Time to add my bit, then.

Drake Bennett

New Equipment
Box of 24 shotgun shells
Backpack
Provisions
A large amount of tools
Hand Axe
Medical Kit
Packet of cigarettes

Drake crouched behind the car, considering his options. He couldn't turn and run - Troy would shoot him in the back for sure. He'd had a tangle with Troy before in Seattle, and it had not gone well for Troy, even though he managed to get away. He had taken a throwing knife to the shoulder before knocking Drake out and running away.

"You seem to be having some difficulty making your decision, Mr Bennett!" Troy called out.

"To hell with this," Drake growled, pulling the flare gun from his jacket. He aimed briefly at Troy's window, and fired.

The flare hit the wall right next to the window and exploded, shattering what was left of the glass and knocking Troy back slightly. Drake's other hand came round holding the Sig and he fired round after round at Troy.

Troy took a shot to the shoulder, but he managed to fire a shot at Drake before falling back. Drake was flung round behind the car, and he crawled into some better cover, staring at the blood running down his hand from where the tip of his little finger used to be.

Son of a bitch maimed me, he thought, trying to block out the pain and see if Troy had got back up.

Troy staggered to his feet, and fired out of the window a few times at the car. Why's he shooting at his car? Drake thought to himself. Then he caught the smell of petrol. Oh, shit.

He got up, and ran to the cover of a fairly large tree. The car exploded, sending glass and bits of metal everywhere. Drake ducked as the other wing-mirror flew over his head. "Good going, Troy!" he called out, clutching his hand and resisting the urge to curse loudly. "You just blew up one of the only working cars in this entire town!"

A bullet took off a branch next to Drake's head. He heard the rifle click empty. Excellent, he said, grinning.

He holstered his pistol and ran into the house, taking out his baton as he went. He kicked down the door to the room Troy had been shooting from, and before Troy could pick up the crowbar he had next to him, Drake knocked him out. "I hope that hurt, you bastard," he growled, taking out his cuffs and cuffing Troy to the radiator.

He did a quick check, and took Troy's knife and a full packet of cigarettes from a pocket. He then went over to the suitcase and opened it.

Inside rested what Drake guessed to be - after reading the note on top reading 5KG - approximately $400,000 of cocaine. "He's stuck in a town where the dead walk and try to eat you...and he's trying to hang onto a case full of cocaine?"

He shook his head in disgust, and left the room. After a quick search of the house, he had a backpack loaded with things he thought he may need. After he found some bandages, he wrapped up most of his left hand with a bandage.

Right, he thought, looking at his bandaged hand. Time to find the police station.

Michael Lee

Located: Bottom of the map, almost by the tiny fire department.
Primary Weapon: Dual Glock 20c, will only use both in emergencies
Secondary Weapon: Blood-splattered, heavily worn night stick

Medium tall, strongly built. Short brown hair
Kevlar with white t-shirt underneath
Blue/Black jeans
Metal tipped black boots
Background: Detective in the BostYork police Department. Michael was off duty when chaos broke out in the city, and didn't manage to make it back to the police department. Along with a handful of fellow off-duty policemen he barricaded himself in a block close to the fire department, but not before several of them had received bites and\or scratches.
They stayed in the building for several days, without anything to drink and about a bucket's worth of water. Of the original four men and one woman, it's just Michael and a starved officer left, and driven by desperation they have torn down the barricade and begun the search for something to eat, and preferably a few other human beings.


___________________________________
This is not a real update, I'm just giving a peek of what to come. I'm going to write for both my and MrMicky's char, but please....post something...

This post has been edited by Elite viking on December 14, 2006 11:01 pm

David was walking away from the base, about to go to his home when he heard a large BOOM behind him and out of instinct he whips arounde and pulls out his M4, aiming it everywhere. At that moment he heard something running behind him and immediatly turned around to see what it was before getting a bite into the barrel of his gun, which then exploded in a flash of light (didnt really explode, but you know when a round comes out) and the thing was sent flying backwards with half of a head. The other half was blown into tiny bits all over the ground. David quickly ran towards a 2-seated F-18 Hornet, got in and right as he was about to take off, a marine started running towards it, he had some blood on his face and David let him in and when he got in David said, "Who are you?" and the man replied, "Im Collins, Frank Collins, I am a Corporal trying to escape this madness, I am unarmed because I left my weapons in a room filled with those....things."

"Well Collins, lets get going, you can take my pistol until we find more weapons"

Then David handed him the pistol and 5 25-round clips and they took off. David wondered 'where should we go...I should go to BostYork and visit my cousins see if they have any idea about whats going on' so he started flying towards BostYork only to see there were those things everywhere, so he told Collins, "On my mark, hit the Eject button and try to land on that tall building" "Roger" David counted '1.......2.........3...... "MARK!" and they both hit the eject button at the exact same time and landed on a building about 5 yards away from eachother. David looked off the side and saw things everywhere...blood.....undead.....crazy people...

-------------------------------
Collins wont be around for long so dont really count him as my character, he was just a person to put in for more action. Will write more later.

Michael Lee

"Come on, let's go!" Michael Lee whispered as he pushed a wooden board out of the way. He passed the remaining rubble with ease. The other policeman crawled over the bits and pieces. "...I can't take much more of this," he moaned.
"Rubbish, you'll do fine. We'll just have to find you something to eat." Micheal gave the man a pat on the shoulder before moving on.

His glock laid uneasily in his hand. He was sweating and trembling, and at that moment he couldn't have hit anything. Food. He had to find some food. He looked aronud. It wasnt completely silent, but so close it was scary. Nothing made any noise in his vicinity, but in the distance he could hear...something... It was too far away to tell what it was, but it made him shiver. It almost sounded like gunshots, but that couldn't be, could it?

_____________
edit in more later

This post has been edited by Elite viking on December 19, 2006 02:21 pm

A revival! Funny how I say I'd kill the person who let this story die, and that's me at the moment. Oh the cruel irony! /wrists

Here's a quick map of the town to remind you guys where the hell you are:



But now on with Burning Sulfur!

Adrian Vasquez

Although slightly startled by the zombified old man rapping on the window glass, I got myself together. Slinging my rifle around my shoulder, I threw my equipment onto the roof. I then steadily climbed the drainage pipe onto the roof just in time to hear the old zombie crash his fist through the window.

I decided to hop the apartment buildings as far as I could towards the airport. Fromt here I'll have to make my way through the damn streets. After traversing the full length of the large roof, I found the next apartment building to be a 7 foot jump. I didn't want to go down through the building I was standing since the place would probably be zombie infested, so I'm going to have to take my chances. I took my backpack and gave it a hard swing over to the opposite building. Then backing up from the roof's edge, I ran and jumped as far as my legs could take me...

I nearly missed. Fortunately, my hands were able to grip the edge of the top of this apartment building. Gradually, I pulled myself over the roof, greatly out of breath because of my near-death. After resting for a few minutes, I took a greedy sip from my water canteen to refresh myself. Looking on, there was no further building I could "jump", so I'm forced to take the staircase from the roof leading to the lower depths of the apartment building.

Getting my stuff together, I readied my M16a2 in front of the staircase doors. About a few feet away from opening it, however, several zombies crashed through those same doors, completely catching me off guard. With no time to shoot, I smashed the butt of my rifle into the face of the first cannibal I saw.

I am seriously going to need some fucking help.


This all I have so far. More might come later depending on when Chris updates the story.

This post has been edited by Security Corporate on March 31, 2007 09:57 am

Shit, I hope Elite Viking or Chris Redfield check their email often, because they've up and gone after the domain change. I don't think they know it's different now. Well anyway, I can't continue this by myself, so anyone who was in this story please write up something. Keyes, please get back into it, and Zombie, if you can, rewrite your guy back in the story.

This story is too good to be given up on just like that. Well anyway, later tonight or tomorrow I'm going to post another bit for Adrian. Ciao.

Gimme a few hours. I'll think of something.

And Zombies, I think your writing style is pretty good. Don't put yourself down

****************************

Alright, I've sorted myself out. New part from me.

Drake Bennett

As he emerged from the forest, Drake noticed that the light was starting to fade. "Shit," he murmured, checking the load on his shotgun. He did not want to be stuck in a strange city in the dark.

He walked along the road he hoped led to the police station. He had no idea where he was, and he was starting to feel paranoid. Someone - or something - was watching him as he walked, though whenever he looked around, he saw nothing to suggest this.

A dustbin fell over in an alley. Drake turned, shotgun ready, and saw nothing in the alley. The dustbin lay on its side, rocking back and forth. "Shit," he muttered. He raised his voice. "Who's there?"

He realised that shouting was not a great idea. The undead were probably attracted to the noise. He kept walking, but picked up the pace slightly.

Without warning, something dived out of the bushes beside the road at him. He dived to the side and rolled, getting to his feet and directing the shotgun at the creature that had tried to tackle him. It was dead, that was for sure - he could smell the rotting flesh from ten metres away - but it wasn't a zombie. It seemed to be a mixture of a dead man and some creature with huge claws and fangs. It was covered in blood, and the rags of clothing still hanging onto its body were the only indication that it was once human. "My God..." he murmured.

The creature shrieked, and leapt again. Drake fired, hitting the thing in the shoulder and knocking it back with the buckshot. However, the blood all over it seemed to provide some sort of protection, as the close-range shotgun blast that would normally remove limbs didn't seem to cause much damage. "What the hell are you?" he shouted, pumping the shotgun and aiming for the head.

It swiped at Drake, and he was able to jump back just in time to avoid getting disembowelled. He took aim again, and fired, hitting it in the face and knocking it to the ground. He watched it claw at its eyes, and pumped the shotgun again. "Damnit, die, you bastard!"

He fired shell after shell into the creature's head, but still only managed to affect the eyes. As Drake clicked empty, he took out his pistol and saw that the creature had been wounded badly. Its eyes were bleeding, and seemed to have difficulty focusing. It shrieked in fury, and scrambled up a building, across the rooftops, and out of sight.

Drake watched it go, then loaded up his shotgun again. "Looks like we have something else to worry about," he said to himself, pumping the shotgun and running as fast as he could.

Sorry if this isn't any good, but right now, tis the best I can do right now.

This post has been edited by Keyes on May 21, 2007 11:25 pm

Character
Name: Caitlen Florence
Appearance: Short brown hair, hazel eyes, short
Age: 16
Bio: A young girl trapped in a violent savage world is a bad thing indeed. So it's unfortunate for Caitlen to be that girl. Caring, sensitive, and dependent, how long can someone like her survive in this violent world?

Weapons: 9mm Handgun, Combat Knife

Caitlen Florence

The penetrating smell pierced the front door, filling Caitlen's nostrils. She paid it no mind though; she'd been smelling it for what had seemed to be an eternity.

"This is it..." her voice crackled from the lack of nutritious food and clean water.

Her hands reached for the kitchen table, grabbing a combat knife and sliding it in her boot. her other hand was grabbing a 9mm Handgun from the counter, only six bullets remained. Slipping on a pink sweater - darkened from filth - she stared at the apartment's front door. From what she could remember, the hall outside should be crowded with corpses, both living and undead. She could still remember the screams of those in the halls, banging on her apartment, pleading for her to open the door. She remembered alright... she remembered one of those people being her brother.

"This is it..."

Casting one last glance at the room around her, she decided. It would be better to die outside than spend another day in this tomb.

She was on the third floor of the apartment building, so the front door was the only way out.

Stepping towards the front door, seemingly in slow motion, she clasped the door know, turning it slowly, handgun at the ready...

Caitlen Florence

"Ah!" Caitlen yelped as the cold rotting hands of a zombie fell upon her, the smell invading her nostrils. She fell back into her apartment, falling on her back, the zombie atop of her.

Was it over already? She had barely taken three steps and it was done... Over so fast... At least it would be over... No more loneliness, no more cold nights alone in this claustrophobic apartment. As the zombie's jaws reached towards her neck, her pistol was shoved in it's mouth, a second later sending bits of it's head in different directions.

"No..." She whispered.

Two more zombies stumbled in the room. She drew her knife, grabbing a zombie by the head, jamming her knife into it, cold rotting congealed blood covering her fingers. She kicked the other zombie in the chest, sending it flailing into the hall, blocking other zombies entrance.

"I won't... die yet!"

No, not yet. How could she die now? Die, without knowing what was going on. Die, without knowing who had caused the death of her family and friends.

She barged out of the apartment. A zombie with it's lower body torn off somehow crawled towards her. She went towards it, boot raised up, coming down on it's head.

"Mrh..."

She looked up to see several zombies coming at her down the hall. As they came in
focus, she realized one of them was a boy. A boy in a torn school uniform. A backpack was hanging by one strap to his back, the other broken.

"Josh..." Caitlen whispered. She raised her gun and fired off a shot. "I'm sorry..."

As her brother's dead body hit the ground; Caitlen was already flying down the staircases.

Adrian Vasquez

Not wanting to get overpowered by the horrid creatures, I backed up, slamming the butt of my rifle onto another one, knocking it over. The first fucker I hit decided to get up again, but that soon ended when I let off a round in it's face. Switching to burst fire I shot another zombie, the impact pushing it into another one making them both fall down. Three more came at me with startling speed, but they weren't fast enough. I wasted the rest of the clip shooting the shit out of them and making sure they were dead.

After reloading, I shouldered my M16 and strapped my cluttered gear back on. Realizing the roof staircase leading down was dark, I stopped in place.

"You can't be serious." I said to no one in particular.

Taking out my flashlight, I switched it on, first pointing it down and around the first flight of steps. All clear. Unholstering my sidearm, I slow descended into the shadowy depths below. Who knew an apartment building could be as freaky as hell.

~

Chris you bastard, now that you are back, please continue this! COME OOON.

Adrian Vasquez

The staircase was more than dark, it was fucking eerie. Blood was smeared everywhere along the walls, a few dead bodies were down, bite marks too severe for them to have any blood pumping through their hearts. You paced slowly, your flashlight's beam ranging the walls, the stairs, the ground, the ceiling...it was quiet in here. No shuffling of zombies, but only the sound of your quick breathing could be heard in this world.

Then it happened: a shadow not even your flashlight could reveal. It was shaped like a dog pumped with steroids, but no dog like this could have scurried down the stairs by clinging to the ceiling.

“What the fuck was that?” you hissed, felling the unease setting in your abdomen.

You heard an inhuman noise further down, you assumed created from the “dog”. You stopped and closed your eyes. The thought of going against something that demonic made you feel queasy. Your eyelids opened sharply when the scurrying was getting louder, coming up the stairs and towards your position. You steadied yourself, braced for anything, but nothing prepared you for the sight of it up close. The sight of a leathery, black human stood up, two arms shifting up, one foot after the other running full speed at you. However, every other aspect of it was anything but human: razor-sharp talons instead of fingers, a tongue that hung down to it’s chest, eyes red as crimson. It was a nightmare train and you were on its tracks.

“Holy shit!” you screamed, firing off rounds into the beast. Bullets tore into the body and ligaments, but the locomotive kept coming. It swung its tree-branch sized arms at you, however your reflexes came into place perfectly, ducking underneath it. The monstrosity, injured and pissed, jumped on the wall and clung to it, and ran further upstairs. You didn’t even take it all in, you bolted downstairs, away from it…not wanting to see if it would come back for more. You began going every other stair, and then it came down to jumping-and-rolling off the stairs. You reached the bottom floor, where it looked to be a cheap lobby, desk filled with papers, a dead body laying on top of them. You didn’t bother however, you kicked the from doors open, almost knocking them off their hinges. The wooden door slammed against the wall and closed back from the ricochet. You stopped and panted, and took in your surroundings. The moans of the dead filled the night sky. You checked your watch:

7:57 PM

You holstered your handgun and grabbed for your M16. Car lots were directly ahead of you, new BMWs, all sorts of goodies. The dead bodies and destruction of other vehicles deterred the view a little, but you could still appreciate the beauty if looked past that. The building that you just came out of began to erupt with noises of feet and screams from the inhuman dog. Without warning, tens of them leapt through the glass and burst through the doors. The one you injured earlier was out in the front. Should you run and hide, or stand in fight in glory?

==================

If by chance anyone else wants to return after this long wait, feel free to say so. Just so you know SC, lots is going to happen here real shortly, so try to not die, eh?