SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: the main thread.
all six characters must be apart of this thread. Before anyone starts any one x one threads within the group, this thread must be replied to by all characters.
The group had been barricaded safely in the small record shop for about a week. Time was a funny thing in the apocalyptic hellish wasteland of Boston. Their food rations were low, but if they were smart about it, it would last them a few more days before they had to go out and search for more supplies. Tommy was busy making sure the windows were still blocked and barricaded, checking for loose boards and such.
The rest of the crew were either doing their own thing, waiting to be of use or to drum up a good plan.
Tommy couldn’t remember how long it had been since the outbreak of the virus, but all he knew was that almost everyone he ever knew and loved was most likely dead. Tommy was numb to it already, he had to be. He forced himself to block out the sadness. It was tough, but he managed, although at night it was hard to sleep.
Nightmares plagued him. The guilt of survival weighed heavily on his chest. He pushed on, though. He had to. Tommy turned around after making sure the boards were secure and went to find the rest of the group.
“Mike,” he looked over one of the aisles at the man sitting alone. “Ya count th’ rations, yet?”
michael had lost count of the days since the beginning of whatever this was. his instincts told him it couldn’t have been more than a month, but then again, both his beard and his curls had been much longer since the last time he happened to check himself in a mirror. either way, time didn’t matter. he had other priorities at the moment.
he never thought there would come a day in his life when deathstroke would actually seem useful. up until now, he’d convinced himself there was nothing the killer could’ve offered him other than pain and misery. but there he was, beginning to embrace the monstrous side of him in hopes that maybe, those he loved would survive just a little longer.
the scariest part about this was that he’d started enjoying deathstroke’s company. he’d started talking to him, in times when the rest of his group was elsewhere, michael would listen to deathstroke’s advice, take his opinion into consideration. the only thing he was truly terrified of was that if deathstroke did manage to gain full control of his body, he would pay no mind to the others. he wouldn’t care whether the others survived. that was who deathstroke had grown to become.
he was sat between one of the aisles in the little record shop, both his blades on his lap as he carefully sharpened them, from the hilt to the end. deathstroke was with him again, just watching.
however his form vanished when tommy’s voice echoed. michael’s head slowly turned to face his friend, nodding once before turning back to the blades. “already done. we only have food until tomorrow--three small meals each. got plenty of water though. it can lasts us for 3 to 4 days if we’re careful.”
pixelskylines
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
