Stability in a world like this was just a pipe dream, just as it was on the sea, that was-perhaps- how Rico was even able to function the little bit he was in this desolate piece of shit they called a city. He didn’t have a place in with these people, the only place he’d found was between the sheets or legs of one of the scientists here. It had happened fast but he was more than welcome to the distraction, almost too welcoming as he found himself developing some sort of attachment to the brunette. She brought the small amount of happiness that the Italian would even allow himself. But that night as she left his room, his arms and bed, to go to her precious lab Rico later regretted not being his annoying self and going with her. It was a fleeting moment as hell rained down of the fucking place.
He should have been asleep, but such a feat was not as easily made without Lottie there by his side. The weight and warmth of her body next to his was what eventually lulled Rico to sleep after he had fought off the demons of his family But tonight was different, Lottie wasn’t there to warm his soul, the bed was empty without her, just like his soul. It was something Rico had come to accept with the last few events that had happened, the night of drunken conquests and the one that he had spilled his soul, it was all too much and he shouldn’t have let either of them happen. She’d get taken away from him, or he would push her away, just as he had his family. It was better to push someone away than to loose them.
The whistle of what was in the air was foreign at first, strange and it caused his dark brow to wrinkle in confusion before the explosion off in the distance shook the entirety of the house he was in. A blast took out the windows of the room and glass shattered everywhere in the room, flecking his naked torso with blood and small cuts. But that didn’t faze Rico, not as he rolled to his feet shell shocked for half a second. Action, he had to jump into action. Sliding away from the bed the Italian tore on his clothes and shoes before scooping up what little possessions he own, slinging the pack across his back and securing it there. He knew this place was too good to be true, he had gotten too comfortable and now the small shitty city was being brought to the ground. His feet carried him, darkness settling into his heart as rage filled every inch of his person. By the time he reached his doorstep, all thoughts of protection or finding anyone else was thrown from his mind, the flames licked the darkened sky and people had just started to trickle out from their homes but Rico was one step ahead of them, by the time the second bomb dropped he was halfway towards the end of his street; the blast making him stumble and pull up, almost falling over himself as he watched the closest tower to him teeter and then fall.
Then the damned started to fall past the crumbled defenses and Rico’s plot of escaping out the front gate was thwarted, now he back pedaled away from the infected that were lurching forward past the fallen gates. His feet picked up and brought him to the middle of the people that had gathered out of their homes all blurry eyed and disoriented all unaware of the dangers and exactly what to do. All Rico knew was that he had to get the fuck out of there. With a curse on his breath the Italian absently searched for that flicker of metal and the familiar click of a gun, he didn’t know where the fuck they had taken his weapons but there never was a problem with that in a world without a weapon, he was the fucking weapon. So the second he caught glimpse of that metal he lunged for it. A knife in the hands of a smaller male, one that was disoriented but brandishing the weapon with caution. Rico attacked without warning. Easily tearing the knife from the other man and plunging it into the jugular of the opposing male, wide eyes met his darkened gaze before the Italian shoved the dying man into the arms of an on coming infected. It gaze Rico time to get out.
Running worked his muscles, damn had he gotten too comfortable in this place. He could hear his father now scolding him for not being more detached and calculating with his choices, the Italian accept dripping on the end of each word. The Italian was away from the gates where it seemed most people were going. There it was, the familiar click of an automatic, dark eyes found the other man that helped Charlotte on her crazy outings for test subjects, the Marine, he was as determined as Rico was but this one Rico would not mess with. The other man had a good few inches on him and was more than just trained to kill a man. No, the next person who came clamoring out of the small shed was who Rico attacked.
Knife slicing at the delicate flesh of the throat but only leaving a small mark as the person moved away at the last minute. Another wide eyed horror struck gaze as the cocked the gun ready to end Rico’s life, he should have let them, but his mind was too far gone into survival mode to be kicked down by his desire to die. So he knocked their gun aside, the blast echoing into the air and the bullet finding its home in the dirt as Rico’s fist landed against the nose of the opposing person. A screech of pain was what drew the infected closer and Rico had to act fast, but this person was not ready to die just yet. They returned the counter as he went for another stabbing blow to their throat, a block sent his knife knocked from his hands. Now his fists clenched and threw a blow to the persons gut before another one knocked them back against a wall.
Another blow and then another, and another, and another, and another.Hard and aggressive were his blows, cutting the air from the lungs of this person before the blows started landing on their face. Soon his knuckles were bloodied with the crimson liquid that spurted forth from the wounds on the person’s face. It was only a matter of minutes before their body went limp either from unconsciousness or death Rico truly didn’t care. He swiped for their waistband and took the extra clip hidden there, the larger knife and then with a grunt he let their body hit the concrete, an infected grunting as it meandered closer. With a swift motion Rico plunged the knife into the throat of what once was a person, dark black substance spilled forth and covered the knife before he shoved the thing away and swooped to pick up the handgun.
Now he was on his way, knife brandished as his primary weapon and the other one tucked away for safety or necessary usage for later. It seemed like hours that he was running, abandoning everything that he had become familiar with. Lottie, Aiden, and Giano were all left back there to fend for themselves. Rico didn’t care, he didn’t have time to care, nor the ability to do so. Giano, his brother was more than likely well, there was no doubt in that. They were two of a kind, the Palcore brothers, cut from the same cloth and bred to be snarling bastards like wolves. The older Palcore would make it, Rico didn’t even think that he wouldn’t for a moment. Lottie and Aiden however, unless they found a creature more vicious than they, the chances of survival were slim to none for them. They were weak in their own way, Charlotte more than Aiden with her bum leg. Well, all good things died in this world, but Rico wouldn’t--- because he wasn’t anything good at all.
Moments passed before the Italian came to a building, it seemed quiet enough and his dark eyes quickly found movement of another survivor, a tall man whom nodded towards the warehouse and asked for the Italians opinion on whether it was clear or not. A snarl like expression pulled back Rico’s lips before he even answered. “The fuck if I know, only one way to find out.”
It was a state Cristine could not get out of, the place she had called home-- no, no, the person she had called home was gone from her now and she didn’t know what to do. He had been the person to make her feel safe, a security she now saw was too good to be true, everything good always left her or was taken away, it was just what happened. But she wasn’t busy sitting around feeling sorry for herself, even though her face scrunched up in a sorrowful manner and tears threatened to break the surface and streak down her cheeks. There would be no crying, not in front of all these people and not when she was so angry.
Bloodied hands still gripped the lead pipe she’d wielded as a weapon, eyes inspecting the thing as if it were foreign and new to her. This was all just fucked up and Cristine was so angry, this fucking world had taken so much from her and these people, wasn’t it time enough for a break? But she knew that was just wishful thinking, there was no rest in this world, there was no mercy. Death would come for them all but she would be the one trying to fight it off. Eyes flickered up to meet the gaze of the nearest person and she offered a small and tired smile, not as genuine as she might have hoped but still she made an effort. “You okay?” Trick question, no one was okay, but it was in her nature to ask such questions, to mother and nurture. “Have anything that needs tended to?” Wounds, yes, she could deal with wounds, she’d grabbed what medical supplies she could from the clinic but they weren’t much. Cris didn’t know how long they would have to last for.
Strength, all these years Cristine had thought she was a strong person. Built on the backbone of a good man, her father had taught her to do good unto others and never take what wasn’t hers. There were a lot of things that her father taught her and they were things that Cristine had taken to heart, never ad she gone through a day without at least once doing something that her father had taught her. Even now after the end of the world, after losing her siblings out there in the middle of nowhere and the death of her son, the boy who died in her arms and she still woke up to check on in the middle of the night. She was a resourceful woman, did with what she had, made things better for those around her all the while she was silently suffering on her own. It was always how she had been. Making others feel better, that was how she felt better, that was her saving grace; getting her hands dirty and stained with blood in a helpful action was what stabilized her.
Laying in the cot at the Clinic where she didn’t want to be, Cristine sighed and immediately regretted action as it pained her already sore ribs. There was nothing she could do but count the holes in the curtains that were hung up at the windows of the room, at least it was one step closer to work, no matter how much her colleagues discouraged her to actually working in her state. She was in a lot of pain and of course refused pain medicine, there were others that needed them more than her. There would always be people who needed things more than Cristine and she was more than willing to give them hat they needed, that was just the kind of person she was. Always giving, caring, and protective but god damnit did she need someone to do the same for her. But she was a stubborn woman, got that from her father.
At first she thought she was hallucinating, as if the pain in her torso was causing such things to happen; the engines over head were as foreign as the fact that she was actually in bed for once, resting or at least trying to. But that was interrupted by the explosion that all but shook her world, the building she was in vibrated and it was almost like an earthquake hit. But the words of her father came to her as the entire Clinic rumbled, the boards creaking and shaking with the impact of the bomb. Stumbling out of the cot that she had been lying on Cristine moved to the closest window to look out, fear struck her gut and tore at her insides like talons from a beast.
NO.
This world had taken far too fucking much from her, it had destroyed the very life she’d had and held so dear to her, all her happiness and livelihood had been taken. Not fucking again. The world was shaken by the first explosion but Cristine was too pissed off to even think over why the city would be bombed, but the next bomb that shook the clinic and sent her slamming into a wall with a low groan was enough to make the brunette force herself to steady, her hands found the cloth of the shirt she pulled on, it was Elijah’s which didn’t register at the moment, all Cristine was focused on was that she had to get the people out of this clinic and to safety. But first, she needed a weapon. Another noise of annoyance left her lips, her ribs already hurting her from the excretion of energy that she shouldn’t have been doing. Two seconds later and her brown boots were on her feet and with a swish of her wrists her hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun.
A weapon. Brown eyes scanned the room she was in as the cries from the fallen and the frightened reached her ears. A metal bar. It was used to help stint and straighten bones, a lead pipe from what she recalled. As good of a weapon as any. With purpose in her step Cristine moved out into the hall of the Clinic, ushering the people she found there towards the exit. It seemed from the location of the last blast that hit the gates were taken out, from the noise outside Cris decided to direct people to the wards the back of the city, perhaps that was their only way out of this. But GOD DAMNIT she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not like last times and when that asshole beat her to shit, her ribs and busted face was still evidence of that, he was a monster but fuck Cris could be one too. What did she have to lose?
Finally making sure the last of the people were out of the building, in an instant the infected were there to thwart Cristine’s efforts in doing some good, an aggressive growl left her lips as she swung at the first undead she saw. Muscles in her torso screaming in protest as they were still severely bruised, she even made a noise of pain as the blood of the infected flecked to one side with the blow which was followed by another. “Get the fuck out of here!” Cristine barked at the remaining numskulls that were staying in shock, granted she didn’t blame them, if she had paused for even a second to think about what was actually happening she would have been in shock as well. But no, Cristine was just angry. This entire city had gone through too much fucking hell for this shit to happen. And she’d be damned if she was going to wait by the side of the road for the heroes, the fighters to come back from battle. This time, Cristine was the fighter. Another blow into a nearing infected and this one more savage than the last, blood spattering to cover her face and hair, aggressive and with purpose. “You-- Fucking--- Piece-- Of-- SHIT!!” She yelled, making a mass of nothing of the infected head. Moving onto the next without even thinking and little restraint from her injuries. And then another, and another, she lost count after five had fallen but then she was able to stable herself, focus on those around her in order to help them once again.
There was a young woman there, trying to help, she even said it before suddenly collapsing to the group and Cristine had to move quickly. Pushing the person the young woman had been helping in order to slam the bloodied pipe into the rotting skull of an infected in order to protect this girl. Cris recognized her , she’d seen her around a few times, couldn’t recall her name at the moment. “Fucker--” Cris spat as she slammed her foot into an infected, her whole body was aching and soon she would be exhausted but there was no time for that, she had to move.
So with great effort Cristine pulled the younger woman’s arm up in order to string it around her neck and hoist the passed out female to her feet. “Jesus Fucking Christ--” The nurse all but growled under her breath before she started moving. Her eyes scanning the crowd, the thought of the others rolling into her head now that she was retreating to what she hoped was safety. Elijah. God she hoped Elijah was alright, no-- of course he was, Cristine wasn’t even going to think that he wasn’t anything but alright. And Juliet, Robert, hell there were so many people she cared about and hadn’t really had the balls to express that more than her asshole methods of playful insults and teasing. Jesus Christ what if I never see them again. Thoughts of doubt, of horror, now they caught up to her and clawed at her skull like a disease, making it difficult for her to focus on anything-- well, that was aside from the pain that was taking everything in her to ignore. A grunt, pain driven and labored, Cristine kept moving, bloody pole in hand as she dragged the young woman along with her, Diana. That was right, now she remembered.
She would see them again, everyone, they all were going to make it. Because if they didn’t--- if they fucking didn’t Cristine would lose her mind-- more than she already had for Charles, for her parents, for her siblings. There was no chance of them being out there now, this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. This city was supposed to last and Cristine had helped keep it safe, in some small form or fashion. All she’d been doing was keeping herself preoccupied from the grief, hiding from her mistakes and the horrors. She had been a coward, hiding those times when everyone had needed her. That’s what she had fucking been, but now, no longer was she going to hide. This fucking world had taken more than its share from all of them, but Cristine was done with it taking and taking and taking and taking and fucking taking. The woman was going to fight back and God be damned if he thought he could allow this world to take anymore from her. They all were going to be fine, they had to be. The would be. Because Cristine was going to fight for them all, or she would die fucking trying.
Sleep was never something Dexter often gained or even expected to get, rest was for those that had time to do such a thing and to the Marine, he had a job to do and by resting he was simply wasting the time he could be out there patrolling or helping elsewhere. Perhaps checking on those he cared about, Dexter seemed to be needing to do that more often, seeing as how everything around him was just falling apart. There was nothing he could do, like when his sister left him for dead out in the Red District, what had happened between Lori and Gwen, Terra getting injured, just everything was going wrong and he hadn’t been there for any of it. He was a failure of a man and friend, these things were new to him, it was hard to believe that all it had taken for the man to become more than he had ever been was the end of the world, like an explosion to reality---
Engines overhead--
Dexter was on the ground when the first bomb hit, it was far too familiar and threw him back to the times he spent in Iraq, there had been bombings to their camps often and for the duration of the explosions Dexter was back there again. Instinctively he covered his head until the shaking of the buildings paused for a moment. He had to get to Lyra. Pushing himself with strong arms Dexter got to his feet and all but broke through his bedroom door, the wood made a noise like it had cracked under his weight that was until he finally turned the knob and moved into the hallway, making his way to Lyra’s room before the house shook again with another explosion.
“Lyra!?” Dexter called out before he opened her bedroom door, staggering to steady himself. She wasn’t there. A curse fell from his lips as he heard the chaos unfold outside, moving back into his room the Marine slipped on his equipment faster than anyone might have expected. He was needed out there. So he made his way down the stairs, two at a time as he pulled his weapon out of its holster and turned off the safety. Moving past that barrier of wood which kept him from the outside world was like walking past the gates of hell. Fire lit up the sky and it was almost like stepping back into the battlefront in Iraq, he was back there again but only this time there were not Marine’s running for cover, running to get their weapons and returning fire, it was civilians. Dexter had to protect them, it was his job. Slightly panicked blue eyes scanned the chaos for Lyra and his sister firstly before they then rotated back around for Charlotte and others that he needed to be sure were alright. But there was no time to think because the infected came in and there were already those that were in trouble.
Weapons, Dexter needed weapons.
With a quickened pace the Marine posed his gun and made his way towards the weapons shed, all but kicked in the door-- and quickly started loading his bag up with extra ammo and a few more handguns before he sheathed another machete and moved back out of the shed. He needed to get more people out of the city, the plane could come back and drop another bomb. As far as Dexter could tell the front gate was just blown open which made him question as to whom it could have been, obviously it was Air force, at least that’s who he would guess, it wasn’t like just anyone could fly an aircraft that could carry bombs on them. All these questions were ones that scattered against Dexter’s skull as he directed people towards safety and fought off the infected with a sharp blade. That was when he saw her, the streak of blonde hair and the frantic look on her face.
Lori.
He was making his way over to her faster than his brain even had time to catch up with his feet, they moved on their own and he was near her within moments. His machete finding its home in the skull of an infected before his boot shoved the creature away and those oceanic blue eyes scanned the blonde. “Lori---” The mans voice was foreign even to him as he put a hand on the woman’s arm trying to pull her from the state she was in. It only took a few moments for him to realize that it was no use in trying to reason with her, they needed to get out of this place and he was being forced to leave everyone else behind. At least--- at least he could save one. “C’mon, we have to get out of here. It’s not safe anymore.” I’ve failed you. Failed everyone. It was irrational for Dexter to think he could have prevented this sort of thing from happening, but perhaps if he had been more conscious of what the military would have been doing during this time then he could have been more prepared. At least, that was how his brain reasoned as he took a hold of Lori’s arm, pulling at her in order to get her to move.
Another moment passed and time was being wasted. With a grunt the Marine lowered himself enough to wrap one arm around Lori’s middle and hoist her up onto his shoulder, he wasn’t leaving her behind, not for anything and no matter what she demanded. They had to get out of there and all they could do was hope that the ones they loved were going to make it out of this hell alive. He had shut off his emotions to make this decision, to leave everyone else behind; the probability of surviving this city any longer were lowering every second. He had to think like a soldier and not a man with feelings, with people he loved, he couldn’t act on those. So with Lori over his shoulder Dexter made his way clear of the infected and headed for the next best area for shelter, the woods. Hopefully others would think the same way and would head towards the woods for cover, hope was all he had right now, hope and the burning rage of failure in his gut.
