|Kitten||Wednesday, October 19th, 2006
"I am pleased to announce on this momentous day, that thanks to the aid of United States President Benford and our friends from the united nations that the people of Bolivar are once more at peace.." The Mayor of Maracaibo announced as El Presidente, President Benford, the UN General-Director and several others stood behind him.
Suddenly, secret service agents rushed in and grabbed President Benford.
Within the crowds of those watching the event which was being broadcasted around the world explosions erupted. Bone and flesh along with mists of blood covered the crowd as more bombs began to go off.
The summit had come under attack.
Gunfire raked across the podium and stage from an unknown location in the building, one of the rounds catching the Mayor in the head and another narrowly missing Vice Mayor Sir Archene Night who was up there as part of his official duties.
Nick Fox, who was on guard detail for the President loses sight of President Benford as he is forced to take cover from debris and gunfire. Not far away from him, Aidan found himself covered in the brain matter of a secret service agent who had his head blown clean off.
Eve and Ned are in the crowd, bodies exploding near them along with bits and pieces of concrete. Ned is nearly knocked to the ground by the crowd as people try to flee in every which direction.
The people in the streets went from jubilant celebration to pure terror as people infected with the t-Virus began to spill out from the underground of the city.
Many of them were wearing shirts with the P.I.T.E. logon upon them, solving the mystery of what had happened to the radical eco-terrorist group.
Esscast, Stitch and Buck Rogers are among those in the streets when shit hits the fan; all of them on some kind of security duty when things go bad. Not even thirty feet from the pair were dozens of P.I.T.E. shirt-wearing zombies that were attacking the local population with far more aggression than reported or experienced from typical t-Virus zombies.
Esa, Richard Stadler, & William Caldwell are part of an FBC Team on aerial patrol duty inside of a Blackhawk Helicopter when shit hits the fan. The pilot cries out, "Fuck, something is locking on us, I can't shake it."
The co-pilot yells out, "BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
Within a split second a blast shakes the helicopter as the tail rotor is blown off and it begins to spin out of control wildly. One of the FBC Soldiers who was standing near the edge of the doors flies off and hits the streets with a sickening thud.
|Prestige William Caldwell||FBC HELICOPTER
Caldwell, as brave as ever. Clings onto the Blackhawk railings for dear life as the helicopter gets hit with something, was it a RPG? Whatever it was, it just hit them and now they're going down. Caldwell tries to reach out for the FBC soldier who goes flying but it's too late, that mothafucka is DEAD. D-E-D. So he just resorts to screaming and getting ready for the inevitable impact of hitting the ground. WAS THIS THE END OF William "Iron Dang" "Coloring Book" Caldwell?!
|Esscast||DOWNTOWN esscast stands on a balcony as shit hits the fan he grabs his sniper rifle from under his bed in his room before calling over his radio for the other rebels "shit anybody getting this shit went south really quick" esscast begins to load his rifle before trying to help everyone in his building lock up and stay sucure|
|Nick Fox||CONVENTION CENTER
Nick had been on loan to the Secret Service as extra security. It was the Vice President, yeah, but this was still something he specialized in. Thankfully he had enough operational freedom to be able to dress how he likes, his signature jacket being worn over his armor.
That'll matter in a moment, when the fecal matter hits the air oscillator and stuff begins to explode. He takes cover, barely avoiding getting his head taken off by one of the explosions, "Shit. Fucking Secret Service said this place was cleared!" He climbs back out from his cover, having lost sight of the Vice President, but knowing the evacuation route, he quickly heads that direction...If the Secret Service had been comprimised, this could be very bad.
It was unlike Esa to be aboard the helicopter, or for that matter in the field. Most of his time had been spent behind a desk, commanding forces and operations from the FBC Operations Command Center.
However, with the summit and peace treaties being ratified, the need for the FBC OCC was nearing it's end. To that extend, Esa found himself inside the helicopter with his standard equipment.
Glancing out the open door, his eyes took in the scene below in stride.
Then came the warning alarms of an incoming missile or other device. A split second later, the tail rotor is gone and the helicopter spins out of control. His arm reaches for Private Muroso as he is flung out the door and Esa is flung back at the tightening of his safety belt.
Eve winces as a body explodes close to her and she's thankful again for her sealed suit. She tries to find cover, her eyes narrowed as she raises her pistol to possibly take down a target. "Looks like they might have been wrong." She calls out to Nick, her brows furrowed. "What is the plan?"
|Richard Stadler||FBC HELICOPTER
Richard Stadler was... huh. He could remember very little times these days where he wasn't exhausted in one way or another. Sometimes phyisically, sometimes mentally, sometimes emotionally. Sometimes a mix. Mostly emotional exhaustion these days, if he really had to think about it. Too much time he'd spent out fighting another country's war for a government that was an ally of the United States, and that was rather all it had to recommend it. Not that he hadn't spent some time on various side projects when he'd been out here. When this war was over... well, he'd have a major one to do in Colorado. And maybe, maybe that would come soon. Big speech in Maracaibo with the President, which meant maybe they were prepared to annouce Mission Accomplished on this whole thing. Even the damned Sandbox would be a nice change of pace, though he had to ask whoever was in charge up there why there couldn't be a war in a place like Southern California where it wasn't-
The sound of the cry and the whoomping alert from the cockpit has Rick's head snap up, and his arm just as automatically grip the hand hold above him (never trust just the four-point harness). Radio chatter, confusing and contridictory, but nevertheless /bad/, flows through an earpiece. Air wasn't safe. Ground wasn't going to be much safer. Hey, at least it might be time to leave Maricaibo... like they left Raccoon City.
Rick only has time for one word. "Any forces on this net; remember your ROE and act on own recognizance-" Interrupted as a explosive slames aganist the tail rotor, the force of the spin throwing him aganist the chopper. "Fallback point is the harbor!" He yells. just in time to see the poor man who made it through so much fly out the door like a discarded toy. Griping the handle tightly. Nothing for it; he wasn't the pilot. His job was to hold on and see if he was still alive once they were on the ground.
And that was the easy part.
Aidan blinks a bit as everything goes to hell. He quickly moves to take cover as the bullets start flying and shit starts exploading the other DSO agent that was near Nick looks around, "I don't see the president either." Lifting up his shirt slightly he wipes off the blood and brains from his face, "Fucking brains all over me this is never gonna come out."
Ned had a sandwich in his hand before the bombs started going off. Even he wasn't sure what was on the sandwich, but it tasted good, and he didn't come all the way down to some third world South American country just to get a McDonald's. Was that ham? He wasn't sure, and he didn't care. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, he was eating a sandwich almost as big as his head, he'd just sealed a huge sale order and he was standing in a tropical country listening to some guy give a speech. He was living the dream, and you only live once, baby.
When people start exploding all around him, bits of warm, half-chewed meat spew out of his mouth and into the hair of the woman in front of him, causing her to shriek as she assumes it's someone's guts. Ned shrieks back, nearly matching her in pitch as he ducks down, covering his arms over his head. Somebody runs into him, neary bowling him over, and he hunkers down all the further. "Oh, Christ!" He tries to start disentangling himself from the crowd, keeping low as he pushes through. "Where are the cops?! Are there any cops in this country?!"
Seeing Eve, the woman with the gun, looking much more calm and collected than those around him, he starts trying to weasel his way through the throng. "Listen! You've got to save me! I'm a very important man!" he insists as he approaches. Nevermind that there are like, two presidents here.
|Stitch||DOWNTOWN Stitch is in the streets as he sees all hell break loose hoping for best of luck he tries to use his fancy viral disrupter to have the zombies fight eachother and not the people|
|Sir Archene Night||CONVENTION CENTER
Archene didn't seem all too surprised at the situation, but the near headshot did make him drop down into a crouch before running off towards the nearest cover, the podium. Allowing dust among other unpleasant things to defile his suit.
He briefly glanced towards the dead body of the former Mayor of Maracaibo, "Well, this does make me the current Mayor though. And I didn't have to spend money on a campaign." He drew his pistol as he looked out for the best viable escape route.
"We're gonna crash!" The pilot announced and more gunfire raked the helicopter, several high-caliber armor piercing rounds piercing the canopy as the chopper fully lost control and began to head towards one of the near-by buildings.
One of the FBC Soldiers undoes his seatbelt and leaps out the side of the chopper trying to escape before it crashes.
The man lands on top of a building and buckles down and falls over as he breaks both of his legs in the process.
Stitch's viral disruptor has little effect on the zombies, it has no effect at all. What was once no more than forty zombies had become well over a hundred in this span of time.
Esscast finds himself safe as he barricades the main entrance to a building, but while the zombies cannot get in? He cannot get out either with exposing the building at this point. People are closing their doors and locking them within the building, but it seems they are all safe for now.
|Buck Rogers|| DOWNTOWN
Buck's leaning against a glass store-front when the undead spill like water over a dam. The neon lights of the sign above him blink and paint the world around him a haze of pink and green; it turns the nightmarish scenery into an almost comical drug trip, the giant watching as the people rave-dance and holler, limbs torn off, faces clawed to pieces, stomped into the pavement as they run and riot.
"Aw, hell," he rumbles, and his fingers play at the hilt of his sword, sheathed at his hip. Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat, and at some point his tongue's begun clicking too. "Alright, folks, get your Mexican asses in neat and orderly fashion this way," he says, in English, to the Bolivarians, curling his left hand and waving behind him.
Naturally, this directive accomplishes nothing. Buck sighs, and draws the Paladin.
Nick and Aidan spy the President and El Presidente being rushed out of a back entrance, but have little time to contemplate it as they notice a Blackhawk Helicopter spinning towards the glass domed ceiling of the convention center on a collision course.
Archene, Ned and Eve spy something very disturbing not far from their position in the crowd, there are ragged looking people who are grabbing others and holding them down and kissing them on the mouths.
|Esscast||downtown esscast gets to his room and opens his window and begins sniping zombies as he tries to help cover others trying to escape|
|Richard Stadler||FBC HELICOPTER
Rick held his handhold with white knuckles. An attempt to call out to the soldier that undid his seatbelt did little good. Rick's voice was barely heard over the howl of alarms, engines, and wind, a hand held out before the man leaps. If he lived through that, it was going to be because of luck. And Lord knows what came after. Lord. It's time's like this Rick wished he could still beleive in some intervening force that could save them if he prayed hard enough. Because there was /nothing/ that he could do but hold on and wait for the ride to come to a complete stop. That and try not to throw up at the forces foisted upon his poor stomach.
It was hard figuring out exactly where they were headed, but his mind could put two and two together and come up with the world's deadliest 4; glass building, a dome... the convention center. And they weren't going to make it to the helipad. Another yell. "Buckle the /fuck/ in and hold on! We're only getting on the ground one way, and it isn't by jumping!"
Aidan notices the President and El Presidente being rushed out and away so not much can be done there for right now. And there's more pressing concerns at the moment anyways what with a big glass dome about to come crashing down. He points up making sure Nick sees it too before he takes off towards some better cover from flying glass shards and a crashing helo, "Hope it's not one of ours..."
One of those rounds broke through the bottom of the helicopters platform, and barely misses Esa's face. He blinks; eyes falling the fast pace of the round as if it was in slow motion until it breaks through the side barrier. "Fuck." He mumbles.
He closes his eyes, leaning his back and relaxes. The crash would come and soon he'd know if he would live or die.
|Prestige William Caldwell||FBC HELICOPTER
Caldwell realises they're going to be smashing into a glass dome, they would be cut to ribbons! Can he burp to stop the drifting?! No, because this isn't Willy Wonka and that's stupid. He buckles himself into the helicopter on Stadler's command and holds onto the chairs for dear life, nearly god damn ripping the thing off it's hinges. He readies himself to die, this was the end of William "Parkourist" Caldwell. He finally stops screaming and simply stays there quietly, waiting for the end to come.
|Esscast||downtown esscast calls in on his radio "hey if anyone can hear me i got survivors in my building were going to hold out here but we dont know for how long" esscast lets go of the reciver to go room to room making sure everyone was ok|
A group of Maracaibo Police Officers are the first into the fray, trying to help people and take down the infected but at best they were woefully unprepared for something like this and at worst they were just going to die quickly before turning.
The Sniper shots from Esscast begin to draw zombies towards his building.
Buck is likewise effective at guiding the Bolivarans near him away from the zombies and chaos, but he becomes the sole target for several dozen undead that begin swarming in this direction.
In the air above, they can see the FBC Blackhawk heading directly towards the convention center's glass-domed ceiling.
Not far away a news helicopter that is hovering too close to a building finds itself the target of a B.O.W. known as a Licker that leaps directly into the chopper. The windows are covered in blood as it crashes into the streets and explodes amidst a group of civilians.
"What..what are they doing." Eve asks, pointing to the people kissing others in the crowds. She hisses out a silent curse and glances back at the operatives, a frown on her face. "Someone who knows what is going on , what are they doing?" She is hidden behind anything she can find, not wanting to get into combat if she can possibly help it.
|Sir Archene Night||CONVENTION CENTER
Archene emotionlessly watches the ragged people kissing the not-ragged people, to put it in simpler terms. He then stands, putting on his dramatic 'I will be doing everything I can do for the people' face, speaking to those in the convention center. Hopefully, this podium would have a microphone to transmit the message, "Everyone, get out of the building, now! There has been a security breach, but for your safety, leave! This will be taken care of!"
Ned's eyes go wide behind his square-frame glasses as he sees the other people in the crowd grabbing each other and... kissing each other? "What are they doing?! Is this some kind of local kissing fiesta?! This is wildly inappropriate!" He turns his face toward Eve as he moves right up close to her. "Look, I have a lot of money in a Swiss bank account. You get me out of here alive, I can make you a very rich woman!" He wipes the back of a meaty forearm across his mouth, making said forearm more literally meaty with the remains of his sandwich. His eyes flit nervously back to the people in the crowd that appear to be kissing. "...We shouldn't be kissing, should we?"
Suddenly, his face falls.
"Oh God, you don't know what's going on here either, do you?"
|Esscast||downtown esscast kills another 6 zombies all headshots making his total 12 he reloaded his rifle "comon you sons of bitches i got plenty of bullets for ya.|
Glass shatters and gives way to the crashing Blackhawk Helicopter as it smashes into the convention center, hitting the ground and sending debris flying everywhere.
More than a few people just trying to hide are killed in the crash and the occupants don't fare much better.
Esa, Caldwell, and Stadler find themselves shaken but alive with the rest of their team dead by various means.
One man is impaled almost impossibly on his rifle against the cabin. Another man who didn't strap in stares up lifelessly with a snapped neck, while yet another man is impaled on a massive piece of glass but not yet dead as blood chokes up through his lungs and over his lips; his arm gripping Caldwell as he tries to seek help.
Archene, Aidan, and Nick spy what appear to be three shooters on the upper levels of the convention center but another threat makes itself known.
A pair of the ragged kissers go for Eve and Ned in their hiding places and proceed to hold the pair down as they attempt to force their mouths upon their own, their foetid stinking breath washing over the pair.
Would the agents go for the shooters or save the people who had been looking to them for help?
|Buck Rogers|| "Keep it going, come on, un-du-le, un-du-le," Buck thunders in a child's broken Spanish. The civilians are panicked and latch on to whatever direction seems safest-- and a giant in heavy armor, who looks like a black-painted Storm Trooper, in some massive metal-plated jacket clutching a sword seems pretty safe.
Well, he seems the opposite of safe, which is what makes him safe compared to the monsters.
"You too, coppers," he calls out over the noisy chaos, watching the local men in blue rise to the occassion. "You ain't built for this."
The masked behemoth depresses a button in the sword's handle and it crackles, shines with pale-blue arc light, electricity coursing along the blade. It takes a rather psychedelic look in the rainbow haze of the neon signs.
Ten of the undead swarm him. Their cold fingers grasp at the black plates on his forearm; one dives for his leg, and gets kicked in the face by a Size 18 boot, splattering brain matter haphazardly. There's a snap, a crackle, a pop, and the air fills with the scent of roasted meat, as necrotic flesh ignites and sizzles, dead nerves twitching and making the corpses dance.
"It's a beautiful day in my neighborhood.."
|Prestige William Caldwell||CONVENTION CENTER
Caldwell watches as the various members of his team lie dead around him. He looks over at the man who's gripping his arm and raises his OICW "I'm..so sorry for this." he whispers to him, before pulling the trigger. That was gonna haunt him for a good while. That man had a family, probably a wife, kids. What was gonna happen to them? He just wanted to help people. Now he was dead. But at least he was only in pain for a moment. Caldwell was at least glad he could end suffering. He unbuckles himself from the seat and stumbles out of the helicopter, grunting as he raises his OICW and secures the area for his comrades.
It was just gonna be one of those days...
There was a copper taste to Esa's mouth and the air had a hazy grip to it with stench of death hitting his nostrils.
He coughs, turning a little to spit the blood out of his mouth. unstrapping himself, he climbed out of the chopper and blinks. His head spun; a dizzying effect on the eyes for the briefest of moments. Glancing down, he notices the cuts from glass and metallic objects on his chest/abdomen and arms.
|Sir Archene Night||CONVENTION CENTER
To help the people who may likely die soon for other reasons, or to catch the culprits in order to later reveal them to the media or governments for fame and favors? Archene did tell them to run already, he could not be blamed for 'doing nothing' and it would be terrible to enter another fiasco related to shooting civilians.
Or simply looking at it in a better way, he was going to shoot the people who could kill him while he was attempting to save civilians. He quickly rose his pistol, aiming at one of the moving shooters before pulling the trigger.
|Esscast||downtown Esscast starts to shoot the zombies going for the storm trooper looking guy "hey nerfhearder get it moving or youll be next dish for these things" he yells|
Something is crawling towards Eve and she triest to back away but everything is chaos. Something started coming out of the mouth of the creature pinning her down and then suddenly it's gone, shot away from her as she manages to scramble towards the people firing to help her. She nearly trips and then finally gets to her feet. "What the hell is going on here?" She manages to say, both of her hands clutching her pistol for dear life.
|Nick Fox||CONVENTION CENTER
Shooters up top, monsters down low, and the President is still missing. Nick pulls his handguns from the holsters built into his jacket, and moves.
He parkours over a table, landing on both feet, and snapping off a shot at the creature that is trying to nom on Eve, but he's not going to stop to fight it. The President is potentially in trouble and that's his main job, to try to find him and secure him. He doesn't trust the Secret Service, not right now.
"Okay, okay," Ned says as he raises his hands as if to try and calm Eve. "Alright, let's just be cool. I'm sure if we put our heads together, and you shoot anybody who tries to hurt us, we can find a way out of here. Self-defense, I'll vouch for it. Now -" At about that moment the glass overhead shatters, and Ned reflexively throws his arms over his head, ducks down, and screams. Once the debris has stopped flying, Ned straightens up and slowly brings his arm around to his front. His eyes go wide as he sees that there's a piece of jagged metal lodged in it.
He shrieks and shrieks.
Mercifully, his shrieking is cut short when one of the kissers grab him, gagging him with its cloying breath. Then, he sees hat's coming out of the thing's mouth and starts to scream all over again. "AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHH!"
Aidan blinks as the plaga's go after some of the folks inside the crowd. He reaches down to draw out his pistol and sight in on one of the monsters and squeezes the trigger, "Freaking party in here. Shooters up top monsters down below." He looks over at Nick and shakes his head, "Never a dull day right?"
|Richard Stadler||CONVENTION CENTER
There was the glass, and there was what they'd been waiting for: the violent metal screeching and crashing, sparks and wreckage and the pungenet smell of lubricants and JP-5 and the coppery scent of spilled blood in a crash of sensations. Maybe he noticed that because the sound and sight were simply too much to bear. It seemed to take the longest moment, but this wasn't the first helicopter crash Rick had been in, and he knew eventually it would end. And when it did, they at least weren't in the cold, cold Pacific Ocean.
No, when it was over, they were just surrounded by what had been the cockpit, two corpses, and one man who was soon to go that way. A quick look to Caldwell, a grim nod, in the fact that there wasn't anything they could do. Not there, not with the time they had, not with those wounds.
The gunshot was a mecifully brief sound as Rick clawed for the harness release, hoping that it would actually work and he wouldn't be cutting his way out. "Get-" He says, finding his mouth dry. Swallowing, "Get their weapons, ammo. Anything you can take quickly. Don't want to leave it around if we can help it. We aren't walking out of here, if my experience is any indication; we need to get to higher ground, establish a safe zone. Take stock."
The remaining 18 zombies heading for the barricaded building begin to push against the doors trying to break in, the barricades straining against the unnatural strength of their bodies.
Buck would recognize the way these things moved, they were not t-Virus zombies. These were r-Virus and that meant.. the recently infected would be far deadlier than those who he had been facing in this instant.
Howling and shrieking, the r-Virus infected begin to surround Buck as he presents a lone target in the streets trying to buy time for civilians.
Chaos has erupted across Maracaibo and people are doing all they can to survive. Rebel and Government forces are fighting side by side to try and put down the sudden surge of infection, but for every infected they kill; two more rise up and they lose three men.
It's a war of attrition they are rapidly losing.
Elsewhere, there are others working to do what they can to stop the Outbreak, but there is nothing those of you near the convention center can do to assist them.
|Esscast||esscast heads to the main floor of the building his only frag granade in hand as he waits to throw it at the zombie horde trying to break in|
Archene recognizes the shooter he wings with his gun, the sunglasses, the trenchcoat, the blonde hair? It was almost a dead ringer for Albert Wesker.
Unfortunately with inhuman speed, 'Wesker' is quickly out of sight and mind as he leaps right off the side of the convention center through a window.
The other two shooters take position and begin to spray automatic fire towards the podium.
Ned and Eve are barely saved but the pair of 'Plaga' that had been upon them rush for Aidan and Nick now, even as the pair of men are being peppered with gunfire!
Within the chopper, the FBC survivors have begun to recover and are free to help out or flee as they wish.
A pretty Asian woman with a red dress offers Eve a hand, "I think this could be useful to you if you survive." She wasn't sticking around to help though, the mysterious woman fired a hookshot towards the upper levels and was gone in an instant.
|Eve||Eve gazes down at what the woman handed her and she stows it in the safest place she can find in her suit. She raises her pistol to fire on one of the plaga heading for Aidan and Nick. Her hesitation to fire previously seems to be gone, a frown on her face as she tries to aim with shaking hands.|
|Prestige William Caldwell||CONVENTION CENTER
Caldwell quickly recovers as much ammo from the dead soldiers as he can, afterwards waiting on standby for Rick "Orders, sir?" he asks, looking around for any signs of the infected. This was just like what happened in Raccoon City. Could they be connected? No..couldn't be, Umbrella wasn't here were they? Of course, he was unaware that Wesker was busy causing carnage in the city. He continues observing the area with his keen infected senses, waiting for any nearby Plagas to try and storm the area, he hadn't seen any zombies yet, but surely there were coming.
|Esscast||downtown esscast heads back upstairs to start sniping the zombies surrounding buck "hold on man"|
|Buck Rogers|| Buck's staring down into the blood-leaking eyes of an R-Virus zombie. Her black gums are rotting, and her teeth have chipped and broken from where she's torn into flesh and hit bone-- she's a mess of dripping mucus membranes and discolored tissue, and she hits with all the force of someone twice her weight. Who cares if, when she claws at Buck's chest, shrieking and moaning, that her middle finger bends back all the way and snaps? She doesn't notice; she doesn't feel pain when one of the brute's club-like hands smash her away and break her face in a wet splatter.
Hell, none of them notice, and they move like they're still alive-- running, climbing, focusing.
"God bless this mask," Buck mutters, backing off toward the sidewalk further down. He positions a car between himself and the zombies, and one leaps and slides o'ertop it, belching a stream of acidic vomit toward him; the big lug severs the head in one clean sweep, grabs it by the hair, and flings it into the group.
Oh, how that head soars, flying like the world's greatest t-shot. How it spins, and banks right with a slight draw, continuing to vomit ropes into the air until its split esophagus and mouth run dry. It lands with a mighty ker-splunk.
A few more slashes, a few more boots, and another eleven lie dead at the juggernaut's feet, but he can see down the street, how more and more come.
Strong. But not invincible. Discretion is the better part of valor.
"Adios," he says, with a two-fingered salute, turning away from the horde and booking it as Esscast fires. "Thanks, bud." He'll cut down an alley between roads, tilt a dumpster over to obstruct, and fall back toward the convention center. Seems a good a place as any.
Ned is still screaming as the 'Plaga' pulls off of him to pursue other prey. When he does realise that he's no longer being pinned down, he wraps his arm over his mouth and coughs into it a few times, eyes squeezing shut, before one pops open to eye the bit of metal stuck in his forearm. He whimpers, tears in his eyes, biting into his own skin to try and ignore the pain, before finally sitting up and gasping for air. He quickly scoots over to where Eve is standing and hides behind her. "Oh, good, you're okay, too! Look, the offer still stands, I -"
The gunshots ring out and he instinctively covers his ears with his hands, flinching. He cracks one eye toward the thing she was shooting at. "Oh, good, you killed it! Hey, do you have another gun, or...?" He starts looking around for any sort of debris at hand that he could use to defend himself with.
Aidan looks at the charging plaga raises his pistol up pulls the trigger and doesn't hit a dang thing, "Crap..."
|Richard Stadler||CONVENTION CENTER
Rick winces as he stands up. He could feel blood soaking in from a few different places, but nothing seemed to be... badly broken. And they couldn't think about it now. Weapons, ammunition, the LBE's of the dead. Chances are if they met any survivors, they'd know how to use the gear; that's generally how things went. You were either lucky or good the furthur the outbreak got, and Rick knew how to spot the difference.
He looks up at Caldwell, then peers outside the wrecked cabin of the helicopter. He could hear the screams, outside the convention center and in, as well as the sttaco sound of automatic weapons firing far too long to be shooting at anything that wasn't dodging. His carbine's brought up, the comforting motion of pulling back the charging handle to confirm a round was chambered, then sending it home with a 'Clack'. "We've got a uniform on, so survivors will find us. Plan is to go up, find a place with roof access and hold that line. Get on comms, and see if we can't arrange an air bridge to start pulling people out of here. If that doesn't work, we'll fight are way down and exfiltrate from the city using whatever transport we can find." Rough, /very/ rough, but it was an outline. And it was better than nothing. "You ready?"
|Esscast||downtown Esscast heads to the ground floor and opens a window and dicides to book it were the convention center is in hopes he can find more survivors "im sorry" he says to himself as he leaves the building of defencless people to the zombies|
|Nick Fox||CONVENTION CENTER
With the gunfire raining down around them, the DSO agent is forced back into cover. At least the President is out. He just hopes he's wrong about the Secret Service being comprimised.
He peeks out from behind cover in time to spot the plaga coming right for him, wheeling around with both guns only to watch it hit the ground. He glances over at Eve, and gives her a nod of appreciation, before turning his weapons upwards.
Pistol shots at this range are not easy by any sense of the word, but Nick spends a lot of time practicing at the range, and he's had a lot of time on the range. He squeezes off two shots, the first pinging off a metal bar between him and the shooter, but his second shot strikes true, center mass. He just hopes the guy has no armor.
The pair of shooters take some hits but don't seem to be going down, moving with unnatural reflexes and inhuman speed that marked them as something more than human.
Most of the people in the convention center are dead at this point, except for the players (including Jon who is just recovering from one of the earlier explosions).
Buck, trailed by Esscast is able to make it to the convention center as survivors are fleeing outside into the waiting jaws of the infected.
The distinctive sound of Russian military helicopters can be heard, HIND-Models and through the roof of the trashed convention center you could see they were in BSAA Colors. The cavalry had arrived.
Minigun fire rakes the upper level of the convention center from one of the helicopters and the shooters are torn to shreds, a familiar voice with a latino accent transmitting on a local radio frequency, to Buck and anyone else who might be listening, "Thought you could use a hand." The voice was that of Carlos Olivera.
The plaga that had been going for Aidan leapt back at the man, giving him no quarter or chance to escape, seeking only to spread its infection with single-minded efficiency.
"The President is secure." Aidan and Nick would hear, the pair of DSO Agents receiving confirmation that the President was well away from Maracaibo.
|Esscast||convention center : esscast sees a monster going for someone but thankfully for that someone Esscast put a bullit in the monsters skull with his rifle "everyone ok here?"|
|Richard Stadler||There was the whupwhupwhup of helicopters, as Rick pauses. "All right, those are heavy birds..." Rick says, moving toward the door to the cabin, and then wrenching it open. "HINDs; assuming we didn't just time travel back to 1986, I have to assume the Soviets aren't coming to our rescue..." A closer look to confirm, before sweeping the convention center around him as the gunship fires. "BSAA colors-" He states, before his hand goes up to his ear. "And that's on an open frecency. Plans changed." He say, checking for targets and a way up to the roof. "BSAA Gunship, X-Ray 6-1 Actual, FBC senior officer on site, unless anyone corrects me. Glad to see you here. I'm afraid I've only got two other men with me, but I'm hearing a lot of gunfire. You looking to pick up or drop off?"
Esscast gets a look as his rifle goes off. "Not too banged up over here. Who're you with?" While Rick isn't exactly pointing his rifle at him, he's not pointing it /away/, either. He didn't know exactly who was shooting who at the moment.
And there was someone he recognized. Not really suprised that Archene was here. He /was/ the Vice Mayor after all. Or, hell, could have been the Mayor now. No telling who was dead at this time. But he seemed to be... currently engaged. Consolidation was key, though, so with a tap on Caldwell's shoulder and a signal to Esa, he orders them to move toward the man, ready to take anything that might decide it was a good time to run at them.
|Esscast||esscast lowers his rifle "i was with the rebels however i feel like that dosnt matter currently as these people are in danger, you can kill me were i stand if you wish but i came to help not make sure more men dont go home"|
|Jon||Jon, just one of the masses that was there to see the president, would slowly come to. Explosions. Fire. roars.. It all blurred together in his head as he'd try to get into focus. Blinking his eyes open, he'd wince at the throbbing that caused and try to gather his wits as well as his surroundings. "Wha..?" He'd croak out, then cough at the aric bite of the smoke from the explosion. He'd be lucky he wasn't hurt more than just a headache it seems. Slowly climbing to his feet, Jon tries to take a look around and figure out what the hell just happen?|
|Buck Rogers||Buck, trailing in with Esscast, lumbers up toward Stadler. The man's armored head to toe, and his identity isn't easily revealed.. but that alone makes it clear who he is-- who else walks around with a glowing sword and a trenchcoat like the world's worst weeb? "Relax, Rick, the lil fucker's okay. He shot a few zombies that were annoying me, and we withdrew here after evacuating some civs." Buck flicks his sword, which bzzts one last time before the electricity fades, and sends bits of blood and tissue on the ground. He sheathes it. With a grin, Buck pounds Esscast on the back. "Boy, you rebels sure fucked up, huh? Imagine how much easier it'd be to deal with this if y'all didn't go spending all your time these past few years trying to topple the state."|
|Sir Archene Night||CONVENTION CENTER
Archene refrains from losing focus at the possibility of having lost the chance to shoot down Wesker. He jumps to the side as the shooters shoot, ending his roll with himself kneeling on the ground, gun aimed at the shooters and shooting back. He squeezes a pair of bullets our of it, one nearly hitting them as the other hits them in their arm. And as soon as those two are dead, he can start thinking of cleaning off whatever may be left of zombies in the ground. After all. He isn't the only one in 'this side' of the fight after all.
But then, minigun fire was rained upon the shooters. Hopefully, that was the cavalry, and probably so given their origins.
He is hopeuflly Mayor now, but given that his targets were dead and the properly armed men who decended from the skies were moving towards him. He moved towards them, "Stadler, good to see you are here. The Presidents didn't die here, but the Mayor did. And, I believe that there is a high chance that the shooter that was able to escape to likely be Albert Wesker. Though I was unable to shoot him down."
|Esscast||what" they did wasnt my concern all i did was train them for combat after that it was there leaders orders they followed" esscast told buck|
|Buck Rogers||"Yeah, yeah," Buck says, voice metallic through the filter of his helmet. "You didn't tell the dipshits to dipshit, you just taught them to dipshit. Dipshit."|
|Nick Fox||"Son of a bitch." Both pistols are holstered, and Nick is trying to get anybody on his radio, but he can't find any channels up, "Might be a jammer or something." He sighs and looks at the crashed helicopter, and then at the others gathered around, "Damn. This was supposed to be an easy night.." He needs to figure out how they got the bombs into the building, and more importantly, how the Secret Service missed the bombs.|
|Prestige William Caldwell||CONVENTION CENTER
Caldwell nods to Rick and begins to move out, looking over at Esscast. He doesn't shoot the man, as he doesn't look infected nor is he trying to kill them at the moment, yet he does keep his rifle aimed around the area, waiting to see if anyone is coming after them. Zombie or otherwise. "Sir, we should probably get the civilians and ourselves onto those birds ASAP. We don't have the manpower to fuck with these things." he says, keeping his gun at the ready.
|Kitten||"Good to hear from you Stadler." The voice of the first helicopter pilot to reply was Barry Burton, someone Rick knew from Raccoon City. Almost impossibly the helicopter lowered in through the hole made by the crashed Blackhawk and the side door was already open as BSAA soldiers began to move out into the area.
Some of the soldiers were recognizable and unfortunately for Ned and Jon, just by being in the area, it was assumed they were part of some anti-bioterror group or team or something similar.
Noticing that Jon was unarmed, Carlos Olivera handed over a pistol to him and said, "Looks like you'll need this pal, good luck and make sure to bring that back to me." Likewise, Rebecca Chambers checked on Ned and removed a spare handgun from a holster, "Here, you'll need this. Hopefully we'll see you soon."
Barry pounded on the window of the chopper, calling out, "Everyone in, we're going to get that sonofabitch, Wesker."
|Jon||Jon blinks, looking up, then gawking at the heli that comes.. in.. the building?? "How the heck..?" He'd watch Carlos come over and hand him a pistol. He'd look at it, back to Carlos, then back to it. "Uh.. I.. didn't pass the test to have a license.. I'm not sure I'm allowed to have this.. wait. What do you mean good luck??"|
|Esscast||esscast moved twords the helli as he climed in before checking his large ammount of sniper ammo for a total shell count then marked a total of thirteen dashes into the stock of his rifle "time to make a differance" he said as he rubs some old dog tags of his from the us military|
|Richard Stadler||Stadler looks incredulously at Esscast, and keeps his weapon, though, again, not pointed at him. "I don't shoot people that converse civilly with me. At least starting out. Now, arrest, that's a different story." He notes, before he's joined by the rest of this menegiere. that's walking up. There's that unknown giant in a trench coat walking toward him, except how many other giants in a trench coat went after zombies with swords. "Fine, you're vouching for him. That doesn't mean he didn't just admit to training people that try to kill me." He notes, before shurging and making sure to watch his sector. "No, we do not have the firepower to deal with this. Army does, but they're somewhere that's not here. I'd recommend getting back to base, but....
But then Archene is there, and the information he has has Rick thin his lips, and nod. Not in suprise, and not happily, but he's nodding all the same. "That... sounds about right. I'd love to see a body, give the man the benefit of the doubt... but I don't have the luxury right now. I guess congratulations are in store for the both of use, right? Both got promoted on the same day. At least you can name a street after me."
Hand back to his ear again. "Barry Burton? What the hell are you doing here? Scratch it, tell me on the helicopter." He says. He'd have to make a practice of not visably wincing as it made such a tight squeeze through the hole he'd just been more aggressively dropped down through. "But however it is, that sounds like a good idea. Caldwell, Collins, on me! Rogers, as much as I dislike you, you're too much of a goddamn wall to leave behind. Mr. Mayor, I'm not sure if you should come, given these are your people now, but who the hell am I to tell you no?"
|Ned||Somehow, Ned is mistaken for someone who actually belongs here. He doesn't protest, though. The chopper could be freedom, right? He doesn't even have the presence of mind to ask who Wesker is. Soon, he finds his bulk strapped into one of the seats, surrounded by strangers with guns, holding a handgun he doesn't know how to use.
A whinging sob rises from Ned's contorted mouth as the chopper's rotor beats overhead. He's just a man with a tacky Hawaiian shirt. A man who just lost most of a sandwich almost as big as his own head beneath the twisted wreckage of a helicopter. A man whose client was also crushed underneath that smouldering hulk of metal, his huge deal along with it. A man sitting in a foreign country, surrounded by the screams of the dying. He's living the nightmare, and you only live once.
He cries like a baby.
|Kitten||Once everyone is onboard the chopper begins to take off and Barry replies to Richard, "Long story but we've been working on exposing Wesker for the past year. It's your superiors, Wesker and Lansdale who are behind the rising bioterror attacks. Don't know why for certain but.." Barry just trailed off and dropped it, "Strap in, we think we know where he'll be heading. Lord Spencer is in Bolivar and from what we learned, Wesker has beef with him."
The helicopter lifts through the wreckage of the smashed glass-dome and as it flies over the city you can see the BSAA along with local forces such as police and military doing everything they can to contain the outbreak.
TO BE CONTINUED!
|Kitten||It's too late for Ned to stop the countdown and the nuclear bombs go off around the world. As the nuclear fallout settles, Markus Berger realizes he is all alone. There are no radio transmissions, no cries for help, not even a post on the world wide web.
He is terribly alone.
The only sound is his own breathing and the falling of his tears upon the concrete.