HAVEN. Chapter One: Dead Men Walking. (Started)
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I am trying to write the first post. I'm getting major writing block.
That and the 50/50 immune actually works out well because it allows the immune characters to be bitten and live. But it also means they have more zombies going after them. It makes it more interesting.
That and the 50/50 immune actually works out well because it allows the immune characters to be bitten and live. But it also means they have more zombies going after them. It makes it more interesting.
"Welcome all, and thank you for volunteering for this mission. I am sure you are aware of its importance, and the dire straights this puts Haven in," he stood before the assembled team in an empty auditorium, his military medals shinning in the spot light. "This mission is a one shot opportunity to save Haven, to save the human race. As you know you are heading deep into infected territory to retrieve a sample from the meteor that we believe first brought the plague. For some of you this is a return home, back to the streets you grew up in, now infested with the scourge. For others this is another routine military mission, but for all of you this is a chance to be heroes. As of now each and every one of you in attendance are part of Haven's military and must give your utmost loyalty, and even you life, to the protection of Haven and follow the commands of the officer appointed above you."
At this point a figure moved into the spot light, he wore a plain black military uniform, and carried a plethora of scars on his bare hands and a singular bite shaped scar on his neck. His bald head held three parallel claw marks that crossed over his right eye and ended on his jaw.
"I introduce to you Captain John Paul Wolfe. He has served Haven honorably since its founding, and insisted upon leading this mission. So with out further a due, Captain Wolfe."
He didn't wait for applause, the second he took the podium the room seemed to shrink with his presence, "The seven of you gathered here today were not selected for your prowess, but because you were the only ones that volunteered to die for glory and humanity. Do not think there will be a parade when you return, or that you will win medals. Chances are we will all die out there, but if we die we die as humanities last hope. The infested are growing, evolving. As you might be aware, Immunity is a mutation that worked in human favor, an odd reaction that allows certain individuals to live after being introduced to the virus. Well the same variables that led to immunity has led to a knew form of the infected. They are stronger, faster, and more resilient than when the meteor first hit, and these are not some Dawn of the Dead grave crawlers. If you are not aware by now but the infection is centered around the heart and the lungs, chest shots are a safer bet than a head shot is. Unlike us, the zombies do not need their frontal lobes, they operate solely with the brain stem, so unless you are able to take out the cerebellum, you will just be blowing away useless tissue."
His dark eyes settled over the crowd, "After we leave the Haven's seventh gate we will be on our own, and from there we will be heading towards a series of air tight safe houses we can use to rest and possibly salvage ammo, but do not count on your ability to find ammo. When i let you men go, you will need to pack your bags, stock up on ammo and MRE's, and say good bye to your loved ones. You have an hour to meet me at the first gate. Those who do not show up will be left behind, we will not look down upon you, you will just have to live knowing that you left your battle buddies to die."
He looked around the collected faces of the volunteers, the unit patch on his right sleeve showed the special forces saber and the tower of power. The volunteers could clearly make out the tabs for airborne, ranger, and sapper. The captain took out his Dark Green beret, "You are dismissed." He walked off the stage and exited the auditorium.
At this point a figure moved into the spot light, he wore a plain black military uniform, and carried a plethora of scars on his bare hands and a singular bite shaped scar on his neck. His bald head held three parallel claw marks that crossed over his right eye and ended on his jaw.
"I introduce to you Captain John Paul Wolfe. He has served Haven honorably since its founding, and insisted upon leading this mission. So with out further a due, Captain Wolfe."
He didn't wait for applause, the second he took the podium the room seemed to shrink with his presence, "The seven of you gathered here today were not selected for your prowess, but because you were the only ones that volunteered to die for glory and humanity. Do not think there will be a parade when you return, or that you will win medals. Chances are we will all die out there, but if we die we die as humanities last hope. The infested are growing, evolving. As you might be aware, Immunity is a mutation that worked in human favor, an odd reaction that allows certain individuals to live after being introduced to the virus. Well the same variables that led to immunity has led to a knew form of the infected. They are stronger, faster, and more resilient than when the meteor first hit, and these are not some Dawn of the Dead grave crawlers. If you are not aware by now but the infection is centered around the heart and the lungs, chest shots are a safer bet than a head shot is. Unlike us, the zombies do not need their frontal lobes, they operate solely with the brain stem, so unless you are able to take out the cerebellum, you will just be blowing away useless tissue."
His dark eyes settled over the crowd, "After we leave the Haven's seventh gate we will be on our own, and from there we will be heading towards a series of air tight safe houses we can use to rest and possibly salvage ammo, but do not count on your ability to find ammo. When i let you men go, you will need to pack your bags, stock up on ammo and MRE's, and say good bye to your loved ones. You have an hour to meet me at the first gate. Those who do not show up will be left behind, we will not look down upon you, you will just have to live knowing that you left your battle buddies to die."
He looked around the collected faces of the volunteers, the unit patch on his right sleeve showed the special forces saber and the tower of power. The volunteers could clearly make out the tabs for airborne, ranger, and sapper. The captain took out his Dark Green beret, "You are dismissed." He walked off the stage and exited the auditorium.
Well it's started, sorry if it's not a very good post. Writers block
"Figures, I sign up for this shit and I get sent on a suicide mission. At least back in japan I was only sent to eradicate civilians and Z's and I was teamed up with some professional killers, now the shit hits the fan and I'm stuck with these noobies. Heh, who knows it might be fun. Been a while since I was able to enjoy bloodshed, perhaps these fellas are a better shot then I think." Kenji thought as he walked towards the barracks, passing assorted refugees and mercenaries along the way. The place was a dump, the populace walked up to their knees in filth and waste. Kenji figured that even facing certain death people would at least be smart enough to pick up the shit they had left behind, keeping the camp clean would prevent the spread of disease, obviously these shit heads didn't know what was best for their own safety.
He arrived to his room in the barracks roughly five minutes later, everything was in order just as he had left it. His rifle sat on the weapons crate he had brought it in, next to it an assortment of different ammunition variants and attachments. He pulled up a stool and leaned over the AR-15, carefully deicing what to keep and what to leave. He decided to bring the standard ammunition, having been aware of its reliability. The glass scope was outfitted for the reason that it didn't require batteries, obvious choice. He turned his attention towards the rest of his gear, continuing with the same process of selection.
He arrived to his room in the barracks roughly five minutes later, everything was in order just as he had left it. His rifle sat on the weapons crate he had brought it in, next to it an assortment of different ammunition variants and attachments. He pulled up a stool and leaned over the AR-15, carefully deicing what to keep and what to leave. He decided to bring the standard ammunition, having been aware of its reliability. The glass scope was outfitted for the reason that it didn't require batteries, obvious choice. He turned his attention towards the rest of his gear, continuing with the same process of selection.
I know I choose a rather outlandish weapon for the most part and I'm sure that most of you are not aware of the AR series, allow me explain.
The AR-15 is the civilians version of the M16 rifle, using the same 5.56 NATO ammunition. It is sold without a gas piston restricting it to Semi Auto, and is smaller. I prefer because it provides the same accuracy and stopping power but a lighter weight, however it does have slightly more recoil.
The AR-15 is the civilians version of the M16 rifle, using the same 5.56 NATO ammunition. It is sold without a gas piston restricting it to Semi Auto, and is smaller. I prefer because it provides the same accuracy and stopping power but a lighter weight, however it does have slightly more recoil.
Exictednuke said:
My bad. Haven has buildings, mostly savaged from old buildings. Some are airtight like the main and reck buildings. The other's are weaker built and very few tents. It's been about eight or ten years since the infection started so its pretty safe to assume that they moved past the tent/refugee feeling.
The populace of haven lives in Barracks and converted gym's meant for large ammounts of people. Families live in sectioned off barracks that allow for privacy.
Joseph walked into his barack. It was in neat order, He had his gun locker in the corner next to his cot. He opened it up and selected his weapons. His M4, his benelli M4, hiss personal M1911 and a machette. He always liked that machette, he used it to kill his first infected. He took his M4 and field stripped it, same with the Benelli and the M1911. He wanted to make sure his shit was in order so it didn't jam on him in the field. He opened up the mini-fridge he had under the table and pulled out a bottle of burbon. He took a drink and the memories of that first day flooded into his head. No, he banished the thought from his head and continued to clean his armerments.
"Sometimes I really hate this shit." He said to him self as he was cleaning his gear. The light of the lamp illuminated the picture of his family and him...
"Sometimes I really hate this shit." He said to him self as he was cleaning his gear. The light of the lamp illuminated the picture of his family and him...
Paul checked his bag one last time, before closing it, and exiting his lab in one of the airtight buildings. As he waited for the airlock to activate he put on his filter and goggles. He took one last breath of uncontaminated air before exiting. He thought of what was a head of him. Ahead of them.
If anything, he was glad he got this opportunity to make a difference. After all these years of studying the infection, they had not really accomplished anything. He convinced himself that he wasn't afraid, that he would rather die out there, trying, than rot away inside the Haven, knowing the end of humanity was neigh. Paul had no family to say goodbye to. The only persons who cared for him was his science team, and he didn't want them to know. They would want to leave instead of him, saying that he was too valuable to the Haven.
'Bullshit' he thought. He knew that if anyone had a chance to make a difference in a situation like this, it wouldn'tt matter how valuable they were. Paul set course for the gates, convinced he was doing the right thing.
If anything, he was glad he got this opportunity to make a difference. After all these years of studying the infection, they had not really accomplished anything. He convinced himself that he wasn't afraid, that he would rather die out there, trying, than rot away inside the Haven, knowing the end of humanity was neigh. Paul had no family to say goodbye to. The only persons who cared for him was his science team, and he didn't want them to know. They would want to leave instead of him, saying that he was too valuable to the Haven.
'Bullshit' he thought. He knew that if anyone had a chance to make a difference in a situation like this, it wouldn'tt matter how valuable they were. Paul set course for the gates, convinced he was doing the right thing.
About an hour later. Joseph was done cleaning his gear, he got up threw the half empty bottle of burbon back in the fridge and straped on his gear. He was wearing all black, dragonskin vest, reinfrced helmet, blaclava and goggles. He put on his knee pads and boots last. Then he left his barracks.
God, this is gonna suck, he thought to himself. Why the hell did I volunteer for this? Oh, yeah that's right, to save bullshit humanity. I mean it's not like we're gonna learn from this, soon everything is gonna go back to normal and we can restart screwing ourselves over. I should've joined the marines. He finally got to the gate. Someone had beat him to it, his name tag said "Pual". Joseph didn't adress him he just droped his gear and started loading all twelve of his magazines. It was going to be a long day ahead...
God, this is gonna suck, he thought to himself. Why the hell did I volunteer for this? Oh, yeah that's right, to save bullshit humanity. I mean it's not like we're gonna learn from this, soon everything is gonna go back to normal and we can restart screwing ourselves over. I should've joined the marines. He finally got to the gate. Someone had beat him to it, his name tag said "Pual". Joseph didn't adress him he just droped his gear and started loading all twelve of his magazines. It was going to be a long day ahead...
"Well," Vereor thought as he walked into his room, "Not the best pep-talk I've ever heard, but I can't fault the man for getting to the point..." He took a moment, and a deep breath, before stooping down to pull the battered footlocker out from under his bunk. He clutched the keys around his neck, fingering out from memory the one he hoped he'd never have to use again. The lock made a deep 'thunk' sound as it opened, revealing Vereor's mementos of his nomadic time on the run. His trenchcoat, his fedora, his guns and his knife, all bringing back dark memories of times he nearly died. Picking up the carbine, he saw the seventeen tally marks along the side of the weapon, each one vividly describing a time when the only way out was to use the precious little ammunition he found scattered around the wasteland, each one a time when death was a split second away. On one of his revolvers there were four tallies, three on the other, all telling the same story. With a weary sigh, Vereor donned his coat and hat before stuffing the contents of the ammo box in the locker (Ten magazines for the carbine and six speedloaders for the revolvers) into different pockets of the messenger bag he used for courier work in the Haven. Tucking his knife in his belt, Vereor set upon cleaning his guns while enjoying his room, possibly for the last time.
Sid walked back to his bunk. He pulled out his footlocker, which contained his best friend, Desmond. Desmond had saved his ass many times in the fights against the Zed Heads. Desmond was his customized SPAS-12 shotgun. It was painted red, with white writing reading "Desmond." He cleaned it, checked it, and loaded it. He strapped it around his chest, letting it hang off of his back. Sid then reached for his pistol, a standard USP. No nickname for this one. Maybe 10 or so more kills before it got that honor. He repeated his process that he had used for Desmond, and holstered it.
Kenji fumbled with his shotgun, carefully resembling the weapon. Each part came together over time, each piece fitting together like that of a puzzle. The two barrels were evenly lined up, both of the triggers were correlated with the mechanism allowing for efficiency on the front. He was no stranger to what the Z's were capable of standing, fortunately very little mutants are capable of withstand a slug to the face. The final piece came together and the weapon was now complete, he was almost ready for the mission ahead. He stuffed twenty slugs into his his pockets, along with five clips of AR-15 ammo.
"Perfect, lets see those undead fuckers try and stop me." Kenji muttered slinging his two guns over his back, now he was just lacking one final touch. He reached over towards his Tonfa, nothing more complex then two nightsticks, however they could still crush skulls with great effect. His hands moved over towards his mask, adjusting the head protection.
"All set for another suicide mission, can't wait to test my great luck again." He said jokingly, his maniacal grin was covered by his gas mask, however the insanity in his eyes was clearly visible. He had no lost his sanity, he had just never had any to begin with.
"Perfect, lets see those undead fuckers try and stop me." Kenji muttered slinging his two guns over his back, now he was just lacking one final touch. He reached over towards his Tonfa, nothing more complex then two nightsticks, however they could still crush skulls with great effect. His hands moved over towards his mask, adjusting the head protection.
"All set for another suicide mission, can't wait to test my great luck again." He said jokingly, his maniacal grin was covered by his gas mask, however the insanity in his eyes was clearly visible. He had no lost his sanity, he had just never had any to begin with.
Perfect. Joseph thought to himself. He slid eleven of his twelve magazines into his assualt vest and sliped the other one into his M4. He pulled the charging handle back and released. *Clack* Nice. He thought as a round was slid into the chamber. He then loaded ten AA buckshot rounds into the Benelli M4, the rest he slid into indevidual loops on his belt. He loaded an extended mag into his M1911 and tested the laser. Good. he thought. It should come in handy. He holsterd it and the machette on his right side. He then took off his helmet and ajusted the bronze bar...
