Zombie Apocalypse RPG 2.0 (New characters always welcome)
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OKAY, everything is screwed up.
As far as I KNOW, Rayne, Terrence, Nikki and Michael are STILL at the fountain in the entrance of the mall, all but Nikki fairly well-injured. Rayne is close to unconsciousness, Terrence is slipping in and out, and Michael apparently has some broken ribs. As for everyone else I HAVE NO IDEA
As far as I KNOW, Rayne, Terrence, Nikki and Michael are STILL at the fountain in the entrance of the mall, all but Nikki fairly well-injured. Rayne is close to unconsciousness, Terrence is slipping in and out, and Michael apparently has some broken ribs. As for everyone else I HAVE NO IDEA
Terrence's mind dully responds to a... machine gun firing? Calling out random names, he stumbles to his feet, his vision blacked by loss of blood. "Nikki! Vinny! Craig?!"
Pain erupts along his side, and he drops back to his knees. Tears freely fall as he begins pulling himself, unaware of his direction.
((Terrence is pulling himself towards the sound of gunfire, which would be the machine gun that saved Vinny's ASS.))
I guess I'm in the elevator since that's where I was before Vinny ran off
Michael hearing all the gun shots started crawling towards the noise. Behind him left a trail of blood. He had a bullet in his shoulder a few cracked ribs and he thought maybe internal bleeding. His left leg also felt like it broke but it may just be fractured.
Michael knew if he didn't help soon he would die. He really appreciated Rayne helping him. Her beautiful face may be on of the last things he sees.
He starts to turn the corner and sees a barricade with machine guns. One of the guns fires towards him but misses as he somehow managed to get around the corner again before being hit.
Since he was crawling they must have though he was a zombie. Michael didn't know what to do and knew he was on the brink of death.
Danger
Barely seeing the silhouette of Michael crawling away from her in the haze, Rayne loses the bandages and blood begins pouring into her vision. She sits on her knees with her hands covered in blood, swaying, her hands twitching and her eyes rolled back half-way. Numb and oblivious, she falls forward and hits the floor with a thud, passing out almost blissfully. Before her eyes flashed but one last image. Nikki.., she called out in her mind.
Thompson was locked in mortal struggle with a group of three zombies by Nikki and Terrence. The man was large and strong, and had managed to hold them off for a long time now.
<spoiler=Status>Rayne: <color=Orange>Caution, soon <color=Red>Danger. Weapon: Glock 20, out of ammo. Thompson: <color=Orange>Caution.
Thompson was locked in mortal struggle with a group of three zombies by Nikki and Terrence. The man was large and strong, and had managed to hold them off for a long time now.
<spoiler=Status>Rayne: <color=Orange>Caution, soon <color=Red>Danger. Weapon: Glock 20, out of ammo. Thompson: <color=Orange>Caution.
Vinny stands in shock. He stands alone. The group that he has worked so hard to protect is now dead or dying around this section of the mall. Carefully placed sniper bullets take out the zombies attacking Thompson. An opening appears in the center of the blockade, like a doorway. Multiple soldiers charge through the opening, blazing past Vinny. Another one pops out and suddenly grabs him by the throat. The soldier flashes a bright light in each of Vinny's eyes. The hand relaxes and the man shouts "He's clear!"
The squad that passed by is now spreading out, sorting through the mess. One greets Thompson. "He's still alive!" "Hang on!" the medic shouts back. Another soldier yells at the newcomer (Maris) to put his hands on his head. Ray stumbles from the elevator. He is clutching a neck wound and, as a result, is walking in a very zombie-like manner. "We got another Z!" a soldier shouts as the entire squad takes aim. A single burst of gunfire kills Ray before he has a chance to prove that he is human.
One of the soldiers looks away, not wanting to see anymore bloodshed. He just happens to notice a much more human-looking person, mortally wounded, crawling through the devastation. He notices that there are quite a few people crawling for their lives. "Hey! Hey! We need a medic over here! Medic!"
I will be killing off quite a few characters in the RP over the next few days. I have to clean up the mess from the first chapter.
sorry, but this is epicly long.. I just wanted to get Christian and Blue too a safe spot, so that fullmetalangel can chuck up some posts again. You don't need to read this.. but I feel its pretty epic.
Christian forced his way forward another hundred meters, leaping over the bonnet of a car that was half buried in the sand. He was lucky that the girl was young, light, and carrying a relatively. He was able to carry her with surprising ease, making the athletic maneuvers that where necessary to keep him ahead of the moaning wall of flesh that pursued them every step of the way.
He ran up the bonnet of the car, across the roof, and then down its spoiler, using it as a vault to get to the bonnet of the next car. He found that this 'car hopping' as he had come to call it made the process of avoiding the swarm easier; as they didn't seem to have the intellect to preemptively prepare an ambush on the cars, all thought he had seen a handful clamber onto there chassis in pursuit of him.
He launched himself off the roof of a blue Sedan, sun bleached to an off silver, and landed on the sandy ground, stumbling to regain his footing as he underwent the change from weather worn metal too natural sand. Then, with the ever present moans again lurching up on him he took off, running into the fog towards what he thought to be a shelter looming out before him. As he ran he realized he had been mistaken, it wasn't a shelter at all, but the overhead roof of a gas station, four pumps protrude from the sandy embankments, and a large tanker truck sat long forgotten across the right hand side of the station. It was a gas station.. gas was highly combustible There was no way he was going to be able to dodge these zombies forever, and he had neither the stamina nor the ammunition to fight them all of. But if he could kill some.. no.. not just some.. a hell of a lot with one move. Maybe, just maybe he could by some time. And so a primitive but effective plan concocted itself in his mind.
Christian legged it straight to the pumps, running on reserves of energy that seemed to emerge from the desperation of his plight. His stomach burnt, his legs ached, and every step felt like a lance of hot fire burning its way down his body. But he ran straight towards the nearest pump. 'Come on lady luck, don't fail me now.' He thought to himself. As he reached the nearest pump he tenderly lent the girl down next too it, her head lolled to the side, but she was still breathing, shallowly, but it was still a sign of life. "Don't worry kido, where getting you out of here." He gritted with determination. With his cargo secured he checked the pump. Empty. 'No. no no no no no.' screamed his mind, he ran to the next one in line. Empty too. 'Damn it.' With panic and fear gripping his mind he ran to the third one, and had barely touched the pump when he was rewarded with a spray of gasoline. Bingo.
Christian ripped off a strip of his shirt and tied it hard around the grip off the gasoline pump, forcing the pump to keep flowing, then, as the precious liquid spilled onto the sand he opened up his pack and started emptying some of the drink bottles that he had in there and filling them up with the oil. In addition he ripped of some more strips of his shirt and lay them on the ground near the pump to catch all the excess flow of liquid. It would do no good letting it all seep into the sand were it would be absorbed. He finally ripped another strip off his left pant leg and dipped that into one of the bottles, manufacturing a primitive moltov. As he worked he kept checking back on the girl. Zombies were constantly drawing ever closer, but none were close enough yet.
With the moltov prepped and ready he was finally prepared. Taking off at a dash back towards the downed girl he again cradled her into his arms, making sure to keep the oil soaked rag end of the moltov well away from her clothing. He had no idea HOW big this was going to be. But he had a feeling it was going to be BIG . He reached the end of the gas station and turned to look, although the fog obscured much of the station he could still make out the shambling figures of dozens of zombies as they made there way towards their ever illusive pray. "Sorry guys, but I just needed to go out with a bang." Said Christian, hardly able to suppress the hysterical laughter that overcame his body as he laid the girl down beside him and pulled out his lighter. It sparked on the first flick, and with sadistic and calculated menace he let the end of the rag catch and start to burn as he arched back his arm and through the concoction towards his trap. The bottle arched through the air like a flare illuminating the gray wisps of fog, it flew straight onto the station, and landed in the sand, where it sat smoldering to itself.
It was plastic the point of a moltov was for the glass to break, thus spilling out is volatile cargo. In a plastic bottle all it achieved was a self contained fire. Of course the plastic would eventually melt, and the fire would catch onto everything else around it. But he had no idea how long that would take and he needed the fire works now. "Shit." Muttered Christian. He was out of ideas. "I'm sorry kid, I tried." he said, barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. It just didn't seem right. To have come so far only for it to end like this. At least he could do one thing right. She didn't need to become one of them. He could at least stop that happening. He went to reach for his magnum, he could at least make that right... As he reached however he saw that in his hand he still held the ignited zippo lighter. His senses were dulled, and the thought processes slowed. But slowly and steadily he made the connection. Zippo = hot. Hot = fire. Fire = boom. Time for plan B.
He had to leave no room for error this time. Christian violently tore away the lid of the zippo so it wouldn't flip back over the lighter and accidentally extinguish it. Then, arching his arm back and placing his body low like he was preparing to skip a stone across a river, Christian got ready to throw. In one swift motion he bought his hand forward and released, sending the lighter skimming through the twilight air. It twirled over itself once, twice, three times, then smacked right against the side of the gas pump.
The explosion was.. initially quite disappointing. The first of the live gas pumps had already released a fair amount of its cargo, and although the liquid caught and flared up like napalm, turning several nearby zombies into walking torches. But it was when the liquid caught the second pump, which proceeded to explode like a righteous fireball, that the real spectacle began.
After throwing the zippo Christian had grabbed his companion back up and started running again. But when he felt the searing wave of heat rush across his back he crouched down against the sand, putting his entire body between the station and the girl. He heard the first explosion, he heard the sound of shrapnel clattering down around him. He even saw a piece of masonry from the stations roof land on top of a Taxi cab, crushing it flat. The first explosion was then accompanied by a second, as the heat form the second pump exploding, and the flaming litter from its gutted corpse landed in, on, and around the petrol tanker, which proceeded to explode as well.
With embers dancing into the cool night air Christian again took off, stumbling into the night. All though the noise had been tremendous he was sure the results far outweighed the danger. He stumbled up the street for a few hundred yards until he saw a building where a truck had piled into its wall, collapsing pieces of it around it. The buildings doors and windows were barred and secured, but the back of the truck hung loosely open. On a hunch Christian climbed into the back of the truck, then closes it behind him, locking it securely. Taking the girls flashlight and gun Christian slowly walked up the truck and into the building, kicking open the trucks door to gain entry. He scanned the flashlight about the building but saw no inhabitants. Convinced of there safety he set down his own lantern, turned it on, then climbed back into the truck to retrieve the girl again.
Once they were both inside he assessed there position again. The building already had its own natural fortifications, and sand build up around the bottom of the truck, and the rubble collapsed onto of it turned it into its own defensive chock point. The trucks rear door was the only was into and out of the building. And to top it all off, the building was a drug store. Although his mind was ravaged, and his limbs ached, Christian knew he still had one task to complete. Tenderly he removed blues top, being sure to avoid letting any of the fabric stick to the wound.
Christian had rudimentary medical knowledge, but he knew this wound required more then he could deliver. Stitches almost defiantly. But he was going to do what he could. Tenderly he positioned some dressed gauze patches over the wounds, before strapping them down with bandages. He was careful not to pin the bandages to tight, and disable mobility to the girls arms. With her wounds dressed Christian then lay her on the floor, and gently covered her with his Duster. "Sleep tight little one." He said softly, before looting the store for a lighter and some cigarettes. Contently he lit one up. life was good; they were safe, for now.
1700 words.. sorry. But I hope at least some of you enjoy it.
Christian forced his way forward another hundred meters, leaping over the bonnet of a car that was half buried in the sand. He was lucky that the girl was young, light, and carrying a relatively. He was able to carry her with surprising ease, making the athletic maneuvers that where necessary to keep him ahead of the moaning wall of flesh that pursued them every step of the way.
He ran up the bonnet of the car, across the roof, and then down its spoiler, using it as a vault to get to the bonnet of the next car. He found that this 'car hopping' as he had come to call it made the process of avoiding the swarm easier; as they didn't seem to have the intellect to preemptively prepare an ambush on the cars, all thought he had seen a handful clamber onto there chassis in pursuit of him.
He launched himself off the roof of a blue Sedan, sun bleached to an off silver, and landed on the sandy ground, stumbling to regain his footing as he underwent the change from weather worn metal too natural sand. Then, with the ever present moans again lurching up on him he took off, running into the fog towards what he thought to be a shelter looming out before him. As he ran he realized he had been mistaken, it wasn't a shelter at all, but the overhead roof of a gas station, four pumps protrude from the sandy embankments, and a large tanker truck sat long forgotten across the right hand side of the station. It was a gas station.. gas was highly combustible There was no way he was going to be able to dodge these zombies forever, and he had neither the stamina nor the ammunition to fight them all of. But if he could kill some.. no.. not just some.. a hell of a lot with one move. Maybe, just maybe he could by some time. And so a primitive but effective plan concocted itself in his mind.
Christian legged it straight to the pumps, running on reserves of energy that seemed to emerge from the desperation of his plight. His stomach burnt, his legs ached, and every step felt like a lance of hot fire burning its way down his body. But he ran straight towards the nearest pump. 'Come on lady luck, don't fail me now.' He thought to himself. As he reached the nearest pump he tenderly lent the girl down next too it, her head lolled to the side, but she was still breathing, shallowly, but it was still a sign of life. "Don't worry kido, where getting you out of here." He gritted with determination. With his cargo secured he checked the pump. Empty. 'No. no no no no no.' screamed his mind, he ran to the next one in line. Empty too. 'Damn it.' With panic and fear gripping his mind he ran to the third one, and had barely touched the pump when he was rewarded with a spray of gasoline. Bingo.
Christian ripped off a strip of his shirt and tied it hard around the grip off the gasoline pump, forcing the pump to keep flowing, then, as the precious liquid spilled onto the sand he opened up his pack and started emptying some of the drink bottles that he had in there and filling them up with the oil. In addition he ripped of some more strips of his shirt and lay them on the ground near the pump to catch all the excess flow of liquid. It would do no good letting it all seep into the sand were it would be absorbed. He finally ripped another strip off his left pant leg and dipped that into one of the bottles, manufacturing a primitive moltov. As he worked he kept checking back on the girl. Zombies were constantly drawing ever closer, but none were close enough yet.
With the moltov prepped and ready he was finally prepared. Taking off at a dash back towards the downed girl he again cradled her into his arms, making sure to keep the oil soaked rag end of the moltov well away from her clothing. He had no idea HOW big this was going to be. But he had a feeling it was going to be BIG . He reached the end of the gas station and turned to look, although the fog obscured much of the station he could still make out the shambling figures of dozens of zombies as they made there way towards their ever illusive pray. "Sorry guys, but I just needed to go out with a bang." Said Christian, hardly able to suppress the hysterical laughter that overcame his body as he laid the girl down beside him and pulled out his lighter. It sparked on the first flick, and with sadistic and calculated menace he let the end of the rag catch and start to burn as he arched back his arm and through the concoction towards his trap. The bottle arched through the air like a flare illuminating the gray wisps of fog, it flew straight onto the station, and landed in the sand, where it sat smoldering to itself.
It was plastic the point of a moltov was for the glass to break, thus spilling out is volatile cargo. In a plastic bottle all it achieved was a self contained fire. Of course the plastic would eventually melt, and the fire would catch onto everything else around it. But he had no idea how long that would take and he needed the fire works now. "Shit." Muttered Christian. He was out of ideas. "I'm sorry kid, I tried." he said, barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. It just didn't seem right. To have come so far only for it to end like this. At least he could do one thing right. She didn't need to become one of them. He could at least stop that happening. He went to reach for his magnum, he could at least make that right... As he reached however he saw that in his hand he still held the ignited zippo lighter. His senses were dulled, and the thought processes slowed. But slowly and steadily he made the connection. Zippo = hot. Hot = fire. Fire = boom. Time for plan B.
He had to leave no room for error this time. Christian violently tore away the lid of the zippo so it wouldn't flip back over the lighter and accidentally extinguish it. Then, arching his arm back and placing his body low like he was preparing to skip a stone across a river, Christian got ready to throw. In one swift motion he bought his hand forward and released, sending the lighter skimming through the twilight air. It twirled over itself once, twice, three times, then smacked right against the side of the gas pump.
The explosion was.. initially quite disappointing. The first of the live gas pumps had already released a fair amount of its cargo, and although the liquid caught and flared up like napalm, turning several nearby zombies into walking torches. But it was when the liquid caught the second pump, which proceeded to explode like a righteous fireball, that the real spectacle began.
After throwing the zippo Christian had grabbed his companion back up and started running again. But when he felt the searing wave of heat rush across his back he crouched down against the sand, putting his entire body between the station and the girl. He heard the first explosion, he heard the sound of shrapnel clattering down around him. He even saw a piece of masonry from the stations roof land on top of a Taxi cab, crushing it flat. The first explosion was then accompanied by a second, as the heat form the second pump exploding, and the flaming litter from its gutted corpse landed in, on, and around the petrol tanker, which proceeded to explode as well.
With embers dancing into the cool night air Christian again took off, stumbling into the night. All though the noise had been tremendous he was sure the results far outweighed the danger. He stumbled up the street for a few hundred yards until he saw a building where a truck had piled into its wall, collapsing pieces of it around it. The buildings doors and windows were barred and secured, but the back of the truck hung loosely open. On a hunch Christian climbed into the back of the truck, then closes it behind him, locking it securely. Taking the girls flashlight and gun Christian slowly walked up the truck and into the building, kicking open the trucks door to gain entry. He scanned the flashlight about the building but saw no inhabitants. Convinced of there safety he set down his own lantern, turned it on, then climbed back into the truck to retrieve the girl again.
Once they were both inside he assessed there position again. The building already had its own natural fortifications, and sand build up around the bottom of the truck, and the rubble collapsed onto of it turned it into its own defensive chock point. The trucks rear door was the only was into and out of the building. And to top it all off, the building was a drug store. Although his mind was ravaged, and his limbs ached, Christian knew he still had one task to complete. Tenderly he removed blues top, being sure to avoid letting any of the fabric stick to the wound.
Christian had rudimentary medical knowledge, but he knew this wound required more then he could deliver. Stitches almost defiantly. But he was going to do what he could. Tenderly he positioned some dressed gauze patches over the wounds, before strapping them down with bandages. He was careful not to pin the bandages to tight, and disable mobility to the girls arms. With her wounds dressed Christian then lay her on the floor, and gently covered her with his Duster. "Sleep tight little one." He said softly, before looting the store for a lighter and some cigarettes. Contently he lit one up. life was good; they were safe, for now.
1700 words.. sorry. But I hope at least some of you enjoy it.
Michael starts crwaling back to Rayne and picks her up and sits her upright so no more blood gets into her hair. He puts her hair nicely behind her back and screams "Medic! I have a bullet in my arms a broken or fractured leg and some broken ribs. Im bleeding badly and this girl is passed out! Medic!"
I hopes I doesnt dies!
=3vid20 said:
If you want to spare those that are foolish enough to not read a good work of art, put it in spoiler tags. That way, you can even give it a title. ^_^ /protips
Oh, and good work. I recommend you proofread it. =)
As I have vast experience with sleeping on floors and the ground (do ask), I know that girl is going to be one cold survivor. Very cold. x) *shivers at the thought of it*
Yeah, Terrence is out of commission right now. I refuse to place up status reports, cause it's more fun letting you guys puzzle out if he's slowly bleeding to death or if he just randomly spouted a kool-aid fountain. xD
Anywho, he's completely unconscious, and for Sosa's next poetic post, I'd like to inform him that Terrence was NOT bitten or infected, he did, however, have a roughly 1x2 inch section of skin and meat completely clawed away.
Also, I'll catch up on the Christian/Blue story later... it's too late right now.
Anywho, he's completely unconscious, and for Sosa's next poetic post, I'd like to inform him that Terrence was NOT bitten or infected, he did, however, have a roughly 1x2 inch section of skin and meat completely clawed away.
Also, I'll catch up on the Christian/Blue story later... it's too late right now.
Christian wasn't aware of how tired he was, well not until he finally sat down. Then it hit him like a train, nausea gripped at every fiber of his body, his head throbbed, everything about him felt like it was about to fall apart. In the dim light cast by the lantern he analyzed himself, and amazingly enough he seemed in quite good shape. Fine even; save for his left hand, which was raw and blistering from the heat of the explosion. And some lacerations across his forehead and down his cheeks, which had stopped bleeding and only slightly stung when he moved his face too hard to the left or right, or dramatically changed his facial expression, say with a big grin. Importantly, the pain hadn't inhibited on his smoking at all, and so he sat contently puffing away on his second cigarette since they had made it too the safe house.
It was as the therapeutic action of smoking lulled his senses that he began to realize just how tired he was. His eyes lingered over the diminutive figure of the girl, laying on the floor, cloaked in his duster. She looked so peaceful, so tranquil. The slow rhythmic breathing of her chest gently shifting her curled up shape up and down. She was breathing. She was going to live. he had saved her. Him. The thought still felt foreign to him. A lifetime of professional murder had never adjusted him to this. He had always been something of a lone shark. Even back when he served with an Australian commando unit he had been labeled as dangerous. A threat to both friend and foe alike. For him it was always about the mission. Never the men beside him. Always those in front of him. The ones before his gun sights.
But this was different. He didn't know how to explain it. Maybe it was the scenario. Maybe it was because deep down he did feel lonely. Maybe he honestly did care about this complete stranger. He couldn't place it. But for some reason he had decided that this girl would live. And he was going to do everything in his power to ensure she survived this apocalypse. She had to live. As his mind wandered he tenderly took in the sight of her. So sweet, so innocent. The perfect vision of what her perceived humanity to be. A frail, gentle creature. Prone to pain, suffering, and hurt. He was going to protect her. Because if there was any good that could come out of this. Anything at all. He needed her to be part of it. Of that he was sure.
And as Christian mused to himself, his mind lulled into a feeling of euphoria that spread a painful smile across his face he slowly dozed off to sleep, his half smoked cigarette collapsing onto the concrete floor beside him where its embers flickered, flamed, faded, then smoldered into non-life.
<spoiler=please> If you are just making a post to say something in OOC.. think.. is it entirely necessary for EVERYONE to read it.. if its not.. then just PM the necessary parties. It will mean less messages to filter through when people came back to look at this RP. Thanks in advance :3
It was as the therapeutic action of smoking lulled his senses that he began to realize just how tired he was. His eyes lingered over the diminutive figure of the girl, laying on the floor, cloaked in his duster. She looked so peaceful, so tranquil. The slow rhythmic breathing of her chest gently shifting her curled up shape up and down. She was breathing. She was going to live. he had saved her. Him. The thought still felt foreign to him. A lifetime of professional murder had never adjusted him to this. He had always been something of a lone shark. Even back when he served with an Australian commando unit he had been labeled as dangerous. A threat to both friend and foe alike. For him it was always about the mission. Never the men beside him. Always those in front of him. The ones before his gun sights.
But this was different. He didn't know how to explain it. Maybe it was the scenario. Maybe it was because deep down he did feel lonely. Maybe he honestly did care about this complete stranger. He couldn't place it. But for some reason he had decided that this girl would live. And he was going to do everything in his power to ensure she survived this apocalypse. She had to live. As his mind wandered he tenderly took in the sight of her. So sweet, so innocent. The perfect vision of what her perceived humanity to be. A frail, gentle creature. Prone to pain, suffering, and hurt. He was going to protect her. Because if there was any good that could come out of this. Anything at all. He needed her to be part of it. Of that he was sure.
And as Christian mused to himself, his mind lulled into a feeling of euphoria that spread a painful smile across his face he slowly dozed off to sleep, his half smoked cigarette collapsing onto the concrete floor beside him where its embers flickered, flamed, faded, then smoldered into non-life.
<spoiler=please> If you are just making a post to say something in OOC.. think.. is it entirely necessary for EVERYONE to read it.. if its not.. then just PM the necessary parties. It will mean less messages to filter through when people came back to look at this RP. Thanks in advance :3
<spoiler=OOC> I'm so sorry, been so busy and haven't had time to sit down and read everything through until now.
Nikki looks around wildly, trying to make sense of all this blood and injury around her. She notices Michael keeping Rayne up, instead going over to the crimson ragdoll that Terrence is turning into. She struggles to keep his bleeding down, pressing down on the wound as she lets his head rest in her lap and embrace.
Following suit, having noticed the medic, she waves at them. "I need help over here!" She gives him a tap on the cheek every so often, trying to wake him up, cooing comforting words, both to calm herself and him, in case any of the words were even getting through to him. "It'll be alright, don't worry. Help is coming." Nikki wasn't really sure she believed her own words, but just saying it was soothing.
The scratches and bumps she had gotten earlier started to set in her mind now, a fierce smart spreading all over, but she was just glad she'd survived this far. She looked over at Rayne, making sure Michael was still there, then nodded to herself. We'll get through this, yet.
<spoiler=OOC again>By what I've read, I assumed the zombies in the nearby vicinity were dead now, if they're not I'll have to edit this a bit and pull out my gun.
Nikki looks around wildly, trying to make sense of all this blood and injury around her. She notices Michael keeping Rayne up, instead going over to the crimson ragdoll that Terrence is turning into. She struggles to keep his bleeding down, pressing down on the wound as she lets his head rest in her lap and embrace.
Following suit, having noticed the medic, she waves at them. "I need help over here!" She gives him a tap on the cheek every so often, trying to wake him up, cooing comforting words, both to calm herself and him, in case any of the words were even getting through to him. "It'll be alright, don't worry. Help is coming." Nikki wasn't really sure she believed her own words, but just saying it was soothing.
The scratches and bumps she had gotten earlier started to set in her mind now, a fierce smart spreading all over, but she was just glad she'd survived this far. She looked over at Rayne, making sure Michael was still there, then nodded to herself. We'll get through this, yet.
<spoiler=OOC again>By what I've read, I assumed the zombies in the nearby vicinity were dead now, if they're not I'll have to edit this a bit and pull out my gun.