SeriousConcentrate
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"Lady, WE'RE fucked-up secret experiments." John also left the armory. -
John inspected his new shotgun as he pulled it out of the cache. The barrel wasn't especially long, but the stock was the kind that folded to the side for compact carrying, and it had a sling. He racked it once and confirmed it was empty, then took as many shells as he could carry. Once he'd ascertained the safety was on, he loaded a few rounds into it and put it over his back. His make-shift spear would still suffice for close range. Beyond that, he checked the cache a little further and came up with a small revolver - a .38 if he had to guess, with a six round drum. There were bullets for it as well, so he checked the safety, loaded it, and put some reloads into his pockets. He wasn't exactly proficient with revolvers, so reloading in a fight would be out of the question, but at least he could load it between encounters. It ended up tucked into his pocket. "All right. I'm ready to go."
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"Lady, if you looked in a mirror you'd agree with me," John groused. "Anyway all of us got operated on as well and then dumped here to see if we could make it out alive. I'm guessing if we don't then whatever treatments we all got ain't worth a shit so they know not to bother with 'em in the future." He continued to sort through the cache. "That's where it stands. We get whatever it is we're supposed to get - some samples or something - and get out or we die here."
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"All the horror movies I ever binged on say that if it just moans and bites it's a zombie. Or walker. Or freaker. Or whatever dumbass terminology they came up with to dance around the word zombie." John made a particularly dismissive gesture with the back of his hand to that idea. "Point is, she's fucked-up looking, but I don't think she's one of them." He turned to the woman. "Yeah, what the vet said. Also those are more claws than fingers you got there." He searched around a bit more. "Look, miss. I'm John Christie. I was a long-haul driver before taking this operation. What about you? What's your name, what'd you do? And I've been up through Canada on my hauls; you a Quebec girl? You sound like one."
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John stared for a moment. "...Fuck happened to your eyes? God damn. Can you even see anything?" Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the stash of potential weapons. "Look girl, calm down and just sit down. You can come with us as we get out of here if you don't start trying to deafen us again. And, uh, maybe the people we work for can do something about those sockets."
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John pointed the spear at the so far non-hostile but incredibly annoying zombie. "You do that again, you're going to get the Vlad the Impaler treatment." Zombie threatened, John goes back to checking the stash for some sort of firearm he can handle, like a shotgun. Who doesn't know how to use a shotgun?
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John entered the room and took stock. "It's a zombie. I don't think it's going to listen to you. You guys got this? I'm gonna look for a better weapon." Trusting the others to take care of the lone zombie, John takes the long way around it to the supply cache and searches it for a handgun of some sort - still keeping an eye on the zombie, of course. If it looked like it was shambling his way it was going to get stabbed.
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John pockets the diamonds for now, then turns to go into the room Poncio opened up. (I figure everyone in combat will get a turn before John gets there so not gonna react just yet)
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John checks the closet. Just in case.
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John waits for Edward to attack, then stays low to stay out of the firing zone and stabs at the zombie's legs to pin it down.
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John steps forward and attempts to impale the zombie through the chest with his improvised spear. (using Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Speed)
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For his part, John decided to simply post up by Austin. "Cheer up man, we'll get through this." He awkwardly patted the shorter guy on the shoulder and continued to look around, not excluding looking up just in case there was something above them.
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"This one's not getting up." John pulled the spear free and wiped the viscera off on the corpse's clothes, then knelt and quickly checked its' pockets for any useful items it might have.
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John takes no chances and stabs the corpse through the eyesocket with his improvised spear.
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"I'm voting for getting strapped too." John moved a little to the left to solidify his stance on the issue and waited for everyone else to decide.