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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 11, 2010 18:03:47 GMT -7
"What I wouldn't give for a few bullets right now." Joe said as he looked around. This house was empty too. And it was full of a family of zombies. Sad, yes, but they needed to find what they could use. Thankfully, Washington D.C. was one of the only cities in the country with an ongoing power supply. It didn't mean it wasn't abandoned, though. Joe sighed as he took out his mp3 and a charger. He plugged it into a near by electrical socket.
"Hey, Mike. Why are we here?" Joe asked his traveling companion. He took out his longsword, his most beloved item, and started to clean it with a nearby cloth.
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Post by God Mike on Apr 11, 2010 18:10:41 GMT -7
Mike whistled to himself as he looked around in the bathroom, stepping over a dead zombie. He spray-painted his usual crest on the bathroom mirror and opened the medicine cabinet. He found two bottles of aspirin, a bottle of cough syrup and... Viagra?
Shrugging, he put it all into his backpack. It might be fun to see if he could force-feed a zombie Viagra. His snickering was interrupted by a question from Joe.
"Hey, Mike. Why are we here?"
Mike stepped out of the bathroom and headed into the living room where Joe was. "Because I've always wanted to see the White House, and Congress, and both of those are sure to have shiny things for me and books for you," he answered simply as he checked his pockets. He only had a few 10 gauge slugs left...
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 11, 2010 18:20:23 GMT -7
Joe grinned at the mention of books. His mission to preserve ages past shall not be unfinished. He slid his longsword back into his sheath. He got up from the bed he was sitting on, and checked his pockets. He took out his magazines for his M1A1 and looked at them. He could count two magazines full and one about three quarters empty.
"How much ammo do you have, Mike?" Joe asked as he checked his pistol magazines. Three full magazines for each Glock. Nice. He put the magazines away as he walked out of the room. Until something caught his eye. An old RedRum BB pistol. He picked it up and smiled greatly.
"Hey, Mike. I think If found something useful."
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Post by Zeno on Apr 11, 2010 18:29:20 GMT -7
"How much ammo do you have, Mike?"
"Five slugs in the shotgun, and six in my pockets..." Mike replied and upholstered his .44 revolvers, checking the cylinders. Holstering them again, he reached into a pouch on his hip, feeling around. "...12 shots in the guns, and 4 full speed loaders."
They were running low on ammo. As satisfying as it was, slicing through a zombie horde could become tiring after a while, so he really wanted to get some ammo.
"Hey, Mike. I think If found something useful."
Mike headed over to his friend and looked at his find, and then sighed. "That's not useful... Useful is shiny, like gold, or silver, or maybe a couple of .44 rounds. A 10 gauge shell would be useful, too..."
Shaking his head, Mike headed into the kitchen and grabbed all the canned food he could get his hands on, stuffing them into his backpack, before leaving the house. "Come on, Joe! Let's go sightseeing!"
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 11, 2010 18:59:10 GMT -7
Joe rolled his eyes. Sightseeing. Right. He put away the small BB pistol in his backpack, and swiftly walked after Mike.
"Find anything in the medicine cabinets?" Joe asked as he walked after Mike. He held his carbine over his shoulder in case of a zombie attack.
"And the RedRum is very useful! Back in the day, I could make these work with anything smaller than a .22! I used to use pills, rocks, candy, anything small, it would launch it." Joe said. He sighed. He could hear Sooba, his pet raven, cawing out.
"Looks like we have zombies on the way, my friend."
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Post by Zeno on Apr 12, 2010 4:35:50 GMT -7
"Find anything in the medicine cabinets?"
Mike nodded. "Aspirin, cough syrup and Viagra. Everything a man needs to have a good time," he said with a snicker, listening to Joe prattle on about how good the BB gun was.
Mike wasn't listening too closely, though. Something had caught his eye, in a Volvo on the street. Walking up to it, he smashed his elbow into the passenger seat window, smashing it. "Aha!" he exclaimed with a grin as he reached in, and took out an unopened bottle of Captain Morgan Black Label. "Sweet."
"Looks like we have zombies on the way, my friend."
Mike sighed at that. "I don't feel like fighting zombies today..."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2010 15:40:30 GMT -7
Joe rolled his eyes. Circumstance, unfortunately, had a colossal grudge against him and Mike.
"I don't feel like fighting zombies today..."
"Well, if you don't want to fight, I suggest we hide. The zombies are about a block or two away, I figure, so we'll have to choose one of these buildings to occupy until they pass." Joe said as he looked at Mike. He saw the Captain Morgan Black Label in Mike's hand. Joe raised an eyebrow.
"What year is that?" Joe asked.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 12, 2010 16:06:31 GMT -7
"Well, if you don't want to fight, I suggest we hide. The zombies are about a block or two away, I figure, so we'll have to choose one of these buildings to occupy until they pass."
Mike hummed as he looked around. Then, he shrugged, stuffing the bottle into his backpack and walking up to the drainpipe of the building they just came out of. Then, he started to climb.
"Come on, we'll hide on the roof. It's high enough so that we'll be able to scout out a path to the White House, and we'll be able to hide from the zombies," he said as he looked up at the roof. It should be able to hide them from view.
"And it's 40 years old, by the way."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2010 16:16:10 GMT -7
"Come on, we'll hide on the roof. It's high enough so that we'll be able to scout out a path to the White House, and we'll be able to hide from the zombies,"
Joe raised an eyebrow. A drainpipe. He shrugged as he followed his companion. Good enough for him. He just needed a place for safety and a possible scavenging opportunity. It was only then he noticed the sign of the building. It was a restaurant, and, from what he read a few years back, a classy one too.
"And it's 40 years old, by the way."
Joe grinned. There could be a few glasses in the restaurant as well. For after the zombies pass, of course. He climbed up after Mike, wondering if they would find a military outpost near the White House. From what he remembered, they had top priority, and had a few weapons he and Mike could scavenge. Of course, they're probably bone dry by now.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 12, 2010 16:23:55 GMT -7
As he reached the roof of the building, Mike sat down on the edge and looked down at the ground below, taking off his gas mask and wiping his brow. His thought process had become clearer in the time he'd been with Joe, since he actually had someone to keep him in check now.
"Man, this heat is killing me," he muttered, squinting his eyes as he looked up at the glare of the sun. Not a cloud in sight... "Oh, joy. The zombies will be eating well-done Mike á la Coup de chaleur..."
He snickered to himself, those French lessons he'd taken in school had paid off. He glanced at Joe, smirking. "Means Heatstroke, by the way."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2010 16:30:36 GMT -7
Joe climbed over the wall and sat down. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the somewhat fresh air. Well, when zombies are decaying, it's not exactly fresh.
"Oh, joy. The zombies will be eating well-done Mike á la Coup de chaleur..."
Joe raised an eyebrow and looked over at his smirking friend, who had his mask off. One of the rare instances Joe had seen his friend's face.
"Means Heatstroke, by the way."
"I didn't know you spoke French." Joe said, his eyebrow still raised. Apparently there wasn't much he knew about his traveling companion. Joe took out a bottle of water and offered it to Mike.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 12, 2010 16:43:50 GMT -7
"I speak a lot of languages," Mike replied as he unscrewed the metal cap of the bottle of rum and took a sip, swishing it in his mouth for a second, before swallowing. "Hey, this is good," he said as he held out the bottle to Joe.
"Anyway, I've wanted to travel ever since I was a kid, so learning languages was a must for me. In school, I took English, French and German lessons, and after that, I took Spanish and Italian."
Thinking about this for a while, he scratched his head. "Come to think of it, I never went to any place other than the US..."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2010 16:51:42 GMT -7
Joe took the bottle and drank a gulp of the rum. He sighed as the alcohol ran down his throat, leaving a trail of fire behind it.
"Anyway, I've wanted to travel ever since I was a kid, so learning languages was a must for me. In school, I took English, French and German lessons, and after that, I took Spanish and Italian."
Joe looked at his friend, an eyebrow raised a bit higher. Six different languages, he spoke. Joe could only speak about... three and a half. He didn't really pay that much attention in school.
"Come to think of it, I never went to any place other than the US..."
Joe smiled at the irony of that. "So, you didn't visit any of the countries you had learned tongue from, but you mastered the speak of five. That's irony for you." Joe said.
"I can only speak about... three and a half. Chinese, Irish, and English. And a bit of Latin." Joe said, his smile slowly growing wider.
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Post by Zeno on Apr 12, 2010 17:16:51 GMT -7
"So, you didn't visit any of the countries you had learned tongue from, but you mastered the speak of five. That's irony for you."
Mike nodded with a chuckle. "I did meet some Italians outside Chicago. That gave me an opportunity to speak it, but yelling, 'Non sparate! Io non sono un uomo morto!' over and over again isn't exactly what I call a stimulating conversation."
"I can only speak about... three and a half. Chinese, Irish, and English. And a bit of Latin."
"Oh..." Mike drank some rum, and then smiled. "In that case, you probably didn't even understand what I just said? I said, 'Don't shoot! I'm not a dead guy!'"
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 12, 2010 17:26:41 GMT -7
Joe chuckled at that. He could see Mike doing that. But then he would take their shiny objects and leave, all without them knowing. But something was wrong. Joe strained to hear the groans of the zombies that were supposed to come this way. But he didn't. He couldn't even hear the shuffle of a zombie's walk. His eyes narrowed.
"Something's wrong." Joe said as he brought his carbine to bear. He pressed a button on his rifle. The magazine slid out and he checked the contents. It was three quarters full, with a round in the chamber. He slammed the magazine back into his rifle. He slid on his goggles and gas mask.
"Be ready for anything." Joe said as he crawled towards the center of the roof. It wasn't a good idea to be near the edge in the case of zombies being able to climb.
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