[Frallon]

This is the New Attempt at making a long lasting RP from Players Contract Killer and Frallon. Please respect the RP as we have been trying to do with other RP's for so long.

-Who can Join-
The Rp is open to everyone, although it'd be ideal to have 8 people, everyone is capable of joining. We'd appreciate anyone trying to join to be able to commit to the RP for at least a month strong, see how it works, and try to post regularly after that.

-Where, What, When-
Welcome to Parker, Pennsylvania; dubbed "The Smallest City in the U.S.A". Parker was never big on anything, mostly looked at as a historical city, a place that saw its golden days over two hundred years ago when oil was found. After the Outbreak though..Parker found life; in a way. When Baltimore and Cleveland went sour, people frantically ran for their lives anywhere they could make it, Parker was lucky (or unlucky) enough to pull in a few survivors of its own. The men and women of Parker defended themselves amongst the rustic, wild west, exterior of the streets until a calm settled. From the ashes of the Apocalypse, more survivors came, and more settlers stayed. Parker began to prosper, rebuild families, put up large sewer lines to the river, stilted their houses for security, and refined their resources. With such advancements, months after the dust had settled, men still found way to greed in their hearts. Division soon came after an uprising of half the townsmen turned to violence, and within less than a week, the entire town was divided. Then, when they were down, the dead returned.. The traitors couldn't live with straights, the straights couldn't live with the traitors, and neither could stay with the undead. With nowhere left to go, the resources becoming more consumed with both sides fighting for control, the traitors took what they had and retreated under the city, coming up only to snatch supplies to try to rebuild for a second time.
Now, two years after the original outbreak, the city stays quiet only disrupted by gun shots. New Members rarely come to the town, weather because of the constant fighting they're shot or unnoticed, the possibility of the dead killing them, or the fact that nothing grows or lives for over 30 miles. Cars have died, gas has dried up, everyone must move by foot. The two "families" of settlers battle for control of ammunition, food, supplies, all while trying to hold back the fast hordes from the undead.

-How Do I Join-
First, Get the Basics out of the way, fill out the following:
NAME: (keep things in good taste; First & Last.)
AGE: (Be reasonable with what you expect your person to be doing)
WEIGHT & HEIGHT: (^ same ^)
HAIR COLOR & EYE COLOR: (Just lil Physical)
TEAM: (What side are you on)

EQUIPMENT:
(Keep things reasonable to what you could actually carry. Most people will prefer a back pack for additional items, however, if you want to make things tricky just try using your pockets. Include: Food, water, ammunition, magazines, and small items.)

ARSENAL:
(You're allowed two weapons and a Melee weapon. Ammo is restricted in Parker, Common types are 9mm, .22LR, .45, 12 gauge, and slightly less common is 5.56, .308, and .30-06. Will not except any weapons with belt fed ammunition, the government is long gone so no military grade weapons, and no 7.62.)
Weapon Name & Type: (ex. Mossberg 500 Shotgun)
Caliber: (ex. 12 gauge)
Location on Body: (ex. Slung over shoulder)
Modifications: (keep tasteful, only two modifications allowed, ex. shortened barrel and fore-grip pistol-grip)
(repeat for secondary)
MELEE WEAPON:
Weapon Type: (^same^)
Location on Body: (^same^)

PERSONAL INFORMATION
DATE OF BIRTH: (Obvious)
OCCUPATION: (Prior)
FAMILY: (Immediate)
SEX: (Obvious)
PERSONALITY PROFILE: (What do they act like; least six sentences)
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: (Appearance; Least one Paragraph)
MEDICAL HISTORY: (Past Issues)
SCARS: (Self-explanatory; state what and briefly what happened.)

After filling out the necessary information PM it to me and I'll review you; I wont be too harsh

-How will this Work-
Each Character, after created, will have to meet a certain quota. Each post is expected to be at least 7 sentences long, in order to avoid bland posting, and to slow down the chances of trafic. Keep things simple. Dont go blotching up the plot with useless information, dont take on everything for yourself, and above all keep things realistic. If you expect me to believe that your character just jumped down a three story building firing into a group of zeds and by the time he touched the ground unharmed they were dead; think again. Major things, such as Military involvement when there is no military, or a cure will not be accepted. Watch your ammunition count, ammo like i stated is not just sitting around for you to use, and there is no stronghold of ammunition to just stock pile on; realism. Just, in short, keep things simple so you dont single handedly change the ENTIRE rp, dont be rambo, realism, and have fun.

[Frallon]

NAME: John Butch
AGE: 27
WEIGHT & HEIGHT:152lbs, 6'2"
HAIR COLOR & EYE COLOR: Dark Brown, Green
TEAM: Traitors (under ground)

EQUIPMENT:
Duffel Bag: (x1) Stainless Steel Canteen, (x2) bottles of non-labeled water, (x1) large package of sunflower seeds, (x2) cans of chicken noodle soup, (x2) cans of pork and beans, (x1) can of kidney beans, (x1) pocket watch, (x1) Pistol Magazine, (x2) boxes of 50 round .45 Ammunition, (x1) Holster, (x1) sheath

ARSENAL:
PRIMARY:
Weapon Name & Type: Springfield 1911 Handgun
Caliber: .45
Location on Body: Vertical Holster along lower back waist
Modifications: Long Slide, Ivory Grip
SECONDARY:
N/A
MELEE WEAPON:
Weapon Type: Stainless Steel Machete
Location on Body: Sheath along left hip

PERSONAL INFORMATION
DATE OF BIRTH: December, 2, 1980
OCCUPATION: High School History Teacher
FAMILY: Adopted and Alone
SEX: Male
PERSONALITY PROFILE:Very outspoken but tries to keep personal opinions to himself. Very sarcastic, most people dont like him for his sarcasm, but for ones who put up with it find him very useful. Has a high tolerance for stupidity, doesn't mind people asking stupid questions, and always tries to nurture best he can manage. Gets a thrill out of using his intelligence in creative matters. Most men who follow him tend to look towards him as a tactician of sorts for how he spits out moves at the drop of a pin. Trusts in his own words.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
Keeps his thin dark brown hair fairly long, enough to cover to the back of his neck and over his eyes, but doesn't like side burns. Wears Jeans, dark and tattered, and holds the pair up with a belt made out of rope. Has a dark red button up shirt, untucked, over an ACDC tshirt. Arms are long, hairless, thin, matching the rest of his skinny body. Keeps his duffel bag sorted and slung vertical over his shoulder while he walks and runs over Parker; just above his 45.
MEDICAL HISTORY: No severe illness' or allergies
SCARS: Deep scar along side of right leg from surgery for broken ankle and four inch cut along left cheek bone, both received via car crash, 2006.

This post has been edited by Frallon: 12 June 2010 - 11:33 PM

[Contract Killer]

NAME: Anthony Vanella ((Shocker!!))
AGE: 27
WEIGHT & HEIGHT: 5'11 and 170
HAIR COLOR & EYE COLOR: Dark brown and brown.
TEAM: Traitors

EQUIPMENT: Backpack filled with five water bottles, sixteen Cliff bars, a can of beans, firemaking tools and a zippo in addition to extra socks, underwear and another shirt as well as sowing tools/materials. Basic medkit. Four twenty round mags on his vest for his M1A and a ten rounder in the gun. Six mags for his P220(on vest) as well cleaning kits for both in the back pack. Sharpening kit for knife. Box of 45 .308 rounds and 25 .45 rounds.



ARSENAL:
Weapon A Name & Type: Springfield Scout M1A
Caliber: 7.62/ .308
Location on Body: Slung over shoulder.
Modifications: Leupold II Mark 4 10x40mm Scope and Vortex flash hider.
Small Mods and other info: Hand towel wrapped around stock to help cheek-weld. His wife and kid's names are carved into the side of the black, synthetic stock.


Weapon B Name & Type: Sig P220
Caliber: .45
Location on Body: Left hip, holstered.
Modifications: Night sights and Single-action only.
(http://remtek.com/ar...del/220/220.gif)

MELEE WEAPON:
Weapon Type: Ka-Bar Bowie Short
Location on Body: Sheath on vest.

PERSONAL INFORMATION
DATE OF BIRTH: Jan. 20th. 1980
OCCUPATION: U.S. Marines Corps. On fourth and final year of service.
FAMILY: Wife and two children. All died of non-zombie disease.
SEX: Male
PERSONALITY PROFILE: Anthony once upon a time was an outgoing, charismatic man who was able of leading others well. However, the stress of post-apocolyptica and the deaths of his wife and children hardened him. These days he is a callous and cold killer. What were once skills that allowed him to defend America now allow him to terrorize those that live above ground. The straights have turned him into a bit of a local legend, a man who can kill anyone within 650 yards with one shot no matter what. Anthony is a man of few words and speaks openly only in front of a few people.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Anthony is not the most physically imposing man as far as size goes. However, he has a stare that could make Chuck Norris soil himself. His dark brown hair is of medium length but trimmed in the front to avoid effecting his shooting. Keen brown eyes compliment his natural ability with a rifle. Facial hair grows mildly but for the most part is kept to around five-o'clock shadow. A faded grey milsurp vest with multiple pouches covers his grey marine corps shirt. He wears black BDU pants and a dark colored belt. Dark grey half-finger gloves cover his hands and a black bandana is tied around his neck. An old-school gasmask covers his face but it is more for aesthetics then function.
MEDICAL HISTORY: Asthma at a young age, nearly gone by age sixteen and not a problem by adulthood. Second-hand smoke have done minor damage to his lungs as well. Teeth aren't fantastic.
SCARS: Many. Notable ones include marks on his face from knife wounds and zombie encounters as well as one on his chest were an AK round slipped past his plats in Afghanistan.

This post has been edited by Contract Killer: 12 June 2010 - 11:43 PM

[Survivor243]

NAME: Christopher Althouse
AGE: 20
WEIGHT & HEIGHT: A whopping 160 lbs, 6'2"
HAIR & EYE COLOR: Both are brown
TEAM: Straight

EQUIPMENT: Medium sized hardframed hiking pack in faded grey, contains a IFAK consisting of the mere basics, a box of waterproof matches and lighters, a Camelback tied to the outside on the left side filled with water, water purification tablets, cleaning kit for weapons, 1 lbs of dried rabbit meat and a change of clothes.

ARSENAL:
Primary Weapon: Ruger 22/10 .22 semi-automatic rifle w/ eight 25-round magazines and an additional 500 rounds in pack, no scope or frills on weapon, rifle sling though.
Location On Body: Hangs on back by rifle sling or is held in both hands when moving across open areas.
Secondary Weapon: Glock-19 9mm semi-automatic pistol w/four loaded 15-round magazines and a mere 50 rounds in pack.
Location on Body: Has a holster worn on right side and has a safety laynard tied to it.
Melee Weapon: 21" Bolo style machete with a nylon sheath worn over the right shoulder, has family members names stamped onto the blade.

PERSONAL INFORMATION:
DOB: 8-31-91
OCCUPATION: None, was having a go at trying to become an author when the world went to Hell.
FAMILY: All deceased from zombie disease shortly outbreak.
SEX: Male.

PERSONALITY PROFILE: Chris tends to keep to himself now that his family was killed and he'd seen people he become attached to be killed over petty fighting, so he prefers to remain by himself for the most part. His skills as a small game hunter, scrounger and scout is invaluable, rabbit hunting is his pastime time out near the park and edge of Parker. Has no qualms about killing, zombie or human, if it attempts to kill him, he will kill it just the same and his prefered mode of attack is waiting in hiding until the time to strike is perfect. He does however care for people, going around scrounging up diapers, medicine, clothes, baby formula and odds and ends people ask for.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Has no real intimidating features, looks more like a choir boy than a survivor once he shaves the peach fuzz off his face. His hair is hacked short because of lice, ticks and the annoyance it provides to be, that and his rangy appearance often has him mistaken for a Traitor on several instances. Loves to keep excellent care of his teeth, a few zits that are truly persistant hiding in his hairline and the usual scowl that is permantetly plastered on his face.

MEDICAL HISTORY: No aligments to his health, is O+ in blood, 18/20 vision, no glasses/contacts, has no serve broken bones, all shots were up to date including a rabis shot and has no allergy to anything.

SCARS: Aside from the emotional ones hidden where nobody can see them, he has a bunch of tiny scars on his knuckles and hands from fighting, a nasty burn on his upper left forearm from a childhood incidinet, two perpendicular scars on his right arm from a knife fight a year ago and a crease missing from his left thigh where he gotten shot several months ago.

This post has been edited by Survivor243: 15 June 2010 - 01:56 PM

[ZombifiedBrendan]

NAME: Corey Anderson
AGE: 22
WEIGHT & HEIGHT: 6’ foot, 151 lbs
HAIR COLOR & EYE COLOR: Short black hair and green eyes.
TEAM: Straights

EQUIPMENT: Black and Red Billabong backpack, 2x water bottles, 3x Can of mixed fruits, 1x Bag of popping corn, 1x Watch with inbuilt compass, 1x Map torn out of street directory, 1x Sling, 22x 12 Gauge rounds, 1x Respirator Mask, 1x Spoon, 1x Lighter, 1x Small Medical Kit.


ARSENAL:
Weapon Name & Type: Remington 870
Caliber: 12 Gauge
Location on Body: Slung over shoulder
Modifications: Rear pistol grip and side saddle shell holder.
No secondary
MELEE WEAPON:
Weapon Type: World War I Trench Knife.
Location on Body: Tucked into belt on right side.

PERSONAL INFORMATION
DATE OF BIRTH: April the 6th, 1985
OCCUPATION: Pizza Delivery
FAMILY: Had a normal family with a younger brother. Brother and Mother died at the age of 10 of a car crash. Father committed suicide when the news of the infection first hit.
SEX: Male
PERSONALITY PROFILE: He had a bright future ahead of him, being smart, popular and all round nice until the accident happened. When that happened, he become depressive, alone and rather bitter. He stayed like that and had a pessimistic view on life until the outbreak began. At that moment that he saw his fathers dead corpse in front of him, he knew he would have to change to survive. Missing out on all social interaction during his teenage life, he cannot communicate and is shy around everyone. Despite all that, he tries to be a nice guy and does his best to help any of the people he meets in Parker but is not afraid to put down people.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He was always rather scrawny, even before the outbreak. When it began, the few pounds of body fat stripped off him as he struggled to survive. His muscles aren’t strong and he would be easy to defeat in a fist match. He is always constantly wearing a black zip up hoodie, whether or not it is too hot for it. Underneath is a plain black t-shirt, dirty from the many months wear. His white skate shoes are nearly brown from the speckles of mud and his pair of dark jeans are worn out from use. His belt is kept up by a black leather belt.
MEDICAL HISTORY: Suffered from depression from 13 years old onwards.
SCARS: His hands are the most heavily affected area. The only other major scar site is on his left, above the pelvis that he got from a sword totting idiot in Parker.

[Zombreach]

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

NAME: CC (Catherine Coombs)
AGE: 21
WEIGHT & HEIGHT: 5'5"; 125 lbs.
HAIR COLOR & EYE COLOR: brown hair; hazel-green eyes
TEAM: Straights

EQUIPMENT:Black drawstring backpack, suede leather boda canteen, 1 pound of venison jerky, protein/fiber cakes (homemade), partial bag of stale chocolate kisses, box of 9mm bullets (50 count), 1 spare magazine-loaded (add. 12 rounds), compass, 2 lighters, basic first-aid kit, brass knuckles, small mirror (dentist style), pepper-spray and several small bottles of vodka (airplane size).

ARSENAL: Sig Sauer P229 (9mm) and Glock-17 (9mm)

Location on Body: Sig Sauer worn at the hip in a holster. Glock concealed under jacket in a shoulder rig holster.
Modifications: none
MELEE WEAPON:knife
Weapon Type: switchblade
Location on Body: jacket pocket

PERSONAL INFORMATION
DATE OF BIRTH: 1/10/1986
OCCUPATION: teacher's asst.
FAMILY: brother named Michael
SEX: female

PERSONALITY PROFILE: CC is a scout for the straights. Her main concern is the where-abouts of the traitors, but she also searches for food and ammunition supplies. Her father had been a police officer before the zombie event and had been one of the leaders of the community when the feud began. Being seen as a potential threat, he was murdered by one of the traitors. CC had been forced to watch his execution. Thrown into his pooling blood after his throat was cut, CC swore vengence against the traitors and became hardened and bitter as time wore on. Using all the lessons her father had taught her, she is now a skilled fighter and scout. Her loyalty runs true to a few chosen straights--otherwise, she is mostly a loner.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Brown hair is kept in corn-row braids, which fall to the middle of her back. Slender build, athletic- but shapely. Eyes usually have a blank emotionless expression. Teeth-straight and white. Clothing: Black halter top (bikini-like) covered by a worn brown leather jacket. Jacket is usually unbuttoned. Hip hugger blue jeans. Brown leather boots (similar to biker boots). Man's school ring worn on a gold chain around her neck.
MEDICAL HISTORY: healthy
SCARS: appendectomy scar on right side of abdomen and a 4 inch scar on right bicep
__________________

This post has been edited by Zombreach: 13 June 2010 - 10:13 PM

[Contract Killer]

Parker, Pennslyvania. Highest human population for miles, yet the worst place to be....

A man laid on the third floor of a wrecked five story appartment building. Three years of war and neglect has seen the whole town fall into disrepair. This side of the building was crumbled in and rubble provided excellent cover for the Reaper of Parker. Anthony had a slew of nicknames given to him by the straights but that one was his favorite and the one they most commonly used. The ex-soldier gripped his black rifle in hand and chambered a round. Peering down the scope revealed a pair of targerts. Two straights on patrol, both male and neither looked older then age twentyish. A damn shame that was. The reticle floated right on ones chest. They were 200 yards away, up the block straight ahead.

Anthony inhaled sharply, settling the reticle, and squeezed the trigger on his M1A. The .308 round flew true and slammed the young man where the shoulder meets the arm and ripped him the floor. If immediatly treated, he would survive, these days, not so likely. His patrol partner bolted for cover to protect him from their unseen attacker. Anthony smiled, one confirmed kill and another scared shitless. His rifle had little to no muzzle flash thanks to the Vortex hider he used so the survivor would have no clue where he was. To use the rifle again would be too easy.....

The late-teen, John, clutched the hunting rifle in his hands and looked around trying to find the man who had shot his best friend. He waited, and waited but no second shot came. After five minutes his friend stopped crying out for help. After ten he was convinced his attacker was gone. When Anthony appeared from the shadows twenty minutes later as he was taking what he could off Brian's body he broke into tears and begged for his life as the man walked towards him, a silver handgun in hand and a rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Leave him. Drop any ammo you have."

John hurridly dropped some 30-06 and nine mil ammo on the ground. He however, made a grave mistake....

Anthony watched as the young adult took ammo from his bag and dutifully laid it on the ground. Within a few second span, the kid ripped his dead buddies revolver from the holster; only to have a pair of .45 rounds slam into him.

"****ing kid. Coulda lived..." Anthony said solemly as he began his walk back towards base and back underground with some ammo to trade.

This post has been edited by Contract Killer: 13 June 2010 - 10:52 PM

[Zombreach]

CC watched in silence as the patrol guards on duty were slaughtered. Creeping from shadow to shadow, she had been doing some scouting of her own that night, when she heard the shot. She arrived in time to hear Brian's death rattle. Shame... She thought. He was young like her. John had always been the foolish one and she wasn't surprised when he came out of hiding to steal from the dead.

CC waited. The killer had to be near, and it wasn't long before she was witness to the second execution. Again, a stupid move. The man might have spared John's life if he had just kept his hands away from the weapon. Reaper? She wondered. She had heard the stories of the elusive killer. Could it be him?

Silently she crept from the shadows and followed the man, keeping low and avoiding detection. She studied the man from her vantage point--he walked with confidence and was of medium build--nothing stuck her as legendary. Exactly what she would expect of a legend. Got you..you bastard! She thought. She mimed firing a gun at his exposed back, a smirk on her lips.

[Contract Killer]

Anthony kept walking along the ruined road of Parker. Shadows moved along the side of the road and he kept on his guard in case of an attack. He'd been attacked before but upon seeing the famous gas-mask and black rifle his attackers froze. The sun began to set in the sky as he continued. Base was way too far away so he'd probably continue roaming the city, picking off Straights when he saw the bastards. Looking around, he saw the local hardware store and walked in through the broken front door.

The place was a mess. One of the most heavily scavenged stores in Parker. He stepped around broken glass and a pair of dead bodies and grabbed some tools and set to work of setting up shop to bunker down for the night. The back door was metal and still intact so he merely slid a heavy filing cabinent in front of it. The front door way he boarded up with the few remaining nails and boards leaving a small hole for him to shoot out of and big enough for him to escape through if needed. The other windows were already done so he merely sat on a chair behind the counter with his rifle leaning on the wall and his pistol in his hands on his lap.

[Zombreach]

CC considered turning back, but her curiousity was too pressing, so she continued following the man. She knew she was pushing her luck--the Reaper's reputation alone should of kept her away, but she had always been stubborn and very persistant. She wanted to know what the man's face looked like behind his gas mask. She couldn't imagine he would sleep with it on and then she would get her chance to see the legend. Then, she would kill him...

She watched from behind a tree as he entered the local hardware store. She could hear him moving about and she took the opportunity to move closer while his back was turned. Standing in the darkening shadow between two stores from across the street, she waited as he boarded up the entrance of the shop. When it was full dark, she would move in closer. She had all the patience in the world and this was a once in a lifetime chance.

Leaning against the side of the building, she had a good view of both entrances to her position. She was sure no one could sneak up on her unless they came from above. Many of the shops roofs were rotted and she hoped she would hear anyone that dared to traverse them. Her biggest worry would be stray zombies. She didn't want her presence to be announced if one of them caught her scent--she would surely be dead then. Crouching low, she leaned her head back and waited.

[Contract Killer]

Anthony waited for night to fall inside his little safehouse before standing and finishing boarding the place shut tight. Anyone who wanted in would have to go through the noisy and annoying process of ripping through 2x4's. He was done quickly and returned to his previous sitting position. Outside, a stray wordless yell from the occasional zombie could be heard. Hard to tell where they were but the predators were certainly out tonight as he began to clean out his rifle. The quick cleaning would only take five minutes at most and his handgun was still in his holster. In case of an intruder he could duck behind the steel-back counter and pull that to defend himself.

[Zombreach]

Finally...darkness. There was very little sound coming from the hardware store after the final boards went up. CC looked out and could see two undead approaching, their plaintive cries echoing in the stillness of the night. They were not a threat as long as she kept out of sight. The moon was full tonight, but clouds swept by occasionally, covering the bright orb with shadow.

At one such moment, she crept out and skittered across the street to the shop. She pressed herself against the side wall, looking in through a crack in the planking covering the window. Damn it! It was too dark inside for her to see clearly. I need to get closer. She thought. That would mean going inside and she wasn't that curious. There was no way to enter the building without making a lot of noise and he was awake--that much she could see.

Pulling her sig sauer from it's holster, she cursed the soft hissing noise it made as it slipped out of the leather. She could always look at his face when he was dead. Shoot first..look later. It wasn't a good plan, but it would do. Forcing her gun's barrel into the opening, she realized she couldn't see where she was aiming--the hole was too small for both her face and the gun. It was too late to pull back, she was sure he had heard the sound of the gun being forced into the opening. Blindly, she pulled the trigger...

[Contract Killer]

Zombreach said:

Pulling her sig sauer from it's holster, she cursed the soft hissing noise it made as it slipped out of the leather. She could always look at his face when he was dead. Shoot first..look later. It wasn't a good plan, but it would do. Forcing her gun's barrel into the opening, she realized she couldn't see where she was aiming--the hole was too small for both her face and the gun. It was too late to pull back, she was sure he had heard the sound of the gun being forced into the opening. Blindly, she pulled the trigger...

Anthony was greeted by a loud bang and a bright muzzle flash as he finished putting the rifle back together. The nine mil bullet flew past him and grazzed the right side of his jawline. His heart jumped and he flinched before exhaling sharply and sliding behind the counter. Anthony slung the rifle across his back and drew his handgun to take advantage of the night-sights. Simply waiting would allow the nearby zombies to close on his attacker so that is what he would do. Allow the fast zombies who don't feel pain chase him or her then him waste his ammo and time.

[ZombifiedBrendan]

The glass crunched under Corey’s foot as he stepped into the long forgotten house. He walked slowly, trying to make as little sound as possible. It was difficult with the amount of glass scattered other the floorboards and the only light being from the moon above. Every window had been smashed and a few casings lay on the ground, sign of a long forgotten fire fight. In his hands he gripped his Remington, safety off and ready to fire if there was sound of another person. He was on a supply mission in no man’s land; they needed to check every house for whatever dismal supplies they had. So far he had found little for use.

A gun shot rang out from a nearby place and it chilled Corey. He knew that his life would end just as easily with just the sound of sniper rifle fire but so far he was lucky. He kept searching the house, hoping to find anything but yet again he turned up empty. There was nothing left in Parker or so he thought. Most supplies had already been taken for use and kept in bases for reserves. Giving off a sigh and watching his warm breath turn white in the air in front; Corey stepped out of the old home through the back door. He had to keep off the death traps of a street and jumping the fences to stay out of the view of any enemy forces seemed to work.

Corey peered over to the house next door; this one had some windows intact which could mean it had not been raided. No movements or sounds escaped from the house. It seemed empty and dead like every other house on this street. Corey pulled his body over the fence and landed quietly on the ground. He continued his search, never letting his shotgun get out of his grip.

[Zombreach]

CC moved away from the window right after she pulled the trigger, slipping around to the back of the hardware store. Her heart was racing and she fought to control her breathing. She tried to listen for any sounds coming from inside that would indicate she had hit her target. Instead she heard very little other than the approaching zombies that had heard the gun's report. They were closing in quickly to her location. Not wanting to run out in the open, she shimmied her way up to the roof, using the window frame and boards to work up the side of the building.

Laying flat on the roof, CC held her breath. Her assent had not been as silent as she would of liked, and she waited for the tug of the bullet she was sure was coming. She cursed her decision to follow the Reaper. What had I been thinking? She wondered. The simple truth was that she had not been thinking.

The smell of decaying flesh hit her hard and she held back a gag as the zombies reached the building. They hammered their hands against the walls trying to get to the living flesh near by. She was safe for the moment--at least from the grasping hands of the undead. There were only four bodies below--all easy shots from her position. She would have to kill them to escape. She could only hope they gave up and left before the man disposed of them and then her.

She gripped her pistol tightly, aiming it towards the doorway of the store. She still had a chance, but she had to get closer. Moving slightly forward, she suddenly froze...hearing the sound of cracking wood under her. She didn't have time to even curse before the wood collapsed, dropping her and the rotted plywood and shingles to the store's floor.

[Contract Killer]

Zombreach said:

She gripped her pistol tightly, aiming it towards the doorway of the store. She still had a chance, but she had to get closer. Moving slightly forward, she suddenly froze...hearing the sound of cracking wood under her. She didn't have time to even curse before the wood collapsed, dropping her and the rotted plywood and shingles to the store's floor.

Anthony stood from behind the counter and kicked out the plywood barrier, splintering the wood and sending the zombie in front of it onto its ass. He fired twice, one hitting the chest and the other the forehead before turning and dumping three rounds into the closest one's chest. A loud crash was heard as the roof to the store gave in and a woman landed hard. He spun, drew his knife, and embedded it in the skull of the third one. The fourth and final one charged towards him from about twenty yards away. Anthony shot twice, the first hitting its left knee and the second hitting it's shoulder slowing it down. He reloaded and racked the slide as it hit the ten yard mark. A loud bang followed by a solid thud into the beasts skull. He slowly walked back past the bodies and retrieved his knife before walking towards the downed woman. His voice was disguised a bit by his gas mask as he spoke, pistol in hand and aimed at her.

"You tried to kill me. Why should I let you live little one?"

[Zombreach]

Contract Killer said:

"You tried to kill me. Why should I let you live little one?"

She had just caught her breath when the man returned, gas mask still in place, his pistol aimed at her. She stared at him blankly, not offering any suggestions as to why he should let her live. Her chest rose and fell quickly, betraying the fear she felt, but refused to show.

"F**k you!" She spat. "You killed Brian and John in cold blood--you deserve to die." She kept her hands in plain sight, remembering how quickly John was killed when he reached for a weapon. Her body remained propped up on her elbows... hands flat on the floor beside her. She glanced at his pistol, then at hers a few feet from her hand.

Sighing, she looked back up at his mask. "What are you hiding?" She asked, indicating his gas mask. "I'd like to see your face before you kill me." She requested.

[Contract Killer]

Zombreach said:

She had just caught her breath when the man returned, gas mask still in place, his pistol aimed at her. She stared at him blankly, not offering any suggestions as to why he should let her live. Her chest rose and fell quickly, betraying the fear she felt, but refused to show.

"F**k you!" She spat. "You killed Brian and John in cold blood--you deserve to die." She kept her hands in plain sight, remembering how quickly John was killed when he reached for a weapon. Her body remained propped up on her elbows... hands flat on the floor beside her. She glanced at his pistol, then at hers a few feet from her hand.

Sighing, she looked back up at his mask. "What are you hiding?" She asked, indicating his gas mask. "I'd like to see your face before you kill me." She requested.

Anthony smiled beneath his gas mask. This one had some fire to her. He kept the weapon trained on her center mass as he stepped within five yards. She kept her hands visable, a good idea.

"Yet, you tried to kill me in cold blood, two wrongs don't make a right. Right?" He says coldly. "My face is no different then most others." He said as he racked the slide and chambered a round. "You straights are all the same. Cowards and theives. Stand if you can."

[Zombreach]

"I am not a coward or a thief." She stated. "...and I could say the same about the traitors." She pushed against the ground, getting her feet under her. Her back protested, but she ignored the pain, rising to her full 5' 5". She brushed the back of her pants off, keeping an eye on the man.

"You're him aren't you..the Reaper?" She stated. It wasn't really a question--she had already decided it was true. She thought of the gun concealed under her jacket, by her side. In the time it would take her to reach for it she would already be dead. There was no option but to take whatever he delivered.

"Looks like you're calling the shots--what's next?"

[Contract Killer]

Zombreach said:

"I am not a coward or a thief." She stated. "...and I could say the same about the traitors." She pushed against the ground, getting her feet under her. Her back protested, but she ignored the pain, rising to her full 5' 5". She brushed the back of her pants off, keeping an eye on the man.

"You're him aren't you..the Reaper?" She stated. It wasn't really a question--she had already decided it was true. She thought of the gun concealed under her jacket, by her side. In the time it would take her to reach for it she would already be dead. There was no option but to take whatever he delivered.

"Looks like you're calling the shots--what's next?"

Anthony's eyes narrowed as she spoke badly about his faction. Well, he didn't own it or claim leadership but they we're known for his presence.

"You could call us thieves and cowards, but your boy proved at least some of you share those traits today. Watched his friend die, then tried to take his stuff." He said in the same cold, emotionless tone.

She asked if he was the Reaper, and it brought a smile she wouldn't see.

"The Reaper? Who is this man? One who kills from the rooftops and lives in the shadows. The Ghost of Parker? Hm?" He asked in a mocking, sarcastic tone. "I'm merely the nightmare you people created, what you chose to call me is up to you"

The woman asked what was next.

"Well, I can't let you go back. You'll be coming with me for the next few days. One slipup, your dead. Any weapons you have, on the ground. Now."