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Poll

Choices

1. Gun them down.
- 4 (66.7%)
2. Make a break for it.
- 2 (33.3%)
3. ssssssssssssss
- 0 (0%)

Total Members Voted: 6

Voting closed: December 04, 2009, 08:17:53 AM


Pages: 1 ... 36 37 38 39 40 [41] 42 43 44 45 46 ... 57

Author Topic: The Ends  (Read 59143 times)

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LaserBeing

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #800 on: May 19, 2009, 01:12:36 PM »

A thought: the human faceless are basically crappy shambling husks, whereas the cavines retain the physical abilities of a real dog. Could this mean that they leave a greater portion of the host's original body intact? Maybe even parts of the circulatory and central nervous system? And if so, might they be more vulnerable to the tranq darts?
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Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #801 on: May 19, 2009, 04:21:05 PM »

Voting is exceptionally close. Will possibly be extending the poll another day. More votes needed.
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Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #802 on: May 19, 2009, 06:42:35 PM »

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Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #803 on: May 20, 2009, 04:01:07 AM »

4. Go yourself to look for them.

"Hold them off," you say. "I'm gonna look for the keys."

Jesse glances at you, fear plainly written over her face. "Don't take long."

You turn away from the two Cavines who continue to pace back and forth in front of the store in a half circle, and start scrambling on the ground, looking and feeling for the keys that will get you out of here.

Max is sniffing in a corner of the store, near the opened rear cold shelves. You lift up a slashed container of donuts and look under it, then throw it aside.

Perhaps thirty seconds pass. Max is continuing to search erratically, his nose pressed to the ground, snorting occasionally. Your hand closes on what seems to be your prize -- but lifting it up, your triumphant shout dies on your lips as you realize it is only a metal pin of some sort.

Occasionally you glance over your shoulder. At this distance, the dogs are mere dark shapes in the mist. You hear them give another howl, making you grit your teeth. Trying to pile some of the refuse into a corner, your efforts are hampered by the sheer amount of crap all over the floor.

"Jesus," you mutter. "If you're gonna loot the place, loot the place. Don't just throw everything on the damn ground."

Max whines as the Cavines howl again, this time both in unison. You try to ignore the sound and concentrate on the search.

"Uh... you'd better get up here," Jesse says, her voice very low.

You immediately stand and head back to the barricades. "What is it?" you ask, seeing nothing but the two Cavines still.

"Look," Jesse says, pointing with the shotgun at the street.

You see them now. Five, ten, twenty. More. A horde of them. Rats. Moving right past the legs of the Cavines, all headed directly for you. You see them dropping from windows on the opposite side of the street. More coming from north and south. Pouring out from a gutter drain against the sidewalk. A crawling plague, a tide of teeth, claw, and fur.

"Holy shit, this is NOT good," you say.

"Are they infected?" Jesse says frantically.

"That would be my guess!" you say. Behind them, the Cavines have gone still, their vines waving like whips behind an enslaved army.

"Fuck!" Jesse says, and gets to her feet. "I can't shoot them all!"

The two of you begin to back away from the front. A few forerunners are already squeezing their way right through your barricade. You kick a nearby one, feeling the claws rake against your shoe. The front of the horde of them mounts the edge of the sidewalk.

Something presses against your hip from behind.

You whirl and yell.

Max stands there, looking up at you, whining.

"What is it? Did you find them?"

Max turns away and trots over against the back wall, where the shelves are. He looks at you, whines again, and paws underneath them.

You run over and get down on your stomach. Peering in the small space under the shelves, you can just barely see a tiny glint. Max barks and licks your face.

You extend your arm, feeling the metal scrape against your fingertips.

"Hurry up!" Jesse screams.

You reach even farther, jamming your arm as far as it can go...

Got them.

"Got them!" you say, pulling your arm out and holding them up.

Your eyes meet the shifting mass of the room that is now the floor. Jesse has already hopped over the counter, the rats following her.

You run to meet her, Max following. There's five or so keys on the ring, all not labeled. A rat nips at your foot. You kick it away, and try the first key.

No.

Second key --

"What the hell?" Jesse says, lowering the shotgun.

You turn to look. All of the rats have frozen in place, even the ones climbing the counter and walls.

Suddenly, as if on queue, they all drop to the ground, laying on their sides. They begin to tremble, then vibrate and spasm. The entire carpet of them begins to smoke, first from mouths and ears, then body.

"This isn't fucking good!" you say, trying the next key. Too large. The rats begin to give off an audible low buzzing sound.

Jesse kicks away a few that are on the ground near you. They burst like water balloons of blood on her boots. Green blood.

Max is growling and bristling, barking and snapping. He lunges forward, teeth crunching a rat in his jaws, bursting in his mouth. Jesse grabs his collar and pulls him back. "No Max! Don't bite!"

You try the next key. Too small. The rats begin to implode, vines wrapping tightly, flesh replacing fur. A horde of baby crawlers, the sickly smell of burning flesh and blood heralding their birth into the world.

You eyeball the lock, and slide the next key into it.

Click.

You throw open the door and pull Jesse through. Max slips inside and you slam it behind you, locking it again.

You're in a back area, used for storage and loading. The back exit, a large metal shutter, is mostly closed. About three feet of space at the bottom. Boxes of beer and other alcohol are stacked here in reserve.

Your eyes go to the empty shelves separating this section from the main store. More than enough space for a crawler to fit through.

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

1. Spend ten seconds grabbing as much booze as you can, then get the fuck out.

2. Nope. Don't even have time for that. Get out now.

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


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Zaratustra

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #804 on: May 20, 2009, 04:44:14 AM »

smash bottle of liquor on floor, set on fire

Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #805 on: May 20, 2009, 12:35:28 PM »

Assuming the crawlers are coming through now, or very soon, there is not nearly enough time to spread a fire line against the entire wall of shelves. Doing so would be suicidal.

It was always in my mind to have the two of you set fire in the much more limited area of the rear exit, however.
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The Artist Formerly Known As Yoji

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #806 on: May 20, 2009, 12:46:59 PM »

It doesn't look like we have enough time, and there's already a bunch of booze in the car if we can get back to it.

If we don't get our supplies... well, this is the US and we lovin' our booze. It's not like we can't find another store later.
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Detonator

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #807 on: May 20, 2009, 03:51:05 PM »

Will option 2 let us at least grab a single liquor bottle each as we run out?  It seems like a full bottle of hard liquor could fight the infection for quite some time.
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Lady Duke

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #808 on: May 20, 2009, 03:56:59 PM »

Terrible choice to make D:
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Benny

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #809 on: May 20, 2009, 04:08:00 PM »

come on, we'll only need nine
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Romosome

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #810 on: May 20, 2009, 04:57:24 PM »

Waiting AND weighing ourselves down?

No.  Leave.  Now.
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Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #811 on: May 20, 2009, 06:42:59 PM »

Quote
Will option 2 let us at least grab a single liquor bottle each as we run out?

Reasonable. OK.
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Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #812 on: May 20, 2009, 10:14:22 PM »

2. Nope. Don't even have time for that. Get out now.

"Let's move!" you yell, sprinting for the shutter. You reach out and grab a bottle of some sort of booze from a case of them as you run by. Jesse, behind you, sees you do it and does likewise.

You reach the shutter and glance over your shoulder. You can see the crawlers are already trying to make their way through the open doors. You quickly lay flat and slide under the metal door, onto the ramp leading to the ground outside.

Jesse does the same right behind you, and Max squeezes under, too. From this side, there's a handle. You reach up and pull downward, hearing the metal shriek against rust.

You're closing it, slowly but surely. Max is barking behind you, running back and forth, impatient to leave.

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

1. Tell Jesse to break open her bottle on the inside, light it, and finish closing the door.

2. Tell her to help you close the door.

3. Forget the door. Run.

*******************************
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Guild

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #813 on: May 21, 2009, 11:10:38 AM »

This one is 2 easy.
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Kayma

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #814 on: May 21, 2009, 12:56:40 PM »

Don't wanna waste to goods with flames, don't wanna die. 2.
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Guild

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #815 on: May 21, 2009, 01:15:58 PM »

Unless the alcohol content is < 50.01% the stuff will burn, but that's 100 proof or greater. Typically only booze like ethanol or Bacardi 151 or say Everclear will set aflame like that, or some scotches or whiskeys. It's not likely they keep the expensive stuff by the back exit. What are we holding, Friday?
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Lady Duke

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #816 on: May 21, 2009, 01:18:15 PM »

2 so hard
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Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #817 on: May 21, 2009, 07:05:27 PM »

Quote
What are we holding, Friday?

You don't really have time to check at the moment. Anyway:

2. Tell her to help you close the door.

"Quick! Give me a hand!" you yell, trying to throw your weight above the handle.

Jesse drops the shotgun and grabs the other end of the handle, bracing her legs and pulling down.

"On three! One... two... THREE!"

You both strain and the shutter creaks downward, the opening about halfway closed.

"Again! One, two, THREE!"

You feel the muscles in your arm and back scream as you pull as hard as you can downward from the side of the ramp. Across from you on the other side, Jesse grunts as she strains.

The door pulls shut just as two crawlers claw their way out of the gap.

They both roll down the ramp with their momentum, towards Max, who dances backward away from them, baring his teeth.

Jesse bends for the shotgun as the two crawlers reverse course in a half circle and begin to climb back up the ramp toward you. Their vines shoot outward.

Jesse blows the one headed for her to bits, a smear of blood across the ramp. Everything seems to slow down as the remaining crawler leaps into the air toward you, two vines extending like arms toward your face, a relative rushing to give you a nice big hug.

You duck under it, trying to roll away. You feel a sharp sting in your shoulder and you scream. The crawler has passed over you, smacking into the wall with a sound like a wet fish flapping against pavement. One vine has wrapped around your shoulder blade like a vice. You can see blood welling up through your shirt.

You feel another sudden flare of pain in your thigh. You scream again and scoot away backward from it. The vines around your shoulder and upper leg tighten, and the crawler begins to reel itself in like a grappling hook toward your face. The center of the fleshy ball opens outward, revealing a lamprey mouth, rows and rows of tiny, gleaming sharp teeth smiling at you like death.

Try as you might, you can't close your eyes.

Suddenly the crawler mere inches in front of your nose vanishes, a blur of metal passing through your vision.

The vines around your leg and shoulder shudder, and then release, limply falling to the ground and slowly retracting.

You turn your head to see the crawler impaled against the wall, some five feet away. Jesse's hunting knife has skewered it right through the mouth. A small waterfall of green is dripping down the brick to the dirt ground. Running opposite the flow are the two vines that had grabbed you, disappearing into the main body.

Jesse vaults over the ramp and retrieves her knife, wiping the blood off on the ground, then running it over her pant leg. She sheaths the knife on the back of her waist, and turns to you to offer a hand.

"Th... thanks," you say, taking it.

Jesse smiles and helps you to your feet. You wince as weight is put on your wounded leg, limping slightly. Your arm is starting to really feel it. You rotate it around a bit, grimacing as the pain flares up.

"How is it?" Jesse asks, looking at your shoulder and leg.

"Not good," you say. You take a few steps. The limp is pretty bad. It hurts to put any weight on the leg or move the arm. "Hurts to walk or move my arm."

Jesse comes up next to you and puts her arm around your back. Max comes up and licks your hand.

"Don't... don't forget the booze," you say, turning around to look at the two bottles you dropped in the dirt.

Jesse helps you to lean against the wall and goes to retrieve them. You look around. You're at the end of a small alley, maybe ten feet or more wide. It dead ends into the ramp and metal shutter. Up ahead, the alley is blocked by the back of a small delivery truck. About one foot of clearance on either side.

Jesse returns and helps you walk up to it. "You alright on your own?"

"Yeah," you say, leaning up against the wall on the driver's side. "Go the other way. Meet you up front."

You squeeze your way down past the side of the truck, your leg giving you a lot of trouble. Those vines really cut into you.

"Where'd you learn how to throw a knife like that, anyway?" you call.

"I didn't!" comes the reply from the other side.

"You could have thrown that into my ear!" you say.

"Lucky for you!" Jesse says back.

You shake your head and smile, continuing to slide along between the truck and wall.

You reach the driver's side door and the smell of decaying flesh hits your nostrils. You wrinkle your nose and peer through the window.

There's a body in the cab, still strapped into his seat belt. His lips have peeled back, revealing a mirthless grin. Looks like your standard trucker. His beard is long and unkempt. Out the opposite window you can see Jesse's face peering in.

You crane your neck and look at the ignition.

"The keys are in there!" you yell.

Jesse nods. "But what killed him? And I wonder why his body is still here if they take everyone?"

You shake your head. "I don't know. Maybe they couldn't get to him. Seems awfully tight back here."

"Still leaves the question of what killed him," she says.

Max presses up against you from behind, and whines. You pat his head with your good arm. You twist around and try the door. "Locked," you call.

"This side too," Jesse says back.

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

1. Break a window, get inside.

2. Continue past the truck down the alley. Whatever killed him might be still inside.

**********************************
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Zaratustra

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #818 on: May 21, 2009, 08:02:02 PM »

Alright, can anyone formulate a logical theory to explain a dead man in a not visibly damaged truck that would not require a nest of worms inside him?

Friday

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Re: The Ends
« Reply #819 on: May 21, 2009, 09:39:34 PM »

Just for everybody's information, I am not the "Benny" account.

I wasn't going to say anything, since it's sort of cool and I don't mind it. But I realized somebody might read into it, and think it was a clue, or what to do/what not to do.

(My money is on Guild, but who knows.)
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