It's a chiller, thriller night... (DoctorRed and Hatter~)

[DoctorRed]

Terror. Panic flooded the man as he finally emerged from the dirt, clawing his way up and sinking to the earth exhausted. His mouth was full of dirt, but he didn't even notice the taste now. The man found himself only half-awake, his body on the cold earth. He'd dug himself up from the ground, leering at the night sky for a few moments. He was dead. Of that there was no arguing. He'd been a man trying to split up three drunks in an alleyway one night and the last had lost his cool and knifed him. He'd laid just like this as his blood pooled around him, and filled his mouth.

So why was he blinking and drawing breath again? He'd felt the blades cut him open, gutting him so... so long ago. His mind reeled and his hands rose, to hold it, though only one answered the call.  But he was awake now. Wasn't he? When he saw his hand reaching out, he didn't recognize it. Pale and bloated, the thing was like a claw, gripping at his head, and when he reeled away from it, his slow reflexes not responding well, tufts of hair and rotting flesh came away, to fall on the ground. A horrified moan erupted from his throat, and soon the chorus of his monstrous howling song came roaring back all around him.

The corpses surrounded him, their bodies limping and compensating slowly for their lack of many parts and their addled brains. He licked his lips to look upon them, his new abominations. The zombies stank awfully, but it had been a great and long time since the smell had made his gut twist about and cause him to retch. He was no longer the apprentice, bringing his poor pet back to life, only to be maimed by the creature.

Years ago, in a cellar, he'd had to beat the mad dog down with the human skull he'd used to summon the infernal thing. He still remembered the eyes that seemed so loving in life, turning to burning pits of rage as they turned upon him. He'd walked a long road since then, and worked hard. Now he was a master, and his finger replaced. The skin wasn't the same, and the bones under it were a bit bigger than the rest, wider and darker, but the fingers worked, no matter how fearsome they were. They were hardly the only parts of his body he'd modified with his wicked ways.

Standing among the limping creatures he'd breathed unlife into int he last few hours, the man stood tall. A briefcase lay open at his feet, illuminating his features, reflecting in his darkened eyes. The deep browns glowed eerily as he leered out among the thriving legion that was slowly making its way to him, their bodies broken, his army not so far from him. He was milky pale, his hair curls of light brown that hung about his shoulders, framing the flesh that looked like it spent it's life in the shadows. His body was thin and emaciated, but the frame was clad in thin silken shirts and slacks that clung to his seemingly frail body. He looked as though he might be handsome if he had simply eaten more, or drank in sunlight more often, but it didn't seem to bother him.

On his fingers there were many bones that he'd carved into rings, their runes and inscriptions a myriad of symbols and each finger enjoying the grasp of a unique one, though the strangest attire he wore were the skulls he held in each hand.

The case at his feet shone green and bright in the darkness, the ingredients  amassed there as they gave off their hideous spell to the creatures, before he slammed it closed with a boot heel. He raised his voice after a while, the darkness that chased the receding light descending upon his new slaves as they groaned out their displeasure, turning their hungry and hateful eyes upon him, but never moving within the circle of bodies he'd laid out. The groundskeeper, the gravedigger, the priest and the whores he'd taken from the town nearby. Their bodies were mangled, their eyes lifeless as their naked bodies shuddered and tried to rise, then fell again. 'Such is the price of true abhorrence,' he reminded himself as he turned his gaze upon the closest structures, where he knew more of the humans lived.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he held in his palms were the pair of skulls, both of which bore a thousand different little engravings as they leered out over the corpses, glaring a bit as they cackled in his fingers. They spoke a bit, a jarring language of dusty vowels and mumbled consonants, but the sounds brought a laugh and a smile to his lips, pulling them back from his teeth. It wasn't long as they conversed amongst the three of them, before he bade the legion of the graveyard to approach the city, their march moving out well past midnight, across fields and yards, smashing and crushing the small obstacles and climbing over what they could, their eyes leering lazily, but their bodies full of hatred and vengeance.

Sitting among the tombstones, the man set about calling those who couldn't move well for themselves or respond well to his commands and pulling them apart patiently, sorting and organizing, leaving the working chunks in a pile and discarding the rest, casting them into an open grave, where he'd shoved the bodies he'd paid for this travesty with. Soon they'd be ripping apart the community of the city to the north, their ravaging unhindered by the autumn wind that blew, the leaves masking their shuffling a bit. A cackle rose up among the ones who could still talk, though many moaned along, or tried to, the monsters hungry for more of the dish they knew best; Death.

War had been declared this night, and soon all the humans nearby would know it, but not for long. Not if the Necromancer could help it. And he was going to, with every ounce of his power, make sure that he cleansed the area of their presence.

[mad hatters revenge]

Everything had been so normal, a regular Saturday night, the family was out enjoying one of the last few nights of warm weather, Laura had just let the large German Sheppard out into the fenced in yard, and that was when the screaming started. Then, well then everything just went to hell, it happened so fast they barely had time to react let alone get away. It was what got most of the people close to the cemetery killed, they weren't expecting it, no one was, but at least she and her family had enough time to realize it was time to get out.

The streets were packed, so many people trying to feel, cars were flipped, bodies were everywhere, and all they could do was keep running, they'd tried getting out in the car, but there were so many accidents it was nearly impossible. They headed for the super center, it would have food, and as they'd discovered with the headge-clippers and one of their shovels, the rambling bodies could be stopped, it just took some good hits to chop off the pieces they needed to be deadly. After they managed to get three of them down without loosing anyone, they'd agreed a chainsaw would put up a much better fight.

They weren't the only ones who had decided staying somewhere safe was probably a bit easier than trying to run through a city that had quickly broken out in chaos. Between the walking dead and the scum of the city taking advantage of the higher end stores in town, there was no luck going anywhere in this city until things calmed down. They were tired, Rocky had stuck close to their sides, not seeming to be an interest to the undead, and he helped take a few down for them. Now, all they did was sit tight, and every undead they tried to get too close, they cut to pieces. Laura, her older brother and father took care of the walking dead, while her mother and Rocky stayed inside, helping the other survivors go through the center, locking back doors, finding other weapons to use, and constantly trying to reach somebody, anybody for help, even information about what was going on.

No one in the city answered their calls, and anyone outside the city couldn't give them many answers. When the dead seemed to have moved deeper in the city, the three returned inside, their clothes a bit tattered, covered in flesh, blood, brain, everything that had flown off the bodies during their struggles to keep them back. Finally, they had time to rest. Laura and her brother collapsed in a breathless heap just inside the doors, their mother rushing over to bring them bottles of water, they used the first to rinse themselves off, while their mother busied herself looking for some clean clothes they could change into.

They were a mirror image of each other. Laura had one green eye, one blue, the same as her brothers, they both had brown hair, with a few natural blond highlights that almost made it seem to glow. Marcus was a foot taller than Laura, but he'd used his job as big brother to teach her to be strong, though he would bully her every now and again, it was always some way of testing her ability to handle stressful situations. Like now, no one had answers, but they were together, and for now that was all they were worried about.

Their mother returned with new lingerie, jeans, and black tops for them, she'd even managed to dig up steel toed boots in their size, dropping them at their feet, promising to return with things to cover themselves better from the mess should any more return. That was their mother, constantly on the move to make sure they were comfortable, that they were taken care of. Dad was busy talking to everyone, getting what information he could from them, reassuring those in a panic that they seemed to be safe for the time being, and would be able to hold up and wait for help.

Ducking into aisles, the brother and sister began stripping off their old clothes. Looking around Laura noticed they were in the baby aisle, smiling, she grabbed a box of baby wipes and threw them over the top to her brother, "Here, it's not a shower, but we'll smell a lot better than we do now." A few minutes later, a bit cleaner they remerged, Laura in a black tank top, her brother in a wife-beater. Then, their brunette mother rushed over, shoving granola bars in the hands before rushing off to help one of the others.

Pulling one of the swinging seats up to the front of the store, they sat next to each other and ripped open the bars before taking a few bites. Now that the rush of it was over, they finally had time to mull over what was going on. "Marcus...is this really happening right now? Ow what the fuck?!" She cried out as her brother reached over and pinched her, he laughed, but it was a bit empty, forced humor to help lighten the mood. "Well you're not dreaming. Sis, I think it's safe to say it's some sort of zombie apocalypse."

Sighing, the girl tossed half a bar to Rocky, who snatched it mid air, wagging his tail happily before sitting on the floor between their feet, his usual spot. They were a trio, the brother and sister always together, rarely fighting, and Rocky was never very far behind them. Life had been the perfect example of happiness until tonight, though they had not suffered the loss of anyone, it was clear by some of the sobbing survivors, that not everyone had been so lucky to save their entire families. So they sat, and they waited, wondering if it would be like the movies, where help didn't come and they were on their own, or if the military would show up and save them from whatever hell had been unleashed upon them.

[DoctorRed]

The man laughed aloud, his laughter ringing out at the chaos below him. Fires had broken out  over the city as he'd claimed his temporary throne on top of the largest building on his side of the city. Many had been slain, but it hadn't taken long for him to raise the fresh-slain bodies of the ones who'd fallen to him. He cackled gently and his throne of bones giggled madly, the pair of skulled twins leering down from either shoulder. He'd summoned the maimed ones to regroup at the rooftop and was stitching them together, one at a time, deftly attaching parts to make full zombies out of parts and chunks, his army fixing itself where the strongest corpses were involved, the weaker ones crawling off to terrorize with what they had left, sure to terrorize the ones who sought refuge where the rest had run, or fought.

Speaking of fighting, he saw that many more of the humans had found ways  to defend themselves. Many more than he had thought might, but it didn't matter so much to him. He'd simply go there and command in person. Leering across the city, a map was brought by a limping body, a single eye whirling about as it stood at attention. He scowled at it as it seemed to look over his shoulder and it trotted off, to join the carnage. He leered at the frayed map but made marks on it all the same. He'd seen through the eyes of his creatures where the military and police were strongly resisting, and had guided them away from there for now. Currently he set about raising more corpses to replenish his numbers. It was more costly than sewing up the old, but it was a lot faster and more efficient.

Before long, he'd have to cut off the supplies where the armed forces would try to replenish their ranks and he'd have to send something better to clean them out. Maybe something like a chimera, or just a mess of parts, to maim what it can, and make the rest panic. He pondered a bit, his eyes rolling across the cityscape, watching with his ghostly eyes to see where the undead were, what they were doing. They were like tiny lights, each their own little flame that he'd given them, binding them to their bodies for now as their shuffling march claimed more souls, the ones he saw but couldn't see the ghostly green flames within. He made a few notations of where the people were resisting and made sure to cut them off from each other with his own soldiers, standing them in places where they were less likely to be noticed, but strategically able to rip apart any escapees.

To each, he sent a single chimera, a lumbering husk of flailing arms and faces, it's handful of legs teetering as it moved along, deceptively slow, but the shuffling was diminished. With so  much ectoplasm to work with there, he'd sent an amplified creature out. It was as if he'd made one zombie, instead of ten. It was the closest to human he was like to get for the night. He leered down at the bodies piled at his feet, some of the husks still clawing towards him for fixing, some simply laying and waiting his decision on their fate. His rings clunked together dully as he rose to his feet, the shining leather carrying him gingerly beyond the rabble that rose to follow him before he mounted one of his favorites.

The thing was a faceless mass, a series of torso sewn together with his awful magic, each se of arms bloodied but tireless as they worked to pull the mass along, a surprisingly nimble thing. He sat astride it and let it carry him along. He supposed a car would be more comfortable, and a chair even more so, but the throne of bones was cumbersome, and even the skulls who whispered from it were irksome at times. And cars could be cast over, and tumbled, could get stuck. This thing, though.. it was a tireless machine, and the monster clambered over the obstacles easily with it's many hands and quick grips.

He wandered about, following the map and directing the shambling chimeras from the back of his millipede. They looked at him with a slight recognition, but not much. He rounded up some survivors, but not many. Most of them were teams, and he made sure to see that half were cut down before he took on any more sacrifices. A team without half it's power was hardly anything, to him. Much like a pack. Without most of it, it's still wolves, but it's not half as bad. Ten wolves is a disaster. Two is just a nuisance to him. His shirt billowed in the autumn air as he advanced, the wet slapping of gore-covered hands rang out along the haunted streets, the bodies leering up from where he'd cut them down. Not in person, but in action.

He chose to rest his body on the mount as he closed his eyes, seeking to possess one or two of them bodies that had been crippled, but not killed. He turned a few faces to see from their eyes, scowling at the ones who had deemed themselves too valuable to simply wither and die, the ones he'd take so much joy in having ripped apart. Perhaps a few pets were in order. He wasn't sure. An armless torso took itself into view of a marketplace, and he wet his lips, though the tongue came back gore-stained and tasting the bone where his lips had been before he returned to his body, having chose his first siege of the night.

The millipede drew them into sight, but off a distance, where nothing would be noticed as he set about, lining his 'men' into patterns he approved of for an assault. He'd set them pounding and howling at all the doors as some who were able tried to climb. He reached out with his spirit to the corpses, if there were any, inside the store, hunting for a monster he could make anew, begging that it be a loved one, a cherished lover. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into the skin of a lover again. It had just been too long.

[mad hatters revenge]

It was too dark outside to see far, but to Laura it seemed like the shadows moved, perhaps it was fear, perhaps she just wasn't ready to think they'd made it out of this horrible situation so easily. The air seemed to get colder, even inside she felt like she could tell the wind outside was simply bringing more danger with it. Marcus and Laura had finally begun to relax when screaming erupted from the store. Their mother, she was pinned to the floor as one of the men, who'd bled to death only moments ago, began ripping into her.

They were too shocked to know what to do, but not enough to sit still, everyone rushed forward to cut the damnable creature off her, but by the time they freed her, she was already gone. For a moment, they were so close to grieving, their father reaching for her, when just like the man who was now in pieces on the floor, her eyes opened, and the look in them was empty, cold, lifeless. It was their mothers body, but not their mothers mind, and everyone took a few steps back. There had been a few dead in the store, trampled, shot, not all had been killed by the walking dead, which scared Laura. This wasn't some sort of infection like the movies, something was bringing back the dead regardless of what caused their death.

"We can't stay here." Marcus pointed out, they had to turn away as some of the other survivors hacked their mother to pieces. He took his sisters hand, her father taking her second, and they held on so tightly she thought both her hands would be broken. The sound of more dead in the store coming back to life echoed, and they agreed it was time to move. They had to move quick, but they all tried to be smart, the hacked up the dead bodies that got to close while each of them grabbed a large backpack, stuffing it with what water and light food they could carry in the main pocket. Next, Marcus, Laura, and their father who seemed to only be half with them, loaded themselves up with what knives they could carry. The chainsaws came in handy, but eventually they would need fuel, so they took axes instead. Rocky began growling as more and more of the dead from the store closed in.

They looked around, trying to decide which exit they should use, the front one seemed to easy, the way the parking lot looked empty, but with so many dead back on their feet in the store, she knew there were some out there that had the be still waiting for them, pieces of the dead seemed to be missing as well.

Finally, the back door was the best bet, there were not dead in the back of the store, so the survivors hightailed it. Knowing that once they opened the door, their group would be too large to look out for one another, they would be right back to doing there best to stay alive, but they would not risk their lives for strangers. The door opened, and they ran out into a slaughter house. Almost instantly three were taken out, and the family continued running without looking back, Rocky leading them, the dog had better vision, he was able to pick out what clear paths between the dead were safe enough to give them a chance to survive. The dog was smart, he never ran more than a few feet a head, and the three managed to put the store behind them. They looked around frantically, for others, there had to be others. Finally, they decided the taller buildings were a good chance.

They moved as quickly and quietly through the streets as they could, trying to avoid being seen, but it felt like they were being watched no matter where they went. Finally, an angel reached out to them. A teenage girl, looking barely 17 years old caught their attention from the shadow of a doorway. Waving them over, she ushered them into the apartment building, shutting and barricading the door behind her. It was a thick door, one the survivors had managed to drag dresses and chairs in front of, it would hold against the dead, but Laura couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before they figured out a way to get in.

The group was rushed up the stairs, to the top floor. The girl explaining that they'd considered the roof, but thought it would put them in sight. Instead, they'd closed all the blinds, on this floor, then put boards up to hide any visible lights. It took a few moments to move the barricade from the stair well, but finally, the three and their dog were once again behind a few walls to hide from the dead.

"I was looking for my sister." The girl finally spoke up, as they huddled in the small apartments living room, their father quietly staring ahead of him, with Laura and Marcus tried hard not to think of their mother. Instead, they sat beside him, each of them holding one of his hands as he eventually began to cry silently. The girl paused before continuing, figuring talking wasn't about to make the man feel any worse about his loss. "She called, said she was outside, but when I got down there, well...you were the only ones moving around like your thoughts were your own."

Laura felt sick, she almost wished Marcus would pinch her again, prove that she was dreaming, that she would wake up and everything would be back to normal. However her chest ached as if a whole had been torn into it, her eyes watering every time she pictures he mother being hacked to pieces. Marcus had tried to hide the site from her, hugging her to his chest, but she'd seen enough of it to have it burned into her mind. All she wanted to do was find out who'd caused all of this, what monster was responsible for tearing apart so many families in so little time, someone would be to blame, and all she wanted to do was chop him to pieces like they'd been forced to do to her mother.

[DoctorRed]

He'd taken the store in a matter of minutes. The forces from the inside broke up the teamwork or whatever solidarity they'd had. He'd ripped them to pieces, but he moved through to the ones who took their time dying and asked questions as they gurgled and begged for the end. He'd started to take living humans and turn them into thralls, fast moving but wonky to control. He kept a few around him, but the millipede kept them on leashes he'd found. They were pretty good for hunting down survivors when he set them about. He finished his questioning before he took a few more thralls carefully, keeping after them. One or two struggled for a bit, before the life died in their eyes and their tears stopped falling. Their hearts slowed and quivered one last time before he closed his fist and took their souls in hand, casting them on the floor spiritually.

Standing alone among the living, he mulled their words over, considering the ones who'd run off, the ones who'd escaped and licked his lips. He'd won, but some of them had gotten away. What a nuisance, but he supposed they were no problem to him. Their team was broken and it wasn't like to trouble him further, was it? Perhaps. He gathered up some parts, based on the information he drew from the thralls and raised a chimera, the pack of what was left over was hideous in the light, but in the dark it would be hard to tell that it wasn't one or another, the heads sewn on to the same torso. He considered it quite a masterpiece, but he supposed he'd have to work at it later to keep it nice. He'd make them rue the day they'd defied him, whether they knew it or not. The millipede trotted off, bloodied hands rooting out some oddities and offering them to him with outstretched palms. Like a servant to king, a slave to master. The gesture was something he'd wired into the thing, but it pleased him no less for it. His own little order among chaos.

Moving about, he was sure to leave the doors open and lights off. That was more than enough most of the time to keep humans from wandering in and seeking refuge, no matter what they knew about the place. A dark and open place was a paranoia farm. He left a few inside, but less than might have been needed if the lights were found. Oh well, but he had to be resourceful if he was to have the whole city, wasn't he?

The man strode along on his own two legs a while, watching as the zombies ripped apart the young and old, tearing up the weak and devouring him, though it wouldn't please them at all. They would keep tearing and eating until their bodies were full to bursting, and then well beyond. Long ago, he had understood the true fear that was born of a cannibal devouring the living or freshly dead. It was all it took to break up a spearhead in battle, to see their brothers being eaten in front of them by savages. Hardened men broke down and wept, begging for the end. He relished the option the way wolves might relish a squalling babe. It was really just a morsel to snatch up on the way to victory.

Bearing himself along, he kept the puppet of family faces at his side, poking around for some animals for a bit. He came up with a few cats, whom he promptly ripped apart, attaching their tiny little heads to less-endowed monsters, setting them about the act of hunting down the ones who'd gotten away. He'd break them and it would please him, making him more pleased and would spur him on to the rest of the tragedy he'd commit. A man appeared in front of him, as he climbed out of a car, his body freezing as the marching and shuffling force strode through the city in front of him. The collection kept a radius away from him as they walked along. The eye of the storm was upon him and perhaps he thought himself free. He panicked as he looked upon the necromancer, his voice squalling like a child. "Y-you hae to help me." he begged, watching him approach. "The,... They're everywhere," he said to him.

The man grinned, his lips peeling back into almost a sneer as he walked closer, stalking slowly, his eyes on him as they moved along. "Oh, they are?" He asked, his voice echoing as they stood closer, before he drew the knife from his hip, the long bone-dagger slipping from the suspicious looking sheath as he stalked closer, causing the man to stumble back into his overturned car. A moment or two past of struggling as the necromancer caught him and cut off his hands, then his feet, and left the rest to struggle, his army trampling past, uninterested in the maimed man, whose bleeding coated the pavement and the side of the car in his struggles, weeping openly in the night air, only to be answered by the moans of thousand of undead.

His commands were changing as he sorted through the map and forces he had remaining and a bit more time passed before gas stations erupted into a ball of flame and destruction, demolishing the surroundings as they were destroyed. Balls of flame kissed starry sky while he marched on, sorting through his forces from the back of his 'pede, crossing out destroyed things and crushed forces, letting the thing that had a mother brother and fathers face wander about, peering into windows that he suspected from a distance, looking and mouthing the words 'help, help,' begging for solace. He laughed deeply as she explored, watching through her eyes, moving her patiently as he watched.

[mad hatters revenge]

It hadn't been long, but they had been able to rest longer here than at the store before anything happened. Laura and Marcus had been leaning against each other on the couch to get some rest, when suddenly a voice trailed up from below. Without how quiet it was in the building, they could hear almost everything going on outside. A while ago it'd been so loud, they'd feared the chaos and explosions would find it's way to their building. Then it got quiet again, car alarms began dying, and all you could hear was screaming every now and again as more survivors were found. Eventually even those stopped, then, when they finally though maybe they would have peace, a voice filled their ears, calling, pleading for help.

What sent chills down the families spine was they knew that voice, they'd heard it every day now for years, and they knew they shouldn't be hearing it again. They all looked at each other, silently agreeing that yes, they all were hearing it, and yes they all thought the same thing. Their father was the first to his feet, and the siblings jumped up to grab his arms. "Dad no! You know it's not her. I can't be! You can't go down there!" Laura pleaded, eyes starting to water, they'd lost their mother, she couldn't lose her father too so soon.

Marcus didn't have to add anything, just tighten his grip as their father sighed and shook his head. "I know it's not sweety...but I just...I can't leave her like that." A sob escaped him as the tears spilled down his cheeks again. "We know that once they're in enough pieces, they don't seem to be very useful, if we'd taken care of her head properly, we wouldn't hear her now. I can't allow whatever's going on to keep using her in such a horrible manner." His voice was empty, and they knew even if they did survive it, their father had died with their mother. He'd only run to keep them safe, and now that it seemed they were, he had to take care of the women he vowed to stay beside. Death had separated them, but if she was still walking around out there, then death would probably reunite them.

The other survivors helped him look through the other apartments, ones abandoned in the rush, for some sort of weapon that he could use to take out the monster their mother had become, and him as well, without the fear of being reanimated. Someone on the same floor had either been in the military, or was just very into weaponry. Most of the gun racks were empty, but they did find a small box of grenades, only 5 were left. He took one, knowing that at the range he planned to be, he wouldn't need more than one. It was agreed, he would slip out a window in the alley when it was clear to avoid giving away their hiding spot, and then as soon as he was a safe distance from the building with the creature, he'd pull the pin.

Laura was already sobbing by the time he was ready to go, kissing her forehead and hugging her only made it worse. Marcus fought back crying, in a few moments he would be all Laura had, and if she was crying, he had to hold it together until she was all right. The four survivors that had taken him in wished him luck, and before his children could try to talk him out of it again, he left. They had no choice, but to sit tight, Marcus holding his sister close to keep the sounds of her crying muffle.

The older man was patient, the lower levels had a fire escape, and as soon as there were no walker in the alley, he went out, down, and carefully made his way around to the front of the building. His eyes found the monster with three faces, but only one had to look at him, the one that knew him. Every step the monster took towards him, he took backwards, finally waiting in the center of the street, as if it's cries for help had finally gotten to him. When it was close enough to reach for her, grenade hidden in his hands, he pulled the pin and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry sweety..." He whispered, knowing it was no longer his wife, but still couldn't help but feel it was his fault she was now part of the walking dead army.

From their safety in the apartment, the survivors jumped as the explosion shook the building a bit, but nothing broke, and everything seemed to hold it's place, he'd gotten far enough away to spare them, and once the rubble settled, they not longer heard their mother crying out for help. Laura hid her face in her brothers shirt as Rocky whined, jumping up to stretch across their laps, not sure what had happened, but knowing enough that he wanted to stay as close what was left of the family as he could.

[DoctorRed]

The incident had him in stitches. He'd been watching through the eyes of a few thralls and never thought that the man would approach. The way the body he'd sent out to beg for help had recoiled at first sight had forced him to bend her back to his will, but the result... If pernicious deeds were a treat, this was a marvelous and delicious thing to behold. He wanted to savor it, and directed his millipede to do so. He stood over the smoldering remains. The stitch job was a loss, but he counted the overall despair as a win. The puppets were a marvelous success, and the situation was thrilling to him. He supposed a wise man would let the corpses run wild and have them wear themselves out until finally there was nothing left to fuel them along anymore. Surely a wise man would see the wisdom in backing out now, but how could he? This terror was delicious, and the city... no, his new kingdom was here, for a while, at least.

He'd claimed the eastern portion of the city, at least to his standards. He supposed he was doing well, but he could do... better.  The necromancer pondered the things going on and what his losses were, compared to the killings. He hadn't quite counted it out individually, so he supposed it was only pride and vanity that forced his mind to reel as they considered the numbers. A staggering massacre, by any count. A truly devious act, in any measure, no matter the measurer. Measuri? He wasn't sure. He shrugged to himself as he contemplated what one who measures would be called. Perhaps a contractor, but they did more than just measure things, didn't they? Perhaps the next time he killed one, he'd ask.

He wandered a while, enjoying the victory that simply having the corpses wander and slaughter at their own will in a general direction garnered for him . WIth simple sets of commands, there was no need to make more advanced corpses who would carry out complex instructions or tasks, so why go to the effort? The chimera he made were suitable to the task, but nothing extensive. They were meant to shell out damage in droves, but they were equally vulnerable, so long as no one got close enough to get 'sassed' by one. He looked over the handiwork of one as it lumbered past, it's extra legs teetering and shuffling to maintain its' balance, heads lolling to keep a good radius of safety about it. He whistled a bit and the pede reared a little, letting him get closer. He whispered words against one of the lolling heads and it nodded fervently, the bodies it was made of shuddering violently as it listened.

The thing lumbered off, it's arms swinging along with the lolling heads, brushing aside rubble and debris that got in the way. The necromancers eyes lingered on the bodies of the torn lovers but he allowed them their rest. No need for them now, they'd already amused him. For the moment they were just broken toys, why bother making anything from them. More parts were amassing at intersections, waiting to be reassembled and become whole again, their writhing movements just a tangle of messy work to be done. He sighed and sat sideways on the pede, working tirelessly at the creatures a while, letting the skulls he'd abandoned on a rooftop keep a watch over him. He was tiring quickly from all the work, but a break would be easily had.

The sun rising, he sent the Pede away, the scuttling thing loping off to the aqueducts to hide among the pipework. Helicopters were moving about, and he had no means to combat them just yet, so he allowed them to run amok. The man had found his way into an empty shop and eaten, changed and washed up. The smell of death still hung about and the corpses that stood watch at the door were far from pretty, but they were better than letting...humans find him. He ground his teeth at the thought, standing in the dimly lit bathroom. It was dirty, like all employee bathrooms, but that only seemed to irk him more. The water was lukewarm to the touch and the soap oily, but the office was spacious and well furnished, to a point.

When he settled in what must have been a very pretentious bosses chair, he felt the weariness he'd held off for the last few hours sink in as he let sleep come. All over the city, creatures too far from him were shuddering, faltering a bit as they fell back, moving to a certain distance from him. It was irregular, based on what metals interfered with the connection between them. He'd devoured cans of soup and boxes full of oddities he'd craved, but the hunger was maddening. Being connected to so many made it hard to maintain his consciousness and felt himself wavering. The undead shuffled along, but less orderly. their power waning a bit. Any humans watching would recognize the lapse and attack,b ut what did it matter? Most would fall down and struggle with just their base instincts to defend themselves intact. It was irksome to leave them like that, but he supposed priorities had to be maintained.

The Chimera from earlier lumbered about, hunting after what had remained of where the father had come from. A grenade? What a nusiance. It leered about, the three hundred sixty degree vision tiresome to maintain, but helpful to keep a watch. The body tilted and teetered, though it never fell, arms thrashing about violently when even another undead came into its' path. A quick flick of a few hands and bodies got broken, obstacles got moved. It was power, and a handful of other undead, not only an addition symbol, but a multiplication one as well. And it was hunting fervently for more of the family he'd let slip away.

[mad hatters revenge]

The siblings couldn't have slept even if they'd wanted to. They had tried, but every time they closed their eyes, all they saw was death, destruction, their parents, every horrible gruesome thing they'd encountered tonight. Or worse, they'd nod off for a moment, and wake up expecting it to have been a horrible nightmare. The eerie peace seemed to return, but they could still hear something moving about in the streets below, as if all but one had left, and that one was looking for something. Though it was silly to think, they couldn't help but feel it knew they were still here, knew their father had not been alone, and was not about to simply give up and give them another chance of escaping.

Finally, the sun came up, and everyone agreed that with the sun, they wanted hope to come with it. Quietly, they made their way to the roof, being careful to stay out of sight as they glanced around. Something had changed, the dead were still scattered about, but they seemed a little less organized, even ones that should been walking just fine seemed as if they were just too tired to barely stand. It made since, nothing in this word was free, everything had a price to pay. Whoever or whatever was causing this, was running out of fuel, and it's army was paying the price. Or, maybe, if they were lucky, even the monster needed to sleep, and this was going to be their chance at getting out alive.

Carefully, they waited, listening to the creature below them until they figured out it's pattern. They would have a few minutes between it being out of site and returning that they could make a run for it. They would wait until is was to a point where no matter what path it took, it would not reach them in time to stop them from getting away. Then again they were also betting that with it's size, they simply had to take a path easy for them, but littered with debris it would have to either crawl over or shove aside, and every second they could gain counted.

Bags on their backs, axes in hand, they all tip toed down the stairwell, planning to use the same exit their father had. The narrow alley would help them, it seemed to avoid them when it could, which meant walking around it to use the main street. They waited, everyone seeming to hold their breath until the noises of it rummaging through everything faded. They all slipped out the window, Marcus carrying the dog to make the process quicker, then they were down the fire escape and paused only to listen. It was still far enough away, but they were sure once they made it into the main street, the slow moving dead would tip it off that they were running for it.

Running where was the hardest thing, they'd mapped out the fastest way to the city limits with the military line, was through the business section then just past the aqueducts. Even with the helicopters moving over head, they didn't see any making landings on the roof tops, though they weren't sure any survivors were willing to go outside at all and risk being found by the monsters craving to kill them.

Taking her brothers hand, the small group all seemed to let out a breath they had been holding, before taking off at a full sprint out of the alley across the street. The human looking creatures instantly took notice, but still seemed far to weak to move fast enough. However once they noticed, they could hear the larger creatures angry cries that they'd tried to slip past it, and heard it as it came tearing through the streets to catch them. No one dared look back, they only looked forward, following Rocky as he lead them through the rubble, the paths large enough to not slow them down, but small enough to get in the creatures way. They ran into thicker crowds of the undead, and it was impossible to stay in their group, Laura and Marcus were use to keeping up with Rocky, the others were not. One by one they were grabbed, tripped, and once they were down, the dead swarmed them in seconds. The siblings hated it, but didn't look back, didn't slow down, once they had you it was a lost cause, stopping now only meant death.

Finally, the monster fell so far behind, stuck in the masses of it's own comrades and burning rubble, that it wasn't sure where they'd run off to. They were able to slow down in the business section, duck and hide to avoid being seen. Only once did they pause longer than a moment, and it was because one group just seemed out of place. They had to run by them, but they were standing around the building, backs to it, as if they were making sure nothing got in. Peculiar, but they didn't have time to waste investigating. Once again, hand in hand, they caught their breaths before bolting past the group, though unlike the others, they didn't seem to be interested in following, only in keeping their post, protecting the door. As much as it bothered them, they had to ignored their curiosities and keep going.

Finally, they reached the aqueducts, an area that seemed almost abandoned. No humans lived nearby, so it made sense to them for the dead to not seem interested in this place, they wished the family had thought of it sooner, it seemed it would've been the safest, easiest way out of the city without loosing anyone. Stopping, they had to breath, they'd sprinted more miles in the past hour than they had their entire lives, and they still weren't out of the city, but they were so close they found themselves smiling.

Once again though, they got their hopes up too soon. Rocky growled, hair on his back rising, teeth bared, seeming more vicious than they'd ever seen him. They followed his gaze, and they couldn't decide if they wanted to scream or throw up at the creature that moved from the shadows of the aqueduct. So many dead, all stitched up into the large monstrosity, yet it was hiding here. Laura believed that whatever it was, was leading the army, and it had become weaker in the daylight, possibly even terrified  that without the cover of darkness, the army's forces would cut it down.

They didn't have time to react much, Rocky growled, then one of it's disgusting hands reached out and wrapped around Marcus. Laura tried to reach for him, hold onto him, he was all he had left, they were so close to freedom, she couldn't loose him now. "Stop it! Give him back!" She screamed at the creature, having to follow Rocky's lead of running back a bit to avoid being snatched up herself. Marcus didn't scream, didn't struggle, he knew that even if he did, the thing would just kill him. "Laura, keep running, just keep going and don't look ba-" A sickening crack filled the air, the creature had reached up and twisted his head around, almost completely, snapping his neck, and she had to cover her mouth to keep from sobbing.

Rage filled her, she wanted to cry, to collapse on the ground and just let the monster finish off the rest of her family. Rocky whined though, and instead of feeling pitiful, something she would have time to do when she got out, she felt angry. This thing had taken everything from her in a single night, and not just taken, but ripped it from her as violently as possible. Not a single family member had died without suffering, and now she wanted it to suffer.

Her hand stuffed into her bag and she pulled out three of the four remaining grenades, she wanted to throw all four, but felt it was better to be safe than sorry. Tears threatened to spill out as she looked at her brothers dead body still grasped in it's hands, he was dead, and if she didn't get out now, he might come back as her mother had. Her fingers didn't hesitate, the grasped all three pins, pulled, and she threw them into the tunnel, the creature looking large enough that even if it tried to get away, the explosion would take off a large chunk of it. Part of her hoped it blew the creature into large enough chunks that it would feel some sort of pain. Laura and Rocky took off the moment she let go of the grenades, and like before, they didn't look back. Their ears rang as the explosion broke out, heat licking their backs, the ground shaking a bit, but she stayed on her feet and kept running.

Whether she ran for hours or minutes she wasn't sure, all she knew was thankfully the military line wasn't on a shoot first ask later basis. The moment they called out to her, she held her hands up in surrender and fell to her knees gasping for air. Trying to breathe was their first clue she was alive, but they still had a medic check her vitals before rushing her behind their line of defense. It was like walking through a dream really, seeing other survivors being tended to, ambulances coming and going, all from different hospitals, all of which she was sure were swamped by now. Then, after making sure she was all right, they did the most blissful thing she could have asked. Loading her and Rocky into the back of a military truck to be taken somewhere safe, they gave her a codine pill. Her eyes grew heavy, and she fought it, terrified that she would only dream of her brother, of him alive, then of his head facing the wrong direction. Then a soldier, seeming to catch on that she had been through hell, took her hand, and Rocky rested his head on her lap, and she slept as the truck put miles between her and the hell that had taken her family from her.

[DoctorRed]

The screams of his menagerie of monsters woke him in a rage and his fist slammed down, sending office supplies scattering, a few tacks stuck in his hand. Growling a low and furious sound from his throat, he rose, plucking them away as his mind reeled slowly. It was like counting sheep in reverse. Slowly, the rage stirred and boiled, emotions rising to the top quickly as he recounted the experience that had been submitted to him, the things he'd missed while he rested and conserved energy. What he found provoked him into a bit of a rage.

Being a necromancer was not unlike being a druid, in theory. He was the hub, the core where all the power was drawn in and spiraled out, creating 'branches' and 'roots', controlling them as he dictated, based on the wants of the 'tree' that Necromancy was. It was like growing a tree in a lot of ways, but he chose what was counted as 'sun' and 'water', what branches to let wither and die, what to draw back or what to flourish. He decided where the fruit blossomed, and where thorns erupted. But not when axes took his branches or his roots. Never would anyone take the trunk of a tree, not like this, but even a leaf was precious, in a way. Precious the way everything that was his was precious. It was HIS, and he did not appreciate it being tampered with. Not one bit. Not. One. Bit. He ground his teeth a bit as he bled a little, drawing new lines on the map as the information came to him in bursts.

The spasms of information and senses was causing a headache and a drunken stumble took him to shelving where painkillers were. He downed a mouthful and pocketed a bottle. When he drew his hand across his face to wipe at it, it came back bloody. HIs nose was bleeding and the blood was coating his collar and chest. He sighed a bit at the ruined clothing and unbuttoned it a bit in a feeble attempt, though it was far beyond such saving. He'd have to discard it later. He wandered a bit, his palm sliding along the cool steel of shelving, a basket over an arm as he drew down things he'd need. Before, when he'd attacked he'd hidden someplace and operated the skulls like puppetstrings to give out orders. With them working defensively, he'd bound them to the chair, but even they couldn't play forever. This active running around on the frontlines was a lot of work.

What hurt the most was probably loosing his steed. The pede had been a lot of work and effort to get right. If he had masterpieces in Necromancy or the art of skinsewing, it would have to be the chimera and actually resurrecting a dead person. Both were marvelous things, and that.... that whore.  Suffer, she would. That he swore there, before he'd even registered his sudden and most cruel intentions. He ground his teeth as he recalled the eyes of the pede and reached out mentally to the chimera who'd been patrolling for her and her little fucking brother, who'd been mangled. The creatures squalled and writhed, it's body churning as it tumbled and fell, parts ripping away and falling limply to the ground. Failure? That wasn't why he employed the dead. The creature moaned and quivered as he tore it apart from afar, leaving it to sink to the ground in the heap it had been when he'd made the damnable thing. Such was the price to let his disappointment be met.

He reached out for the remains of the pede and turned a charred eye around slowly to seek out more of the remains. The aqueduct was in ruins. So much for an empty shelter to seek refuge in. He wondered idly what it'd be like to have endured such a blast. He could feel what the millipede had felt, but it wasn't the same. Even replacing his cancerous organs had been agony, but in the skin of another, it had hardly been real to him. He licked at the blood on his hand, watching the wound well up with blood once more as he stood in the office again, flicking the blood to spatter on the wall. Even that started to piss him off a bit as he leered down at the desk where his map lay. All around the city, the zombies rose and cackled to life, their hideous moan rising as the reached sun passed noon.

He'd passed all the necessary checkpoints, so it was time he moved on. Yet... 'The one who got away'. Perhaps that was what was nagging at him. He supposed it didn't matter. Perhaps he'd find her and crush her.  He'd scattered this city into chaos and turmoil and slain a good percentage of the population. The undead responded to his control well and even followed commands well as simply sets of logic. He supposed it was the best he could hope for. Even the pede who'd been blown apart was a feat in itself so he wasn't ashamed to have let it slide past. He'd claim revenge, and the remaining Chimeras would go berserk without his influence to keep them from shaking apart at the seams of their sanity. The rest would follow suit and wither when they were done. This city was a bloody crest on the map now, and he'd signed it in his own hand.

The man looked down on the map with a sense of pride as he turned his hand over and rolled his fingertip along the wounded hand and signed his name in gore and turned the light in the office off. Under the etched lines of defense and the programmed routes, there read the words.

"Icarus flew too close to the sun and melted his wings. I flew above the sun, and my wings were fire and bone, but I survive. I am the man and the reaper, and as such, there are no men who will not be judged according to their salt. For their crimes, I judge all who do not stand bathed in flames guilty, and burn them with righteous fury. I am Ricard Belmont, and my seal is the skull."

With this, he set about his final works. He parted the skulls, setting them on opposite sides to guide their little army, though in a week they'd be running low on power. Their mission was clear; Hold the line. Kill the weak and lacerate the strong. Devour. Destroy. Seeing them laying there was like leaving two men behind on a battlefield. He was sure to remember his father  and mother for the rest of his life, event he mortified look on their faces when the corpse of a dog lay at his feet. The way they'd raged and screamed. The way they'd begged for him to stop slicing with the knife he'd made from the graveyard next door. He could still taste the blood as it splashed in his mouth, his inexperience and blood lust making him sloppy and his wounds bleeding and mixing with their blood. They would be missed, but they couldn't come along. he bade them farewell, severing his ties with the horde as he came within sight of the military line, a second man beside him.

Beside him stood what looked to be a twisted reflection, though it was Ricard who looked to be the twisted and emaciated version of his reflection. The other man was tanned and healthy. Shapely and fit, his hair long and well kept. Like a rockstar, with glittering eyes and an affable smile, they leaned on one another as they made their way to the line, hands raised in surrender and begging for help, to get away from the monsters behind, their hearts hammering as one, the body beside him alive, but not with a soul.

[mad hatters revenge]

"Heeellloooo!? Women where the hell you at?! I've been calling your for a damn hour, don't make me light up by myself you whore!" A smile spread on her face as the man yelled at her as he entered the bar. She hadn't opened for the night yet, he had his own key though, even Rocky was happy to see them. Though the happiness they both felt was not very much, it kept them from feeling completely lost and alone. They had each other, and they had Sean. If he was straight, she felt like she would give a committed relationship a shot with him, but her luck was not much better, and men were all that turned him on. While snuggling on the couch, or sleepovers weren't out of the question, anything just didn't feel right. They both knew she was trying to fill the void of no longer having her brother, her better half, but at the same time fighting it, not wanting to think such a big part of her life could be replaced of forgotten.

A month wasn't long enough to forget how it felt to have your entire life ripped away, or long enough to start sleeping well on your own. It was long enough to recreate yourself though. During that month, she pushed herself to get better, to put her body in the best shape it had ever been in. Long enough to cover her body with tattoos. Her arms, her back, her hips, ankles, covered in beautiful script. After the incident, she'd gone to every head shop, called every person into voodoo, dark arts, the crazy people who new that what she'd seen, was hardly the work of nature. With no promise which ones would work, she'd gotten every protection spell they sent her inked onto her skin. Protection from magic intended to harm her, but what she truly hoped, was simply that the words would ensure that if she joined the dead, her body would remain out of reach to anyone looking to use it for evil.

Though she owned a bar she never drank, she did the one thing that gave her a buzz without the depression. Every night before opening, she and Sean would smoke, get high, play a game of cards, then open the bar for business. At first she didn't think smoking was any good, that it would only make her worse, or lead to the need for something stronger, but it never had. It relaxed her, helped keep her mind off of her family, and allowed her to enjoy every one night stand she managed to get. In tattered jeans, black sneakers, and a tank that fell just above her belly button, she and Rocky made their way to the front of the bar.

The six foot marine let out a whistle, "Well look at you all sassed up, I take it someone is feeling sexual tonight?" She rolled her eyes at him as Rocky trotted over to receive his daily affection from the man, "I'm still human, smoking, sex and pills are the only thing that help me sleep and you know it." Smiling, he placed a hand on her head and messed up her hair, "Yeah yeah yeah, I know, now come on, I think I can finally beat you at poker this time."

One joint, card game, and an hour later, the streetlights started to turn on, so she flipped the switch for the 'open' sign on the small bars window, and while Sean sat himself at the bar to keep a game of chess going, she began pouring drinks as regular patrons filed in ready to relax after a hard day of work. Most in the city knew of her past, but they all knew better than to talk about it, not even amongst themselves out of fear it would get back to her. Everyone tried to tiptoe around the survivors, even the ones that weren't on a handful of drugs to deal with emotional issues the event had caused, she felt like she scared them the most. Scared them because it hadn't ruined her completely, not on the outside at least. On the inside, she felt cold and empty, on the outside she seemed like the even had been horrible, but she'd survived and it didn't haunt her. Except it did haunt her, if she forgot to take her sleeping pill before she passed out, or didn't have some form of physical contact with another human for longer than a day, she'd dream about it, hallucinate sometimes even. Yet she kept those demons at bay with working out most of the day, and running the bar at night. Rocky was never far from her side, even during her one night stands, he curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting for them to finish before jumping up on the bed. She didn't mind anyone sleeping over, but they always left in the morning, she wasn't ready for anything serious just yet.

[DoctorRed]

The two men spent hours and hours together every day. Sometimes one would sleep while the other one stayed at home, lurking in the darkness or watching a movie. They went out together sometimes in daylight, but it was more common to see one or the other, as if when one went out, the other held down the fort, to keep it as a safe place to return to. No one bothered to complain or repair the situation. Why fix what isn't truly broken? They seemed pleased, though more so the larger one than the smaller brother, but who was to say that the things that had transpired hadn't cost one more than the other?

They lived a carefree life on the surface, but underneath, to anyone who would have stuck around to find the truth, there would have been the roiling turmoil that was the life the creatures lead. A cold wind stirred along the man as he moved about his life, keeping the events of the city close at hand in both his heart and his head. The things that had transpired had vexed him only a bit, and he'd moved along carefully when he could, learning more about he ones who'd survived, listening to their stories. The handsome creature he'd created was best for that, having his own 'false' story very much like the others. Though as the man he'd stabbed himself months ago, it was hardly a false story, it just wasn't truly his. The puppeteer and puppet were inseparable and indistinguishable from one another, save for the differences that he'd given the puppet. Light scarring was evident, but the only true wound that had been treated was the chest wound he'd recieved in the city, from a 'vagrant' 'before the incident really got out of control'.

Obviously to anyone who recognized the man, they would know that his body had been changed by the event. Despite the power the zombies had, as they still ravaged the city, despite the growing extermination forces, this body had to eat and exercise regularly to maintain his shape and size, or he'd die, much like any human. His body was alive, where the zombies were just awake, and still dead. Ricard leered down at the sleeping form as it lay on the bed in one room, before he returned to settle in his own room. The television on, so anyone who happened in would just assume it had lulled him to sleep. Assorted drawings of the city were on the walls, and desks, but no details were left to be discerned that he indeed knew more than he was supposed to about the whole ordeal. New maps were on the desk, their contours traced as he walked to his bed before laying face down on the thing and letting 'sleep' take him. It was handy, having two bodies, but he supposed he'd be pretty wroth if the main one would be destroyed. Nothing in his texts referred directly to what would really transpire if he lost the body he was born to. No one seemed to know. Did he die, and spirit go out like a flame with no air? Or did it matter what body he had, so long as he had a body? No one knew, and he'd never find out, if he could help it.

The more youthful looking of the 'twins' rose and stretched, his body yawning as he sought out a bit of food in their tiny apartment. He supposed the most irksome thing about running two bodies at once was the forgetfulness of his own mind to make sure that when one body did something to make sure the other one did it too. Eating and shitting were annoying things to spend so much damn time doing when he didn't have to be the one doing them. Oh well.He ate and groomed himself accordingly, making a note to not have to do it again later as he stepped outside, dressed again in the fashionable clothes that he liked so much, an apple in his hands as he leapt down the stairs towards the street-level.

Rude was what he called himself and people didn't really question it. He'd gotten a tattoo of a skull on his neck not long ago just to experience it and had been pretty fond of it. The tanned flesh was still a bit red, and his button-down shirt hung half-open, as if later he might go get more of the skeleton tattooed on more of his body. Perhaps he would. For now, though, he wanted to go see what sort of person slew Millipede Monsters and learn about her. It was thrilling work, really. To be able to see her up close like they had never been close before. He'd been the source of her agony, and now... if he was lucky, maybe the source of comfort, for a while. He'd followed her at a distance, but was careful not to be seen by her new little friend, the soldier or whatever he was.  A little light flirting with him was all it took to brush aside suspicions, though he had moved on quick enough to display his underlying disinterest, he thought. The bar. This should be fun.

He strode in after his light walk, the darkening streets pleasing him as he strode along, a hand casually on his hip while he pushed the door open, as if he were silently taking a measure of every detail he experienced, taking it all in and digesting it carefully.He sauntered casually to the bar and leaned against it, his body patiently sighing as he watched for someone to serve him, his glittering eyes lighting up with amusement as he drummed his fingertips on the wooden batop, a palm sliding lazily across his hair to brush it away from the freshly irritable skin on his neck.

[mad hatters revenge]

The one thing she loved about this city, it was nothing like the one that had been destroyed. Her neighborhood had been all those picture perfect white picket fence family types, everyone knew everyone and they all got a long. Here, police sires rang out multiple times a day, people walked into a bar that you could never be sure of, you had to carry pepper spray or a stun gun in your purse or pocket if you wanted to walk alone anywhere. Thankfully, she'd only broken up two fights in the month she'd had this place running, and they'd both knocked it off when she'd cold clocked them in the back of the head.

Between drinks, she leaned against the bar playing chess with Sean, and didn't seem to take notice to the stranger until he was at the bar. She glanced at him, eyes linger on the red flesh where he'd gotten his new tattoo. Her eyes went to the chess board, moving on of her bishops before making her way over to stand in front of the stranger. Offering a small smile, she put her hands against the bar, leaning on them slightly. "What can I get for ya stranger?" She asked, the smile slowly becoming a smirk. "Sean, if you don't want me to break your fingers I suggest you put my bishop back where it was."

The marine gaped at her before looking at the board and then back, "How? You weren't even looking! I made sure." Laura just looked at him, "You know damn well how, put it back." She warned before returning her attention to the man in front of her, eyes taking in what she could see without making it seem as if she were checking him out. Something she'd learned, always know who's around you, and figure out just how difficult they would be to handle if they started to cause problems. The other trick she'd taught herself, even from the corner of her eyes she was always aware of everything in her line of sight, no one moved without her knowing it. Maybe she was a bit jumpy, and Sean had joked constantly that she should go back to seeing a shrink, she refused to do anything that made her stop acting as if hell might come crashing back through her front door.

[DoctorRed]

The man was watching their chess game. He wasn't great at the game but he remembered it to some extent. It'd been years since he played and he felt himself recalling what it was like to play the game so long ago. A grin drew across his lips as he watched their game, and sat up more when he saw her come close. He didn't lean back and shy away when she leaned on the bar, just watched her, his eyes rolling across her once while she approached, not bothering with subtlety as he stood there. When she got close enough he could smell her and he knew it must truly be her. From a distance it was hard to tell, she'd changed so much in the time since the last town. Now she was clearly the same girl, but.. different. He wondered deep within which girl had been the one to kill his pede. No matter, she'd weep soon enough.

Waiting there as he watched her, he shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever is fine. It all tastes the same after a while. Something... different," he said, his eyes on hers. "It doesn't matter what, really," he said to her as they stood. He raised his eyebrow as she called his cheating and frowned a bit as he watched the pair of them. 'That was pretty good," he said to her, looking her over as if seeing her for the first time. "Not many would have caught a thing like that, miss..." he let the words hang, fishing for a name to put to the face as he watched the man return the piece to it's rightful position.  Interesting. He watched her carefully, turning his eyes away from the opposing chess player who he'd seen before but had most likely forgotten him long ago. Oh well, it wouldn't matter. he gave the man a nod the way most men did and turned back to the bar, engaging her again with his eyes.

[mad hatters revenge]

Something different, she took a second to look him over, deciding different would him was probably something sweet. Putting a chilled glass on the table, she dumped blue curacao, sour mix and two shots of vodka. "Blue whale, house specialty." Actually, everything was a house specialty, if she didn't know a drink, she could easily figure it out, now a days you could look anything up on a smart phone.

When he waited for her name, she hesitated, looking him over as if unsure if she really wanted to bother. Finally she sighed, not seeing what harm it could do. "Laura." She replied, rinsing out the mixer and shot glasses she had used to make his drink before grabbing a towel to wipe down the small drops of water she'd gotten on the bar. No, most people wouldn't have caught that, then again most people hadn't hacked dead bodies to pieces and blown up her brothers corpse along with some monstrosity with a grenade. Instead of rambling, she just shrugged, "Guess I'm not like most people." That was putting it very lightly. Rocky made his way behind the bar, whining and jumping up on her leg, giving a small yip. Sean pushed out of his seat, "I'll take him, I'm stuck in the game anyway ya cheatin' hoe." He grumbled at her, though the wink he shot him made it clear that apparently the looks the man was giving her, were friendly, and Sean had the habit of disappearing outside walking the dog for a while when he thought anyone might actually be attempting to flirt with her. "New to the city or just to the bar?"

Being polite was her job, you didn't open a bar to ignore people, you opened it so when they sat down at the bar, if they wanted to, they could talk about whatever they needed to, or nothing at all if that was the mood they were in. She had noticed his gazing though, and something about the look in his eyes told her he most likely didn't want to just sit and sip at drinks all night.

[DoctorRed]

The mans responsive nature wasn't unwelcome to him. Laura, was it? he laughed a bit to himself as he moved along, laying a few bills on the counter and taking a sip of the drink before setting it back to turn his gaze back to her. He moved the chess board down and reset the pieces of the abandoned game as he turned to her and rotated the board, taking black to give her the first turn as he sipped at his drink. He wondered idly what she would do as they sat, looking at one another. He supposed it would be fun enough to play the game a few times and see what came later.

"Laura, huh?" he asked with a grin, watching her carefully. He carried on his body a knife, it hung from his hip, but the black material of the sheath it lay in concealed it well enough for the most part. He wondered idly what sort of weapons she carried these days. Probably not grenades. He offered his hand. "I'm Simon, Simon Belmont." he told her, a warm smile on his lips as he stood to offer his hand to her. "Were you... in the city too?" he asked, his voice lowering to ask the question that floated around so often.

He knew the answer, but the struggle would be delectable. He'd wait and watch, to see her first move.

[mad hatters revenge]

Her eyes never left him when he moved, she wasn't sure what he was up to, and that was how everyone was to her now. Everyone was always up to something, she didn't mean to act like she was suspicious of those around her, it was just impossible for her not to anymore. Though when he grabbed the chess board all she did was raise a brow at him, not really expecting a customer to be interested in playing the game with her. With a shrug, she dragged over the stool she used behind the bar when things weren't busy, and looked the pieces over as he gave her his name.

Laura looked up when he offered his hand, another thing she didn't do much of anymore. Touching, if she was touching someone they were having sex, anything less mindless than that made her feel...uncomfortable. After hesitating a moment, she finally forced herself to give his hand a brief shake, seeming to pull away the moment he asked about the city. Of course she knew which city he meant, everyone knew which city they meant. He was one of the first survivors she'd seen looking at least half sane, and he seemed to have a level head on his shoulders.

Either way, it wasn't a subject she enjoyed talking about it. She had talked, she'd talked, screamed, cried, and hit a few people over it, and nothing made it feel better. Maybe she'd just been avoiding other survivors because she didn't want to talk about it anymore, she just wanted it to leave her be. Her hand hovered over the pieces, moving from right to left, up to the front row, as if she were trying to pick at random which piece to move first. It was actually exactly what she was doing, a contemplating look on her face as if she were truly planning out her strategy already. Finally her hand stopped, moving one of her pawns forward. "I was." Her response was short, not trying to sound snippy, a blank expression on her face as she glanced at him, but tore her eyes away to stare back at the board.

Curiosity began tugging at her, suddenly wondering who he'd known in the city, where he'd been, how he'd escaped....who he'd lost. Some survivors were just visitors, they'd gone through the hell of it, but they hadn't lost anyone, others, like herself, had nothing left. She'd heard they were the ones who kept committing suicide, another reason her friend insisted on a shrink, knowing she was fighting death as hard as she could, but still that fear she might just snap one day and decide it wasn't worth it anymore.

[DoctorRed]

Her hesitation with the shaking of hands drew a raised eyebrow about it. He was firm in his shake before letting her snatch back, hardly looking back down at the board as he moved a pawn to meet hers, in the middle of the board. He leaned back, sipping his drink as he watched her and the board over the rim of the glass. Watching her pleased him a bit. He made time to look at the tattoos he could see on her. They looked different up close, and a few of the symbols he recognized. She'd have resistance, at least, but he wasn't sure about protection. It was always easier to just choose one who didn't have one. Hmm. Interesting.

The city. That stopped her cold as he brought it up so he'd have to be extra gentle about it later when he moved along. He fingered a piece as he waited on her, leaning his head against his hand with a soft grin on his lips. He hadn't shaved today, so the stubble brushed his hand while he waited. Bracelets made of hemp slid along his arm. He'd adopted little things to enjoy while he was in one body, not the other. It helped to differentiate where he was, exactly, or who he was being. Rings for one, the bracelets for the other. He licked his lips a bit, as Simon Belmont watched Laura before sighing softly.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's not a big deal, really." he told her. "I know what it's like, everyone always wants to chat about it and bring up the worst things ever, the terrible place back there. It's really odd, you'd think they would be more interested in living their lives and moving on, talking about what was going on now, right?" he glanced at the bar-top. "Like you, you've got this bar running, that's pretty cool," he told her, a grin on his lips revealing a flash of teeth. He wondered idly in the back of  his mind weather his little gambit would work. He'd gotten good at judging people for other reasons, he'd never tried picking up women this way. He'd always been.., preoccupied. A thought crossed his mind. Maybe he'd just give up necromancy, and start a new life, move on completely from what he'd been so damn interested in. Maybe even with her, though it'd be built on lies and the like. But it was a heat haze. He sipped at his alcohol a little more, as if the drink could either make it a reality or banish the notion.

[mad hatters revenge]

A short laugh escaped her, the kind people did when they thought something was funny, because they thought it was wrong. The bar was in good shape, but it wasn't anything special, let alone cool. Now the apartment she'd had built above it? That was where most of her money had gone. The bar was just a brick building, it made excellent support for a small luxury apartment. With just herself, it was easy to get almost anything she wanted and fit it in one apartment. That was the only thing about her life being ripped apart that had seemed to work in her favor. Everyone got money from the government to get back on their feet, but then insurance companies had to pay up for homes destroyed by fires or flooding, and then her families life insurance...well that she hadn't touched. Not because she wanted it for a rainy day, or just in case she needed to get farther away, but because she didn't feel right spending it. Spending it meant she was okay, and as much as she fought it, she wasn't. Who could ever really be okay after something like that?

"It's human nature to be curious about disasters so tragic we can comprehend what it must have been like to experience it first hand. They ask because seeing how we handled it gives them a better understanding of just how bad it was in there. Not anything close, but that how they'll feel." They would never now how it felt to watch your mother get torn to pieces by a corpse, then hacked to pieces by the living. To let your father kill himself. To be so close to freedom only to lose that last family member you had in the last moments. To survive and spend the whole time wondering why you were lucky enough to live...why you deserved to live when the ones you loved more than anything else didn't.

Sighing, she grabbed her rook, sliding it up to snatch his pawn. If he couldn't take a piece in return, she snatched up other pieces as quickly as she could. It was all give and take, set up a defense, hide out, then run like hell when you got the chance. "So what's going on in the now for you that's managed to keep you from blowing your brains out?" Or hanging himself, or slitting his wrist in the bathtub, or jumping from the 13th floor of a your building. She'd kept track of the other survivors, they were always headliners when they killed themselves, one by one, the people who'd pulled through finding that they're fight didn't feel worth it. Laura wasn't sure what was worth it, but something was, something about this damnable inhale and exhale pattern was precious. When it was gone, our body was an open vessel to be used by any who desired, and just thinking on it made her eager to get back to the tattoo parlor for more enchantments she'd looked up.

[DoctorRed]

He made a face at her laugh and moved a piece to scare her rook off and get ready for an offensive if she was going to play a defensive method. He quirked an eyebrow at her and watched her response with a shrug of his shoulders. He supposed the bar wasn't magnificent or luxurious, but it was still something. Some people had made something of themselves while most had withered away. It was as if the zombies and other creatures had been a pack of basilisks, slowly turning his prey into stone on sight. He wondered idly if it wasn't an option. He'd have to play around a bit more when he finally had more time. He hadn't checked on the skulls he'd left behind, perhaps they were still running amok. He wasn't sure. Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.

Regardless, he grinned at her a little, shaking his head. "I disagree. I don't think they want to know what they would have done, even if they consider the possibility it'll happen to them, humans want to see other humans pain. They don't care whether it's real or fake, whether it's now or past, or if it's the future. Look at your television sometime if you don't believe me." he told her, glancing up at her. "It's only in our moments of agony and terror that other humans truly find us attractive and adore what they are able to find. It's not the happiness we could have, or the joy we could share. It's the terrible, awful things that happen." he told her, a palm on the bar as he finished his drink, turning the empty glass upside down on the table.  He grinned a bit and sighed, his eyes on the pieces.

"I think that the best people in this world are the ones who stick out from that group. Who don't thrive on the worlds terror and agony. The men and women who live for the world as it should be, not as it is." They were certainly the most delicious ones he encountered and he certainly enjoyed their suffering way more than he ever did the ones who'd given up. They would struggle, and writhe, beg and plead. They'd fight for their lives, if they could. And he couldn't wait. What delicious ceremony life was to him...

[mad hatters revenge]

Part of her agreed, part of her had become so disgusted by humanities reaction to what had happened in the city, all the publicity people wanted to give the survivors but how little most actually cared. Yet every time she believed that, that most of society was worthless and cruel, she remembered the strangers who'd risked their lives to save her and her family. Laura wasn't sure what she believed, it all depended on the day really, her mood determined just how much of humanity she believed in.

Staring at the board she mulled his words over a little, hands hovering over her chess pieces before she did something everyone usually waited till it was necessary, she moved her king. He wasn't in any of her pieces way, of anywhere near a threat yet, but she liked moving him every now and again. Mostly because it seemed to mess with people, but also because if she was use to moving him around, she got use to treating her pieces equally. So many focused on hiding the king, keeping him back, but she had no problem sending him into the war zone, if he could take out a few pieces safely, there was no  reason not to.

Once she moved the king, she realized he hadn't answered her questions. "To be fair, we can't really say considering we don't know any of their motives or reasoning behind wanting to know." There, a nice middle ground, she wasn't disagreeing with him, but she wasn't about to hop on board the homicidal train just yet. "You forgot to tell me what you found that made life worth living after that hell." Hell, nightmare, that was all she ever called it. Not the 'tragedy', not the 'invasion' or 'attack', it had been hell for the people in it, and that was all they'd every think of when it was mentioned.

Part of her agreed, part of her had become so disgusted by humanities reaction to what had happened in the city, all the publicity people wanted to give the survivors but how little most actually cared. Yet every time she believed that, that most of society was worthless and cruel, she remembered the strangers who'd risked their lives to save her and her family. Laura wasn't sure what she believed, it all depended on the day really, her mood determined just how much of humanity she believed in.

Staring at the board she mulled his words over a little, hands hovering over her chess pieces before she did something everyone usually waited till it was necessary, she moved her king. He wasn't in any of her pieces way, of anywhere near a threat yet, but she liked moving him every now and again. Mostly because it seemed to mess with people, but also because if she was use to moving him around, she got use to treating her pieces equally. So many focused on hiding the king, keeping him back, but she had no problem sending him into the war zone, if he could take out a few pieces safely, there was no  reason not to.

Once she moved the king, she realized he hadn't answered her questions. "To be fair, we can't really say considering we don't know any of their motives or reasoning behind wanting to know." There, a nice middle ground, she wasn't disagreeing with him, but she wasn't about to hop on board the homicidal train just yet. "You forgot to tell me what you found that made life worth living after that hell." Hell, nightmare, that was all she ever called it. Not the 'tragedy', not the 'invasion' or 'attack', it had been hell for the people in it, and that was all they'd every think of when it was mentioned.