âClear liquor? Iâll take a pass.â
"Not even clear cocktails?" Fiona asked with a raised eyebrow. "Wow, you must be so much fun at parties."
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Peter Solarz

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@basementthriller
âClear liquor? Iâll take a pass.â
"Not even clear cocktails?" Fiona asked with a raised eyebrow. "Wow, you must be so much fun at parties."
Keith watched as the neighboring house washed away the vandalism left there the night before, red words streaked across white paneling spelling out the words, âMurder Houseâ. Dumb fucks got the wrong address. He couldnât help but let out a brief laugh, though mostly he just found it annoying. The wrong house was getting the attention. He thought about fixing the situation, but it wasnât really worth the effort in his opinion.
Fiona had been in a bad mood for weeks, what with Skinner's disappearing act. She'd done it herself many times: gone into hiding without so much as a note to explain why. But that was her. She was the one who was allowed to come and go as she pleased, not Skinner. He was supposed to be reliable and stay in the basement. His sudden departure had pissed her off. Still, the sight of some new graffiti on the house opposite, spotted from an upstairs window, had perked her spirits a little. She ghosted down to the front garden to get a closer look, glancing at the direction a laugh came from. "Since when the hell did we lose our title to some random neighbours?"
With each swing, her shitty golf club was getting even shitter, and Ariel knew she needed to find a new weapon, quickly. But even now, anything decent was nearly impossible to come by; all the good things havenât been swiped early on. Still though, the girl kept searching, even ready and willing to injure, or kill, a survivor if she had to. And in the moment, it seemed like that was exactly what she would have to do.Â
Seeing someone by themselves, Ariel took it as a sign, and very quietly, she sneaked up behind them, her club raised and ready to strike. âDrop your weapon, and I wonât have to bash your head in,â she warned, deciding she might just give them a chance first.Â
Fiona was enjoying some solitude. Not only were there no zombies around, she hadn't seen anybody living in miles, and that was how she preferred it. She stood on the edge of an abandoned field, flipping her knife between her fingers expertly. She could spend a few nights in one of the houses dotted around the edge of the field, but more than anything she wanted to get some more food, and she'd bet her life that the houses had already been raided.
Just as she was about to head out she heard footsteps, and she froze, ready to stick the blade through whatever it hit first. Turning she scoffed, seeing the thin woman stood in front of her holding a golf club of all things. "I could say the same to you," she replied, nodding towards the woman's excuse for a weapon. "I bet I could do more damage with this than you could with that."
Fiona had seen pretty much everything there was to see since the so-called apocalypse made America into big playground. She'd jumped from state to state, stealing from the stupid and killing the (mostly) undead. Honestly, she was in her element. It was kill or be killed, dog eat dog, and she was born for it. She had a smile on her face as she strolled along an abandoned road, lined with trees and connecting two abandoned towns. She'd raided one, and was now on her way to the other when she saw signs painted onto the asphalt, scratched onto the hoods of cars and spray-painted onto road signs. It was the usual crap- "No further", "Turn back", "Dead ahead", and none of it put her off as she headed closer to her next target without a care in the world. @rxpperofhearts
Fiona hummed quietly as she headed down a long stretch of road, keeping just out of view of the asphalt in case of passers-by, and setting her eyes on the destination. Sheâd noticed it from the house sheâd stayed in the night before, a smoking car, crashed pretty recently from the look of it as she got closer. Fiona wasnât bothered about helping any injured passengers, and was glad to see that the two bodies in the front seats were already dead- their heads smashed against the steering wheel and dash. That made it easier. She wrenched a door open, digging deep into the pockets of the passenger and pulling out a wallet. âJackpot,â she smiled, dropping it into her pack, before grabbing the bottles of water near the passengerâs feet.
It was the smoke that had her attention ; and usually? Ana wouldnât bother. Smoke drew others in â but she wasnât doing so well on tampons and only HOPED sheâd be able to nab some from whatever was making that smoke. Traveling short-ways, she cut through the thicket aside the road and immediately paused upon seeing the other blonde. Quickly moving to hide behind a tree, the petite blonde narrowed her eyes, watching the woman ransack the vehicle. Personally? Ana was just PISSED she hadnât gotten there first. To HELL with morality in this world and the next, itâs every WOMAN for herself.
Observant eyes watched closely from behind the tree as she hid ; much more comfortable with the idea of waiting for her to carry on â but she was put in a bind when attention was caught by what looked to be only the top-half of a walker c r a w l out from the thicket on the other side of the road. A curious sight as the little MONSTER seems to be a lot quicker than one would expect ; and about half-way across, Ana had to roll her eyes. Why wasnât she turning? She couldnât just WATCH this happen. â Hey, lady! â She called, gesturing to the monstrosity a few feet behind her. She wasnât going to SHOOT it for her, bullets must be spared, but the LEAST she could do was warn her.
Fiona was so focused on her new haul she barely noticed what was going on around her. Sure, there was a rustling, but the wind was getting heavy and there were plenty of dead leaves around. It was only when she heard somebody call out that she dragged her eyes away from the wreck. Her gaze quickly fell on the gross torso, itâs head half-rotting and a few straggly entrails remaining from its legs. It wouldâve been funny if it wasnât so gross. She rolled her eyes, pulling out her dagger and casually making her way over to the walker. She put a boot firmly between the shoulder-blades, pushing it, snarling, into the dirt before leaning down and driving the blade through what was left of its skull. The rush of adrenaline never got old, and she took her time pulling the dagger back out of the corpse before turning her attention to the stranger who'd given the heads up. "You always hide in the bushes spotting walkers?" she asked, slipping the dagger back into her belt.
Fiona hummed quietly as she headed down a long stretch of road, keeping just out of view of the asphalt in case of passers-by, and setting her eyes on the destination. Sheâd noticed it from the house sheâd stayed in the night before, a smoking car, crashed pretty recently from the look of it as she got closer. Fiona wasnât bothered about helping any injured passengers, and was glad to see that the two bodies in the front seats were already dead- their heads smashed against the steering wheel and dash. That made it easier. She wrenched a door open, digging deep into the pockets of the passenger and pulling out a wallet. âJackpot,â she smiled, dropping it into her pack, before grabbing the bottles of water near the passengerâs feet.
âThere was no such thing as a fair fight. All vulnerabilities must be exploited.â
@basementthriller:
She took the bottle with a slight smile of thanks, relishing the cold touch on such a hot night. âThanks, Ricky.â Sipping the beer she eyed the man thoughtfully, wondering if it was worth trying to kill him or at least torture him for a little late night thrill. âSo, are you new around here?â
Ricky stifled a laugh at her question, covering it up by coughing into his elbow. âIâve been here for a while now,â he answered, taking a quick sip of his beer. He didnât want to tell her how long exactly; afterall, he had just met her. âWhat about you?â Ricky asked.
A smile turned into a smirk, and the vague answer was all the confirmation Fiona needed to know that the man opposite her wasn't among the living. "I've been here a while now, too," she answered, flashing him a grin. "I forget exactly how long."
basementthriller:
Fiona was good at reading people, but this weird bespectacled stranger had her stumped. He seemed innocent enough, but there was something about her warning her to keep her distance. Of course she never listened to that little voice. âFiona,â she smiled sweetly, smoothing the corner of the blanket. âYours?â
Ricky smiled at the sound of her name, giving her a nod of his head. âRichard, but you can call me Ricky,â he replied, leaning over to where the beers were. He pulled two out of the pack and held one out for the blonde, adding, âPleasure to meet you, Fiona.â
She took the bottle with a slight smile of thanks, relishing the cold touch on such a hot night. "Thanks, Ricky." Sipping the beer she eyed the man thoughtfully, wondering if it was worth trying to kill him or at least torture him for a little late night thrill. "So, are you new around here?"
@basementthriller:
âIâm a fan of some parties,â she answered with a sly grin. Namely parties in which she could have a little fun with the switchblade currently hiding in her bra, or a knife theyâd used two minutes earlier to cut a cake of some sort. No party was complete without a maiming or two. âI prefer my guests to have a little less fun then theyâre having downstairs.â She pulled away, settling herself down on the edge of his blanket. âYou donât look familiar.â
Ricky watched the blonde sit down on the edge of the blanket, debating on whether or not to actually scoot over to make her some more room. But, he wasnât exactly sure how he felt about her just yet, so he remained in his spot, bespectacled eyes staring at her. âYou donât look familiar, either,â he said, partly true. He could have sworn He had seen her once or twice in the basement, but he wasnât entirely sure. âWhatâs your name?â
Fiona was good at reading people, but this weird bespectacled stranger had her stumped. He seemed innocent enough, but there was something about her warning her to keep her distance. Of course she never listened to that little voice. "Fiona," she smiled sweetly, smoothing the corner of the blanket. "Yours?"
@basementthriller:
Fiona wasnât fond of huge parties. Sure, the writhing bodies made a great hunting ground, and the more liquor drank the easier it was to separate them from the crowd, but it was always too loud, too claustrophobic. After a mere hour downstairs the blonde had reached her limit, ghosting to the roof for the illusion of fresh air. But even the roof wasnât empty. Spotting the man relaxing on a blanket Fiona approached, leaning over to block his view of the sky. âCosy. Not a fan of parties, huh?â
Ricky narrowed his gaze for a mere second as the blonde popped her head in front of him, letting out a sigh. âVery cosy,â he answered, blue eyes staying on the girl. âAnd, Iâm not a fan of bad parties, which is what that one is downstairs. Are you a fan of parties?â He asked, brow arching up slightly.
"I'm a fan of some parties," she answered with a sly grin. Namely parties in which she could have a little fun with the switchblade currently hiding in her bra, or a knife they'd used two minutes earlier to cut a cake of some sort. No party was complete without a maiming or two. "I prefer my guests to have a little less fun then they're having downstairs." She pulled away, settling herself down on the edge of his blanket. "You don't look familiar."
With a six pack of beer and a blanket under his arm, Ricky ghosted from his spot in the backyard onto the roof. While he had been enjoying his time roaming the party, fireworks were starting soon and he wanted to have a decent view. Once on the top of the building, he set down the beer before slowly unfolding the blanket. With an easy flourish, he put the blanket onto the roof, placing the pack in one of the corners to anchor it. The man smiled to himself, moving to lay down. After a moment he was finally comfortable, bespectacled eyes staring straight up to the sky, waiting for the first of the fireworks. He didnât bother to look when he heard someone else on the roof, knowing theyâd either leave or talk to him - both options he wouldnât mind.
Fiona wasnât fond of huge parties. Sure, the writhing bodies made a great hunting ground, and the more liquor drank the easier it was to separate them from the crowd, but it was always too loud, too claustrophobic. After a mere hour downstairs the blonde had reached her limit, ghosting to the roof for the illusion of fresh air. But even the roof wasnât empty. Spotting the man relaxing on a blanket Fiona approached, leaning over to block his view of the sky. âCosy. Not a fan of parties, huh?â
Itâs not my first time, Damian. Iâll be fine.
OhâŠ
Pegged you for one of the living. NevermindâŠgo down and die as many times as youâd like.Â
Well, aren't you just the sweetest? You wanna come down and die with me? Or do you have something better to do?