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.
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"If you're all ready, let's get moving." John was certainly as ready as he could possibly be, and he wanted to get moving before he had a chance to really think this through all that much.
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"I'm not sure if I need anything special, though some combat training might be good since we're expected to fight. It seems like mine are just muscle enhancements." He flexed and looked at his bicep. It didn't look especially bigger than it did before. "Sort of along the lines of taking what you have and multiplying the effect, maybe. And while I'm thinking about it..." John grabbed one of the metal railings the plastic curtains had been hanging from and broke it into a crude sort of spear, tucking the bed post into his belt for later if needed. "A little distance might help. All right, I'm as ready as I can get to leave this room. What about the rest of you?"
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"Damage is damage," John agreed. He set about looking for things he could break into smaller pieces for Spook to use, such as extra bed legs or breaking the frames into smaller pieces. As crazy as this situation was, and as dangerous as it was, he was enjoying just being able to move again, to feel strong again. He hadn't felt this good physically since he was in high school - and that had been, what, fifteen years ago? Class of '07, yeah. "All right, let's talk about what we got. Fox girl there's got a gun and presumably it's loaded. We've got enough bed legs for everyone to at least be armed. I don't know about the rest of y'all but I'm feeling pretty damn strong and I think I might be moving faster than I was before Becker's kicked my ass into a bed. Eyeguy can see things we need apparently. Spook here's got crazy mind shit. The old dude is military. What other assets do we have before we step on out there?"
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John watched Spook for a second, raising an eyebrow when she apparently ripped some metal apart with just looking at it. "Hey, I got an idea. If you got telekinesis or whatever that's called, why not take some of the bed bolts with you? If you can fire them like a gun, that'll help us out until we get our hands on actual hardware - y'know, keep the bastards away from us or whatever."
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Silently, John buried his face in his hands and slowly ran them up his forehead until his fingers were tangled in his curly hair. Great. I'd be a little more confident in our chances if more people were like the fox girl or the soldier. Instead we have a bunch of weirdos, freaks, crybabies, and who knows what else. Right. I can't really rely on anyone but myself here, just like before. After a moment, he lowered his hands back to his sides and walked over to one of the beds. He crouched by it and grabbed one of the legs, then pulled. The muscles in his arms stood out for a moment as they stretched and flexed, and then with the protesting shriek of metal he ripped the leg from the frame. "There, got a weapon. Here ya go." He slid it across the ground at Austin, then ripped another leg from the bed for himself. "At least we're not going out there with nothing. Anyone else want one?"
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John turned and looked at it. "Looks like a door to me. Maybe whatever they did to you has something to do with your eyes. Hopefully you get that figured out, and soon."
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John just stared at Austin silently for a few moments as he was ungracefully dragged back into the light. "Brother, there is no rescue team. Anyone who doesn't make it outside is getting left here; that's what the commander said. You're going to have to come with us if you want to get out of here, and if you don't, I'll drag you out because I don't like the idea of leaving a dude behind to get mauled or whatever is going on here."
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John pointed at the fat guy who had been screaming a lot and then was just silently sweating. "What about him? What can he do?" He turned to look at Austin with a shrug. "No offense but I'd rather we know whether or not we're carrying a load, here."
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"Are you serious?" John sighed. He'd done some frankly terrible jobs during his vagabond days, like sewer maintenance, but this was a step beyond. "Yeah, what he said. Beyond just grabbing some things and leaving, what's expected of us?" He hoped they wouldn't have to be killing anyone, infected or not. Trespassers or whatever the commander called them was one thing, but he wasn't looking to be murdering fellow humans. That wasn't right. If he absolutely had to to survive, then he had to, but it definitely wasn't something he was looking forward to. "So were we put here before the outbreak happened... or did it just happen to happen while we were recovering? Some kind of test?"
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"No use getting angry at me either way, Charlie. As for this, part of my disease was that my body was becoming unable to bend at all, so they must have went a bit overboard restoring my flexibility." John chuckled at himself, the sound a mixture of amusement, ruefulness, and puzzlement. "I'm not going to lie, it feels weird. Almost like I'm made out of water or something like that - well, maybe more like gelatin. I feel like I ought to hear squishing every time I move in a way humans aren't supposed to." He touched the back of his hand to his forearm, then bent his wrist the other way so the palm was resting on it instead. John nodded to Airi as she introduced herself, then turned his attention to Paul. "I'd shake your hand if we were closer to each other." He took a look around at the other assorted oddities, and then glanced back at the intercom. "You think they're planning on keeping us all grouped up? I can't think of any other reason they'd put a bunch of strangers in one ward like this."