An Outsider — Roleplayer Guild

Pistolera

Venting. Venting is universal. You can't have a building without the proper venting, that's not just the law but it's also common sense. It's probably why that old story about robbers sneaking around in the air-vents is so prevalent, because everyone knows it's there. Everyone knows there's venting, so why couldn't a would-be thief, or a wannabe John McClane be sneaking around in there?

Well, there's lotsa reasons. Firstly air vents are a lot smaller than you'd think. Like real small. Like almost to small for a person small. Also, it's made of sheet metal, and sheet metal has sharp edges, so if you're not careful you'd end up cutting yourself to shreds. There's quite often fan arrays too, making traversing the tight confines even harder. Gratings a lot harder to remove than it seems in the movies. don't forget that. All in all doing the old vent crawl is an utter bitch, and really very rarely worth the risk of getting stuck midway, necessitating you to shout for help and getting rescued by the fat, middleaged fireman who gropes your ass as he cuts you out of the prison you, of your own free will, crawled into yourself!

Which shows you how desperate the situation is, seeing as I've spent the last twenty minutes sitting in the Titan's Tower ducting, watching through a ceiling grate as my team mates fight for their lives against the undead.

I reacted quickly after the first alarm (Quicker than Sandstorm anyway, who I left snoozing peacefully earlier this morning) but as I was heading to the hanger I spotted a strange sight: A horde of zombies shambling into the Tower. I stood transfixed for longer than I'd like to admit, though to be fair it's not everyday you bear witness to what a reasonable person could only assume is the end of days. Then the screams started sounding from down below, and I knew there was trouble. Real trouble.

I'd be lying if I said my first instinct wasn't to run, though whether it was away crying for my momma, or towards my cornered teamates guns blazing, well I'm not willing to say. That's not who I am though. It's not how I was trained. I don't have super-strength, freeze rays or magic on my side. Hell, even Stunt Devil has unbreakable bones. No, all I got is my training, and the knowledge of how to get things done. So I slid into the vents and crawled along them - I memorized the lay out, thinking it would be handy for just this kind of situation - until I found the outlet above the hanger. And so here I am.

Reconnaissance. That's what they call it. Watching you're enemy. Compiling information. Working out the angles then manipulating them to work in your favor. That's what I've been doing. See, I know there's an intelligence behind this attack, one that's beyond anything the zombies have displayed individually. Otherwise why would they attack the Tower directly when they were already in the city? The Titan's home is too far out of the way, and too low in bodys for this to be about just food for them. No, someone's guided them here, whether to get rid of the cities staunchest defenders, or for some fouler reason I can't say. What I do know is that someone must be leading these beasts, and my gut tells me they're hear too, hiding amongst the horde. 

So I watch and wait, hoping I'll spot my target before they spot me. I daren't expose myself, not even for a second, in case I forfeit my one advantage. I didn't even move when the horde descended on the twins, though lord knows I wanted to. I'd be a monster if I didn't at least want to. But I didn't. I stayed put, like the good little soldier. I might get mad, like the other Titan's, but I never lose control. Not even for a second.

Then I see him. The big ugly. Jaw near hanging of his face as he watches Sentinel fall, like one of them snakes that can eat a cow whole. It has to be him. The leader. None of the rest of the zombies have pulled that trick, and unlike the others he isn't racing to get at the Titan's. Nah, he's hanging back, holding up the rear like the coward he is. Well the bad news for him is I don't have to get close to put him down. 

The grate falls clear after one single boot. Guess they aren't as hard to remove as I thought. I pop my head out, right arm snaking behind, pistol held tight in hand. He's some distance away, a difficult shot for a regular marksman. Good thing I'm anything but regular.

"Hey, you!" I bark. He looks up. I want him to know who killed him. 

"This is for the twins." The pistol comes up, aiming right between his beady little eyes.

Bang.
An Outsider Member

A Glorious Failure

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