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Arunafeltz

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  1. After Zachary's murderous driving, Nana was glad to be out of the vehicle. She lost count of how many bodies the poor jeep had collided with, but she couldn't imagine it being anything but good for the vehicle after repeated impacts. She was no automobile mechanic though, if only Vadim was still around... "Still kicking, still walking." she answered their trench-coated comrade, who had outdone himself with his gunnery this time. Pressing down on her chest to suppress her nausea, she slung her hammer over her shoulder and looked around at the corpses littering the dirt road. It didn't help much, but she snapped the flu mask over her face as well to make the smell barely bearable. "I don't think we passed any water nearby. Even if we went back and got the hose, there isn't a conveniently-located water tanker to draw from" she said. "No bright ideas from me though, unless you fancy carting these into a ditch further away from here so we can make a jolly bonfire and let the smoke draw any remaining infected elsewhere." There was still the concern of the infected that fled. If they could rationalize their actions enough to prioritize their survival, would they be able to share information with each other too? She hadn't witnessed the infected hordes being particularly coordinated, but if they were smart enough to communicate, there would be little point in trying to keep Zachary's military base thing any more discreet. The thought of fleeing briefly crossed her mind, but she knew that she wouldn't last three weeks outside the city by herself with little outdoorsman skills.
  2. Things were happening and escalating way too quickly for Nana's liking, but she had little choice in the matter. Not when hot on their heels was a horde of infected with more colour and diversity among their numbers than the last cultural exchange festival. On the run with some kind of foreign movie protagonist behind the wheel with a wounded egghead in tow wasn't quite how she envisioned herself surviving in this apocalyptic cityscape, but then again her even being alive to see day after day wasn't expected to begin with. Riding shotgun was where she asked to be, but there was little for her to do from her seat. She couldn't give Zachary directions from a map, or help their gunner who seemed to be pulling more than his weight despite his recent injury. She kept her fingers crossed that no infected would suddenly leap onto the hood of the jeep, though if it came to that - she happened to be packing a mean thrust with as much subtlety as one would expect any other bloodstained 5-kilogram steel mold demolition tool to have.
  3. From my understanding, Joshua was going to try and automate the turret or something? I don't think we got to establish that, but I'll assume that he's on the gunner's seat for the time being - though I'll leave ambiguous the bit about whether he's manually operating it or not.
  4. I'm getting the impression that DM is trying to steer the setting away from what it is and get it back on his track, which if the case - could be done with less subtlety I guess. At this point I'm not sure who is supposed to be directing the interaction and setting we have going on here.
  5. She didn't need telling twice. Zachary was the most well-equipped to take on the hordes in the thick of melee, it was the most she could do to keep them off their gunner. She fumbled around in her pockets, quickly fishing out her earplugs and stuffing them into her ears before assuming a batter's stance near the vehicle. Nana didn't know if the turret would eject spent casings like most of the guns she had seen the military use, but she didn't fancy getting singed by any coming from their gunner today.
  6. Nana wasn't sure how long their fortunes could keep them going, but with little knowledge of the compound's layout and the surrounding urban geography, her best chances seemed to be to stick with Zachary and the whole package of military assets and seemingly infinite ammunition that came with him, which unfortunately included the bravado and eccentricity. He could handle himself, but she couldn't help but feel that the wounded man among them could use some protecting. He at least had a pistol of his own, but she'd have to make sure that the infected didn't get close to him again. With no knowledge of the rifle, its switch-looking components or even how to chamber a round, she kept it slung around her back and fisted her trusty sledgehammer in gloved hands instead. She turned to Zachary. "What's the plan?"
  7. Nana wasn't expecting battle-ready military vehicles that had apparently been maintained and serviced for this moment, but she wasn't about to ask questions now. Wherever Zachary was receiving all these assets from was a matter for another time. At least the jeep looked rather speedy. The turret position looked rather exposed however, and she wasn't feeling confident about what to do should it jam up on her. But that did apply to a gun too. "Not sure how much time we have to 'learn' something, but if we're getting up in that - I think I'll ride shotgun. Would I have to shoot from that seat?" she replied, urgency building in her voice. She had little idea what a 'navy seal' was, but it sounded like military from a foreign country. So this Zachary likely wasn't a local either. She threw her suspicions aside for some renewed confidence in his combat ability, he had that going for him at least.
  8. Nana couldn't judge how large the horde without visual contact, but from the noise it sounded like a third of the city was upon them. And here their... benefactor Zachary was staring rather creepily at the other man who appeared to be in visible discomfort. The infected screeching in the distance was probably harrowing to him given his recent experience. She accepted the armoured vest which her torso filled well, but waved away the helmet in favour of her hard hat and its headlamp. She was also unsure about the rifle, though she could see the merit in carrying a spare gun if they needed it. "Never used one, and are you sure we should be staying? Not like I'd know where we could try escaping to, but there's three of us against gods know how many of them."
  9. Odd fellow as the infected man was, it was no lie that he had helped them out and was offering his hospitality, suspicious as its origins were. She didn't want to appear rude, and it was the least she could do to return his grace. With an obvious effort, she obliged him and put away her sledgehammer, slinging it across her back. "Just water, thank you. My name's Nana by the way." Perhaps the stress from over the past few days was getting to her, but she couldn't bring herself to relax at this moment.
  10. The ominous flickering was unnerving, and Nana certainly did not appreciate being plunged into darkness within a relatively confined indoor space. Her headlamp flickered on as he vanished into the generator room, and such was her newfound survival instinct that her hammer was already firmly gripped in both hands when he returned. With an unsure grunt of acknowledgement, she allowed herself to be led away, but did not sheathe her pitiful weapon. Definitely not quite in the mood for a drink now. As they stepped into the kitchen, they were joined by the man that they had rescued from earlier. He was also up on his feet - whatever treatment he received was evidently rather effective, perhaps the weird infected guy was a better surgeon than she assumed. But she noticed that he too, had his weapon out with a flashlight in hand. She caught his eye and gave him an understanding nod. Perhaps he shared the same sense that they were perhaps not as safe as they appeared to be, not now.
  11. Nana had several questions, but now wasn't the time. She left them unasked and followed him as he gave her the tour of his "humble little home". It was rather concerning that nobody else seemed to be around despite how many people could have been sheltered here, however. But a drink was much needed, and she obliged his suggestion. "Yes actually. That'll be nice." she replied, already half-expecting him to lead her to some kind of alcohol wing or bar facility or something. How much went into building this place?
  12. Nana had trouble believing what she was seeing, but their current safety wasn't as comforting as it should. Just when survivors had thought that the law enforcement, military and secret service had all but fallen, she managed to escape the jaws of death and was now standing in some kind of base full of provisions, arms and a hospital? She hadn't the faintest idea who the partially-infected man was, but he was apparently rich enough to afford this facility. It was rather eerie that nobody else was around though, when the place looked like it should be sheltering as many refugees and injured as it could. And the man himself was a rather odd fellow, talking to nobody and jerking his head in random directions. Perhaps the infection was taking its toll on his mental state, definitely something to worry about. She made a mental note of what she had observed as she paced past outside the emergency wards where the injured man had been taken. That one was also one to worry about. He was already wounded when they arrived, and it couldn't have been anything other than the infected who could have done it. The vile strain could be creeping through his veins at this moment, twisting him as it had so many others. For a moment, Nana could see the agonized faces of her men writing at her feet, telling her how much they hurt. That they couldn't hold on for much longer, that they loved their families and children. Her eyes swimming, she clutched at the tool that had granted them their sweet release, deriving some comfort from her grip on the fiberglass rod handle. Would this man that had just escaped death have to face the same fate? Could this part-infected man actually save him? He didn't look like a surgeon or doctor, but at this point there was little she could do but pray.
  13. She didn't need telling twice. Without ballistic firepower or an actual weapon, there really wasn't much she could do to hold such a powerful infected off. Nana jumped into the vehicle with the wounded man, then shouted at the infected man who was still outside. "Get us out of here!"
  14. This was in some way, her fault. The major infected would have been drawn to the firefight in the grocery store one way or the other, but by fleeing in this direction, she had led it to them in the first place. Thinking quickly, Nana mustered whatever nerve she had left and dashed away from the man's vehicle - the major infected wanted her, and she couldn't allow it to damage their only escape during its charge and possibly hit the wounded man. But at the same time, surely she could not use the same trick twice and dodge its charge again, for the bony blades it bore would likely catch her if she tried to duck or roll out of the way. Unslinging her sledgehammer in a fluid motion, she assumed a baseball batter's focused stance and squinted her eyes, poised to receive the major infected's strike. There would be too much power in its charge for her to stop fully, but with her weapon in hand, she did have the advantage of a longer reach. She'd just have to trust the weird partly-infected guy with too much ammo to actually be able to finish this thing after she had done her part. Its charge was blindingly fast, driven by a primal fury and thirst for carnage. With all of her might, Nana swung her hammer like a golf club, driving the 5 kilogram steel head to collide with her target's center of gravity.
  15. The glare of the lamp bathed him in amber for a few moments, then he was engulfed in darkness once more as a pair of strong yet gentle arms swept him up from his shoulders. The makeshift crutch was knocked out of his grasp and replaced with the shoulder of a tall woman, her dirty yellow hair filling his nose with the smells of coconut shampoo and motor oil. "Press down on your wounds, dear." said a motherly voice. "I- We're getting you out of here."
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