Sorry, I've had a really busy week. I'll write post this morning or afternoon and catch up. If anything else comes up after that, I'll let everyone know.
Dixie Fiend
Member
elusive eco-terrorist
STATUS: @Yam I Am sounds like somebody needs a squishmallow 3 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 1 mo ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 84 (0.02 / day)
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Username history
- Dixie Fiend 3 yrs ago
- ██████ 12 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses
3 yrs ago
Current
@Yam I Am sounds like somebody needs a squishmallow
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like
3 yrs ago
theater kids make scenes, don't cloud your crown dark 😎
1
like
3 yrs ago
thoughts on furries having pets?
3 yrs ago
I Want My 25 Minutes of Fame
3 yrs ago
Where are the bodies Big G?
Bio
I'm just passing through.
Most Recent Posts
Posted, hoping it's acceptable. I would have been able to finish it last night, but I literally fell asleep/passed out with my head on my desk. Surprisingly, I slept like a rock and am only mildly sore.
Dexter Sterling
● Interacting With: The fray of people in Newnan.
● Location: Newnan.
● Time: Afternoon.
Dexter shuffled uncomfortably as James exited the Hordebuster, addressing Dex calmly. His knuckles were white around the grip of his hammer as he listened, which were relieved somewhat after receiving the instructions. " We meeting up with them, and pushing to that building over there. Stay close behind an' keep breathing. C'mon. " Dexter took a deep breath, giving an affirmative nod to James before looking out towards where he had pointed to.
Dexter managed to settle his nerves then. He couldn't act confused and afraid anymore, he had directly been given orders and was expected to follow them. Dexter had a job to do and he knew the who, the where, and the how to help them; or at least that's what he had gathered from Black James', the directions were rather mundane and not nearly as complicated as Dexter made the situation out to be earlier – but having a clear outline of what exactly he needed to do was necessary for Dexter to not-fuck-everything-up sometimes. When Dexter was a Junior ROTC cadet he had a tendency to embarrass himself whenever vaguely given a simple task at which he somehow did not get right. But nevertheless he was a dedicated and determined cadet, and always did the very best he could.
This was no time to be reminiscing about some high school elective though. " Move your fucking ass and get the fuck to the courthouse! Get your head in the fucking game, asshole! " Dexter's shoulder was shoved and he stumbled into the side of the Hordebuster momentarily, turning he expected a Walker had lunged at him but instead it was one of the strangers he assumed was from Newnan – a woman wielding what seemed to be a katana, who had just sliced open a walker like this was fruit ninja or something that had pinned Victor.
By then James had already departed to begin a new folk legend of kicking zombie ass and bad assery, axing walkers as he made his way to Jefe and Ash nearby. Dexter looked to Lorna who urged him forward, Victor beginning to already make his way forward at Lorna's command. Dexter was torn, hesitating briefly as he shot a worried glare at where Richard wrestled with one of those walking corpses – he contemplated helping the bastard, but remembering the wincing sound of a shotgun blast from the Buster's interior and imagining Jaime's face being ripped away by the expended shell changed his mind. Dick may have saved Jaime from the worst, but he probably enjoyed doing it which... Never mind, who was Dexter to judge people in this world?
Dexter chewed his lip nervously, but made no mistake – he was not so nervous anymore. He gave the katana-machete wielding woman an apologetic look, " I was given instructions to follow James, I intend to do so. We'll probably meet y-you and your folk soon, " He said, speaking genuinely for once and with relative conviction. Dexter gave Lorna one final nod before pulling off from her and Victor as they made their way down the street and towards the Courthouse of Newnan, " Stay safe. "
Truth was he probably would have been more of a help and less of a liability if he had chosen to follow Lorna, however – even in the composed, decisive state that he was now – Dexter wasn't a fan of making his own decisions, maybe that would change someday. But for now he was dead-set on following orders to the letter, and James was currently the man he expected to follow. Even though Black James, Jefe, and the Captain displayed extreme experience when dealing with the approaching walkers, and could easily hold their own without Dexter's help.
Dexter broke into a cautious jog, closing the distance between himself and the trio of ridiculously good combatants. He was stopped for a second or two when a corpse lurched up from the asphalt where it lay beside him, lunging for Dexter's ankles as it growled. It looked to be just another dead one, until it wasn't. Dexter reacted both from sheer surprise and from a focused mind, darting to the side with a yelp as it near grabbed him; and then rearing his hand-held hammer down through the top of its skull. The move was quick and clean, about as easy as it could get when dealing with a walker. Dexter was fortunate not to have encountered a more mobile, and therefore deadlier one. Like Black James, he'd much rather be shooting.
He reached group and followed earnestly, staying close to Ash' and James' flank earnestly while remaining out of range of their weapons. It wouldn't be the happiest day of his life if Dexter found safety in these people only to be accidentally blinded by a stray swing of an axe or blade. His hammer was raised, positioned with his elbow at a ninety-degree angle at his side, ready as he shuffled after the three – his boots stepping one after the other with purposeful steps as they made their way towards the Courthouse, hopefully clearing any dangers that got too close to the building or the folk.
Writing a post tonight, will be around for the remainder of the evening.
@Plasma Yeah dude, you gotta stop that. It's gonna get your ass eaten by a Walker Jamie style. Lol
You're right, I shouldn't be waiting until the end of the week to post. It just holds everyone else up.
Dexter Sterling
● Interacting With: The fray of people in Newnan.
● Location: Newnan.
● Time: Afternoon.
Dexter didn't sign up for this. It wasn't the most flattering opening line, given how selfish it was. People were dying with every minute that passed. Did they sign up for that? Did they deserve it? No. For the moment, Dexter overlooked those small details, he'd have time to be empathetic later – when there wasn't dozens of corpses converging on their location.
It was a bitter outcome though, much like the saying of "out of the fire and into the frying pan". Except, shit seemed to be going, "out of the fire, into the frying pan, and then into a blast furnace hurdling towards a dying star". The stress of it all was overwhelming, flooding his mind with anxiety that racked his body with chills and nervous fidgeting.
Dexter felt small again as the world seemed to unfold around their vehicle. His companions at his side didn't feel like companions anymore, but strangers. More and more strangers with strange faces from strange places. Zoie was the first to action as they rolled through the gates of hell, swinging off the truck and onto the ground to join the chaos. He caught a glimpse of a knife, or two, in her hands that looked straight out of Riddick's cooking set. God he loved the Riddick movies, it was the only unrealistic action movie he could ever stomach.
He lost her though as she disappeared out of the view of the cab's window where he sat, and he immediately turned looking onward as he heard an unfamiliar voice. " I need you to swing this big bastard around the truck and run blocker for our unit. Destination's the Infirmary. You're taking on passengers, back in the dump body. You read me? Do you fucking read me, James? " Dexter kept his eyes between Ash and James as they spoke briefly, not recognizing Alicia's name but eventually putting the image together that she was likely the one who was taken at the Ralls Road manor. Dexter kept his silence as per usual as shit went through the motions, reaching over his shoulder and adjusting his backpack so that he may eventually retrieve his drywall hammer. Without a loaded gun, the Fat-Max was the only decent weapon he had.
The talk drew to an end with Ash as James passed a rifle and its last respective magazine out the driver-side window. Dexter gave a discreet last glance towards Ash as he departed and Black James began to pull the Hordebuster around. He gauged that the guy had some authority here, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke with conviction. Seemed to be a straight-shooter.
Dexter didn't dwell on it though, his thoughts interrupted by a sharp whine from the front end of the truck. The engine rattled, followed by a few metallic pops and then silence. Dexter looked around, out one window and then out the other, turning in his seat uncomfortably. He then looked over James' shoulder, looking for some sort of plan. The hell happened? Were they stuck, or was it just a brief technical difficulty? He glanced sidelong again, seeing all kinds of people moving around outside. Was it safe?
He reached past Richard and put a hand on the handle of the cab door, stopping as he grabbed it for a second. Dexter was scared. He didn't want to go out there, he didn't want to be here. He was helpless.
Jaime must have been thinking the same thing.
Dexter was shouldered slightly as Jaime climbed past when his door wouldn't open, going to the passenger side of the Hordebuster. The kid was fast, or maybe Dexter was just slow and didn't react fast enough. He had the door open and was on his way out in mere moments, and Dexter couldn't help but admire Jaime. The kid was brave, perhaps planning to actually get out there and help someone unlike Dexter who simply sat on his thumbs like a scared child.
Good for him, Dexter thought. The thought however, was quickly taken back as Jaime stumbled out the open doorway onto the ground. He was out of Dexter's vision, but that didn't matter when the screams came.
" Oh fuck. " Dexter exclaimed, voice cracking as he clambered past Richard to the door, moving like an encumbered crab in the claustrophobic space of the truck cab. He shoved the door open and sprawled out onto the ground, stumbling just like Jaime had done when he got out the side. His palms came down on the rough asphalt, scuffing up his hands as he tumbled out. Dexter straightened up hastily, reaching around his side for his hammer.
He stepped towards the flank of the Hordebuster, hoping to get around to help Jaime when the screams started to muffle. Dexter stopped, his hand still fiddling with the strap holding his hammer to the outside of his backpack. He stood there frozen, looking around, back now to the truck. It was over, and Dexter was finding it difficult to muster up the desire to at least TRY and help. What was the point?
Quickly, he cut out the pessimistic thoughts. It was for his own good, at least now. Dexter backtracked towards the front end of the Buster, putting a hand to the driver's door. Dexter stood to one side of the door, out of the way. His expression was torn as he looked to James, trying to convey his emotions over all the shit going down. Could he just leave Jaime there, a mere couple meters way from where he stood, getting ripped apart as he awkwardly looked upon the man that saved his life at Ralls.
Fuck, this was hard. " Tell me what to do. Please. " Dexter said urgently, looking over his shoulder briefly towards a pair of unfamiliar folk nearby, then back to James. " Just don't make me go over there and put it through Jaime's skull. I can't do it. " Dexter felt like a coward. He felt out of touch with what was going on, he had no control and no sense of what was important, and how to react, what to do. He lowered the drywall hammer to his side as he took a step back from the truck, giving ample room for Victor and Richard to exit where he stood before.
" Tell me what to do, where to go, who to talk to, whatever it is and I'll do it. " The words felt like a nuisance. Dexter viewed himself as a liability, which was a thought he wasn't accustomed to very much. Zoie for example was out in an instant and downing approaching Walkers, clearing the area so that there was one less problem after another. And there were others, others he had not yet acquainted that were doing the same. And here he was, as useful as a blind, flightless duck out in the open during hunting season.
Okay, writing a post at this minute. No procrastinating.
Posting later today <3
Dexter Sterling
● Interacting With: Black James, Richard, Jaime, the two Strangers.
● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon
It wouldn't be the first time Dexter cracked a joke at the wrong time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Although, in his defense, he felt like he was about to have an emotional breakdown over needing that cigarette. " Are you serious? Did you not just see what happened? Unless you wanna walk, you gonna shut up about CIGARETTE and sit the fuck down! " At the corners of his lips was originally the ghost of a smile, but as he met eyes with James it began to quickly deteriorate. Dexter sunk bank into his seat, shoulders slumping as he felt like a scolded child. He glanced sidelong towards Richard, looking for some sort of relief from the awkward position he had put himself in, and in some ways he found it.
Dexter peeled his eyes away from Richard, looking back over James' shoulder in silence. His expression was blank now as he thought to himself. He wanted to apologize, but it wouldn't mean anything – not now. Dexter was just a random person James had only recently met, that was fully disposable and possibly dangerous to him and his friends in Newnan – although he wasn't, you could never really trust a stranger nowadays. He decided it'd be better to properly apologize for what happened, for Alicia's death, at a time when Dexter wasn't a stranger. When his word meant something.
And so he kept his lips together, chewing at the corners uncomfortably as they began to pull around the driveway and head for the street. Dexter held himself close and kept his eyes off the windows as the vehicle rattled and thundered against the cold bodies on the outside. The sound of it was definitely memorable, Dexter reflected as James cleared the horde and broke out into the street at a modest speed.
The radio cackled briefly but Dexter couldn't make out what was being said. James turned and spoke to them, something about some place being hit? Dexter looked between the two, agreeing with Richard reluctantly. ” You think we wanna get left the fuck out here while you guys appear to having working radios and shit? Hell no. Keep drivin’, chocolate thunder. We’re coming with you. ”
There was a call, an actual call from an actual phone, with an actual person talking on the other end. Dexter was curious but he tried not to show it, opting to turn head and stare out a window aimlessly as he listened. The conversation was short, morbid. The woman who died meant something to someone, whoever it was on the other end. James conveyed that pretty well. Dexter didn't have much time to think over what was being said when it ended, and the Buster began to slow down and careen towards the side of the road.
Another survivor? In a single day? Dexter's luck, or rather that of his group's, was either outrageously fortunate or... The opposite. They were still open to being shot, or stabbed, or worse by any one of these new people. Yes, worse. They could be the fucking scum of the earth and like comic books. Those people were horrible. Books with pictures are for children. Or so Dexter believed.
He tried to pretend that he didn't give a shit about the new people, and instead watched Richard as the guy stuck his head out one of the windows of the cab. ” Run outta gas or somethin’? This fella here just saved our asses from a herd of Deadbrains. He’s a stand-up guy who’s got shit to do and hates to leave anyone behind if he thinks he can help. You all alone out here? ” Strange. For such a hateful guy, he sure was throwing a lot of admiration and credit towards James. Black James, specifically. Dexter couldn't blame him though, in this world it was a good idea to talk others up. Dexter made sure to do so whenever Richard was especially being a dick.
Then Dexter's train of thought was interrupted as Richard shouldered into him. " Hey-.. " He stopped his initially annoyed response, his eyes lifting up at a strangers face. Up until that point he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed, the scuffle with "Froggy" and "Dick" a mere couple feet away from where he sat – and now some... Lady. A Lady. Not to be confused with Lady A. Was looming over Richard with some sort of weapon, or wasn't, Dexter couldn't really get a good look.
" Pardon me boys, this just take a second, " Dexter nodded slowly, his eyes glued – slightly glaring, but not quite – to the stranger. He didn't like her, Dexter established. He further justified these thoughts as she spoke more and more. He hated her voice. And her accent.
Dexter never really picked up a heavy "southern" accent himself, which he attributes to his parents and other family.. But there are certain words and phrases he can't help but let sail with a Tennessee-like twang, and it annoyed the shit out of him when he caught himself doing it. Black James on the other hand... Well he was a guy? And his voice was fitting. And... Well, maybe Dexter was a little sexist and had double standards.
He drew his eyes to one of the windows as two thuds from the back came and the Buster began to roll out, much like a ragtag Autobot. Roll out. Roll. Roll up. Dexter had to resist the urge for asking about that cigarette again, biting down on his tongue to distract himself. He was very out-of-it, tired almost, but he didn't let it show too much.
Instead Dexter forced a slight scowl of sorts, trying to make an expression of determination – and he thumbed the inside of his shirt at his waist, running his hand over the grip of his empty pistol as if he was ready to take on any danger that the group would soon run into. In reality it probably looked like he was constipated or something.
Dexter Sterling
● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon
Dexter's boots struck the uneven ground one after the other, his lungs pounding steadily between every other stride. Dexter did his best to pace himself, expression wrought with determination, and he counted beneath each breath. He was close to heel behind the others as they made their way to the unusual vehicle a short distance from where they were now.
He positioned himself behind the others intentionally as they ran, gambling that if the strangers shot at them – either Jaime or Richard would go down first from the gunfire. There wasn't any nobility in dying here, not now, Dexter thought apathetically. He nearly had the opportunity to weigh his subconscious decision when the sharp crack of a rifle resonated through the open air. Dexter flinched, ducking slightly seemingly long after the shot had already gone off.
Dexter's mind began to sink back into reality as he straightened up and looked towards the truck ahead. There was some shouting from one of the guys in front of him, but in Dexter's ears the words were muffled and unrecognizable. Oh fuck. Dexter's eyes flicked from walkers some distance away and back to the truck where he could make out a figure ahead – which was torn back into a fray of unforgiving monsters. Dexter didn't get a good look, he just saw a person. A living person, trying to protect them. One moment they were there, and then they were gone.
Richard was ahead of them now, closing the distance between himself and their way out. Dexter didn't try to match the man's speed, instead keeping his pace and his eyes open for any looming walkers that could reach his path. Drops of rain bit into his face bitterly as he crossed the slick gravel, and his shoulders were heavy from his soaked clothing and backpack. Still, he pressed on unencumbered as his boots carried him further and further with each step.
" You've got this, amigo! Vomonos! " Jaime was at the truck now, calling out towards Dexter briefly. He looked over his shoulder instinctively, expecting the earth to be falling into oblivion beneath his heels. Fortunately, it was not.
Dexter reached Buster finally, gripping the frame aft of one of the doors. He raised a foot hastily and lifted himself on the step, swinging into the cab of the truck. He landed into one of the open seats uncomfortably, his pack pressed between the seat and his back. Dexter's eyes were wide and alarmed, darting all over the place as he was still jacked with adrenaline.
Finally, his eyes rested on the unfamiliar figure in the driver's seat – Dexter leaned forward, putting a hand on the shoulder of the seat with the utmost urgency, " For the love of God, do you have a cigarette? "
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