• Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
  • Joined: 10 yrs ago
  • Posts: 374 (0.10 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. threedawg 10 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Levi - Under Construction Apartments - Aubrey

"Asking someone how many people they've killed is a loaded question," replied Levi. "That's not the kind of thing I ask when I'm unsure."

Levi turned around and stared at her with his arms folded. She looked helpless at the moment, and certainly not a threat. Aubrey had admitted to something truly terrible, whether she understood it or not. She had lured those victims in here, and the secrecy her own organisation kept from her was telling enough as to what was done with them.

He wanted to trust her, but she was a siren, drawing in lost souls adrift in a black ocean until their bodies were torn asunder by the jagged rocks she serenely sat upon.

"Or she's just a good person in a bad position." he thought, though he couldn't help but remain cautious. Despite his misgivings, he did not regret helping her: whatever she was, she was certainly better than the psychopath who had accosted her earlier.

"There isn't a man, woman or child left who hasn't hurt somebody. I've done my fair share of hurting, but only when my life was at risk. I don't know if I've killed anybody... I never looked back, you see."
Levi - Under Construction Apartments - Aubrey

He grew increasingly uncomfortable as she made her revelations. Her tone seemed evasive, as if she was attempting to minimise her role in whatever was going on at the camp she was a part of. Levi struggled with being judgmental; he knew that this world was capable of turning men and women into monsters, but he wondered if that dark seed had always been there, waiting for a reaper.

"Deciding that you don't have a choice is a choice. There's always an alternative, but you won't know it exists if you aren't interested in looking for it."

Levi approached the window and watched the cold, concrete jungle. He could still hear the hissing of walkers in the distance, but it seemed that they had not been followed. Levi would never regret saving the life of another human being, but he was beginning to feel that staying with Aubrey might not be such a good idea.

"How many people have you hurt?" he asked, still gazing resolutely at the buildings outside.
Levi - Under Construction Apartments - Aubrey

Levi frowned. The man had been quite... strange, there was no doubt about that, but he couldn't help thinking that Aubrey had reacted a little too quickly. Still, he had not been present to witness the entire fiasco, so he could not blame her. Perhaps she had reacted appropriately, given how deranged the man had seemed when he was attacking her.

"I do what I can," he said, with a small smile. "Even then, I don't think I have the heart to offer essential supplies to complete strangers. People should be more like you, not me."
Levi – Under Construction Apartments – Aubrey

Levi was relieved to hear her begin an interrogation. Now that she had broken the ice, it did not seem as difficult for him to converse with her.

“My name's Levi, Levi Pascale,” he informed her. “The gunshots brought me running. I thought there were other survivors being attacked by walkers.”

Levi paused for a moment, his eyes flickering over her mien as if he was attempting to gauge something by scrutinising her reaction.

“I didn't kill him because I saw the arrow in his leg.” he told Aubrey darkly. “You shot him first. There's no way you would have been able to fire that after what happened to your arm.”
Levi - Under Construction Apartments - Aubrey

“I really shouldn't, Aubrey,” said Levi shakily. “If it's still in there, it's best not to take it out. It might be the only thing keeping you alive.”

The colour had drained from his face at the sight of her arm, as if it was he who had been shot. She was losing blood rapidly and he felt that digging around for the bullet might make the situation even more dire. Recalling the little experience he had treating wounded children in Palestine, Levi knew that finding the exit wound would be a blessing. If there wasn't one, Aubrey would most likely succumb to death or have some degree of paralysis for the rest of her life. In this world, the two outcomes were equivalent.

After rummaging through the bedside desk and finding the emergency medical supplies that Aubrey had stashed away, Levi pulled the entire drawer out from the body of the desk and set it onto the bed next to her. With no time to look for a pair of scissors, he elevated her arm above her head, retrieved an arrow from his quiver and used the tip to cut through the shirt's arm.

After the fabric had been split open, Levi carefully pried it apart from her skin; her congealed blood was like glue, causing the shirt to create a horrible ripping sound as it was peeled off.

Staring at the ragged flesh opened the floodgates and a deluge of traumatic memories threatened to overwhelm him. He shuddered at the ghosts of wounds that flashed across his eyes, his concentration becoming increasingly compromised as he searched for the exit wound.

Fortunately, he did not have to look far, as it was almost directly on the other side of the entry wound. There was still hope for her. Levi, ignoring the pleading of his olfactory system, leaned in and was assaulted with the intense scent of rusted metal. Forcing down an instinct to retch, he peered in at the wound and searched for bits of fabric that might have been pushed inside.

After he had determined, to the best of his ability, that there were no bits of cloth in the wound that would lead to an infection, Levi began to clean the wound thoroughly. His fingers slipped in the slickness of her blood.

As he poured solution on the wound, he wished she would have screamed. Her placidity was unnerving and unintended. Even though a pain-induced cacophony would possibly attract walkers, it would at least confirm her alertness. She made nary a sound and all he could do was hope that she was not, as her silence seemed to indicate, about to fall unconscious.

He unfurled the roll of bandage and began to wrap it tightly around both wounds, covering it in layers and layers despite his best efforts to be as economical with it as he could. The bandages would need to be changed, after all, but right now, he needed to stop the bleeding no matter what the cost.

Once he had knotted the bandage tightly, Levi stood next to her and applied pressure to the gauze with his palms. With the combined strategy of raising her limb over her head and squeezing the wrap, it seemed that the bleeding had stymied significantly.

He felt as if he should be talking to her in order to retain her consciousness by giving her something to focus on, but at the moment, he was at a loss for words.

There were men, women and children in Palestine who he had helped to save, but he would never forget the faces of those whom they had failed. The prospect of Aubrey's impending addition to the group which haunted his dreams, and the knowledge of what he would have to do if she breathed her last, entrenched him in a morose silence.
Marcus – Garden District, Baton Rouge – Aubrey

Marcus' teeth clenched as she tugged on the arrow, momentarily distracting him with the intense radiation of pain that made his thigh feel like it was set ablaze. With his attention diverted, there was no way he could have prepared himself for the girl's cunning coup de grace.

The bow collided into the side of his skull with a force he could never have imagined. He grunted as blood flew from his mouth and his torso swung dangerously. Brilliant, white lights popped across his vision like fireworks and the world spun so violently he thought he might vomit.

Marcus fell to the floor, but just as she had almost extricated herself, his hands flung out and he grabbed her hard around the ankle.

“You...” he groaned, steadily becoming more coherent. “You crafty little cunt, you conniving bitch, you scullion! You rampallion! You fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe!”

He lunged at her and wrapped a hand in her hair, pulling her head back ferociously. Just before he dipped his head to tear her throat open with his teeth, a loud noise made him freeze in his tracks and look up.

“Let her go!” commanded someone new, pale and trembling.

The first thing Marcus registered was the man's blanched face and trepidation. The second, however, was the bow he was holding and the arrow that was pointing between Marcus' eyes.

“You kids and your toys,” he spat. “Existing in your own Robin Hood fantasy land. Jejune, vapid worms!”

“Let her go,” the man repeated, with a slightly stronger note of confidence. “Or I'll kill you.”

“That cadence of pusillanimity suggests otherwise, sweet bowman.”

“You won't be able to pronounce those big words with an arrow stuck in your throat. Walk away.”

The smile faltered from Marcus' face. He could not risk it. With a look of deep loathing, he capitulated and let go of the girl, slowly backing away.

“Better run fast,” advised Marcus. “The mean men are coming.”

He watched the two archers flee into the distance, one's arm over the other's shoulder, fending off the dead. The sound of his demented cackling followed them, louder and more sinister than the firing of any bullet that day.
Marcus – Garden District, Baton Rouge – Aubrey

As soon as she reached for the arrow in her quiver, Marcus' hand shot towards his waist. He was fast on the draw, but he had underestimated the woman. Just as his glock was poised to fire, the bow twanged and the broadhead screeched across the distance, piercing his thigh.
When the tip tore his skin, Marcus collapsed to one knee and roared a plethora of profanity as the metal sheared through muscle. Even stronger than the pain, however, was the adrenaline fueling his desire for a most sadistic revenge.

As the girl turned and ran, Marcus fired three shots at her back in quick succession. His aim was shaky, but he knew at least one bullet would find its mark, and then she would pay. He earned his vindication when the third bullet caught her in the tricep.

He could tell by her reaction that she was young and inexperienced; the pain had obviously overwhelmed her, considering how hard she had crashed to the floor. She was barely stirring now and Marcus seized his opportunity. He hoisted himself up to both legs with herculean effort and stumbled towards her feeble form. The curses came spewing out of his mouth now as he felt the muscles in his thigh searing and working against the foreign object lodged inside. Every fibre was tightening around the shaft of the arrow and each step brought him great pain, but he was consumed by his objective.

Marcus rolled her over roughly and climbed onto her, pinning her down with all of his weight, both hands around her throat as he pressed firmly, squeezing his digits into her neck until he could feel her windpipe.

“You fucking degenerate,” he growled. “How quick to violence you are! Isn't it odd, how you thought I was the strange one? All I did was enjoy a little dance; you tried to kill me for some colourful phrasing. Literalism will be the death of you, dear girl!”

At the last word, he breathed a theatrical sigh.

“Such a shame, we're not even on a first-name basis yet. You strike me as a Sally. Are you a Sally?”

Marcus kept his left hand wrapped around her throat, using his right to fire the glock at the sky.

“Come on, tell me your name,” he pressed. “Let's have a nice little chat. It'll be the last one you have before my friends chew the meat off your bones. You might as well enjoy it. I know you're a Sally, Sally. You've got everything Uncle John needs. Long, tall Sally!”

He listened to their hissing and shrieking in the distance: the gunfire had drawn them. Their sense of hearing was admirable for something 'dead', though they were still useless, shambling morons. To hasten their arrival, Marcus pocketed the gun and moved his hand to the girl's arm, which was now bleeding copiously.

Flashing her a sweet smile, as though they were exchanging pleasantries over dinner, Marcus clutched and squeezed her wounded limb as hard as he could, causing carmine to spurt out even faster.
Marcus - Garden District, Baton Rouge - Aubrey

Marcus raised the fire iron in the air as the girl spoke, staring serenely at the sight of the sun's rays glinting off blood and metal, brain and bone. As he wiped the weapon clean on the walker's tattered and soiled dress, he snorted at something he heard the girl say.

"The mean men," he repeated scathingly. "You sound like a fucking child."

Once the poker had been cleaned, he placed it back into the makeshift sling at his side and turned towards her, considering the proposition she had made. It may have behooved him to stay hidden, but he enjoyed being out in plain sight. The great outdoors were lush and full of life, and there was still so much to explore. Even the cosy bungalows that lined this road in Garden District fascinated him; each one was brimming with unique character, as if it had its own story to tell. He often took great pleasure in ransacking long-abandoned abodes and piecing together the the last moments of the families who had lived in there. On some lucky occasions, he had even gotten to meet them, albeit in a noticeably more decaying state than what their photo albums depicted.

In the end, it was her offer of sustenance that truly piqued his interest. Adventure was good, but adventure on a full stomach was great.

"Why are you offering a stranger food?" he asked, his tone casual. "Take your time answering. If I smell bullshit, or if I just don't like what you have to say, I'll take the advice of our undead brethren and try a little long pig tonight."
Marcus - Garden District, Baton Rouge - Aubrey

“A philosopher, I see. I'm afraid I don't know how to answer.”

Marcus detached his hands from his partner's stumps and took a few swift steps back. When the gurgling mass of necrosis shambled towards him, somehow clumsier than usual, he pulled the fireplace poker attached to his hip and swung it upwards in a sharp arc.

The tip tore through the roof of the walker's mouth and it immediately fell silent, its outstretched arms freezing in the air. Marcus kicked his partner to the floor and ripped the fire iron out of her skull, watching in an amused manner as her face seemed to cave inwards.

“There we go. Now I can,” he said cheerfully. “Yes, I'm alone.”
Marcus – Garden District, Baton Rouge – Aubrey

Though a frightened, young woman encroached upon his peripheral vision and his wonderful moment under the sun, Marcus initially payed her no heed. He was quite aware that his waltz with this rotting, corporeal memory would possibly be construed as maladroit by polite company, but he was enjoying himself far too much to care. The girl had not proven worthy of his undivided attention yet, although he was intrigued.

“Good afternoon.” he said pleasantly without taking his eyes off his partner.

He twirled her around and smoothly transitioned into a dip so that the woman's gaping maw hung wide open in the newcomer's direction, her slick tongue lolling around erratically in the remnants of her mouth.

“How do you do?”
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet