quite literally eaten her if she hadn't. It was the horrible fact that this undead, inhuman creature... they had been far too young. It forced the thought into Argentina's head - a reminder which she had struggled to avoid - that even children had died in this outbreak of apocalyptic proportions. It made Tina feel absolutely sick to her stomach, for lack of a better word.
Tina swallowed hard in a futile attempt to lubricate her momentarily lost voice. "...C-come on, Scotland, we're clear down here!" She managed to choke out hoarsely. Her gaze was still locked on the limp body at her feet, and there was a sharp tinge of horror in her eyes that Argentina couldn't bring herself to even attempt to hide. "Hurry up!" Please, please hurry up, she almost added in a plea, but then quickly thought better of it. She didn't want Scotland to know that she was shaken, although she had just taken a rather hard hit emotionally.
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Post by Scotland on Jun 4, 2012 11:25:58 GMT -5
As soon as Argentina dropped down into the tunnels, Scotland manuerved his feet onto the metal rungs under the grate. He heard her firing, the booms loud and echoing in the tunnels. He put his trust in her skills and lowered the grate down over his head, letting it clatter down into place the last few inches. He turned and shone the light down past Argentina so she could see what was coming. A moment late, it appeared, as she suddenly squealed and lashed out at something, dramatically kicking at what was probably a zombie.
He swept the light towards the zombie she had kicked until the light rested on the remains of the zombie. The remains of the small zombie. In Scotland's head, that wasn't a child, and never had been. It was just a monster. That was how people managed to kill other people. They didn't view them as human. That bit of recognition just shut off. The few who killed other people while fully aware of humanity were the insane. As a result, he isn't sure why the young woman sounded so shaken. Her voice had a definite waver in it. He propped his sword up on his shoulder again, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck from side to side, making the light weave and bob crazily around on the walls and water.
"Aye, m'here." He reached out his free hand to briefly touch and and squeeze her shoulder. "We're in th' home stretch, lass. Goin' home now."
With that, he used his hand on her shoulder to step around her and began traveling the tunnels in reverse from before.
"Jus' dunnae shoot me," he offered back over his shoulder. Turn right, look for the two manholes overhead. Go straight for a while, and then turn left. They should show up somewhere around where he came in. All he had to find was his zombie pile and the ladder from before. Piece of cake. Cake would be nice about now. So would some tablet. Thinking about tablet made him just a bit homesick. Once he dropped off his papers to the brains of the outfit, he was going looking for the beer. If there was no beer in the warehouse, he was still going looking for beer. Though he had shut down the recognition portion of his brain for now, it would turn back on later. He didn't want to be sober when it did.
More zombies had trailed down the tunnels, though they were far less than what they had been dealing with. A few strikes of his sword were more sure and quicker than trying to shoot them down. His shoulders and arms were burning from exhaustion. He mentally promised them a good long break once they got back to the bikes. Just hang on until then.
[Tablet is a caramel-like candy]
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Post by Argentina on Jun 4, 2012 11:56:58 GMT -5
Argentina felt the hand squeeze her shoulder and simply watched as Scotland went around her and began heading forward. She just stood there for a few heartbeats before beginning to follow him. Scotland was right. They were in the home stretch. They'd be out of his hellhole soon enough and back in the safety of the warehouse walls. The thought did give Argentina a little reassurance, and a little was enough for her.
Tina tossed a glance over her shoulder at the zombie one last time before quickly turning back around and scampering to catch up with Scotland. Although Argentina followed behind, she intentionally tried to stay as close to her partner as she could get without breathing down his neck. She didn't want him to go far ahead without her, and she definitely didn't want to be alone. Not after that.
Whenever the zombies came at her and not Scotland and his heavy sword, whether be from ahead or behind, Argentina swung around with ease and fired a couple rounds into their face. Unlike Scotland, she clearly wasn't tired just yet... but she wouldn't complain if she still got nice rest when they made it to the bikes. She's still up for a bottle of Argentine champagne whenever it's safe to go back to her home as well... although, that probably wouldn't be for a while...
Argentina let her eyes wander around the tunnels, letting the fingers of her free hand trace the walls as they moved onward... whenever she wasn't shooting at zombies, that is. Every so often, she'd look back at Scotland. Although it was dark, it wasn't snowing like it had been outside. By now, her eyes were completely fixed to better suit the thin illumination they had from Scotland's earpiece. She could see Scotland better than she could outside, and Argentina wouldn't hesitate to admit that he looked awful. Some of his red hair was untidily sticking out from underneath the bandanna he had tied around his head, his clothes were splattered with blood, and... wait, is that a disembodied zombie arm loosely clinging onto his sleeve?
She shook her head and began skimming around again. Argentina began reciting in her head baking recipes for pastries and cakes as she fired. Baking is her specialty, and she loves sweets of any kind. It seemed like the right thing to let her mind drift to to keep herself from being fearful and jittery. Something to keep her mind off of the child-like zombie she'd just encountered. Just as long as she didn't let her mind wander too far and begin to daydream... pulling a stunt like that could and would be the death of her in a situation like this. Argentina was well aware, and so she made sure that, no matter what she thought about, she still kept her eyes peeled and her head screwed on straight.
Although, if Scotland could read thoughts, he'd probably think her mentally unstable to be reciting recipes, all the while blowing off heads and limbs of zombies left and right.
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Post by Scotland on Jun 7, 2012 10:14:54 GMT -5
Argentina was holding up as well as Canada, which the older country appreciated. She didn't whine, didn't ask a million questions, and could figure things out without having to be told everything. Hearing the echoed booms of her gun followed by heavy splashing told him she was guarding to the rear and sides quite well. His sword strikes were becoming slower and weaker in contrast. Fortunately these older zombies didn't require much effort to take down.
There was the second manhole in the ceiling, so he started watching for the four way intersection that would signify their first left turn. Once they reached it, he paused to peek around the corner, the main sounds being his huffing breath and faint sloshing from other zombies further down the tunnels. The turn was clear to the immeadiate left though a few zombies were sludging through the water towards them from the right. He turned left, trying to hurry down the thin walkway and just leave them behind.
They were almost out. One more turn and they would reach the grate he'd entered the city through. He couldn't remember how many side tunnels they'd passed, so he paused to peer down each one, looking for the ladder and zombie pile until he finally found it.
Unfortunately a few more zombies had fallen down through the open grate so he took a deep breath and unsnapped his uzi from its position, leaving it hanging only from the ring at the end of the stock. Then he blew through the rest of the bullets in the loaded magazine, yelling as he did. "Com'on then ye mingin' cunts!" /come on, you disgusting bastards/
He didn't put Argentina behind him and to the wall like with Canada, but the situation wasn't as dire as before. Plus she was doing pretty well with her precision shooting, even in lowlight. He made sure to aim high himself, trying to put the bullets through their heads before he exhausted the magazine. When the uzi went silent, he let it dangle and moved in to finish off what was left with his sword. All he had left was the heavy swings of the exhausted that took a few extra moments to pull back from their last strike.
[Pausing here so if Argentina wants to partake of what is probably our last fight]
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Post by Argentina on Jun 7, 2012 10:35:12 GMT -5
Argentina watched as Scotland ran forward and began slashing at zombies. Being as he was now in the midst of it and within shooting range, Argentina found this a good time to switch weapons. That way she could avoid accidentally injuring her partner. Besides, her gun was out of ammo at the moment anyway. There was no point in reloading right now.
Before pulling out her daggers, Argentina decided to try something she'd seen in a movie once. She let the gun slip down in her hands until her fingers were grasping the chamber in which the bullets would've shot from if it were loaded. Clutching the end tightly, Argentina pulled her gun back like a baseball bat and gave a heavy swing. The gun slammed into the back of a zombie's head, causing it to go flying and land a good distance from it's starting point. The zombie's body fell to it's knees, then flopped over onto it's side.
"Meh." Argentina just shrugged. In baseball, she assumed that would be considered a good home run.
Now was time to really switch gears. She slipped her gun into it's sling around her body and flicked out her daggers from the inside of her boots. Tina knew very well that daggers are close-range and would put her at risk of being grabbed by a zombie, but frankly, since she had Scotland and his heavy sword on her side right now, she figured she'd be good to go.
Whenever Scotland slashed at a zombie, Argentina matched his pace and stabbed wherever she saw an opening. The torso may not be a weakpoint for zombies, but just for good meassure. However, as she moved, Argentina felt a tinge of sharp pain in the way she twisted her body. Now wasn't the time of course, but later, when they made it back to the warehouse, she'd have to get her chest and stomach checked out for bruises. Due to her small size, Argentina had kept her gun close to her stomach and chest while firing. She kept a firm stance and a strong grip on her gun, otherwise each round of shots would be enough to knock the poor girl right off her feet. However, the recoil of each automatic shot had probably left its mark on Argentina, leaving black and blue bruises.
You could also think of her switching from her gun to her combat knives moreso as a way of giving herself a break. Using a big, heavy gun when you're a small girl isn't exactly easy. It had been making her feel even the least bit worn out.
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Post by Zombies on Jun 7, 2012 18:34:33 GMT -5
The few zombies that were left were falling out quickly. Although they were being decimated as they took their steps forward, they did not relent, never noticing that their numbers were dwindling, never minding the fact that they would most probably never taste the flesh they so hungrily yearned for.
One zombie, practically crawling on its knees, moaned and dragged itself on the dirty cobblestone until it reached both Argentina and Scotland. Both smelled absolutely mouth-watering to it, but it quickly made its decision. While its few remaining companions advanced on Argentina, rotten fingers grasping greedily in mid-air, the crawling one got close enough to scratch at Scotland's leg, hoping to get some kind of grip so it could pull itself and consume the flesh it sought.
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Post by Argentina on Jun 9, 2012 7:16:13 GMT -5
Argentina watched as the remaining zombies, aside the one trying to get a grip on Scotland's leg, advanced on her. Her first instinct was to step back, and you couldn't blame her. Her daggers wouldn't be very useful when several were coming at her at once. With trembling hands, Tina took another step back, then another.
Finally, Argentina realized that avoidance wasn't getting her anywhere. She stabbed one of her daggers right into the chest of one zombie, then slashed at another's jugular. Blood splattered on Tina's face and clothes. Although this disgusted her greatly, she didn't show any physical reaction. Argentina pulled both of her daggers back. However, like she expected, the blades didn't cause much of an effect. The zombies continues advancing.
Argentina turned to face another zombie and stabbed into it's gut. She smirked and tried to yank her knife out again... but got a horrible shock. The dagger wasn't pulling out. It was stuck. She shoved her other dagger in her boot and quickly grabbed the trapped dagger with both hands. She pulled and tugged, even placing one foot on the zombie and pushing for more force. The zombie slowly snapped it's jaws open and closed with a sickening, sloppy chomp. It placed a disgusting hand on Tina's wrist, holding her hand in place, much like Scotland had done during tournament training. Argentina's eyes widened and she finally yanked her dagger free, but the zombie kept a grip on her wrist.
Another zombie, one which Tina had ignored in trying to pull her dagger free, grabbed her shoulder and pulled. She winced in pain at the force of two hands, hungrily yanking her in opposite directions. Tina could almost hear her shoulders popping. They wanted her, and planned to start a tug-of-war just to have her. The world swirled around the South American nation. Tina tried to scream, but couldn't. She swung and helplessly kicked, pushed, pulled. Finally, off popped both zombie's arms. Unlike the arm clinging to Scotland's shirt, both arms loosened their grip and uselessly dropped to the floor.
Tina coughed and held onto her dagger tightly in one hand. She pulled out her other dagger again and wasted no time. She slashed and sliced in a flurry of silver blades, knocking over one zombie and shoving another backwards. The fallen creature thrashed and wormed about in the water, however, Argentina had no time to scoff. She just continued slashing and slicing, not ready to become someone's meal yet.
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Post by Scotland on Jun 9, 2012 12:34:40 GMT -5
Scotland heard Argentina's shooting stop, and assumed that meant they were clear, until he heard an impact and saw a head go tumbling past him. He would have laughed if he had the breath to do so. Instead he was sucking air against the pain as his arms tried to defy him and refuse to lift the sword anymore. He looked back to Argentina to make sure she was good to go, and saw her stabbing at the zombies with her daggers. Not good. Too close.
He turned and body-checked a zombie off the walkway with his shoulder and into the water, simply using his body as a weapon since his arms were saying sword, wut? That would buy them a handful of seconds at least before it got up and came back. He dropped the sword with a loud clatter, and his hands flew to the hand axes at his hips. His fingers quickly unsnapped the retaining straps and he pulled them out of the leather holsters that protected the blade edges and people from said edges. These were at least light and his arms didn't protest as much.
While Argentina was struggling with her blade stuck in one zombie, he yelled wordlessly, angrily, swinging an axe at the zombie that was trudging back out of the water, catching it in midface. The axe wasn't as powerful as his sword, so while he held it off with the axe plowed halfway through its face, his other axe came in from the side, using them almost like scissors to cut the top of the zombie's head off. Jerking his axes back out, he turned to help Argentina, not noticing the tug at his pants leg right away due to his movement. When the tug became a sharp pull, he looked down and his other foot came down hard on the zombie's head with another wordless yell in hopes the zombie was rotten enough its skull would collapse. He heard a crack and his foot slid off, so he stomped his foot down on the back of the zombie's neck, hearing that crack too. He moved his foot and then chopped down hard with an axe in the same place, separating the head from the body with a ringing noise from the metal striking the stone walkway.
He looked back to Argentina and saw her struggling between two zombies, so he went after the one standing behind her, his first axe taking it in the throat. His other axe took it from the back of the neck, so the head fell off just as its arms popped off from Argentina's pulling. Hearing her cough, he shoved the crumpling body in front of him with a knee to send it splashing into the water. As his light flashed over her, he saw she was back in the fight, and in a fury. As she went medieval on the zombie that had been in front of her, he hopped into the water, the foul fluid swirling around his calves, but luckily his boots rose to his knees. He bodily rammed into the zombie Argentina had shoved into the water as it got back up, throwing it to the walkway on the other side. He quickly followed, his axes just bashing into the zombie's skull one after the other until it fell apart. Its grabbing hands flailed, twitched, and fell still.
He could feel other body parts rolling under his feet, hidden in the water, and he hurriedly splashed back across the channel to Argentina's side. She was hacking at the last standing zombie in the immediate area, so he kicked its knee out from still in the water, making it stagger and fall. It fortunately fell in his direction, since the knee closest to him had given in, and he swung his axe down at its head as it did. The skull cracked just as the zombie fell flat on the walkway, so he raised a foot and stomped on its cracked skull, crushing the brain so bits of it fell out into the water.
He stayed out of Argentina's immediate striking range however, unsure if she was in a frenzy or would be able to stop herself. Instead he gave her time to collect, moved towards the ladder and climbed out of the water, shaking his feet to knock the unpleasant-smelling liquid off. The dirty axe blades were slapped back into their holsters, blindly thumbing the retaining straps back around the handles to snap them back closed. He picked up his sword, and seeing no other quick option, slid the blade down the inside of the front of his jacket. The hilt stuck out alongside his face and the hand guard was jammed up under his chin, forcing his head to stay lifted back a bit, but it would do long enough to get out. He would just have to be careful not to slice the insides of his thighs open while climbing.
"We're gittin' out, lass!" he snapped as he grabbed hold of the ladder. "No dallyin'! We up an' we go!"
Of course he was going up first, even as the muscles in his arms quivered. There shouldn't be anything up there, but he was certain they had a bit of breathing space below. So he climbed as quickly as he could, popping his head out into the snowstorm for flakes to hit him right in the eyes (every time!), as well as the rest of his face. He didn't stop climbing however, blinking his eyes clear and swinging his head side to side to light up the area, checking for any afflicted. He climbed up out of the grate and immediately started pulling the sword back out of his jacket, tilting his sharply head to the side and back so he didn't cut his own throat while doing what looked like a weird sword-swallowing act in reverse.
[three posts inbetween required a longer post to catch up]
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Post by Argentina on Jun 9, 2012 14:52:26 GMT -5
(Sword, wut?)
Argentina had been given time to breathe; time to rest and cool down. She gave a shaky breath before turning and seeing Scotland was already heading up the grate. She tensed up and ran after him. Tina figured she could thank him later, right now, they had to leave. Now.
Slipping her daggers back in their safe-zone, Argentina climbed her way up the ladder as fast as she could, her feet barely touching each rung for a second before being pushed off to the next. Soon enough, Argentina popped out of the entrance that the grate would've been covering. She wasn't going to bother waiting for Scotland to tell her whether or not things were clear. Now Argentina really was tired, mostly from that explosive flurry of blades, panting and out of breath. It would take a while to regain her composure, but she would be alright for running if they really had to. She could just rely on her adrenaline for a good burst of energy and hope for the best. Hell, it was chance enough that they'd made it this far, in her opinion.
"A-alright," She coughed into her sleeve, wiping off some of the blood from her face while she was at it. "W-which way to the bikes?" Tina stood up and pulled her gun back out. Okay, daggers weren't very helpful right now. That's a no-no. But at least she got the idea of what to do for future missions, if they involved lots of zombies. England could've at least warned her about that before she had to make a run for it the second she arrived in the city. Although, he probably intended for a wake-up call for Tina anyway... the two were never really close... probably never will be.
Argentina scanned her gun. Probably best not to use it as a baseball bat anymore either. She could see a small spot that had been dented from the impact of the zombie homerun. Disappointed, Argentina knew she'd have to go back to firing. This would only create more bruises, but she would tough it out. If Scotland had made it this far and not complained about being tired, there was no reason she should.
While waiting for a response from Scotland, Argentina quickly slipped a clip from her belt and repeated the quick, swift motions of filling the bullet chamber.
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Post by Scotland on Jun 11, 2012 9:50:41 GMT -5
(Yes, his arms are turning into jello. Sword, wut?)
Having pulled his sword out without ending his own life, he jerked the strap of his sword sheath forward so he could find the retaining straps with the end of his sword. Once it was slid firmly into place, he slid the strap back so the sword angled down his back. He could feel the strength flowing out of his limbs with the exhaustion and the cold. Added in was a terrible sensation of time running out.
"Ye got googles?" he asked as he tapped the goggles on his own head. Please let her have brought goggles or she'd be blind on the trip back. Hearing a groan cut through the driving snow, he reached out to grab for her arm, starting to head off away from the convenience store they had come up near. The bikes had to be near. Even if he couldn't see them.
"We gotta go!" he called back into the wind while making sure not to run too fast. He didn't want to lose sight of her or trip over something hidden by the blanket of fallen snow. If there were more zombies out there, he couldn't see them, and likely wouldn't notice them unless they moaned or ended up coming into contact. They could get separated from each other quickly.
The bikes finally came into view as reflective dark shapes in the line of his ear light against the grey snowfall. The bikes had fallen or been pushed over. He scanned around briefly for any afflicted, and pulled the bikes up to rest on their kickstands. He climbed onto his and pushed the starter with his foot, hearing the bike rev to life. He then stopped to resecure the free end of his gun to its clip while he waited for Argentina. It has been freely banging against his leg all this time.
[This actually came out of my mouth today: Your brain is a genius. I love your brain. If I become a zombie, I'm eating your brain first.]
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Post by Argentina on Jun 11, 2012 10:15:59 GMT -5
(There's supposedly a "zombie apocalypse" starting in my state. About 20 people in the past month have been going batshit insane and becoming cannibalistic. They don't respond to being shot a dozen times in the chest. So this actually came out of my mouth yesterday: "No such thing as a brain-eating zombie apocalypse going on right now. Nope, just a rumor. On a totally unrelated note; party at my place! It's dark, secluded, and no helmets allowed.")
Before Argentina could even respond to Scotland's question about the goggles, she was quickly dragged off away from their entrance and exit through the grate. Luckily for her, she had thought ahead and brought goggles, she just didn't have them on. Through the snow, she watched Scotland break into a sprint and quickly followed closely alongside him. She had the same thoughts, not wanting to lose sight of him.
As she ran, Argentina held her gun under one arm and, with her free hand, reached into one of her coat pockets and pulled out a pair of goggles. Single-handedly, she pulled the strap over her head and then gripped her gun with both hands again. Once they made it to the bikes, Tina stopped to pant for a split second before mounting the seat of the bike that had formerly been Canada's. She looked over at Scotland and pointed up at her own goggles sitting on her head, giving a nod.
Argentina put her gun away safely, where she wouldn't lose it on the ride back. She started up her own bike and listened to it roar, the headlights flickering on and brightening up an area to about 6 feet ahead. Although the headlights wouldn't have much of an effect through the thick snowfall that was pouring down, it was still smart to have them on to avoid driving right into any afflicted zombies. Honestly, Tina isn't very good at steering when it comes to motorcycles. She's had little practice, that is. Driving, particularly through roads that are paved with snow, may be a bit hazardous, especially for her. Argentina was confident she'd be alright, however.
She pulled her goggles over her eyes and gave a sigh. Thank god they were finally out of here. Argentina wasn't sure how much more of this freezing weather she could take. She just wanted to get back to the warehouse and make herself a cup of hot chocolate, bundle herself up in blankets, and curl up in her bunk for a siesta.
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Post by Scotland on Jun 13, 2012 7:58:41 GMT -5
Seeing that Argentina had goggles, he nodded at her and pulled his own goggles down over his eyes. He turned on his own bike's headlight and revved the engine a couple times before kicking up the kickstand with his heel. He wouldn't go very fast until they reached a paved road. There were too many hidden variables under the snowfall now. The last thing they needed was a nasty spill as they were making their escape. After having survived the mess in the city.
Pushing the bike along with his feet to get started, he pulled up his feet and started to lead the way. He needed a cigarette, and a bottle of whiskey. A hot shower would be a pleasant end to his day. Before that, he had to check on his annoying little brother and make sure he hadn't kicked off yet. If Artie was dead, he would finish the job to make sure a zombie didn't arise in the safe house. Then a terrible thought occured to him. What if England had already died, risen again as a zombie, and was now terrorising the safe house? No, he would have felt England die. He would have felt the effects in the land that touched his. England was still hanging in there.
When the tires of the bike came up on paved road, he glanced back at Argentina to make sure she hadn't fallen behind, and increased his speed, shooting past the sign on the side of the road which declared they were now leaving town. Goodbye, and good riddance.
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Post by Argentina on Jun 13, 2012 8:03:06 GMT -5
(Scotland is such an affectionate older brother to England. I want a brother who would be willing to kill me without hesitation if I ever turned into a zombie~ Anyway, I'm guessing we're done here?)
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Post by Scotland on Jun 13, 2012 8:37:47 GMT -5
(Sure, we can be back at the warehouse, making our ugly, smelly, blood-splattered re-entrances)
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