How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Red Offerings on 29-10-2014, 02:52:44</h2>
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				Title: <strong>How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 02:52:44</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://s30.postimg.org/as6gg5vpd/horde.jpg)<br><br>"Please Locate Your Zombie Apocalypse Survival Team Leader"<br>- Brought to you by <strong>Red</strong></div><br><br><div align="center">OOC Thread (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216448.0)&nbsp; &nbsp; Profile Thread (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.0)&nbsp; </div><br><br>This is the IC thread where the shit is about to hit the fan!
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 02:57:38</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://s28.postimg.org/n1s3ma21p/losangeles.jpg)<br><br><strong>Los Angeles, California, United States of America</strong></div><br><br>Ah, Los Angeles, California and nestled right amidst the sprawling city is California State University. The current population of L.A. is 3.884 million souls. This is <em>the</em> place to <strong>not</strong> be in the event of a zombie apocalypse! So, in a twist of ironic fate, this is just where we're going to focus our harrowing tale. There's not tons you need to know. So. Cal. is a beautiful place, full of mild beaches, multi-million dollar homes, and of course, Hollywood! 
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 03:18:39</strong>
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				(La de da de, every-damn-body)<br><br><div align="center">(http://s29.postimg.org/7ee0arh47/newsanchor.jpg)</div><br><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font">"Good Morning, Los Angeles, I'm Ted Daily, sitting in for your normal anchor, Jenner D'Annunzio. The White House has released a statement concerning the rampant viral illness that has swept across the nation on the heels of Ebola. According to White House Press Secretary, Marisa Starky, the CDC has assured officials that there is no flu pandemic. Americans should utilize appropriate hygiene habits and if they are feeling ill, stay home. According to the numbers released from the CDC, most people are recovering from the illness within five to seven days, following proper rest and sanitation procedures. The CDC also wants to remind citizens that most Americans who are ill are suffering from the normal seasonal bugs and that only a small percentage of people have shown to actually be carrying the viral illness. Let's go over to Dan O'Reilly now for a weather forecast..."</span></div><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 03:34:36</strong>
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				(Everyone)<br><br><div align="center">(http://s28.postimg.org/koglei8rh/radio300.png)</div><br><br>"-ia anyways. You can't listen to a damn thing those puppets say! Seasonal flu my <em>-bleep-</em>! Come <em>on</em> America, this is a <strong>pandemic</strong>! And no bull<em>-bleep-</em>ing lying White House marionette is gonna change that! First, WE had the swine flu, then we had H1N1, the- then we had <strong>Ebola</strong>! And-and then they come off with these cock-a-mamy statistics? <em>LIES</em>, America, outright lies. Listen to this, according to the CDC, only 401 people across the country have tested positive for the CPN2 Virus! And if you believe <strong>that</strong> why I have some prime real estate, I say I have some ocean front property to sell to you right in the middle of the Mojave Desert! Try this number on for size -- 1.1 <em>million</em>. Yeah, that's right. Your pal Jimmy here on Renegade Radio is tellin' you the number is <em>way</em> over 401. This is a pandemic America and we are in trouble."
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 03:53:58</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://s11.postimg.org/y6576tcnn/5_24_13_ARPAIO_GERNERIC_MGN_ONLINE.jpg)</div><br><br><strong><span class="bbc_u"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">READ ME BEFORE YOU POST</span></span></strong><br><br><strong>The above media report and radio report is available for anyone to have heard/seen.</strong><br><br>What you need to know before you post is that for the past four days, an illness known as CPN2 has run rampant across the country. Like you've probably noticed with Ebola and any other illness we've ever had - there are all kinds of conflicting media reports and it's kind of hard to know what to really believe. You have the TV media that's making things seem like it's not that terrible of a deal and that everything is under control, then you have the radio show hosts, those talk radio guys who latch onto conspiracy theories like a tick on soft flesh.<br><br>Everyone has been touched by this illness, <strong>everyone</strong>. The difference between the "pure" infected and you survivors is that after about day three, your symptoms lessened up. <br><br>Speaking of symptoms:<br><br>Beginning phase of illness: running nose, mild fever, swollen glands, headache, body ache, deep cough<br><br><strong>- The above phase is as far as you survivors go.</strong><br><br>Second phase of illness: running nose, high fever, chills, intense headache, swollen glands, weak body, blood in cough<br><br><strong>The above is by day 4-5.</strong><br><br>Right now, there's a lot of concern and speculation. You have a lot of paranoid people, you know, taking the bus wearing surgical gloves and white masks over their faces. People who carry bottles of hand sanitizer, sanitizing their hands after they touch anything, and washing their hands like they have OCD. Hospitals are strained and you can't get a hold of your doctor's office. So far, no one has died or anything of the illness, but it's only been 4 days. Almost everyone you see is sick in one phase of the illness or another. You might see a few dozen people a day who are over it, like you. Some die hards who are in phase 2 of the illness are still going to school and work. You know the type. Expect to see them on your bus, in the store, at work/school with you. Aside from the illness being so wide spread, nothing out of the ordinary is going on. <br><br><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 03:54:32</strong>
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angie</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 05:52:49</strong>
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				Dean had caught the news and drove to his store while listening to the radio. His father had taught him to always take information from different sources, and always with a grain of salt. The truth was usually in the middle.<br><br>He had found himself busy lately. Everybody was wanting a gun for some reason or another. Of course, there were waiting lists and background checks to do. Dean was honorable. He wasn't going to sell something illegally, no matter how much money was offered. He went to the fridge and pulled out a soda, taking a sip of it. Today, ironically, was much slower. Might as well fire off a few pistol rounds, make sure his aim was still good. Whatever happened, he had to be ready for it.
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxfyr</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 19:17:57</strong>
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				Vincent had started his morning like any other; shower, shave, breakfast, etc. before taking a moment to check the status of his classes.&nbsp; There was the flutter of joy when the school’s webpage continued to announce that his classes were cancelled on account of professors still being ill.&nbsp; <strong>”Woo!&nbsp; Another vacation day!”</strong>&nbsp; The celebration was accompanied with a little dance in his chair, part of him knowing that once this flu blew over that the students would surely be pressed to make up for lost time.&nbsp; Still, no point in wasting a precious day off, especially when so many others were still feeling the bite of the ailment that he had recovered from just a few days ago.<br><br>Personally, he was tired of hearing it and had gone out of his way to avoid news reports on the topic.&nbsp; People bitching and moaning about the flu shots not working, assuming they got them in the first place.&nbsp; <em>So what if it was so wide-spread?&nbsp; It’s the flu; it happens.&nbsp; Instead of whining about it people should just eat some soup, get some rest, and suck it up.</em><br><br>Given the sort of coughing and other sickly sounds he heard from his roommates’ rooms, it was readily apparent Vincent was left on his own to find entertainment.&nbsp; The decision was easy enough to make as he went into his room and grabbed the sports bag containing his smithing tools and a few craftings that were either finished or needing a bit more work.&nbsp; It was a weighty piece of luggage, but one that he had become very familiar with toting.&nbsp; From there, he hopped in his car and headed for the CSU campus’ art workshops where he had set up his simple forge.<br><br>It hadn’t come as a surprise to Vincent that the campus was so desolate, doubly so for the building that housed the workshops.&nbsp; Not that he particularly minded; he was actually looking forward to having some space to work.&nbsp; The way to the room was particularly eerie with its silence, save for what could have been a cough coming from somewhere within.&nbsp; All the more reason he was glad to get to his forge and fill that silence with the dull sound of a ventilation fan over heating coals and the rhythmic hammering as he worked to secure the newly crafted axe head to its hearty wooden handle as he waited for his forge to get to temp.<br><br>All-in-all, it was a pretty good start to his morning.
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Etherealgirl</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 21:02:40</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://korpoarto.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/b2/Brittanya%20O%20Campo%20Makeup%2003.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Megan Ramirez (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.msg10638706#msg10638706)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Westcoast Ink<br><strong>Time and Date</strong>: 8:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open/Anyone<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Sunglasses (http://www.187avenue.com/brittanya/Brittanya187_Store/Acc/IMG_8502.jpg)/Daisy Duke shorts and black shirt that is cut off from the stomach down (http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/71/b1/ac71b184e043992e436ec72b3dd04d5d.jpg)<br><strong>Music</strong>: Do Listen (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Aj9_8t1eQc)<br><hr> Megan sluggishly walked from the Starbucks down the street to the tattoo shop where she worked. In her right hand she nursed a cup of coffee, and in her left she checked Facebook on her iphone. Fuck there was alot of annoying messages about the so called 'epidemic' going on. Sure, the disease had knocked her on her ass and kept her bed ridden for a few days, but she was feeling much better now. Well except the splitting headache from a hang over the night before. <br><br>Se sipped her coffee, her bloodshot eyes hidden behind her dark tinted sunglasses. She had rolled out of bed about an hour ago, and took another thirty minutes doing her make up and straitened her hair. Just because she was hungover didn't mean she could look like shit. Megan turned the corner and brushed past a few people who were openly coughing. <br><br>"Cover your mouths, assholes! Fuck!" she mumbled, openly scolding them for spilling their disease out into the air.<br><br>When she opened reached the shop, she opened it and closed it behind her. She locked the door and looked around. The shop didn't open until ten, and she didn't want any people to come barging in before then. The tattoo shop was decent sized, with a large black desk at the front. Numerous art work and photos littered the walls, and in the back sat several tattoo chairs and benches. <br><br>Johnny, her boss was all ready in the back office, probably going over the schedule for the day. His face gave her a scowl from behind the low angled black hat he always wore. "Oi! Sugar-Tits, your late! First day back to work and you are fuckin' late!" he yelled form the office. <br><br>"Ugh, for fucks sake, Johnny. By like what...ten minutes?" Megan replied, sipping her coffee and walking to the back office. She leaned against the entrance of it and looked down at him. His fondness for vulgar nicknames was getting on her nerves today. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lynnette</strong> on <strong>29-10-2014, 22:50:50</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://38.media.tumblr.com/ad66562d74898918cf33467bf6c43c97/tumblr_nbkqkp3T3B1tztn6eo1_1280.jpg)</div> Ayano's day had started off quite tamely. She was still feeling a tad ill, but she had become so accustomed to illnesses that she simply ignored it. As annoying as it was, it didn't really affect her concentration ability, and she was appearing a lot more healthy than most of the ones she could see through the windows leading out to the street from the store. Little Tokyo in all its pride, or, more correctly, whatever pride it had. The place felt abandoned, with most staying at home due to the current epidemic. Business had been horribly slow the last few days, with close to no visitors, and no sales whatsoever.<br><br>The store itself was mostly a big mess consisting of shelves she had gotten on discount that didn't match, in varying heights and colors, hosting whatever she managed to get her hands on of antiques. She had a fake degree in archeology hanging on the back wall, as a small helper, though she was quite capable of identifying objects with the help of a few history books and wikipedia. Most of her sales went to rich Americans who wanted a sword to decorate a wall, be it Jokoto era (First era) or Gendaito (Post WW2). Other than that, she had managed to get her hands on a lot of old wall scrolls, artwork and stories, as well as different kinds of jewelry and even a complete set of Japanese Samurai Armor, as well as a few Chinese swords as well.<br><br>Currently, Ayano was kind of half asleep over the counter, with the radio talking in the background, though she wasn't paying too much attention to it. She was considering going out to get lunch, but decided to wait and instead see for a bit longer, before eventually closing the store for the day and going to do something productive... Or just not do anything at all, waiting for the day to pass.
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chreestafer</strong> on <strong>30-10-2014, 14:47:25</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/52/fe/72/52fe72d2e137fac82fdab79ce7de49ba.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> <em>Kyler Bishop</em> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.0)<br><strong>Inventory:</strong> <br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Gear</div><div class="spoiler_body">Basic Items on self, Wallet, Watch, Nail Necklace from grandmother<br></div></div><br><strong>Location:</strong> <em> Bishop Books (My book Store) </em><br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> <em> About 7A.M. </em><br><strong>Tagging:</strong> <em> Open For The Moment </em><br><hr><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Bishops Books</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/f8/70/35/leakey-s-second-hand.jpg)</div></div><br><em>'AND THE DEAD WILL RISE, AND WHERE WILL YOUR SOUL BE WHEN JESUS RETURNS...'</em> the radio blared loudly in his ear as he shot upwards almost falling from the chair he was in.&nbsp; Grogy eyes turned about as his hand slapped the radio that unjustly woke him from his slumber.&nbsp; A sideways whiskey bottle almost rolled from the table, a lazy hand slipping out to just barely catch it, as he realized he had fallen asleep at work, again.&nbsp; The throbing in his head wasn't helping him as stood slowly, nausea and dizziness feeling his head. <br><br>"Holy fuck, how much did I drink last night" <br><br>His bloodshot eyes were on fire as he took the bottle slipping it into the trash.&nbsp; Rubbing his green eyes he stretched out as realization hit him, he needed to unlock the door.&nbsp; Soon his only employee, a younger girl who practically begged him for a job, would show up.&nbsp; He wasnt sure why he kept her on or why she even wanted to be here.&nbsp; The book store had its regulars but it wasn't as big as any of the chain stores.&nbsp; Plus with the recent illnesses he's only seen about 3 people enter this whole week, and no one bought a thing.<br><br>He waddled, in a hungover state, to the door unlocking it.&nbsp; A yawn escaped him as he returned to the table to find he reeked of booze.&nbsp; In the back room he always kept a change of clothing, so while the store was still quiet he ventured to find the bag and change.&nbsp; Seconds turned to minutes as he couldn't find the bag, Leslie must have moved with.<br><br>He growled to himself and began to head up front when he noticed the bag in the corner.&nbsp; He tore his shirt off, the cool air whisping softly across the burn scars, the scars that never seemed to stop hurting.&nbsp; He stretched once more before pulling a new t shirt, one with a penguin wearing headphones, from the bag and began to slip it on.
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				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kerri</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 01:20:28</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://thehairfiles.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/jasmine-sanders1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Leslie Ann Thompson<br><strong>Locations:</strong> On her way to the bookstore and the bookstore<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7 am<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kyler Bishop&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>Leslie woke early, stretching noisily, she was happy to realize that the bug she had seemed to be all but almost gone. A small cough remained, but she could happily deal with that. The last couple of days had been a bit rough, but she had still went in to work. She couldn't afford to miss and it seemed that since both her and her boss, Mr. Bishop, had the same thing it wasn't going to hurt to be there. <br><br>Leslie went about her morning, showering, getting changed into her favorite bluejeans and a t-shirt with the classic Aerosmith logo. The white wings over her breasts on the otherwise black shirt. She tied it in the back right above the waist band of her jeans as was her custom with bigger baggier shirts. <br><br>With that she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. She only lived a couple blocks from the bookstore and walked to work everyday. On her way her thoughts went to her boss, she had noticed that he seemed to be less put together lately. She had noticed that he smelled of alcohol more often than not lately and she had even found the remnants of his drinking in the trash bins when she took the garbage out or straightening the back room. <br><br>She found the streets more quiet than normal and she was pretty much on autopilot as she walked down the sidewalk. The few people out and about all seemed to be coughing or sniffling and Leslie wondered just how many people had gotten this flu, it seemed so much more wide spread than any illness she had ever seen before. Soon finding herself at work she turned into the recessed doorway just as someone passed behind her coughing horribly. She glanced back just in time to see the man turn his head towards her and cough once more. She felt the wetness of his spittle on her face and she turned quickly back to the door and let herself into the shop. <br><br>Walking to the back of the store, she was surprised to see her boss standing there, arms stretched above his head as he put on a shirt. Her eyes passed over his toned chest and abs, pausing to roam over the scars upon his chest. She froze, unsure of what to do or say.<br><br>Finally shaking herself out of her momentary stupor, she cleared her throat and shook her head.. "Mr. Bishop, I'm here." She turned and headed back to the front of the store, with the lingering scent of liquor still burning her nostrils. <br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 02:40:09</strong>
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				<br><div align="center">(http://s29.postimg.org/n3la7iec7/bloodeye.jpg)</div><br><br>(Dean)<br><br>It didn't appear Los Angeles had oodles in the way of gun shops. This was probably attributed to the absolutely stupid and overzealous laws the state had adopted over the years. And the lawmakers made it ridiculously difficult to sell guns, which usually discouraged would-be entrepreneurs from traveling down that business avenue. As such, he definitely got the brunt of such exchanges because his venue was most definitely something unique. <br><br>Marcus Zeh had woken up this morning feeling like a bag of beaten ass. His head felt like it was going to split open in the worst migraine in history. He took some pills for it -- some Tylenol 3 that he had left from his hospital stay when he had his gall bladder surgery last spring -- which took the edge off. But still, he really felt just plain terrible and ended up calling into work for the fourth day in a row. <br><br>Marcus had a gun, but with all this epidemic shit on the news radio, he was kind of feeling paranoid and knew he only had one box of ammunition. So, he thought he'd make a run to the gun shop on Vine and then spend the rest of the day sleeping, but at least ready in case something bad happened. And damn, was he ever hungry.<br><br>Marcus walked into the store, his light auburn hair a curly mass and his nose and eyes red. It was clear he was suffering from the flu. He had a tissue with him and he slowly walked towards the counter in way that indicated he had the crappy body aches. He offered Dean a small shrug and a lopsided, uncomfortable smile, but his face was so pale with sickness that he just looked pitiful. "Hi. Man, this flu shit is the pits isn't it?" he asked offhandedly as he came to stand in front of the glass counter.<br><br>"I'm uh...looking to pick up a few boxes of .45 caliber hollow points. Not sure how bad things...are gonna ge--" his request was interrupted by an enormous and sudden sneeze. He caught the brunt of it in his tissue, but so much mucous had come out that little goopy cloudy pink flecks of it shot out from the sides of his hand. He even bent over with the force of the sneeze and kind of seemed to spasm there stiffly for a few moments as if he might be having a seizure. <br><br>He lethargically straightened and his hand dropped from his face, leaving the abused tissue sticking thickly over his mouth and nose. It was almost comical, but something was horribly wrong with the man's eyes, which were ringed with dark red because it looked like his blood vessels had all burst when he sneezed. Those eyes focused on Dean and they kind of seemed to go cold. An odd noise escaped Marcus' mouth, causing the tissue to flutter around a little. It was like he was trying to speak, but appeared to be so angry that he was incapable of it. He visibly trembled as the veins began to stand out on the sides of his face.<br><br><strong><em>"YuuOOOOOAAAAR!!!"</em></strong> he bellowed suddenly, so loud one might have thought his vocal cords would have ruptured. Then he lunged for Marcus with such a ferocity that his knees struck the glass display case between himself and Dean that the glass shattered. Marcus' arms stretched out for Dean, his fingers tensed and spread like elongated talons as though he sought to tear the man to pieces. <strong><em>"GggggrrAAAHHHH"</em></strong> he roared, seeking purchase with his tennis shoes so that he could reach the man.<br><br><br>(Vincent)<br><br>The cough that Vincent had thought he heard had come from Angel Torres. Vincent knew Angel from their mutual frequenting the shops here on campus. What Vincent didn't know was that Angel had spent the night here in the shop because he had felt too weak and sick to go home the previous day. He didn't feel any better today. At about the same time that the person formerly known as Marcus was shattering Dean's display case; Angel Torres was seizing on the floor in the bathroom. <br><br>Thick ropes of bubbling pinkish snot drained from his nose and oozed down his cheeks. Finally, he lay still for a moment, his breathing shallow and congested. Then, Angel stood up, slowly, and began to almost lazily walk out of the room. By now, Vincent was banging away at his axe. He probably didn't see the now very dangerous Mr. Torres as he shuffled out of the bathroom. The twenty-something college senior kind of stood for a couple of seconds, kind of swaying and gazing dumbly at the ground. He had a gnawing, hot hunger in the pit of his stomach. He could feel that. He had never, ever been this hungry before.<br><br>Gradually, Angel lifted his head and walked some more. He didn't seem to have a sense of direction initially because every now and then he would pause and linger in one spot before continuing. Finally, he seemed to notice Vincent. His face, which was still shiny and drippy with that odd mucous draining from his nose began to twist and contort as if Vincent was the most hated person ever to be in the same room with him. The muscles and tendons on his neck were so tense that they stood out beneath his skin. <br><br>Suddenly, he was running and fast right at Vincent just as he bellowed enormously, <strong><em>"RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"</em></strong> His sneakered feet struck the hard pavement in the shop repeatedly as he thundered forward like a linebacker. Angels face, which had previously been moderately good looking, thanks to his mother's side, was little more than a mask of slime and pulsating rage. Like Marcus, his eyes were red with blood.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angie</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 02:59:41</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://blog.friendster.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Human-Warrior.png)</div></div><strong>Name:</strong> Dean<br><strong>Location:</strong> One Shot Only (His gun shop)<br><strong>Time:</strong> 7-8 am, ish<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Someone I'm about to make a corpse.<br><hr><br>Hey, a customer. Time to look professional. <br><br>Dean rose from his chair in the back and came up to meet the customer. "I'd shake your hand, but I just got over that shit myself, rather not get it again." He said, smiling. ".45 Hollowpoint? Alright, let me just-bless you, man." He looked off to the side, then looked back as he saw the man make those rather odd movements. "You alright, man?" Marcus looked fucking weird...and then came the eyes. And then the sounds. And then the...smashing? Holy shit, that glass was tough-still glass, but meant so that your usual punch or kick couldn't break it. <br><br>Dean lept back, his heart skipping a beat. <em>Get control, damnit. DO NOT PANIC.</em> His mind said. In a flash, he drew his pistol and aimed it at the man. "Sit the fuck down!" He commanded, pointing the weapon at him. "I said sit down!" Last warning. When Marcus failed to respond, he fired a round into the man's chest. That didn't seem to stop him, and Dean had a split second to decide-Dean or Marcus walked away from this. It was going to be Dean. Another squeeze of the trigger. A bullet in through the skull, through the brain. Marcus's now lifeless body dropped. <br><br>As he caught his breath, Dean walked over and flipped the open sign on his door to closed. Then he picked up his phone and called 911. "Hello, 911? I'm going to need an ambulance. A man just tried to...I don't know what he was doing, but I'm fairly certain he just tried to kill me." There would be security footage of the attack, showing the cops that he was in the right. "Bring a lot of gloves." He advised before hanging up.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 04:13:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>(Megan)<br><br><br>On the other side of the city where Megan and Johnny's parlor was set up, the morning was just revving up. By now most stores that were going to have people to open them were opened and the street outside had some shoppers in varying degrees of wellness. All in all, it was completely possible that things were starting to turn around in L.A. this morning. Little did the two inside Westcoast Ink know, California had seen the last of its good days. <br><br>At 10:13, their first and probably only appointment for the morning was just showing up. His name was Dave Angler and he was something of a regular here at Westcoast. He had one full sleeve of tats on his right arm and a partial on his left, which Johnny was supposed to be turning into a full sleeve here over the next few months. Dave spend a lot of money in here, but he certainly had it. Rumor had it he had been the original bass player for Powerman 5000 just before they hit it big. Or maybe it was Five Finger Death Punch? Dave never spoke of it any of it, but he did have good money and he kind of looked the part. <br><br>Megan and Johnny could see Dave and his permanent five o'clock shadow walking past the window towards their door. He grabbed the handle and yanked it open in his typical tough-guy-but-I'm-a-teddy-bear fashion.&nbsp; Dave didn't even notice that he'd apparently caught someone's attention across the street. But just before he'd reached the door, some ill looking woman had taken notice of him and had stopped her sluggish, ambling walk down the sidewalk just outside of JBar. She stared voraciously at him as he opened the door and started to walk in.<br><br>"Hey, beautiful!" Dave greeted first Megan, as he usually greeted her. He was about to greet Johnny too, but the lady from across the street didn't give him a chance. She had taken off running and then suddenly and quite literally had hurled herself at Dave's back. The only sound that came from her was the sharp clacking as she champed her teeth like an alligator. He barely even got to turn when her body connected with his and they both sprawled on the ground.<br><br><strong><em>"AAAAAAAAAAGGHHHH!!!"</em></strong> she screeched, her voice full of hate and victory before she lunged down and sank her teeth into his throat. There was a wet, meaty sound when that happened.<br><br>"Jesus-ACK-GGH!" Dave had hollered, trying to recover before she had bitten into him. Then a strangled, sloppy gurgling sound escaped from his throat as the woman had in fact bitten into his jugular. Dark blood spurted from his throat and this guy who had a really decently strong build spastically flailed as he tried to throw the woman off of him while his life's essence squirted onto the floor of Westcoast Ink.<br><br><br><div align="center">(http://s29.postimg.org/n3la7iec7/bloodeye.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><br>(Ayano)<br><br>Some sixty-something year old man almost literally threw himself through Ayano's humble little shop window. It was almost literal because he bounced off the first time he had lunged into the glass, the sound of his bony body thumping against the pane quite unique. But the second time, he apparently propelled himself with such force that this time, his thin frame connected just right and the brilliantly loud shattering of her window pierced the previously quiet morning on Ayano's street.<br><br>The man stumbled into the store, his body bleeding in various spots from some lacerations he had obtained from broken glass. None of this seemed to bother him though, nor was he embarrassed or troubled by the gloppy salmon colored mucous that was oozing from his nasal passage. His eyes were dark red minus the pale blue where his irises were. He continued to move forward, crashing carelessly into some of her cheap shelves, easily knocking them over. None of the crashing bothered him for he was so intently angry at the pretty, frail looking Asian girl at the back of the store.<br><br><strong><em>"G-GEH!!"</em></strong> he shouted at her as he crushed a little doll figurine in a kimono beneath his feet. He moved surprisingly quick for someone old and who clearly didn't care where they were going.<br><br><strong><em>"MAGHH!"</em></strong> another voice cried out in blind anger behind him. A woman with the same face full of sick hate and blood-filled eyes was now climbing through the window. She was wearing an apron and worked at a diner a couple blocks away. Spittle flew from her lips and she shoved past a small shelf full of little Buddah's and started to rush forward just as that thing fell down with a crash, narrowly missing the old man. Apparently Ayano had made her mad too.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxfyr</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 04:31:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h289/masta_loki/tattoo_thumb1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Vincent Kincaid<br><strong>Locations:</strong> Art workshop, CSU campus<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7-8 am, ish<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Angel Torres (Zombie)&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>Vincent was distantly aware that somebody else had entered the workshop as he hammered away at his new axe, ensuring the head was firmly seated with the handle.&nbsp; It wasn’t until a blood-curdling scream caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and his attention to snap to his classmate with a fresh surge of adrenaline.&nbsp; He was only granted a glimpse of the embodiment of disease charged towards him as Vincent’s feet, thinking quickly, dashed aside from the charging body before his conscious thought had a chance to really register what was happening.<br><br>Even as Angel’s charge narrowly missed, Vincent could see that his hands were still reaching out towards him without bothering to redirect his momentum.&nbsp; <strong>”Dude, what the f-“</strong>&nbsp; That was all Vincent could shout before Angel’s foot caught his tool bag, causing his compromised balance to fail entirely before falling into the simple furnace of glowing hot coals.&nbsp; In a cacophony of clamoring metal, the simply welded legs of the forge basin snapped as Angel fell to the ground amongst a pile of smoldering embers as the forge’s contents dumped its contents over his head and back.&nbsp; Vincent could only watch wide-eyed with horror as coals hot enough to form metal charred though thin clothing and fused to Angel’s flesh.<br><br><strong>”Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!&nbsp; What the fuck were you thinking, Angel?!”</strong>&nbsp; Vincent cried out, using the axe head to start sweeping coals off his classmate.&nbsp; <strong>”Don’t you dare die on me; you owe me a new forge, you dick.”</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Etherealgirl</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 15:07:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://korpoarto.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/b2/Brittanya%20O%20Campo%20Makeup%2003.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Megan Ramirez (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.msg10638706#msg10638706)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Westcoast Ink<br><strong>Time and Date</strong>: 10:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open/Anyone<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Sunglasses (http://www.187avenue.com/brittanya/Brittanya187_Store/Acc/IMG_8502.jpg)/Daisy Duke shorts and black shirt that is cut off from the stomach down (http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/71/b1/ac71b184e043992e436ec72b3dd04d5d.jpg)<br><strong>Music</strong>: Do Listen (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Aj9_8t1eQc)<br><hr> "What the fuck!?!"Megan yelled, her eyes wide as she stumbled back from the initial shock of Dave being attacked by some crazed woman. <br><br>The crimson blood spilled from Dave's throat and pooled on the hard tile of the tattoo parlor's floor. Megan could see the sickening color spread, and her own shocked face in the reflection. It didn't take long for Dave's life essence to drain out from his body. <br><br>"Johnny!" Megan called out, knocking over her coffee that she had set up on the front desk. "Johnny get your fucking ass out here! NOW!" <br><br>Megan didn't know what was wrong with the woman. Maybe she was on bath salts, or some other kind of drugs. Megan nearly felt as if she would vomit when she then witnessed the woman start eating poor simple Dave. <br><br><em>Fuck...this is bad...are...are they fucking Zom-</em> No, Megan wouldn't finish that thought. She wouldn't dare use the 'zed' word. This was real life. Real life didn't have shit like this. <br><br>When Johnny hadn't come out yet, Megan ran around to the front desk and grabbed a wooden baseball bat that Johnny had kept there, in case of assholes who decided to rob the place. This was L.A. after all. Megan gripped the bat in both hands and approached the woman gnawing on Dave. <br><br>"'Yo Bitch! Get off him or I swear to fucking God I'll hit you!" Megan warned, her heart racing and her eyes narrowing She cautiously approached the woman. <br><br>When the woman didn't get off, Megan screamed at her and then slammed the bat on top of the woman's head!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 21:16:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Eat95O5eik/VFPiUh4NhuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LwZLDhLpRcg/s1600/1hot-djs-20%2Bthin.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: DJ<br><strong>Location</strong>: USC Student Radio<br><strong>Time and Date:</strong> 10:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Melody, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit / Open<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Jeans, T-shirt, Running Shoes<br><br><hr>DJ never thought he would be happy to have someone cough up blood right in front of him but it sure did come in handy this morning. The starting linebacker for the USC football team and his three teammates were two steps from pounding him into the floor when the radio station manager lurched between them hacking and coughing and spraying the 235 pound muscle head and his friends with foamy blood. Now the four of them just stood there stunned in their USC red team shirts.<br><br>Usually it wasn’t 10 in the morning when he was about to pounded but this time the cause was no different from all the other beat-downs: a girl. No, you couldn’t call Melody a girl. She was definitely a woman. He could see her out of the corner of his eye standing next to her beloved Professor Nesbit. Even with a stunned look on her face she looked incredible. “Damn!” he thought, “She was worth 20 ass whoopings.”<br><br>The day had started as expected for DJ in the student-radio offices at USC. He had a show that would air later in the evening but he could never trust Bobby, Jason, and Ricky, his helpers on the show, to be in any shape to produce a show live at air time. Interviews, like the one scheduled today with Dr. Nesbit, had to be recorded as early as possible before his crew started their daily ritual. He knew Melody would show up today. It was her idea to bring in Dr. Nesbit to comment on all of the hysteria going around about people getting sick. The boys planned to pepper the interview with a new segment they were calling “Crazy Radio Clips” where they would play recordings of lunatics ranting and raving conspiracy crap over their basement radio station. <br><br>What DJ hadn’t counted on were the four jocks who trailed into the studios with Melody. She had picked up these strays on her walk over from the Psychology building. His irritation had grown into full out anger as they flirted with Melody and she flirted back. Melody and he were not exclusive by any stretch but he couldn’t help but jump when it felt like she was turning her attention to leave with someone else. Lately, texts from someone she knew downtown caused the same reaction. Whoever sent those texts completely stole Melody’s attention every time the little wolf-whistle tone announced a new text. These jocks, however, were stealing her attention right in front of him, right in his own studio. That shit just wasn’t going to fly. He started with comments about their crappy performance in the last game and went from there. It didn’t take very long.<br><br>Now everyone stood there circled around the studio. The studio manager apologized and began to try to wipe up some of the blood but turned to run toward the restrooms in the midst of another coughing fit. Bobby and Jason began to chuckle and snort. Just as everyone’s eyes turned back from the door closing behind the station manager the room filled with that damn text alert tone. Everyone turned to face Melody as she took out her phone which continued to wolf-whistle.<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>31-10-2014, 23:04:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(Leslie and Kyler)<br><br><div align="center">(http://s12.postimg.org/gk20qoqlp/lamborghini.jpg)</div><br><br>Kevin Blackshear was <em>really</em> sick. But, boy he sure loved his car. It was a Lamborghini. He didn't know what kind it was, hell, he didn't know shit about cars. To be perfectly honest, he couldn't change a tire or anything of that sort on a car. He could barely pump gas. But, as the Senior Marketing Director of Manufacturers Bank here in sunny Los Angeles, California, if he wanted to continue to make his ghastly monthly payments, then sometimes he had to give the Devil his due and today that meant going into work when instead he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.<br><br>His car zoomed through the barely occupied streets of the Fashion District and when he pulled up to an intersection, he had barely compressed the brake with his foot when he was seized by a vicious sneezing fit. Kevin had enough time to cup his hand cover his nose with his handkerchief and was appalled when he saw he had sneezed out nasty pink globs of mucous. He jerked because someone behind him had honked and looked up. The light had turned green and so he moved his foot back to the accelerator and zoomed down the street.<br><br>Kevin was really in no condition to be driving a two ton projectile, but people usually were poor judges of what they could handle. He began feeling odd and irritable as he was approaching South Flower Street. The light at the intersection started to change and Kevin suddenly constricted and shook behind the steering wheel as a seizure overwhelmed him. His foot completely compressed the accelerator and the car tore through the intersection with a roar form its high powered engine and bark of rubber on asphalt. Several other cars coming from the opposing side of the intersection got entangled in a wreck because of this.<br><br>But Kevin didn't notice the six car pile up, instead he plummeted through a small parking lot and his prized car shot into the display window of Bishop's Books. There was a major cacophony of noise, shattering glass, screeching tires, startled screams, crowded bookshelves being thrown back and knocked down. The few people on the street now had to decide if they were going to gape at the pile up in the intersection, or the expensive car that had just tore into a little book store.<br><br>Kevin was knocked around inside the car and barely managed to open the door. It lifted up and Kevin spilled out of the drivers side onto the floor, hardly catching himself with his hands. He trembled and a wad of bloody snot dropped form his nose and mouth as he crouched amidst fallen books, glass shards, and the delicate pinging sound issuing from his car alerting him that the door was ajar.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lynnette</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 00:45:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://38.media.tumblr.com/ad66562d74898918cf33467bf6c43c97/tumblr_nbkqkp3T3B1tztn6eo1_1280.jpg)</div> Ayano had been getting ready for her lunch-break when her attention was brought over to the entrance-doors. She could see clear marks that someone had been jumping straight into the glass, especially going by the person standing outside her store getting ready for the second attempt. She stood up, staggered, as the man jumped through the glass, large bits of it ending up in his skin. "S-Sir... Are you alright?" There wasn't really any reason to ask, she had seen quite a lot, but what was before her eyes took the cake and everything that came along with it. She almost fell over her chair as she stepped backwards when the man started approaching her, but she managed to make her way around it, approaching the back of the store. However, when she reached it, she remembered that she had locked it, because there were some valuables in there that she didn't want to expose, and the keys were under the counter where she had been, which was getting progressively harder to reach, and it didn't get any better when a second person entered the store through the passage created by the first.<br><br>Neither of them looked like they were feeling very well, to put it lightly. Bloodied eyes, a severe ignorance to the pain that crushing the glass would lead, and the lack of vocabulary. Was it an extreme case of the pandemic going around? Regardless, she was mostly well again at this point, so it couldn't be affecting everyone. It was tempting to just leave the store, but she doubted that it would be any better outside. Instead, she did the only thing any semi-same person would do - She reached out for a weapon she had never operated before and pulled off the sheet off the long, curved blade. It was too long for her by a couple inches, she had a rough idea by how long a katana should be for a person, and she knew the blade was a tad too long for her to use, but then again, she wasn't really intending to cut anyone up either. She knew how to hold the weapon at least. Right hand as close to the blade as possible, while the left hand as far as possible while still retaining a proper grip. She had just ended up throwing the scabbard&nbsp; aside. She had the blade-tip pointing towards the two entities as she slowly moved herself towards the desk, going for her keys. However, the person was too quick, he would reach her before she would have her keys...<br><br>"It- It's alright... It's in self defense... Completely legal, and necessary..." She mumbled to herself, trying to convince herself, preparing herself mentally for what she was about to do. As little as she wanted to, she would have to cut at him. She wasn't going for his life, she was hoping to just take an arm at max, preferably just a finger or two, though she guessed that would be pretty hard. She shifted her grip on the blade, the tip of the sharp edge only resting half an inch over the floor, ready to slice up towards the person in front of her. She was sure she had seen him before somewhere, it was a horrible thought. She couldn't remember talking to the man before, but she did recognize some of his features, despite the rather... Messed up physique.<br><br>And then, she cut. Pulling with her left hand, making the blade pull in a rounded curve towards the person's waist, hoping to just hit his arm. Only a few inches would go through him, like it should. It was always the tip of the blade that was to be used, not the central or lower blade. It was the tip that held the most force, and she didn't want to see fingers half-cut, if she was going for it, she would go in for it to get them all the way off, she wasn't ready to see them hanging halfway on.<br><br>She didn't get the reaction she had hoped for sadly. The blade cut too easily through the fingers which she had managed to hit like she had intended. She ended up cutting all the way in to his spine before even realizing, stopping the blade, pulling it back quickly, with a very disappointing result. It both made her feel sick and it didn't stop the person it seemed like. If anything, it probably angered it further. She considered slashing again, but instead dropped the blade, leaped out for the keys, before quickly running back to the door leading to the back-room and her apartment, fumbling around with the keys while trying to keep an eye on the two <em>things</em> at the same time. She managed to open the door after a bit of struggling, and quickly pushed open the door, before slamming it back to its closed position, locking it with both the door-lock and the door-chain, before taking a few steps back from it, breathing heavily. "Oh god... What do I do... 911!" She pulled out her phone and quickly dialed the emergency number.<br><br>"We are currently experiencing large traffic and can not-" Ayano hung up, sighing, ending up leant back towards the back wall, looking at the door, just waiting for it to be broken down really. She was desperately hoping it wouldn't happen, but it was an old door, there was no way it would hold, and there wasn't really anything in the back room that would help her too much either. There was the antique blade that had arrived a few days ago, straight from a shrine in Japan, but she didn't want to use it, it was worth several thousand dollars! Finest quality blade, a tad old but still very capable however, and she doubted that she would be able to sell the sword dead. She ended up picking it up at least, attaching the scabbard to the belt of the cheap knockoff kimono she was wearing, before pulling out the 29" blade in all it's glory. Far more fit for her height and physique, she would at least manage to use this, unlike the massive blade from earlier.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kerri</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 02:45:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://thehairfiles.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/jasmine-sanders1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Leslie Ann Thompson<br><strong>Locations:</strong> On her way to the bookstore and the bookstore<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7 am<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kyler Bishop&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>Leslie didn't make it very far into the front of the store before a commotion outside had her looking towards the windows. It was screeching metal and loud crashes that brought her attention to the correct window just in time to see an obnoxiously yellow vehicle come hurling towards the bookstore. She screamed out. Her fear momentarily freezing her in her tracks, much like a deer in the headlights. Luckily, Leslie snapped out of her frozen state quickly. She turned and ran for the back of the store as she heard the sound of the car crashing into the building. <br><br>The entire building shook and she felt the floor moving underneath her, even as she ran. The sound of glass shattering and metal rending came to an end, but there was no silence to be had as the bookshelves, now unbalanced teetered and fell. The books came clattering to the floor but Leslie didn't stop, her fight or flight instinct fully working, she was trying to get the hell out of the way. Hands clutched over her chest, almost as if she were attempting to hold her heart in her chest. She stopped as she realized that the immediate danger had passed, or at least she thought it had. She turned, then called out for her boss. "Mr. Bishop..... Are you okay?" <br><br>She turned back towards the disaster that was the front of the store, calling out once more, "Holy fuck, I guess I'll call 911!" She moved back towards the front where the car was softly beeping. Laura's nerves were shattered and her entire body shook as she prepared herself to see what she thought was surely going to be a dead person in the driver's seat. In her mind there was no way anyone could have survived the force of the impact that the vehicle hit the wall. <br><br>She reached out for the phone before she turned to see the vehicle and the man crouching beside one of the shelves. Her eyes widened as she saw his condition, but there was something wrong about him. His posture, the way he stared, she wasn't sure but it was all totally off, she began to speak once again, but instead turned hoping to find her boss there to help her. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 15:45:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j_xdUCCnjsE/VFTjqpZY8kI/AAAAAAAAAHM/d20v2Xy778Y/s1600/colleen-shannon-19%2Bsmall.jpg)</div>Name: Melody Vee<br>Location: USC Student Radio<br>Time and Date: 10:15am<br>Tagging: DJ, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit / Open<br>Wearing: Jeans, cropped shirt, sandals<br><br>Melody thought that things were really looking up. The four cute boys here checking her out meant that she didn’t look like the pile of warm shit she had felt like for that last few days. Attention always felt good and she couldn’t help but capture the football players’ attention as she walked with Dr. Nesbit across campus. It had been easy to meet their gaze, which was always more ogling than gaze. Next came a laugh or two at their stupid comment, usually something about her eyes even though they were staring at her chest. Last came a playful invite to come along; “It’s an interview with the professor here. It’ll be fun.” They swallowed the hook and jumped at the chance. <br><br>“DJ shouldn’t mind too much,” she thought. She and DJ had just spent the last three days together at his apartment nursing each other back to health. She had snuck into his apartment while he was out on one of his long runs and waited in the bath. But a night of fun had turned into a morning of fever and coughing for both of them. When DJ did go out for something from the drugstore he came back empty handed. Empty shelves at Walgreens meant several green days for her… and him.<br><br>But the good times had unraveled pretty quickly. DJ had gone after the football players pretty hard. That was one of the things she did like about DJ. He would let most things go in his easygoing manner with a shrug and a laugh but more than once she had done something that had set him off. When that happened he turned into a possessive asshole that didn’t take shit from anyone and if he stayed riled up long enough would drive her hard in bed. This time it would likely get his head caved in.<br><br>The unraveling didn’t stop there either. First came the blood spray. Ugh! In stunned silence, all eyes had followed the station manager out of the room. When her phone signaled a new text with a distinctive wolf-whistle, all eyes had turned to her. Melody had been hiding at DJ’s apartment partially because she didn’t feel well but mostly she had been riding out this ugly-fest she was having and avoiding the woman she hoped would never see her in that sickly, pathetic state. Meeting DJ’s eyes Melody could tell that he knew the text was from somebody else important. Putting the phone down would signal that she was with him. <br><br>She didn’t put the phone down; instead her pulse jumped as she read the name, Megan. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 20:39:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div align="center">(http://s3.postimg.org/c0r7fai3n/gunsammo.jpg)</div><br>(Dean)<br><br>Marcus was dead. For now, Dean was safe. But, outside he could see that something more was going down on Vine Street. Outside of his windows, he could hear someone release a high pitched scream and a moment later a woman in a pair of cheap stilettos ran down the sidewalk. Behind her, by mere feet, followed two screaming individuals, their hands reaching out for her. Across the street he would be able to see other people running. Somewhere, out of sight, he could hear someone of authority, likely a police officer barking orders at someone. This was followed shortly by the sharp retort of a pistol being fired three times. Then, perhaps a few stores down, something shattered and an alarm began to sound.&nbsp; On Vine Street, things were deteriorating fast.<br><br><br><br>(Vincent)<br><br>The really twisted thing about Vincent's situation was that even as he tried to brush the burning coals from Angel's body, the young man that he knew never once cried out in pain or even indicated that he felt any. Instead, the unforgettable odor of burnt flesh and hair became quite noticeable after a few moments. Angel didn't even seem concerned to try and get the coals off of himself. As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to recognize Vincent. He just seemed very angry at him. The animal that was now Angel reached out and grabbed Vincent's arm with the tenacious strength of someone who was experiencing an intense rage.<br><br>He yanked on his arm with the intent to bring the other young man down. Then, in a truly creepy display, Angel lifted his head up, bared his teeth and chomped at Vincent's arm. His teeth were slimy and blood coated and they made a wicked clacking sound. Whether he was crazy or not, Angel didn't even seem to be worried about the formidable axe in Vincent's hand - he just seemed very interested in what his arm tasted like.<br><br>Outside, not that Vincent could hear it yet, but he wasn't the only one on campus fighting for his life. There were screams in the dorm rooms as people were attacked. A female freshman screamed in horror as her own twin sister who was also her roommate roared in rage and tried to eat the side of her face. She did get a bite in, her teeth sank into her cheek and she cried out in mutual agony and terror. She managed to push her sister off and run across her bedroom towards the window. Next, she pushed it open and began to climb out. Inside, her sister reached out and snagged her pony tail. Again, the "well" sister scream and struggled to escape.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angie</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 20:54:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://blog.friendster.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Human-Warrior.png)</div></div><strong>Name:</strong> Dean<br><strong>Location:</strong> One Shot Only (His gun shop)<br><strong>Time:</strong> Midmorning-Noon (somewhere in time! Great Iron Maiden album!)<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr><br>Dean hung up after getting mostly the automated response from the 911 line, and looked outside to see what was happening. What was outside? Utter chaos. Vine Street was going to hell, and most of L.A. was sure to follow. "Oh fuck." He said, without thinking. "Fucking hell, Dad. If only you were alive to see this. You were right. You were right all along. Shoulda moved to Washington when I had the fucking chance." <br><br>His Dad was a big of a conspiracy nut and a crazy survivalist. No bunker in the middle of the woods, but the man dedicated his free time to surviving any hostile environment. He had told Dean many times that the cities could collapse at any moment. That the American way of living in giant steel mazes could crash at any time. And here it was, proof that Dean Sr. had been right on the money. "This isn't some regular flu, Dad." He looked back at the still warm corpse of Marcus. "I can't get the zombie word out of my head, and now I'm talking to myself. This hasn't been a good morning, has it, me?" He asked. <br><br>Whatever was going down, 'zombie' infection or not, Dean needed a plan. Going home would be a good idea. He had supplies there. Extra water, plenty of non-perishables, some guns and ammo, medical supplies, and some booze for special circumstances. However, without him there, that cache was mostly undefended-the guns were in a safe by California law, and the booze was hidden in a back corner, but the food, water, and first aid kit were in the open. And right now, trying to move along the streets would be next to impossible. The police would crack down, because that was always the first move the government made. And being in the open would be a stupid idea. It would expose him to attack.<br><br>Plan B was to hole up in the shop. And it was sadly the best course of action right now. A quick punch of the code "1138" into the shutters would cause them to roll down, putting a steel barrier between Dean and the outside world. He had enough food and water for today, and a first aid kit in the shop. Plus, enough guns and ammo to keep himself save. Gathering up a .45 and a pump action Remington 870 (as well as enough ammo to supply them both), Dean would sit and wait for a break in the chaos. He needed to get his gear and formulate an exit strategy. Fleeing into the wilderness, heading North, most likely.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 22:07:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div align="center">(http://s2.postimg.org/f01ig137t/cropped_female_zombie1.jpg)</div><br>(Megan)<br><br><br><em>Whack!</em> Megan's baseball bat made contact with the woman's skull. It made a crackling, meaty sound as she made forceful contact with the woman who had taken a good chunk out of poor Dave's throat. Megan could see bits of bone and blood where the bat had actually cracked her skull. Dave's eyes glazed over and he expelled his final breath in a spray of blood. The woman was chewing what she had bitten off, but now she fell forward on Dave and was still for the moment. Megan had successfully killed the woman.<br><br>Behind Megan though, came a guttural snarl, and suddenly she could feel someone's fingers snatch at her hair. They didn't catch enough of it to get a solid hold, but some of it got ripped out and now she was face to face with what was left of her boss, Johnny. He had that cloudy pink mucous oozing from his nose, dripping from his chin in long, never-ending strings of the stuff. He yowled at her like a beast, a noise no human in their right mind ever made. Then, he lunged for her.<br><br>Behind them, after just a couple of minutes, the woman that Megan had killed stirred. That blow had certainly killed her, and her hair was a matted, bloody mess from the grievous wound Megan had dealt her. However, something was different with her. The sheen in her eyes was gone and now they held that same, cold lifeless look that Dave's now had as they stared unseeingly at the ceiling. At first, Megan was lucky because the lady, who was definitely now a zombie, leaned down and proceeded to snack on Dave some more.<br><br>That only lasted so long though before the ruckus caused by Johnny attacking Megan soon drew her attention away from her partially devoured Dave-snack. She stood slowly in a drunken, unsteady way and stepped over Dave's body. She stared hungrily at the lovely, olive skinned woman and began to reach for her even as Johnny sought to have her for himself.<br><br><br>(Ayano)&nbsp; <br><br><br>Although Ayano had successfully cut the old man's fingers off and he was bleeding an awful lot from it, as well as the deep injury that had gone all the way to his spine, it didn't seem to anger him or cause him distress. Ayano was pursued all of the way to the door by both him and the woman who had joined him. They were very angry when she managed to escape and shut the door on them. The pair of them bellowed in their all consuming rage in unison and reached the door.<br><br>Hopefully, Ayano's door was strong, because the two people didn't give up when she locked herself in. Instead they began to throw their bodies against it, over and over. This lasted for a couple of minutes before the old man bled out and suddenly collapsed on the floor and died. The woman didn't seem to notice or care, instead she roared and hurled her body against Ayano's door alone.<br><br>A few minutes after he had died, the old man began to stand again. His eyes held no life's spark in them and the blood had stopped flowing from his finger tips and the mortal wound she had dealt to his spine. He approached the door again without the urgency he had before and balled his fists up so he could bang on it. There was some typed of cohesion going on between himself and the woman though, she would throw herself into the door, recover, back up, and while she was doing that, he would move to the door and bang on it.<br><br>If Ayano's door was just an ordinary wooden door, it wouldn't last long.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>01-11-2014, 23:11:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Eat95O5eik/VFPiUh4NhuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LwZLDhLpRcg/s1600/1hot-djs-20%2Bthin.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: DJ<br><strong>Location</strong>: USC Student Radio<br><strong>Time and Date:</strong> 10:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Melody, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit / Open<br><hr>When Melody looked down at her phone DJ could tell right away that she was leaving. It hit him in the gut like a baseball bat. She couldn’t… he couldn’t let her just run away like that. If there was anything DJ was good at it was hanging on even when it seemed hopeless. <br><br>Megan raised her head and began first at a whisper her voice quickly raising, “This must have been sent hours ago. I… I need to go… ” She began looking around the room, not at anything specific. It was just frantic motion for motion’s sake.<br><br>“Melody, stop.” DJ said as he reached out grabbing her arm with one hand while placing his other hand over the screen of her cell phone, unsure if he had covered it to remove it from his view or hers. “I’ll take you… we’ll take you where you need to go.” He turned his head and looked at Bobby, Jason, and Ricky. “Ricky, let’s take your wagon.” The wagon was a restored ’67 VW Westfalia (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ctQ4be__wrs/VFVTprd1fLI/AAAAAAAAAHc/8_6FZCxPnGU/s1600/1967VWWESTFALIALARGE.jpg)&nbsp; camper van that Ricky had spent much of his pay on while in the Navy. <br><br>Melody looked into DJ’s eyes but didn’t reply. Before she spoke the professor said, “Melody, I think it would be good if I went with you.” He said it as he stepped closer to her all the while looking at DJ as if he didn’t trust him and needed to protect her. The football players may not have been the brightest bulbs in the pack but they didn’t miss their opportunity to mix it up with DJ. “Yeah, professor! I don’t think she should go alone with these guys. Some extra people sounds like the smartest thing. And I’m sure that van of yours can hold us all” <br><br>At that, Dr. Nesbit, Melody, and the four goons started for the door. DJ turned to find Bobby, Jason, and Ricky staring at him and the small crowd headed for the door. “Don’t just sit there you dumbasses! Let’s get moving.” As he headed out behind them he thought, “I wonder how I can get rid of these red shirted assholes along the way.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Etherealgirl</strong> on <strong>02-11-2014, 23:52:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://korpoarto.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/b2/Brittanya%20O%20Campo%20Makeup%2003.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Megan Ramirez (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.msg10638706#msg10638706)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Westcoast Ink<br><strong>Time and Date</strong>: 10:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open/Anyone<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Sunglasses (http://www.187avenue.com/brittanya/Brittanya187_Store/Acc/IMG_8502.jpg)/Daisy Duke shorts and black shirt that is cut off from the stomach down (http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/71/b1/ac71b184e043992e436ec72b3dd04d5d.jpg)<br><strong>Music</strong>: Do Listen (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Aj9_8t1eQc)<br><hr> <em>Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!</em> Megan thought, clutching the base ball bat and backing away slowly form Johnny and the woman who she just 'killed'. This had to be a nightmare. A bad fucking nightmare. Any minute now she was going to wake up naked in bed with melody. She had to! <br><br>When Johnny lunged at her, Megan swung her bat in his face. "Fuck Johnny! I'm so sorry! Please don't make me do this!" she said, choking back tears. Crying was something Megan was not use to doing. <br><br>Her heart raced as she swung again, this time at the woman. With each swing she took, she was stepping back, trying to keep the two of them at bat length away. She was running out of room to back up. Megan's breath was ragged and quick, she had no idea what to do. Just this morning she was living a normal day and now she was fighting for her young life. <br><br>She looked around for a way to escape, praying to a God she didn't believe in to be saved. She sucked in a sharp breath of air, swinging her bat at Johnny again as he got too close. "I'm warning you Johnny, get the fuck back!" she yelled, her voice quivering. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chreestafer</strong> on <strong>03-11-2014, 04:28:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/52/fe/72/52fe72d2e137fac82fdab79ce7de49ba.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> <em>Kyler Bishop</em> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.0)<br><strong>Inventory:</strong> <br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Gear</div><div class="spoiler_body">Basic Items on self, Wallet, Watch, Nail Necklace from grandmother<br></div></div><br><strong>Location:</strong> <em> Bishop Books (My book Store) </em><br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> <em> About 7A.M. </em><br><strong>Tagging:</strong> <em> Leslie </em><br><hr><br>He stood in the back of the store, a hand bracing a wall rack as head still throbbed.&nbsp; Realization hit that he should honestly stop drinking, it always caught up with him when he least wanted it to. Slowly he gained his footing, and after rubbing his eyes slowly, he removed the alcohol stained shirt tossing it on the shelf.&nbsp; The cool air of the back room played over his skin, relaxing him as his scars seemed to always be on fire.&nbsp; The chill subtly brought him back to his senses as he reached out for his other shirt.&nbsp; In the midst of changing, soft and delicate foot steps echoed from his right.&nbsp; His green eyes focused on the biracial girl who just entered. Her words echoed as she slipped into the back room, she seemed subtly bubbly until her eyes focused on him.<br><br>Caught shirtless, he half turn from his pretty young employee.&nbsp; He didn't mind being caught shirtless but the scars, his horrid burns that reminded him of his failures, he didn't want those seen.&nbsp; His jaw clenched as he slipped the new t-shirt on.<br><br>"Today will most likely be slow" he mumbled to her as she began to walk away.&nbsp; He took a few moments to straighten up before he also turned and began to walk into the front of the store.&nbsp; As he hit the doorway dividing the back room and the main store, he swore an earth quake hit.&nbsp; Books flew as shelves toppled over.&nbsp; The loud sound of glass crunching was the first sign of the havoc as he saw the yellow sports car slice through the building like butter.<br><br>"HOLY FUCK! Are you kidding me!" he shouted angrily as he raced up to the young woman.&nbsp; His hand rest on her shoulder firmly yet comforting as his eye met hers. "Are you ok?" he spoke as he saw the confused and frightened look in her eyes. As she spoke about 911 he just nodded "yeah, call asap" he saw the man near the car, he looked pretty beat up.<br><br>"Sir, just stay down, we're calling for help right now," he growled as he saw the destruction that was once his book store "dammit man!" he gulped as he turned his back to the man on the ground.&nbsp; His eyes finding Leslie "Grab some towels in the back, we may need to compress any cuts until the ambulance gets here"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxfyr</strong> on <strong>04-11-2014, 04:15:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h289/masta_loki/tattoo_thumb1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Vincent Kincaid<br><strong>Locations:</strong> Art workshop, CSU campus<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7-8 am, ish<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Angel Torres (Zombie)&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>(Derped this one.&nbsp; Accidentally saved over my previous post instead of quoting it for the header.&nbsp; Don't have the original to fix over it.&nbsp; Just of the post, with much internal conflict and fear of what was happening, Vincent embedded his axe into Angel's skull.)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kerri</strong> on <strong>04-11-2014, 04:31:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://thehairfiles.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/jasmine-sanders1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Leslie Ann Thompson<br><strong>Locations:</strong> On her way to the bookstore and the bookstore<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7'ish am<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kyler Bishop&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>Leslie was jolted back into action by the strong grip of her boss's hand upon her shoulder. She reached over and grabbed the cordless handset and dialed 911 even as she heard Kyler speaking to the man crouched across the store. She heard his instructions and began to head towards the back of the store as the phone at her ear began the incessant bleating that signaled the line she was trying to reach was busy.... "the fuck?" she muttered softly under her breath as she pulled the phone away and studied it momentarily, still moving towards the back of the store to get the towels that her boss asked her to retrieve.<br><br>She studied the phone and then hit the end button, dialing 911 once more before putting it up to her ear. The phone once again rang in as busy, and she turned to look at Kyler once more, "Mr. Bishop, it just keeps ringing busy." She held the phone away from her ear, she doubted he could here the monotonous buzz of the busy signal, but she offered it to him anyway. <br><br>She shook her head then pressed the end call button, slipping the phone into the pocket of her tight blue jeans. "I'll be right back with those towels." She said before turning away and heading towards the back of the store again. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>05-11-2014, 01:55:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><div align="center">(http://s27.postimg.org/f1tqmzglf/zombiechase.jpg)</div><br><br>(DJ &amp; friends and Megan)<br><br>Outside on the campus of this college, things were at a little bit more of an advanced state. A small group of students ran down the sidewalk with stricken, panicked looks on their faces. No one looked at DJ or anyone else. There was a scream off in the distance followed by the sound of shattering glass. A moment later a twenty-something year old guy ran from around the corner and was being chased by two girls who were yowling at him like hungry mountain lions. One had vivid, bloody scratches on her cheek, which was also shiny with mucous and foamy spittle. They ran so fast and he could barely keep them at a distance.<br><br><em>"HELP ME! OH CHRIST, HELP ME!!"</em> He shouted blindly, his wide eyes staring at some one else who was running by then at DJ's group. This was their first indication that something was truly awry.<br><br>People screamed when they saw the enraged girls and one of them lost interest in the guy when a girl tried&nbsp; to run away from him. The one with the scratched cheek leapt forward and literally tackled the girl to the ground. She screeched in horror and started kicking at the girl who was attacking her. The "crazy" girl snarled and bit down hard on the girl's knee, taking a hunk of flesh into her mouth. Blood poured out of the girls knee as she cried out in obvious pain.<br><br>For Megan, there was only two options. She could try to barricade herself in Johnny's office or try to run out into the street. It was a choice she must make however, because Johnny wasn't worried anymore about getting his head bashed in and the woman who had been dead two minutes ago was now approaching her as though she had all the time in the world, which, of course the dead did in fact have plenty of time. Johnny was more speedy than his slower partner and he took the hit she gave his skull as though she'd hit him with a pillow. Suddenly, he flung himself at her!<br><br><br><br>(Kyler and Leslie)<br><br>Kevin got up. A thick glob of snot dripped from his chin onto the flood. He initially didn't notice either Leslie or Kyler and instead just kind of gazed around with a hooded look to his eyes. It wasn't until Leslie tried to tell Kyler that she couldn't get through the 911 line that he turned his focus onto them both. He had a head injury which was dripping blood from his forehead down the side of his face, but he didn't seem to notice it. Instead, his face twisted into a look of pure loathing and he shouted nonsensically at them both.<br><br>A moment later, Kevin, not even glancing at the wrecked Lamborghini he had loved so much, took off running towards Kyler and Leslie. His arms reached out for them too and he looked like he wanted to rip them both to pieces. He roared so loudly that you could hear the vocal cords in his throat strain with the effort. Then, in a freakish sort of way, he leapt forward, right towards Leslie, since she was the one who'd been talking at the time he had noticed them. His fingers sought to reach for her curly locks and his teeth champed at the thought of his coming meal.<br><br><br><br>(Vincent) <br><br>As tough as this might have been for Vincent, since Angel and him had shared similar interests and all, it was a good thing he had acted when he did because Angel was positioning himself to lunge right at Vincent. They weighed about the same but given Angel's aggressive, hyped up behavior there was a good chance he could have gotten the better of him. Angel didn't even try to dodge the incoming axe blade. It bit right into his skull with a dull whacking sound. <br><br>Some blood spattered out as the blade was buried a few inches into Angel's brain and was stuck there. More blood oozed onto Angel's now blank face and just a moment later, he fell forward, now lifeless. Dark blood began to pool beneath Angel's face and he lay there as one would expect him to. Poor Vincent wouldn't have much time to think of how he had just killed Angel with his brand new axe.<br><br>A couple of minutes ticked by and Angel began to move again. Initially, it was subtle movements like his foot shifting or his fingers on one hand twitching. Then, Angel began to stand up with Vincent's axe still imbedded in his skull. He rose to the full extent of his height and stared with those glassy, blank eyes right at Vincent. The right half of his face was completely smeared with blood, but he didn't even seem to be in pain. His left foot took a shuffling step forward, dragging across the pavement in the workshop. Lazily, he reached out for Vincent just like he had seen in any decent zombie flick. <br><br><em>They're coming for you Barbara...</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Etherealgirl</strong> on <strong>05-11-2014, 15:34:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://img004.lazygirls.info/people/brittanya_o_campo/brittanya_o_campo_brittanya_104_lNqjCoy.sized.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Megan Ramirez (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.msg10638706#msg10638706)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Westcoast Ink<br><strong>Time and Date</strong>: 10:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open/Anyone<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Sunglasses (http://www.187avenue.com/brittanya/Brittanya187_Store/Acc/IMG_8502.jpg)/Daisy Duke shorts and black shirt that is cut off from the stomach down (http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/71/b1/ac71b184e043992e436ec72b3dd04d5d.jpg)<br><strong>Music</strong>: Do Listen (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg92QpjRcJk)<br><hr> "Johnny Stay the fuck back!" Megan warned, tripping over a loose tile on the floor. She eyed her exit, which was the front of the shop, but between her and the door was an enraged Johnny and a woman whom she thought she had killed. <br><br>Megan swung the bat out in front of her again, her teeth clenched. There was no way in hell she was going out like this. She was too young and gifted to be eaten alive like poor Dave. Just as she had worked up the courage to make a run for it, Johnny leapt at her!<br><br>His much large frame easily tackled Megan to the ground and pinned her underneath him. His breath was rancid and his eyes were too freaky for Megan to even comprehend. Luckily the girl held onto her bat and shoved it between her and Johnny. His hands and mouth clawed for her face but she managed to keep the bat between them, acting as a barrier to certain death. <br><br>"Get the fuck off me!!" She screamed, mustering the strength she had to curl a foot up under Johnny and kick him off her. <br><br>Megan scrambled to her feet and bolted for the front door. As she jumped over a small coffee table she lost balance and fell on all fours. The stumble proved to be a blessing as the woman who bit Dave dove at her but missed and crashed into a wall of pictures. Megan quickly recovered and made it outside under the bright California sun.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>05-11-2014, 18:52:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pcpO3XTC_ss/VFpLphRyrAI/AAAAAAAAAIk/E-hoFJqd4ZY/s1600/cam%2Bborland_chris_asu_10_na.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:&nbsp; Cam Bronson<br><strong>Location</strong>: USC Campus<br><strong>Time and Date:</strong> 10:25am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: DJ, Melody, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit, Three Football Teammates/ Open<br><hr>Cam couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Foamy mouthed crazy dudes running after people and… “Oh fuck! She just bit her!” he exclaimed and took an involuntary step back. Even after delivering countless brutal hits out on the gridiron including a few that left the other players with shattered bodies writhing in pain, when Cam saw a chunk ripped out of that girl’s leg he felt fear snap through his chest.<br><br>Stepping back brought him into contact with the others in the group who were right behind him. He could feel their shock in their rigid bodies. The professor mumbled a half question, half analysis, “Rabies?” One of Cam’s teammates was the first to react to this idea, stepping around Cam and moving toward the two wrestling on the ground in front of them. “Let’s get this little lady back to whatever lab she escaped from.” The largest of the four, he moved with tremendous physical confidence obviously used to overpowering anyone who thought to challenge him. Just as a second teammate started to follow his larger friend, the bloodied and scratched howling woman noticed the looming giant getting closer. She let go of the girl she had bitten, crouched and let out a scream, “Reeeeoooowwwww!” Bits of flesh and blood spattered out of her half full mouth.<br><br>She pounced like a large cat surging at its prey, hands outstretched, mouth wide with teeth bare. The force of her thrusting legs sent her off the ground towards his head. She hit the lineman so quickly he couldn’t get his arms up in between them. In an instant she had wrapped her arms fully around his head and sank her teeth into the scalp of his shaven head. Her legs flung for a moment then found their way around his body as well. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” he shouted and pulled at her arms as he tried to break her grip. He turned around to face the group and although his face was covered by the woman’s body the group clearly heard her shout. “Get this bitch off me!” At that moment his teammate's training kicked into full gear. It took about three steps to get to full speed, head a little to the side, perfect contact with his shoulder; on the field it would have been a textbook brutal blindside hit. The three of them left their feet with the blow falling back onto the pavers of the walkway landing hard. The three stoners somewhere behind Cam reacted in almost perfect chorus, “Dude!”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lynnette</strong> on <strong>05-11-2014, 21:35:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://38.media.tumblr.com/ad66562d74898918cf33467bf6c43c97/tumblr_nbkqkp3T3B1tztn6eo1_1280.jpg)</div><br>The knocking kept on hard for a good while, before it half-ceased, aka. what she assumed to be the one she had chopped at whom bled to death. It was terrifying to think of, knowing that she had mercilessly slashed at someone, and now, had probably killed him. The knocking kept on going at half-speed at least, the woman was still alive it would seem like. The door was holding up decently, though the wood was cracking up, and she knew it wouldn't last forever.<br><br>Yet, suddenly, the activity outside of the door increased again. Had someone else arrived? Either way, the door was clearly not going to hold up much longer. And thus, there was only one thing to do - Face the issue. It was all self-defense after all, nobody could blame her... Right? She moved up to the door slowly, undoing the door chain. After that, she unlocked the door, both of which didn't seem to do much, the knocking kept on regardless. She swallowed hard before opening the door - It went outward, so she managed to plant a decent kick on the center of it, knocking back whoever had been approaching it at the moment. There didn't seem to be anyone new there, a fact that made her freak out completely - What had happened with the man who she had chopped at? He seemed all well, despite that his fingers were on the floor and his hip bleeding. Either way, there was only one thing to do - A swift slash to the head, try to prevent further pain. Decapitation seemed like her best choice, with their heads being on a good height, and with them both a few steps back, she would have enough space to slash as well.<br><br>She took the first step into the room, then the second, holding the blade to her side, almost behind her back, ready to deal the decapitating blow, waiting for one of them to approach before pulling with full force, cutting the head clean off. She had hit a tad higher than she had intended, chopping off a bit of the chin as well, not that it mattered much, it just made her feel further disgusted about herself. After that, she repeated the process with the second one, though a lot faster this time, just fixing her posture, before slashing again.<br><br>The shop didn't feel safe anymore though. She doubted the outside would be any better, but it would at least be open, she would have space to move, unlike the store, which was full of everything. She quickly ran past the gruesome remains of the people who she had murdered, trying her best to not throw up over it - After all, it would probably not benefit her, there was no telling how the outside world would be. She put on a pair of normal shoes, and ran outside. The streets seemed pretty empty, not that surprising with all of the ongoing sickness. She kept the blade ready for yet another slash, down on her right side, almost touching the ground. It was the posture for an uppercut, but it was a lot faster than the decapitation blow, so it was probably better. If she had killed twice, she could probably do it a third time as well, right? Did god keep track of sins?<br><br>She was unsure of where to go though. She guessed that the best choice would be to get out of the city, though she didn't know where to go for that, at least not what was the closest, so she just walked off in a random direction, out of chinatown and towards the rest of the city, the blade still dripping with the blood of her two victims, creating an uneven trail behind her steps.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>08-11-2014, 16:22:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(Dean, Megan - <em>because of that electronic store two doors down</em>)<br><br><div align="center">(http://s29.postimg.org/7ee0arh47/newsanchor.jpg)<br><br><strong><em>SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN!</em></strong></div><br><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font">"Hello, this is Ted Daily here for Good Morning, L.A. We are receiving some breaking news reports from around the city. According to these reports, several persons who have not yet been identified are allegedly attacking and killing people they come into contact with. Police Chief Andre Laporte released a brief message just twenty minutes ago, warning the public to use extreme caution if traversing the streets. It is still too early to know if these attacks are a coordinated strike from some kind of group, but there have been several suggestions from social media outlets that this is somehow linked to the current flu epidemic facing our country. When we asked Chief Laporte if this was a concern, he said they currently do not have evidence to support such claims and that the best thing people can do would be to get home and stay put..."</span></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxfyr</strong> on <strong>08-11-2014, 16:53:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h289/masta_loki/tattoo_thumb1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Vincent Kincaid<br><strong>Locations:</strong> Art workshop, CSU campus<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7-8 am, ish<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Angel Torres (Zombie)&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>The room felt eerily silent to Vincent after feeling the head of his axe cleave Angel’s skull with a wet meaty crunching sound.&nbsp; He felt numb all over as the weight of his actions settled firmly on his shoulders making him feel nauseous and dizzy at the same time.&nbsp; <em>I-I killed him.&nbsp; I killed Angel.</em>&nbsp; Vincent’s mind struggled to wrap itself around that fact, part of him convinced this was all just a very lucid dream that he would surely be waking from at any moment.&nbsp; &nbsp; He found solace in that notion and ran with it.<br><br>It was almost fated that of all the shirts he had in his wardrobe, the one he happened to grab at random was the one that read: <em>I reject your reality and substitute my own.</em><br><br>Stepping away from the downed zombie, eagerly going all in on the fantasy that it was irrefutably a zombie rather than a deranged classmate, Vincent began to take in his surroundings.&nbsp; At this point he was almost giddy with the notion of surviving a zombie uprising; between all the games and movies he had immersed himself in on the very subject, this was like all the other run-and-gun fantasies he’s had.&nbsp; For a moment, the part of his brain firmly planted in reality attempted a coup on that line of thinking, but Vincent thoroughly stomped out that particular notion.&nbsp; The shit was hitting the fan and the last thing Vincent needed at the moment was to be distracted by such trivial things as reality in all its brutality.<br><br>It wasn’t until Angel stood once more that Vincent snapped out of his reverie to look into the zombie’s glassy gaze.&nbsp; In true undead fashion, Angel lazily reached out for him in what was a comparatively pleasant turn of events, and one that Vincent responded with a <strong>”Oh, hell no!”</strong>&nbsp; Skirting just outside of reach, he dashed around to Angel’s back and gripped the handle of his axe.&nbsp; Vincent torqued the weapon with a grunt of effort, forcing the zombie’s balance to the side harshly enough for it to tumble to the floor.&nbsp; A quick wrenching motion cleared the axe rather savagely from the head wound as the zombie was in mid-fall.&nbsp; Not feeling particularly inclined to witness the awfulness that might try to spill out of the gaping ravine that was its cloven skull, Vincent instead turned towards his sports bag, tossed the hammer that was initially upon his anvil inside, zipped it closed, flung its strap over his shoulder, and promptly made his way out of the room in search of someplace that might be a good place to lay low for a spell.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>08-11-2014, 17:09:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(Ayano, Kyler/Leslie, Cam &amp; Friends, Vincent)<br><br><div align="center">(http://s28.postimg.org/koglei8rh/radio300.png)</div><br><br>"We are hearing a whole crap ton of reports from callers and some other news outlets that there appears to be a series of very coordinated attacks against the peoples of L.A. People are talking about zombies but hello, has anyone considered that this could be the reveal of ISIS Sleeper Cells? Think about it Los Angeles! We've been hearing seemingly random cases of recent converts to Islam decapitating co-workers for over a year! Now they're going for larger attacks! I heard good ol' Chief Laporte tellin' us Americans that we should stay safe in our houses. But he failed to mention that some of these attacks came from supposed family members <em>in</em> the house with you! That's right man, your great aunt Maggie could be a terrorist lovin' killer!<br><br>Point is, until the cops get things under control here, it's going to get pretty crazy out there. If you're thinkin' of packin' up the ol' Winnebago and heading out, think again because that's what four hundred thousand other people are going to be thinking too and that means you will be in one mother of a traffic jam. But I don't know if you should stay put either because...can you really trust Cousin Jimmy?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>08-11-2014, 17:55:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://s18.postimg.org/gfb9iibs9/zombierun.jpg)</div><br><br>(Megan)<br><br>Johnny's skull was split from the good, solid bashing Megan gave him with that baseball bat. Looking closely, the split was deep and a person could see red and white. It was bleeding a lot too and some of it ran into his eye, but he didn't seem to mind. He was going to have himself a Megan lunch and that was all he cared about. Anything would work to stave off that mind consuming hunger that was now constantly gnawing at his guts. <br><br>But, his prey was also very willful. She didn't want to be lunch, which was such a shame. She was able to wriggle her wiry frame out from beneath Johnny's bulk, much to his pure rage. <strong><em>"ROOOOOAAARRRG!"</em></strong> He screamed in that unintelligent way that others like him adopted. They no longer had the mental capacity for chaining words together, you see. But, they could still make horrendously loud noises. <br><br>On the opposite side of the spectrum was the woman who had killed Dave. She had no capacity for speech and no will to make it. She might be slow, but her true treachery was her silence. There were no low moans or grunts coming from her slack mouth because she didn't breath. Speaking of Dave, he was stirring now and just pushing himself to his feet when Megan made her escape. <br><br>Angel screamed after her and ran past the two true zombies. Megan could hear the door shatter somewhere behind her as Angel wrenched it open.<br><br>Out on the street now was a disconcerting spectacle. There were people out, but none of them were behaving in a normal way. It seemed that Megan was not indeed the only one afflicted with this nasty bit of madness. Someone fired three shots in succession of the street and it turned out to be a police officer. She was fending two screamers off of her own self and had climbed onto the roof of her patrol car whose front window was smashed in and bloody. Down the side walk, still ahead of Megan ran two people. At first they looked like they were going to stop to try and solicit help from the female cop, but right now the cop was focused on keeping herself alive.<br><br>She only looked long enough at the others to make sure they didn't need a bullet too. See, a cop's job wasn't to serve and protect, it was to maintain order and stay alive. Everything was a threat right now. The case in point was glad to present itself when a person ran behind the car and started pounding on the trunk, shouting for the cop's attention. He was panicked and thought he had found his savior when in fact he startled the cop and invoked death. She turned and put a bullet ride in the middle of his throat, her eyes wide and bright with alertness. She turned back as a screamer tried to climb onto the hood of the car and shot them in the dome. Then, she jumped down and took off running in the direction of the precinct while calling on her radio.<br><br><br>(Ayano)<br><br>Ayano got splattered with blood from the old lady when she decapitated her. It was quite a bit of blood too because she had exposed the carotid artery. It spurted dark gouts of blood at her and the walls until the body dropped to the floor. Lucky for her, the other guy had died and so when she cut his head off, it didn't really make a mess.<br><br>The streets of Little Tokyo weren't in much better condition than any of the others who ventured outside had seen. Ayano could see people running down the block from her. She even got to watch some man burst out of modest little house, covered head to two in what was the blood of his entire family. His eyes were wide and shocked. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and he was trembling as he jammed a wash cloth into the mouth of the bottle. Then, he fumbled as he used his lighter to light it on fire. A closer look would reveal this man to be Mr. Ho, who owned a decent take out restaurant a mile down Mariposa Street.<br><br>Mr. Ho then stared at his house for a few moments before he tossed the Molotov cocktail into the open door way. The glass broke and flames spread with the alcohol. He was watching it for a couple of minutes when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His head snapped sharply in that direction and he saw Ayano walking there. He released a startled, horrified sound in his throat and bolted away from her. He was a short guy, but he ran fast. <br><br>He ran right out into the street and got hit by a car as it raced down and didn't even try to stop. The collision was awful in that Mr. Ho's body flew up from the bumper, flipped over the hood then slammed down briefly on the roof of the car, rolled rapidly across its shiny surface, then dropped to the trunk and the street. The car jolted a bit, swirved, but then kept going, leaving Mr. Ho's completely broken, ruined body laying spread eagle in the street. Now some of the blood on him was his own. <br><br>Mr. Ho's house burned.<br><br><br>(Vincent)<br><br><br>The trauma to Angel's brain was significant. He fell forward, his brain and bits of bone spilling from the wrecked gap in his skull. For now, Vincent had some quiet, except for the drone of the radio and the current host who was discussing theories and informing people that some serious terrorist shit was going down. Outside of the building, he could hear shouting and the occasional sound of running. A scream and breaking glass also broke the relative, fresh stillness of the workshop.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kerri</strong> on <strong>09-11-2014, 05:19:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://thehairfiles.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/jasmine-sanders1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Leslie Ann Thompson<br><strong>Locations:</strong> bookstore<br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> 7'ish am<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Kyler Bishop&nbsp; <br><br><hr><br>Leslie's eyes widened as she turned as she heard the roar that was getting louder. She released a scream of terror as the man that had been crouched beside the vehicle launched himself at her. She saw his hand reach out and felt as his hand tightened on her hair. The grip he had a tentative one as she jerked away, she felt the rending of her hair and knew that he had more than just a few strands of her curly locks in his grasp.<br><br>"What the fuck?" She reached out and tried to push the man back. Adrenaline was still pumping heavily through her, never having had much of a chance to have calmed herself since the car came barreling through the wall. Her heart raced and she pushed back, her only thoughts to get herself far away from the man who seemed to have his entire being set on harming her. <br><br>She locked eyes with him, and realized something wasn't right, the disgusting things dripping from his face were unsettling, but there was something in his eyes that was downright terrifying. She pushed back,&nbsp; attempting to scramble backwards, away from the man. Her eyes wide, her hands held out in an attempt to ward him off, she shook her head no, and began quietly chanting, "No... no.... no... no." Her voice getting louder, until she was practically screaming the word. "No... NO!"<br><br>She didn't make it too far before a book that had been thrown in the impact ended up tripping her.&nbsp; She fell backwards, flat on her ass. Her feet continued to push her backwards though as she continued to try to move away from the crazed man. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>09-11-2014, 22:09:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Eat95O5eik/VFPiUh4NhuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LwZLDhLpRcg/s1600/1hot-djs-20%2Bthin.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: DJ<br><strong>Location</strong>: Outside USC Student Radio<br><strong>Time and Date:</strong> 10:25am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Melody, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit, Cam and one teammate / Open<br><hr>DJ could feel the hit delivered by the football player to the crazed woman attacking his teammate. Cracking sounds mixed with the audible “Uuuhfff!” coming out of the giant who was also struck and knocked to the ground. But what came next made him cringe more than witnessing such a blow. <br><br>All three hit the ground simultaneously and the football players each showed signs of the incredible force from the hit. DJ’s cringe came from seeing the crazed woman still moving.&nbsp; Any person should be writhing in pain but she seemed ready to continue the fight. Again the doctor was the first to speak, “We should go… now.” He had Melody by the arm and began pulling her down the sidewalk all the while staring at the woman grappling with the players.<br><br>“Uh, yeah. Doc is right.” He glanced at his three friends, “They’ve got her. Uh, let’s get to the van.” As he turned to jog after the professor and Melody DJ realized this would be a good opportunity to lose the football players altogether. However upon turning the corner and reaching the van parked midway up the block he was disappointed to find Cam and the final football player still with his group. DJ gave Cam a harsh look and asked, “What about your buddies?”&nbsp; Cam’s stuttered voice and wide eyes betrayed the same fear they all carried after seeing the attack, “Th… th… they can handle that little chick no prob man.” Cam glanced nervously over his shoulder then at Melody who was piling into the back of the van with the professor and added just the words DJ didn’t want to hear, “Besides I ain’t leaving her for nothin’.” <br><br>The group crammed in around the stove and cabinets the back of the small camper. DJ cursed under his breath at Cam then made his way around into the front passenger seat.&nbsp; Ricky sat in the driver’s seat, the engine of the restored van rumbled to life as he turned the key. He turned to DJ and asked over the radio which had come to life with the van, “Where to?” As DJ turned to look in the back, the others turned with him eventually staring at Melody and silently asking the same question. Her reply was the first thing she had said since they had left the building, “Just fucking drive!”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chreestafer</strong> on <strong>10-11-2014, 02:19:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/52/fe/72/52fe72d2e137fac82fdab79ce7de49ba.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> <em>Kyler Bishop</em> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.0)<br><strong>Inventory:</strong> <br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Gear</div><div class="spoiler_body">Basic Items on self, Wallet, Watch, Nail Necklace from grandmother<br></div></div><br><strong>Location:</strong> <em> Bishop Books (My book Store) </em><br><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> <em> About 7A.M. </em><br><strong>Tagging:</strong> <em> Leslie </em><br><hr><br>His back was to the man who just stood from the wreckage.&nbsp; He didn't see the initial craziness happening all about him, what he did notice was the 'oh shit' look on leslies face.&nbsp; His head snapped around just in time to see the figure rushing past him towards the younger frightened girl.&nbsp; The mans hands reaching outward, tangling with her beautiful blonde curls and yanking.&nbsp; He watched, dumb found, as her head jerked from the tug and how she began to scream and stumble backwards.&nbsp; <br><br>He was frozen, confused as to what was happening.<br><br>He remembered the craziness that can happen to those in shock.&nbsp; Instinctively his hand clutched his chest as he remembered how in the sands of the middle east people would snap and go insane after being shot, or worse blowing up.&nbsp; He recalled the time an Iraqi soldier, who had lost an arm, broke and attacked fellow soldiers.&nbsp; This seemed a lot like that<br><br>The sound of her body hitting the floor as she stumbled snapped him back to reality. <br><br>Instinct took over and he was on the move.&nbsp; As she fell the man began to tumble over her, a mixture of salvia and bloody spittle oozing from his mouth.&nbsp; His teeth were clattering back and forth, looking to make the young bi racial girl his next meal.&nbsp; Kyler overtook the man, as their bodies collided, sending the two of them tumbling away from her.&nbsp; The two forms rolled, his colliding with a book case, the things with the desk.&nbsp; He slipped up to a standing position, his shoulder sore.&nbsp; The man began to stir as he booted him in chin, not to kill the man, but in an attempt to knock him out.&nbsp; <br><br>"Stay down!" he shouted as he turned rushing over to kneel next to her.&nbsp; "Leslie, are you ok?" <br><br>Little did he know more and more chaos was going on outside. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Etherealgirl</strong> on <strong>11-11-2014, 20:37:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2630/3947226116_da6e6e0e1a_m.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Megan Ramirez (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.msg10638706#msg10638706)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Westcoast Ink<br><strong>Time and Date</strong>: 10:13am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open/Anyone<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Sunglasses (http://www.187avenue.com/brittanya/Brittanya187_Store/Acc/IMG_8502.jpg)/Daisy Duke shorts and black shirt that is cut off from the stomach down (http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/71/b1/ac71b184e043992e436ec72b3dd04d5d.jpg) <br><br>What the hell was going on in this city!? Megan had ran out into what she thought would be safety, and instead she was confronted with total chaos. Her heart raced and she clutched the bat that much more. People screamed and some were lieing in puddles of their own blood. Megan wanted to vomit. <br><br>She saw a police officer up ahead, standing on the roof of a car. Megan started to run up to here but screeched to a halt when she realized the woman was firing her gun into people's skulls. <br><br>"Oh fuck that..." she muttered and high tailed it away from the crazy police officer. <br><br>Total anarchy was happening before her, and Megan felt nearly hopeless. Where would she go? What could she do?! She scrambled with her phone in her left hand, quickly trying to dial Melody. She needed to know her girl was safe. <br><br>"Piece of SHIT!" she yelled when she got the busy dial tone. She quickly texted Melody: <br><br>-SOS! Shit is crazy at the shop! <br><br>Megan stuffed her phone back into her back pocket just in time to avoid a woman who was attempting to gnaw on her arm. The tattooist raised her bat above her head and slammed it down onto the woman's skull. "Get the fuck off me!" she yelled!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxfyr</strong> on <strong>13-11-2014, 01:26:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h289/masta_loki/tattoo_thumb1.jpg)</div><br><strong>Name:</strong> Vincent Kincaid<br><strong>Locations:</strong> Art building, CSU campus<br><br><hr><br>There was still the faintest twinges of adrenaline lacing Vincent’s blood as it pumped through him, making his movements a little more jittery than he was used to.&nbsp; The moment of relative calm harshly contrasted the mortal struggle he had just escaped and it left him a little disoriented as he sought what his next course of action would be.&nbsp; Much of this decision making process was made mumbling quietly to himself.<br><br>&nbsp;<br><br><strong>“Okay, so, zombie apocalypse is a thing now.&nbsp; Time for all those hours logged day-dreaming this very scenario to pay off.&nbsp; First and foremost: avoid populated areas… Seeing as how I am in LA, I’m kinda boned there, but at least I’m not downtown.&nbsp; If this thing has truly reached epidemic levels, then this campus is likely the eye of a massive shitstorm.&nbsp; In that case, time to find a shelter, batten down the hatches, and wait for the chaos to play itself out.&nbsp; Time to take over a classroom building then.”</strong><br><br>&nbsp;<br><br>Vincent heard the distinctive shattering of glass in one of the nearby workshops, refreshing the supply of adrenaline that had only just dissipated.&nbsp; <strong>”Let’s find another one, yes?&nbsp; Preferably with less windows on the ground floor.”</strong>&nbsp; With that, Vincent took a moment to make sure nothing was rushing towards him before peeking out the door to survey his surroundings and looking for a building that had the best fortress potential.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>13-11-2014, 04:02:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://s28.postimg.org/n1s3ma21p/losangeles.jpg)</div><br><br>Little did everyone in Los Angeles know that while they were having a pretty bad day, so was the POTUS. At some point this morning, the Secret Service was going to have to put a couple of bullets in the president's head. Or, they would have to if they wanted to stop him from eating his children. There would be several members of the inner cabinet that would be having equally bad mornings. Not many people considered the bare truths that came with a pandemic of this skill. Presidents, generals, mayors, and governors all had great titles, but a title was just that. The men and women who held such titles were still humans and their immune systems were just as susceptible to disease as any other.<br><br>Today there would be no call for order. But the United States government had a plan. Not many people knew about CONOP 8888, but it existed and it was viewable to the general public. Such was the passionate belief of an impending zombie apocalypse, that the government had decided to great a contingency operation plan for the event, should such a cataclysm arise. At this moment, the individuals in such power as to be considered responsible for the order and sanctity of the United State and of course those who were capable of even caring for it, were in the process of Phase 1 of CONPLAN 8888 Operational Phases. Right now, those who were well enough to perform such duties were gathering intelligence from their various sources. Unbeknownst to the American public, Phase 1 had been going on for five days now.<br><br>Governor Chase Loudry of California sat in his secondary office, well outside of Los Angeles. He hadn't been here before, but due to the wide spread nature of the epidemic the President had ordered him there. Him and any others in similar positions of power. It had been a day and a half since Gov'nor Loudry had heard from the President. He hadn't been immune either. From his office at an undisclosed location, the Governor watched the split screen of his television as it spewed images from Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Francisco, showing flickering scenes of expanding chaos from the daring cameramen who were caught somewhere in the middle.<br><br>The streets of LA looked increasingly worrisome. There were crowds of people, some of them were those raging psycho's he had seen earlier in the morning. It was weird how assholes like that seemed to group up together. Like, even in their mindless, hungry state they sought each other out like a pack of wolves. That made them dangerous. Then there were the others, the ones that he could find no other word for but to call them actual <em>zombies</em>. There weren't as many of them yet. But that was the key word...yet. Loudry turned from his screen and spit a sunflower seed into the ashtray on his desk. He was freaked out, but he was safe. Everyone who was with him right now had already been sick and had overcome the illness, including himself.<br><br>It was going to be a madhouse by nightfall and he hated that he'd have to sit there and watch it happen. He was ensuring that the news media was putting out stories, letting the public know that things were under control. There was an immunization (a lie) and the CDC was going to start mobilizing centers around the city to administer the immunizations. That bit of information would come out after lunch.<br><br>He had to get the police under control. Right now most of them were split up in squads, caught in the unexpected, ghastly turn of events this morning. Loudry's attention went back to the TV. Someone was setting fires already. "Fucking prick!" he shouted in a disgusted tone as he watched some shops on Flower Street catching fire. This shot was courtesy of a news helicopter.<br><br><br>(Cam, DJ, Melody)<br><br>A couple dozen people ran in front of the van that the group had climbed into. Some of them had baseball bats, they shot a glare at DJ's group, their sharp eyes assessing them as a potential threat. When no one made any kind of move, they looked away and crossed the street. They had blood spattering on them, but beyond that sharp, critical look to them, they didn't seem like much of a concern to people like DJ. <br><br>The group could see some other cars on the street. They were driving swiftly, well above the speed limit, one of them displaying a prominent smear of blood across the hood and roof - Mr. Ho's blood to be specific. The car pulled up to a drug store not far from where the van was parked and two guys got out. They carried baseball bats and smashed the glass door of the store, then went inside. And so, the looting would begin.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>16-11-2014, 02:07:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://s18.postimg.org/gfb9iibs9/zombierun.jpg)</div><br>(Everyone)<br><br><br>By late morning, nearing lunch time, the streets had become increasingly congested. Somehow, although the news had not officially been released, there was some people speculating that the government had a vaccine. This was what the governor had wanted of course. They suspected, these people, that the vaccine was going to be released at either pop-up stations around the city, or perhaps at familiar locations like your corner Walgreens, CVS Pharmacy, or RiteAid. This gave some people pause. But others didn't care, and as time marched effortlessly on, immune to the cataclysm that was occurring right now, more and more vehicles could be seen weaving through the streets, their roofs strapped with trunks, luggage,&nbsp; boxes. <br><br>People were scared. Now, there were two kinds of people when it came to fear. The kind who tucked tail and fled, like these people in their cars and the types like Dean and Vincent who figured their best chance of survival was to duck and cover. For now, it was impossible to determine who was wrong or right. For DJ, Cam, the good professor, and lovely Melody, these fleeing citizens were going to make their trip to save poor Megan a tad bit sketchy. People were terrified and some were sick, as not everyone had gotten sick at the same time. They drove erratically, too fast, making poor decisions. Oh, the roads were drivable, for now, so DJ and his crew would certainly make it if they were careful.<br><br>Someone jerked too hard on their steering wheel to get around DJ's van. They beeped their horn and yelled obscenities at him even though they were driving on the wrong side of the road.&nbsp; Some distance ahead, a loud screech of tires followed by a jarring crunch indicated that some other pair of fools operating two ton projectiles had crashed into one another.<br><br>Indeed, it was actually five cars and Ayano, who was having an amazing day already after being nearly eaten by a strange woman and man, then watching Mr. Ho burn his own house down, and finally witnessing the same man get annihilated by a car when he ran away from her, got to watch this amazing madness unfold before her very eyes. A man stumbled out of one of the cars, his forehead bleeding and eyes so wide you could see the white parts. He took a few fumbling steps towards Ayano because maybe he thought she could help. A moment later, another man climbed out of his pick up truck, saw the guy who he had decided started the accident, grabbed his shoulder, spun him around and punched him in the face.<br><br>Other people started climbing out of their cars too, unsure about the fight and a little hurt themselves. They watched for a moment, but an enraged scream from the other side of the cars made them all turn at once. It was a screamer, their face dripping with someone else's blood and now they had seen this group of fresh meat. The screamer began climbing swiftly over the cars, and the people broke and ran all around Ayano.<br><br>For Vincent, his view was not much better than anyone else's. While Megan found herself dodging panicking people and screamers alike as she perilously tread the streets of L.A., Vincent could see someone driving a car, way too fast, right across the court yard outside of the work shops. The driver beeped the horn at some students or faculty that were running across the grounds but didn't stop. Some unfortunate soul got ran over, the car thumping and bumping over their body. They lay there screaming in pain and began to try and crawl away.<br><br>A screamer ran right by Vincent, towards the flailing injured person who didn't even notice them until they roared that bone chilling noise of hate at them. A moment later the person was screaming anew as the screamer leapt onto their broken body and ripped a chunk of face off with their teeth. The sound of agony in a person's voice is a sound no one forgets.<br><br>Now, two untended fires grew in the city, one in the quiet neighborhood of Little Japan and the other in some shops not far from Dean's own. Things were just getting interesting.<br><br>For Kyler and Leslie, their shop wide open, they could hear some of the madness occurring outside. They were even not so far away from some of the others that they couldn't hear the sound of a major wreck occurring at some intersection blocks over from Kyler's own. Luckily he had a mere book shop, so would-be looters just ran by, glanced in, saw nothing but books and continued on their way. There was also the ever-present sound of Kevin's car pinging endlessly to alert them all that the door was still ajar.<br><br>There was also Kevin's breathing. He had been subdued for a moment when a bright whiteness of shock temporarily blinded him when Kyler had kicked his chin. But he was still there and not out of commission. <br><br>Leslie and Kyler had perhaps two minutes before the monster that was Kevin rose to stand behind them. Some of his teeth had been broken when Kyler had kicked his chin, but he didn't seem to mind or even feel any pain that would be causing.&nbsp; Kyler would have been able to hear him get up because Kevin wasn't trying to be stealthy. They had perhaps five seconds before he screamed in rage at them, spitting some of his broken, bloody teeth onto the floor. Then, he climbed over the fallen book case and rapidly approached them like an angry baboon, on his hands and feet, his jagged teeth and bloody mouth open in a cruel, gaping maw.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Red Offerings</strong> on <strong>16-11-2014, 02:13:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(Dean, DJ &amp; Crew <em>because of their radio on a normal station</em>)<br><br><div align="center">(http://s29.postimg.org/7ee0arh47/newsanchor.jpg)<br><br><strong><em>SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN!</em></strong></div><br><br><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;" class="bbc_font">"We have a special news bulletin to release this morning. In light of the recent unfolding events in the city, Governor Loudry has issued a State of Emergency for all of Los Angeles County. He is requesting citizens to stay put, in your home, work, wherever you are at. The police department and sheriff's office has been dispatched and the National Guard is being called in to assist with quarantining and containing these violent peoples. But the best thing for everyone to do is to stay where you are. Vaccinations are being released to the public. The governor has stated that by 2 o'clock this afternoon, numerous pop-up medical points will be up so that those still suffering from the illness can be injected with a treatment serum that has been released by the CDC. Further details will be released at 12 o'clock."</span></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Angie</strong> on <strong>16-11-2014, 03:46:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://blog.friendster.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Human-Warrior.png)</div></div><strong>Name:</strong> Dean<br><strong>Location:</strong> One Shot Only (His gun shop)<br><strong>Time:</strong> Noon-ish<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr><br>"Bullshit." Dean said as soon as the bulletin concluded. "There ain't no immunization to this. Fuck, aren't you supposed to deploy those before shit gets this real?" His medical knowledge was lacking, but his skepticism was ingrained: Doubt everyone, especially the little fucks trying to get into a bar when they look 15. "Shit's not gonna let up, is it?" He said to himself. "Well...looks like I don't have a choice. It's only gonna get worse. Bad time to be moving, but fuck, can't live here."<br><br>All the guns were unloaded, and he pulled the metal shutters down over the shelves of ammo-getting in would require his key or so much effort that the reward was...well, still somewhat worth it, but it would take time. And time was what he needed, but he had none in the chaos. So he had to make some. Maybe with these locks, he'd be able to come back and get some ammo later. He doubted it, though. <br><br>He carried his Remington, holstered his .45, and stuffed a bag full of ammo, throwing in a couple water bottles for good measure. He made a mental note to get a crowbar eventually-the tool was an item of great utility, with it he could defeat locks and open containers. He loaded his shotgun, and left via the back door, wanting to take the alleyways in an effort to slip by unnoticed. Hell had come to Los Angelas, the only way out was to keep walking. First home, then North. Of course, there was the little doubt in his head that he was going to end up like that poor bastard he shot...but that was no excuse to curl up and die. If anything, the possibility that he wouldn't end up that way was a reason to keep fighting.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>16-11-2014, 05:36:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j_xdUCCnjsE/VFTjqpZY8kI/AAAAAAAAAHM/d20v2Xy778Y/s1600/colleen-shannon-19%2Bsmall.jpg)</div>Name: Melody Vee<br>Location: In the van stopped by a crash ahead<br>Time and Date: 11:35<br>Tagging: DJ, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit, <strong>Ayano</strong>/ Open<br>Wearing: Jeans, cropped shirt, sandals<br><br><hr><br>The slow and grinding drive over the last hour had seemed like 5 hours. Each time the van seemed to have a clear road they would be stopped by a wreck, a fallen telephone pole, or simply people walking the streets with every manner of weapon in their hands staking out their claim or defending their home. This meant endless switch-backs down narrow alleys or zig-zagging through neighborhoods under constant harassment just to go around a burning car that blocked their way. One block would seem quiet and deserted and the next would have them showered with rocks and bricks by people crouching behind chain link fences and shouting death threats.<br><br>It was exhausting. Dr. Nesbit slouched on the bench seat with his head resting on the back turned to look out the side window. He hadn't said anything in a long time. The two stoners in the back looked as if they had fallen asleep. Cam and his fellow football teammate were both leaning over the front seat and alternately barked commands at the driver, Ricky, and turned the radio nob to scan for any news. DJ just sat in the front and barely said a thing. He simply clutched the tire iron he had taken out from under the front seat and softly told the driver which direction would provide a clear trail through the city. <br><br>Melody had also sat quietly until now. They were getting close to the tattoo shop's neighborhood. If this road stayed clear then she would see Megan in a few minutes. She could see Megan's face and feel her naked body as she remembered being drawn into her bed. Melody's lips twitched as she practiced the kiss she would give Megan the moment she found her. Those hopes however were dashed when some asshole shot around the van and hurtled himself into a head-on collision with several other cars. <br><br>During the next several seconds Melody's attention was not captured by the two dickheads fighting, or the people who broke and ran, or even the screamer who climbed over the pile-up like it was two feet tall, Melody's attention remained on the lithe female figure with a samurai sword strapped over her back standing in the road calmly viewing the crazy action surrounding them all. She didn't know why but she was sure that this woman would help her to find Megan. Melody didn't hesitate one bit. She jumped off the bench seat, opened the side door, and shouted, "Hey samurai chick! Come with us if you want to live!" The words sounded familiar to her but it didn't matter. Melody held out her hand hoping the women would come quickly toward the van.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lynnette</strong> on <strong>16-11-2014, 16:13:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(https://38.media.tumblr.com/ad66562d74898918cf33467bf6c43c97/tumblr_nbkqkp3T3B1tztn6eo1_1280.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Ayano Tsunade<br><strong>Location:</strong> Little Tokyo<br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Melody and her people<br><br><hr><hr><br>Ayano was left watching with empty eyes as Mr. Ho came spurting out of his own house, for then to light it on fire, for then to view him run into the street, only to see a car sending him flying. What disturbed her further was how calmly she was taking it all in. She had seen the car approaching them, if she had yelled at him, she could probably have stopped him, but she didn't, she had just been standing there, taking it all in. It was the same with the burning house, which would probably end with the entire street being burned down. What was more horrifying however was the crowds which were starting to move towards her made her instinctively get a grip around the hilt of the blade, ready to pull it out if someone came straight at her, though most seemed to be running past her, making it un-necessary. <br><br>She finally snapped out of the trance-like moment when someone yelled at her, or rather, at the "samurai chick", though she hadn't seen anyone else being dumb enough to carry such an inconvenient weapon in the streets, and she guessed the blood kind of helped at identifying her, however that worked. The phrase she was met it sounded like it was taken straight out of a B-movie, though she could complain about wording later, for now, the main priority would be to get away from the masses, and a car seemed like the best option for such, even if there was no way of proving that they were safe to go with, it would hopefully be safer than remaining on the streets at least.<br><br>And with that, it was settled. Ayano started to sprint between the masses, constantly keeping a hand on the grip of the sword just in case. However, the distance was covered relatively pain-free, and she took a hold of the woman's hand and jumped into the car, closing the door with her. <strong>"Thanks..."</strong> Ayano said silently, looking back at where she had been standing and Mr. Ho's burning house.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Etherealgirl</strong> on <strong>17-11-2014, 17:24:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2630/3947226116_da6e6e0e1a_m.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Megan Ramirez (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=216507.msg10638706#msg10638706)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Westcoast Ink<br><strong>Time and Date</strong>: 10:30am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open/Anyone<br><strong>Wearing</strong>: Sunglasses (http://www.187avenue.com/brittanya/Brittanya187_Store/Acc/IMG_8502.jpg)/Daisy Duke shorts and black shirt that is cut off from the stomach down (http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/ac/71/b1/ac71b184e043992e436ec72b3dd04d5d.jpg) <br><strong>Music</strong>: &nbsp;Here<br>&nbsp;(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56vLS_KPp9I[/url)<hr><br>Megan's day went from bad to worse. She was alone in what looked like the final days of mankind. Buildings were on fire, and people ran screaming in fear. Deranged people attacked on another, eating their bodies and leaping to the next victim. <br><br>Down an alley the true nature of people could be seen. Some were being raped, while others were beaten for money. What ever control society had on people, it was now coming to an extreme end. The tattoo artists clutched her bat and ducked behind a near by car. The cop who was firing at people was finally silenced. Megan wandered if she should try and see if the cop's gun was still on her. <br><br>Before she could enact any real plan to get off the street and to somewhere safe she was caught off guard by a running lunatic. Their eyes held the same crazed look as the woman who attacked Dave. Megan growled and swung her bat into the man's stomach and sent him stumbling back. She followed up quickly by bashing the bat into the man's skull. Blood spurted out, splashing on Megan's shirt and exposed stomach. <br><br>"Fuck. YOU!" she screamed in frustration. Having committed murder in her mind, Megan scrambled for her phone again to attempt to text Melody. Her phone screen was covered in blood from her hands which made texting near impossible.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>20-11-2014, 05:58:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GmxrshsQIY0/VG1pIGUd6fI/AAAAAAAAAJc/zxR4h4pGVKw/s1600/PeruPart2476_sm.jpg)</div><br>Name: Dr. Nesbit<br>Location: In the van stopped by a crash ahead<br>Time and Date: 11:35<br>Tagging: DJ, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Melody, Ayano, Cam and 1 Teammate / Open<br>Wearing: khaki pants and shirt with boots.<br><hr><br>That itch, that gnawing itch in the back of the mind somewhere, for some it is the best feeling in the world. Images, snippets of speech in several languages, maps, endless pages in books with endless text swirled through Dr. Nesbit's mind in a seemingly unmanaged cyclone. It was far from random though. From the swirl came comparisons, groupings, themes...connections. He had trained his mind to work nearly on its own while he stared out the window watching the crappy little LA houses, corner stop-and-rob stores, and glass covered buildings. As the van worked its way back and forth along a maze of side streets Nesbit's ideas were forming and solidifying. The absurdity of today's events started coming up against folk stories told by tribes on the other side of the world... then skeletal remains from the Russian steppes... then... then... almost... "What about.." he thought as a final connection hovered just under his consciousness. Given another minute he would have shouted "Holy shit!" from his final conclusions. Instead he shouted "Holy shit!" as he was propelled into the back of the driver's seat. Ricky's stomping on the breaks had caught him completely by surprise and sent him sliding off his seat landing hard on the floor. In an instant the whiteboard in his mind that had been covered with decades of fear research was startled clean. If you asked him at that moment what he had been thinking about he would honestly have to take a minute to remember and even then would have to start all over.<br><br>He climbed back onto the bench seat just as Melody jumped off of it, opening the door and shouting to someone outside. As he sat back into his seat he rubbed his right knee. He had hit it pretty hard on the back of the driver's seat. Before he looked up someone new had landed in the seat next to him. Dr. Nesbit found himself instantly feeling a new itch. Crowded close to him was a slender, small, asian... beauty. She wore a white top that from his greater height afforded him with a view directly down her cleavage - small but perfect just the way he liked them. Around her waist was wrapped something that he couldn't make out exactly but it shown in fire red with pink leaves adorning it. She was topped with cascading black hair which he envisioned as forming a private hiding spot for the two of them as she leaned down straddling him in his imagination. The sheathed sword in her hands sent a spark right through him as any woman did with stunning looks and an interesting mystery element. He had only witnessed it personally once but without even trying he began remembering phrases traditionally used to negotiate buying women like this from their fathers. "She has to be mine," he thought then reflecting on his own reactions added, "Interesting."<br><br>DJ's voice cut through his thoughts, grabbing his attention and focusing it on the front seat. "Get the fuck out of here Ricky! Reverse! Reverse! Go! Go! Go!." Nesbit followed DJ's shocked look out the front windshield to see the enraged person descending the piled up cars coming their way. The van popped into movement but then seemed to lumber along at far less than 'get-away' speed. Ricky leaned out the passenger window looking back to steer clear of the debris that seemed to be everywhere now. "Hold on!" he shouted after a time that seemed like an eternity. Ricky snapped the wheel to the left and the van abruptly turned, hopping a curb in reverse and pushing halfway over a four foot chain link fence surrounding a burned out yard and home. Ricky ground the gears while DJ and the others shouted curses, either at the driver or at their bruised heads and shoulders. The passengers bouncing throughout the van resumed as Ricky found first and sent the lumbering old van back down the road they had come from taking the first left, again weaving through the neighborhood.<br><br>Nesbit's attention quickly turned back to the woman crowded into the middle of the bench seat between him and Melody. When she finally turned to look at him he tried to set the tone in Japanese, "Hisashiburi."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxfyr</strong> on <strong>26-11-2014, 19:06:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h289/masta_loki/tattoo_thumb1.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Vincent Kincaid<br><strong>Location: </strong> Taper Hall art department, USC Campus<br>Reference Map (http://music.usc.edu/files/2013/06/USC_Thornton_Map_2013.jpg)<br><br><hr><br>Vincent watched wide-eyed as the hit-and-run turned mauling unfolded before him in the courtyard between him and the administration building.&nbsp; <strong>”Uhhhh, fuck that.”</strong> he muttered to himself realizing the large amount of open ground between him and his initial prospect of a destination.&nbsp; If the zeds were walkers, sure, he would consider making a go of it.&nbsp; Instead they were the chase-your-ass-down style of zombie that also seemed to have an affinity for screaming.&nbsp; Instead, his eyes looked to the more immediate building in his vicinity and for a moment he was in awe with realization as he beheld Waite Phillips Hall (http://travelphotobase.com/i/USCAA/CABU102.JPG).<br><br>The tower’s imposing height of twelve stories was only accentuated by the architecture that glorified its rise.&nbsp; Vincent doubted he could find anything closer to a modern-day keep if he tried.&nbsp; Knowing that it was largely faculty offices within the building made it even more of an appealing find.&nbsp; With any luck, most of the staff would have taken the day off just as readily as the students and the building will be all but vacant.&nbsp; Of course, he figured that would be quite the longshot, so he settled the grip on his axe, seated the strap of his bag, and took off towards what he hoped would be his new stronghold.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: How to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CyranoJr</strong> on <strong>28-11-2014, 19:34:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Eat95O5eik/VFPiUh4NhuI/AAAAAAAAAG8/LwZLDhLpRcg/s1600/1hot-djs-20%2Bthin.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: DJ<br><strong>Location</strong>: On the side streets of LA<br><strong>Time and Date:</strong> 11:50am<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Melody, Bobby-Jason-Ricky, Dr. Nesbit, Ayano, Cam and 1 teammate / Open<br><hr>"Get out of the Goddamn way!" DJ waved his hand trying to push the person to the side from behind the windshield. Ricky was yelling as well, "I'll run your ass over," or something like that. The heat inside the old van became more and more unbearable each second that it sat still under the LA noon sun. Adding to the lack of breeze were the heated tempers of everyone inside the van. Shouts started to come from the group crowded in the back. "Fuck man! Get out of the fucking way before I come out there to kick your ass!"&nbsp; <br><br>That last comment got the one with the bat moving. Up until now the four old guys had simply stood in the extremely narrow road without moving. Dressed in working man's clothes accentuated by Harley t-shirts and bandanas that are typical weekend-biker paraphernalia, each appeared to be in their early to mid 50s given their greying hair and softening physiques.&nbsp; After the van had stopped, the leader, or at least the one that did the talking, had shouted "Road tax! Throw shit out of the van until we get something we can use!" They had grinned and chuckled at their friend's words while twirling machetes, bats, and even a set of nunchucks. Now the largest one was moving around toward the passenger side of the van bringing his bat up ready to swing.<br><br>DJ tightened his grip on the tire iron he held in his lap. The window was open and if needed his plan was to shove the pointed end out the window into any attacker. That was about as far as he had thought it out. The large one didn't go for the front passenger door though, he continued toward the rear door that was already being opened by Cam's football teammate. "I got this asshole."&nbsp; &nbsp;he said confidently as he launched himself out the door. He didn't have him though. He was met with a crushing blow as the bat connected full swing into his chest. The noises of his breath shooting from his lungs and some crunching mixed together for stomach turning effect. The teammate slumped in place, his forward momentum stopped cold.<br><br>"Shit!" DJ thought and moved without thinking. He swung open his door and stepped out of the van directly beside the bat wielding ambusher. Gripping the tire iron with two hands he swung a short awkward strike that missed his head and came down on the man's shoulder. The weight of the metal tire iron was enough to crack his collar bone causing his shoulder to drop and the bat to fall from his hand. The fat attacker slumping slightly to the right turned to face DJ with rage growing hot in his eyes. Again DJ moved without much thinking, swinging the tire iron up connecting with the attacker's&nbsp; jaw. He fell away his disfigured mouth a slurry of blood and teeth. <br><br>"Fuck this!" Ricky yelled and shoved the van into gear, grinding it loudly before finding the right combination of clutch and shifter. DJ heard the van and felt its movement, he sat back onto the edge of his seat just as the van jumped forward. The passenger door swung back to close and pinched DJ's legs still hanging out the door, not hard enough to do much damage but he did wince from the blow. Behind him, Cam pulled his friend back into the van as the back door also swung shut from the sudden forward motion of the van.<br><br>The bandana covered leader and one other attacker stepped to the side out of the path of the van raising their weapons to strike. The last attacker did not step away but instead stepped directly in front of the moving vehicle swinging a heavy chain toward the windshield. Just after the chain struck the windshield causing several spider web cracks, the van struck the attacker his head cracking against the bottom edge of the windshield. Spatters of blood sprayed up while the body bounced back to the ground, the van driving over the motionless body. <br><br>As they continued down the narrow street toward their first opportunity to turn, DJ sat back, closed his door and turned past the bloody mess on the window in front of him to look at Ricky. A huge smile dominated Ricky's face. He turned to look at DJ and half laughed half shouted, "Fuckin' A!" DJ looked past Ricky's head to the open window behind him. Lodged in the window frame a full inch into the metal of the old van was the bright metal machete. Its tip had likely missed Ricky by the smallest of margins and he didn't even know it. DJ turned back to look out the front window thinking how things had definitely changed and wondering how many near misses they could survive. He softly echoed his friend, "Fuckin' A." <br>
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