[hr][center][color=lightgreen][h3]A B I G A I L[/h3][/color][/center][right][color=lightgreen]Monday, June 1[sup]st[/sup], 2111[/color][/right]
[color=wheat]"CHATTE BAISEE," Abigail cursed, wrenching her hands free from the confines of the cramped space within the wrecked truck's front end. She waved her hand, shaking away the pain. The front end was smashed inwards so badly that the metal had split apart in places, leaving her with a jumbled mess of sharp ends to work her hands through. Still, it was nothing compared to what the ghouls would do to her, of that she was certain.

"T'en fais un peu de merde!" She commanded, working her free arm back in. She had quickly noticed an immediate problem as to why the truck wasn't starting, a fuel line had popped off from the force of the impact the truck had made with the wall, though at first glance it appeared the wall had lost that battle. No true. Currently, she was attempting to patch the fuel lines while some idle hands worked on changing a tire. Further inspection had revealed that the security door to the passenger cage on the back had been knocked off, the radiator was cracked, and there was a whole mess of seals and valves that were splitting, or broken. She didn't have time to get everything. 

She cursed again, triumphantly as her fingers snaked around the loose line. Eli shot her a glance from where he was huddled over a body, with his knife plunged into the corpse's skull. Abi smiled abashedly, making a note to herself to try and remember not to be so loud. She threaded the line towards the underbelly of the beastly machine, where she could get at it more easily, before stepping back from the truck. Blood coated her right hand from a pretty decent gash. There wasn't time to worry about that.

"How can I help?" A voice asked from behind her.

Abi peered over her shoulder coming face-to-face with a gruff looking feller; Dirty tan jacket, blood on the sleeves, and a pretty mangled leg. Three-day old stubble wasn't doing him any favors either, Abi noted. He should try a mustache, it would make that nose look less prominent..

Abigail coughed and crouched in front of the truck's front bumper, "You know anything 'bout mechanics?" She asked in her telling french drawl.

"Ah.. No."

"Then you can stay the fuck out of my way, Yea?" Abigail stated bluntly to whomever the fuck that guy thought he was. She pulled herself past the gore stuck to the bumper and underneath the truck, where a mangled fuel line awaited her. Fucking stupid Scavs, she thought, No real skills to speak of, but discontent with sitting quietly while the people who knew what the fuck they were doing did their jobs. Couldn't he go scrounge up some common sense or something? Honestly. On second thought, a shot of something that tasted like shit would have been better.

The minutes ticked by as Abigail worked, shredding her hands on the broken, jagged pieces of metal as she worked to bandage some rather pressing problems. A cracked motor mount, as impressive as that was (Damn things were near indestructible); A Radiator half smashed into, and half bent around, the engine block. Oil and blood coated her hands, mysterious fluids fell into her eyes, and to top it all off she had a couple of mutilated friends to keep her company. Dead friends, she had made sure of that.

"Hows it going?"

"Fuck off ta chatte curieuse," She said.

Eli raised his eyebrows and decided it was probably best not to poke his head down there. He made himself content instead by hopping up onto the tail-end of the truck, where the door should have been, and having himself a smoke. Geo's partner up on the rubble had signaled some trouble, but as long as the trouble stayed on the other side of that rubble Eli was happy to leave it there. Another team was positioned at the intersection, but no flashes meant everything was good over there. He took a long pull on his cig, and let it out slowly. They may just make it out of this after all. He still wondered where all the ghouls that had been out here went, but for now, he was willing to tackle one problem at a time. Not that the lack of ghouls was a problem, per say. In fact, he thought, that might be the only blessing he'd had today.

That was until, a body hit the ground right in front of him.

[hr][center][color=lightgreen][h3]R E F U G E[/h3][/color][/center][right][color=lightgreen]Monday, June 1[sup]st[/sup], 2111[/color][/right]

"SULLIVAN," Sergeant Docker shouted, motioning the haggard-eyed man over, "Asset report, what do we got?"

Sully cleared his throat, and for a moment his eyes lingered out into the distance where a seemingly unending army of ghouls was rapidly bearing down on them. "Uh.. Well, Sir. We've been out of touch with the Hellboys. We also haven't heard from the 13th Coast Guard in awhile, last transmission from them said something about a large scale seize and capture operation, they wanted to take back a naval yard."

"Spare me the details son, we don't have time for that."

"Right," Sully said, clearing his throat once more. The ghouls were coming closer, nearly close enough now. The trucks had already made it to the gates and the passengers were long gone. He could almost feel the hot breath of those monsters on his face. "Tanton Estates are too far out, and too little in number to be of any real use to us. White's Nomads are on their way, but I've only ever seen maybe twenty of them, so it doesn't sound very hopeful. That, and they'll be on the wrong side of the firing lines."

"Hm.." Docker growled, "What about Hectar's Crew?"

"The R.S.O found their bodies around two weeks ago."

"Chic.. Chicas.. Forties?" Docker struggled, he wasn't one for speaking spanish.

"Chicos Fuertes, the Strong Boys," Sullivan explained, "We bailed them out last month, but they refused to leave their warehouse. We haven't heard from them since, most of us assumed they'd been overrun, nobody's had the time to check."

"We really are all that's left out here, aren't we?" Docker confirmed solemnly.

That seemed to settle the tension in the air into one of despair, and both of them fell silent. 

"What about our assets?"

"Well.. Sir, it's not great. Since the Mayor's continual denial of our request to raid the bases around here, we've been running low on the good stuff. Eli's got .. or, he had the rest of our military vehicles excluding two humvees. We've got the heavy guns mounted on the walls, and a few cases of explosive ordnance, launchers and satchels mostly. I've already confiscated any construction demolitions we could acquire, and hauling as much fuel to the walls as we can muster."

"Fuel boy? You intend to be like the Romans and dump hot oil on them?"

"Something like that Sir."

"Guzman was right to believe in you."

Sullivan shrugged at the compliment, the Sergeant knew how he felt about Guzman. No, his loyalties were to those who were capable, people like Sergeant Docker. 

"SERGEANT!" One of the soldiers called from where he crouched with a white-knuckled grip on a machinegun emplacement bolted to the watchtower's floor. Docker pulled his attention back to the bloody business at hand, and stopped. Not that he was doing anything particularly active to begin with, but the very air around him seemed frozen. The ghouls had stopped. Odd, yes, but there was no sense of hope budding within him. They had stopped just outside of the clear.

"Sullivan, see to the defences," Docker commanded, though his eyes never left the enemy lines.

Enemy lines. How? It was impossible, but true. The ghouls stood at the very edge of the clear, just a few steps in. Rows, upon rows of them, formed up perfectly like a well disciplined army. One that hunched over and pawed at the air like feral animals, but, Ghouls didn't [i]form up[/i]. They came in uncaring, senseless waves. Sergeant Docker's hands trembled as he pried a cigar from its case. He wasn't really craving one, but his hands were on autopilot. He didn't know what else to do. What else could he do?

A shot popped off, followed by a few more. The soldiers were scared, no, they were terrified. A few bodies from the ghoul's front ranks fell to the ground, either still, or thrashing about in pain. Another shot echoed through the quiet air, a sharp, powerful crack. Docker could actually see the ghoul whose head exploded, spraying its wild brothers with blood and gore. The lifeless body fell to the ground, and another simply stepped forward. They didn't move, they didn't flinch, they didn't feel. It was the perfect army. It was in that very moment, as panicked shots rang out around him, dropping ghoul after ghoul only to have their spot quietly replaced, that Docker knew—They were all going to die tonight.

Another cracked shattered the air, but this time it wasn't a gun. No, it was the angry bellowing from the clouds above. They roared with force enough to vibrate the wall Docker was standing upon. As if heralded by their mighty call, raindrops began pouring down around them. It took seconds for the sprinkling of water to change into torrential sheets that came down so violently they stung his cheeks. It was a cold, bitter kind of rain. Lightning arched along the underbelly of the rumbling storm clouds, briefing illuminating the ranks of ghouls spanning the clear. They stretched out to either side, so many bodies deep that Docker couldn't see the end of them. Their army disappeared into the jungle behind them, but he could see endless shadows milling amongst them. Some were disturbingly larger than others.

Suddenly, in a single, unified call, the ghouls howled into the night. Docker had never understood the term 'Blood Curdling' until that moment, were it seemed as if it had seized inside his veins and stopped moving, where his body was so tense and rigid that he felt he may just break from the pressure sinking into the pit of his belly. It went on, for some time. Seconds, only, but it seemed like forever. The practical side of his mind knew exactly what they were doing, it was a common battle tactic. Strike fear into the hearts of your enemy, show them resistance is futile. He just didn't understand how. Why. Why now?

A single, silhouetted form strode forward from the ranks of hungry undead. The end of a long coat hung down the figure's frame, which wasn't unnatural in itself. Except for the raging storm winds. Docker's own jacket seemed to be trying to tear itself away from his body, but that.. that thing's cloak hung unnaturally still. The figure stood with poise, perching itself atop a small mound of rubble, clearly identifying itself as some sort of authority. A single second passed before two guns fired, two shots cracked out into the air, and two bullets pierced into whatever had stepped forward. Docker, despite the situation, let a small, grim smile play across his lips. His men were well trained, even when terrified beyond the point of proper sanity.

The figure stood still as the soldiers waited with baited breath, waiting for it to topple. It never did. Instead, it raised a single arm into the air. The ghouls behind him stood a little taller, even as they become more agitated and frenzied, and like some great conductor of death, the figure motioned them forward. Docker hadn't expected the ground to actually rumble as the creatures charged, but it did. He didn't expect the enormous chunks of rubble that flew from the ghoul's backline either. Chunks of debris larger than a normal man could throw smashed into the wall, tearing great, gaping holes in their perimeter. Men cried out as they were flung from the catwalks, but far too many of them were bone chillingly silent. A great thunderous crash exploded next to Docker, and before he could grasp what was happening he was sailing through the air. He hit the ground in a bruised heap as wreckage and splintered rubble rained down around him.

Docker struggled to hit feet, his vision blurry. Before him men screamed in terror, in hopeless panic. Half of them were abandoning their positions. A large chunk of another building had crashed through the front of the command center. Off to the side, flames were slowly licking their way up some of the closer residential units—Sullivan's plan for the fuel had backfired. But with the ghouls, or rather, the berserkers catapulting those projectiles.. How could they have prepared against that? Ghouls were pouring through the holes in the wall, which weren't as large as Docker had first envisioned them. Even berserkers had limited strength, it seemed. Hell broke out around him.

Sergeant Prestine Docker flipped the safety on his rifle, and charged into the war they had already lost. But he would fight. By God's Grace, he would fight.

[hr][center][color=lightgreen][h3]E L I[/h3][/color][/center][right][color=lightgreen]Monday, June 1[sup]st[/sup], 2111[/color][/right]

	Eli stared down at the woman's corpse lying in a mangled heap in front of him. He had actually heard her bones shatter as she hit the ground. He quickly tracked her trajectory, she had come in from the right, which meant she had been near the intersec—Oh, he thought mildly. A large, brutish shape was rampaging through the group he had stationed their. It had some so suddenly they hadn't even had time to scream before the berserker had hit a homerun with that, now dead, woman's face. Well, they screamed now. Elijah launched himself from the back of the truck, raising his gun and firing at the brute of a ghoul, though it seemed to just merely howl in annoyance.

"Abi!" He said, letting the words tail off.

"I know!" She called back, though she remained beneath the truck.

"ABI."

"MERDE, ALRIGHT," She snarled, dragging herself out, "You better hope this bitch holds together."

"We're out of time Abi!" Eli called over the sounds of his gun firing. The berserker let out a deep, guttural howl as his smaller cousins came spilling out from around the corner. Eli spun to call down the two watchmen on the rubble pile, but it seemed they had already gotten the idea. Or rather, he noticed, there were more ghouls coming up over the rubble, and in their lead was another Big Ugly. 'Had they been waiting?' He wondered, before his mind quickly pulled itself back to the chaos forming around him.

Bodies began piling into the truck. Those inside jammed the muzzles of their guns between the spaces of the personnel cage and let loose a poorly aimed torrent of fire. As if a surprise attack from ghouls wasn't enough, it began to rain. Thunder snapped overheard, the roar of a mighty, godlike beast voicing its displeasure. 

"LET'S GO LET'S GO!" He yelled. One of the stragglers, terror contorting the features of his face, was snatched from the road like a child. The berserker yelled, much like a wild ape, and shook the poor man around something akin to how a dog would with a toy. Eli watched the man's head snap back and forth, far too loosely for it to be intact. 

"WE'RE LEAVING TU BAISE!" Abigail yelled over the roar of the engine.

The truck wheezed to life, with a few concerning clinks and clanks. Abigail reversed, ripping its front end away from the shattered wall and leaving her dead undercarriage buddies behind. She braked so hard Eli nearly flew out the back. He grabbed the edges of the protective cage to keep himself from tumbling out as Abigail floored the truck in drive. He thought he heard her shout something from the driver's cab, but whatever she had said was lost among the cacophony of ghouls thudding against the front end as she plowed through them. They just barely skirted past the berserker, who swung at them in a wild rage. Eli felt as if he'd caught the breeze from that swing, but it was just the wind picking up as the storm poured down everything it had, as violently as it could.

This was going to get really shitty, really fast. Driving conditions in the jungle were already poor, but with this kind of weather, it was going to get muddy real fast. The rain was buffered somewhat from the thick canopies overhead, but the force of the wind was causing the long-necked trees to sway, and the downpour of raindrops shot through the gaps like bullets. Abigail took a corner hard, whipping through the undergrowth of jungle flora and slamming her passengers against the side of the truck. Eli hit particularly hard, since he had been standing. The truck shook as she sped over uneven ground, but Eli didn't blame her for the speed. The ghouls were giving chase, and the runners were still managing to catch up. His hope waned as they plowed through another herd of angry, undead bodies. Chunks of flesh and limbs whipped against the side of the truck, and a stray hand went sailing over the top of the cage as the entire vehicle rocked violently, slamming into the ghouls. 

Another hard corner, and Eli tumbled across the floor of the tail-bed. Before he could reorient himself, Abigail was forced to take another sharp turn. The ghouls were everywhere, pouring down streets as if the truck had some sort of beacon on it that said 'Come and eat me'. Actually, they seemed to only be giving chase half-heartedly, except for the runners, who were making a good show of keeping up with the truck. No, Eli was overthinking it. Ghouls weren't smart, they were predatory, but easily discouraged if they lost their prey. Thunder rumbled overhead, but Eli thought he heard something beneath the trumpeting of the clouds. Had that been clicking? He looked out to his right, but he couldn't make out any sign of a stalker.

A second letter the truck lurched as Abigail skidded into a left turn. Ghouls gave chase from the side streets behind them. Eli strained his ears as they tore down the round. There, he had almost missed it, clicking from his right. A moment later, the truck hurled into another left turn. Now that he knew what to listen for, he could hear it every. There was clicking all around them, following them, herding them. 'My God', he thought, 'They're herding us."

He didn't have to wait long. Another sharp turn, and a particularly rough introduction between his face and a supporting metal arch, and the truck came to a dirt-churning, rock-tossing, violent halt. 

"Oh my god," One of the passengers breathed.
		"We're dead, we're so fucking dead," Another said. 

Eli ignored the whimpering and the crying, Abigail had slid to a stop at a slight angle, and it wasn't difficult to realize why. A wall of rubble, rock, and burned out automobiles loomed before them. Not piled up haphazardly, but forming a literal wall. 

"Why would somebody block the road?" A woman wailed.

"Not somebody," Eli started, so quiet that he could barely be heard, "Something."

Eli silently thanked whatever God was up there, or Gods, or whatever, for his own foresight. He slid out of the truck, ignoring the howls of the ghouls closing in all of the adjoining streets and alleyways behind them. It seemed they had finally been spurred into action, and whatever was directing them wasn't taking any chances, he could hear windows shattering as they spilled into the buildings. Somehow, the little buggers had managed to set a trap. But, fortunately for the living, Eli was paranoid. And paranoia, meant preparation. He flipped open a side compartment, tearing out cases and boxes that were useless to him at this particular juncture in his life. He tore through a second compartment frantically. The third compartment had was he was looking for. Guns were going off around him now as whoever wasn't too terrified to move covered him. 

Eli flipped open the long case and pulled out a thick, hollow tube—Technically, he had wanted this to use against Berserker's, but it would work against a wall too. He loaded the end of it, and without any prelude fired at the wall. A fiery explosion bloomed before him, throwing shrapnel and debris pretty much everywhere. The heat from the explosion licked his skin, and Eli had to turn away. The wall crumbled outwards, spilling to the ground, cars crushing beneath their own weight. They'd still have a hell of a time plowing through what still littered the road, but it was better than nothing.

"BACK IN THE TRUCK!" He yelled, ushering those that had taken up stances outside the truck back into personnel cage. Abigail was revving the engine as Eli lifted himself in, always the last aboard, like a good commander should be. The truck lurched forward and he felt the weight of their sudden acceleration pull against him. No, not the moment, a hand. Eli looked down in horror at the thick hand crushing his torso. He tried to cry out warning, but he could only gurgle up a few construed sounds. Hands reached out for him, guns raised, but all of that grew distant as Eli was hurled into the air. 

There was something calm, almost serene, when the weight of the pit in your stomach became so dense that you knew—You just knew, that you were moments away from death. Time slows, and in those few seconds of life you have left, you have time to reflect. Sailing above a crowd of hungry ghouls really put things into perspective, or so Eli thought. He also wondered how many style points the judges would give him as his broken body flipped and tumbled through the air. 

He closed his eyes as he came down hard, the impact jarring him so forcefully that he felt he could feel each and every individual bone that broke. Oddly enough, he didn't actually feel it. It was more like he noticed it, with a kind of crisp clarity. Idly, he reached for his cigarette case, but found his pocket empty. He laughed at his own forgetfulness, he'd let it at home. That's right. He promised Ai he would quit, oh how Jo would get a laugh out of that when she heard. Then the rotting hands and twisting mouths came down, interrupting his thoughts, and everything became cold, and dark.[/color]