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Yes, I know the O RLY? Owl. But what is the other Owl saying, I cant read half-mangled english well?

*facepalm*

It's Spanish. See the hat? I'm very sure I just got inverse trolled.

Oh........lol.

Anyway, back On Topic. Could Golden Eye Scout make an appearance? I'd hate for this thread to die off before it's really begun.

Harry walked through the deserted streets. There was no movement, no sign of life at all. But there was a smell, a tangy sort of stench that hung on the tounge. It tasted disgusting, like off -milk.

A dog ran out in front of him, pausing in the middle of the road. It looked scruffy, sickly looking, probably a stray. It was big too, some sort of husky/alasation mutt. But what's more, it was fat. This thing had been eating well. Harry walked towards it, the sun had now fully dissapeared over the horizon, and it was the only living thing he'd seen all day. It growled and scurried off into a side alley. Harry raced after it, he didn't even really know why, it was just a dumb dog. But there'd been something about that mutt, something that just didn't jell with him. Something...wrong.

As he ran down the alleyway the sickly smell grew stronger, almost making him gag. He turned a corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. There was no sign of the dog, even though it was a dead end. But Harry had forgotten all about the dog. Illuminated by a flickering light overhead, he could see blood sprayed against the walls, handprints and streaks marking the whole area. Stacked up ontop of eachother, like plywood, were the corpses of at least 20 people, all in differing stages of composition. They were all dressed like regular folk, some were builders, some servicemen, some baggy teens, others were little kids. Harry wasn't paying attention to this though. Their blank, sightless eyes were wide open, faces frozen in expressions of abject terror. Those misty eyes stared straight at him.

Harry ran, stumbling through garbage cans and rubbish bags. He sprinted out of the alleyway, into the open night sky, sobbing. Lurching, he fell to his knees. He threw up. He vomited until there was nothing but bile left. Wiping his mouth, he crawled over to a doorstep, crouching into a ball, crying wretchedly. After a while, he ran out of tears too, and he simply stared numbly into his knees.

Suddenly, a light illiuminated him, and he could hear an engine. It was loud, a bike. Other than that, Harry couldn't think. He was never very good with car models anyway. He only watched Top Gear for the laughs. With a jolt, he realised that if someone was riding a bike, that meant someone was there. Someone ALIVE. With newfound energy Harry leapt up running into the middle of the road.

"Hey!" He shouted. Waving at the approaching rider. "Hey! Stop! I'm right here! Pull over, mate!"

The bike stopped, and a figure stepped off. Harry couldn't see, the light was too bright. But he could hear the footsteps as the figure stepped towards him on the bitchiment.

OOC: How's that, eh? I got a bit nervous WRITING some of that stuff.

as dan was reading the manga he heared an engine he went out side to see the engine had stopped he saw two figures
the man of of the motor bike and some other stranger walking to wards him
"HEY HEY OVER HERE" he shouted
they both looked in his direction

OOC: Don't forget grammar and punctuation. And try to build up the story a little, will ya? It's not exactly conceivable that we all meet like that at the same time. We probably meet somewhere else.

Name: Larry Leneard (LL)
Height: 6"0
Sex: Male
Description: Short, dark black hair, kind of weedy, a long scar runs down the right side of his face.

Larry woke up, he felt concrete below him and his head hurt, it hurt alot. Grumbling, his touched his hand to his head, he nearly passed out when he saw blood on his hand. Larry sat up, he was in a small dark room, it ooks like a shed.

It was dark in this room, Larry looked up at the ceiling, large, dead animals were hanging from the ceiling, well he thought they looked like animals. Larry pulled himself off of the floor, he started to feel around the side of the room, looking for a exit. Larry tripped, arms flailing, trying to grab onto anything, his hands touched meat, he held on. He had grabbed onto one of the "dead animals" hanging from the ceiling. "Thanks buds, even in death, duty does not end" he chuckled as he regained his balance, quoting a line from his hobby Warhammer 40k.

Larry heaved himself up, and looked at the thing he grabbed onto for the first time. "Ahh, what the feth!" It wasnt an animal Larry had held onto, it was a person, a dead person, and now Larry's eyes had started adjusting to the darkness, he could see more and more dead people hanging from the ceiling, all cut up grusomely.

Larry could feel his trousers getting warm, he didnt even notice that he had pissed himself, as he ran out of the door. Not knowing that things were going to get much, much worse.

Ghosty was looking into the entrance of a warehouse. He had spent days wandering the streets near the crator until he stumbled into a scene likened to hell. A building filled with corpses. Corpses of people who seemed to have fled there for safety. But they were alld ead now. All of them dead. Corpses with bullet holes in them. It was pretty disconcerting, when you think your the last man alive, and you see a room transformed into a grissly abbatoir. So he had done the sensible thing, and ran.

Now, he was at the edge of the city, near a military warehouse. He knew he needed to go in there, to look for supplies, and more importently, something to protect himself with. He hadnt shaken the feeling that something was watching him. Sometimes, he would see a flitting shadow, or maybe he might here talking. He knew he must be imagining it, but....all the same.

However, now at the threshold of the warehouse he wasnt really sure he wanted to go in. a horrible fetid stench erupted from the Mouth of the warehouse, and the security guard hut had been trashed. Recently. He finally plucked up the courage and stepped into the pitch black, and, presently, he was creeping amongst masses of crates looking for something. Halfway down an aisle, large wooden crates too his left and right, he heard something that made his heart skip a beat. A loud ringing clang. The door he had entered through had slammed shut. The wind? Impossible, their hadnt been any since he woke up, which meant...

No, it probably just swang back on its hinges. All the same, ghosty thought. Its best to go check. Thats when he saw it. A metal gas canister, rolled across the floor from behind a crate about 30 metres from him. In the complete silence of the warehouse, the noise was deafening, suffocating, terrifying. Heart hammering in his chest, hands shaking like a leaf, and with cold sweat plastering his T-shirt to his back, he crept towards the cannister. Seconds, unbearable seconds, passed as he got closer and closer. Until, until he was at the corner of the crate. Whatever had knocked the metal gas cylinder (of considerable size and weight, ghosty noted) was around the corner, in the shadows. Summoning up the last dregs of his courage, he slowly looked round the corner with his good eye.

Nothing was there. He relaxed a little and crept round the corner, towards a primising looking box. He froze. Something was crouching just at the edge of his peripheral vision. Something that he couldnt make out, but by then he had already began to feel his stomach contract. He was about to be sick with terror.

So sorry that I haven't gotten to this thread in a while. I honestly forgot about it for a while.

To answer questions that have popped up, the story takes place in the United States of America.

Specifically, it starts in Pennsylvania, for my own storytelling reasons that have yet to be revealed.

As for your stories so far, sorry if I feth them up with this bit of info.
I'll take a look at them, and see if i can help you figure out how to rework them so they aren't a waste of hardwork.

As for narraration, I'll take care of that, unless anybody else has objections.

Now, to provide some structure, your character will start anywhere in PA really, but not in Philadelphia or Harrisburg. Once again, my own storytelling reasons.
On to plot points.

Your first objective is to reach Philadelphia. In your next posts, decide which areas of the state you will start in.
More then one person can be in a county, but you must start at opposite ends so that it provides some tension and you don't automatically find another survivor.

Here is a map of the counties, so that you can decide.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fileennsylvania-counties-map.gif

Sorry if I pissed anybody off with this turn of events.

I am in Monroe county at this post.

Once again, sorry if I pissed anybody off with this.

@Golden Eyed Scout: If you read my post, you'll figure that I'm in Monroe as well. (Unless you want me to change it)

Emperors Faithful wrote:@Golden Eyed Scout: If you read my post, you'll figure that I'm in Monroe as well. (Unless you want me to change it)

That works fine for me. Just to let you know, it's a regualr bike, but I'm changing it to motorcycle cause that sounds cool.

OT:

Dave looked at the shaking figure. He reached his left hand down to his hip, where the knife was strapped securely to his belt. He loosened the catch.

"Thanks mate. I thought I was the only one." The voice had an accent. Austrailan, he wondered?

"Take one more step and I'll gut you like a fish." As he spoke, the knife came out into his left hand, in a reverse grip.

The figure stopped, and put it's hands in the air. They shook wildly.

Dave got off and slowly advanced on the figure. The light from the bike blinded the figure.

"On you knees, now. Eyes closed." Dave commanded.

The figure dropped, and Dave moved closer. He suddenly smelt piss.

"Name, place of origin, and location of any weapons. If I think your lying, I start slicing and won't stop until you pass out."

The figure dropped to the ground, blacked out from fear.

Dave slid the knife away, and searched the body. He found a wallet with a driver's liscense stating the figure was Harry.
Dave tied the body up, and dragged it into the house "Harry" had come from.

OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

OOC: ^^ hehe just goes to show, if your in an apocalypse you dont play nice

btw whuts the 'bad guys' gonna be?
i really want zombies, or crazy running ghouls, or summit scary ^^ own preferances. ofc the thing watching me atm could be just a normal guy.....up to you golden

ok ill start again in northampton as ive met two peple

as dan awoke he could smell blood, and lots of it. he looked round
he couldnt see any thing but blood and rubble. he could feel a pain in his leg
owww his hobby knife he pulled it out . hmmm no blood he thought to him self.
then he looked inside the wound the blood had clotted so he must have been
out for a while.
he pocketed the knife, a flask of water, some super glue and his PSP and got out of the rubble
he thought to himself why couldn't I be back in England?

Dan went down to the shooting range to se what weapons he could find
when he reached the shooting range he found a MK.23 and 10 rounds.....

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

When meeting someone new, I always do that. The house you siad your character was crying on the stoop of.

ghosty wrote:OOC: ^^ hehe just goes to show, if your in an apocalypse you dont play nice

btw whuts the 'bad guys' gonna be?
i really want zombies, or crazy running ghouls, or summit scary ^^ own preferances. ofc the thing watching me atm could be just a normal guy.....up to you golden

I been thinking about that. Still am. For now, just worry about the story, and don't worrry about your character needing weapons. You won't need them for a little while.

Golden Eyed Scout wrote:

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

When meeting someone new, I always do that. The house you siad your character was crying on the stoop of.

Well, how did we get in?

P.S. Everyone here seems to be doing a lot of wetting themselves or wetting others, and I've noticed this on other Roleplay threads as well. Is this a fasctination or something on Dakka?

IR:

Harry opened his eyes. The room was dark. It looked like they were in some sort of store. A bakery? In the corner of his eyes he could make out the figure of his captor, leaning against the door. He tried to move, but his hands were wound tightly.

"Feth!" He swore silently. Just as he thought he found help, the guy pulls a knife on him. Back in Dubai, they'd just been kids waving thier toys around, but this guy looked serious. Harry took a sniff, and swore again. He'd wet himself? Man, that was weak. He squirmed around a little, but couldn't loosen the rope. Dammit, he thought. This guy knew his stuff.

Turning over, Harry felt something clink against his hip. His eyes lit up, his lucky knife! It was an ornate piece of work, encrusted with stones and ending in a wicked curve. Perfect for digging into someones ribs. Not that he'd ever done anything like that. It was rusty, and probably worth squat, but he'd had it since forever. Well...5 years. Now, if only he could reach it...

Larry emerged into a city centre. He had been running for an hour, he slowed down, glancing around him he could see a line of shops and resturants on either side of the road. He could see a bakery not far away. Larry's stomach grumbled. "Guess Im getting dinner" he muttered to himself. "Hmmm, Im in the mood for a pasty". As Larry got closer and closer to the bakery, he got more and more worried. Most of the shops have got broken windows and rubbish littered the road. He could hear distant car alarms going off. "What the feth is going off" he muttered to himself. As Larry ran past "Shoe Zone" he could see a figure leaning against the window. "Hello!" he shouted "Who are you!?!" Larry waked slowly towards the shop. He stopped when he was about three metre's away.

Larry cried out, it wasnt a person leaning against the window, but a roating corpse. Maggot infested eyeballs stared at him. And for the second time that day. Larry wet himself and ran away.

OOC: well ill say when i have a looksy theirs knowone there

Ghosty span round yelling out as he did so, fists raised ready to fight. Knowone was there. He, however knew someone had been there. He knew he had seen something. For the first time, he thought it perhaps wasnt the best idea going into a warehouse without a light. So many dark shadows, so many corners for unseen creatures of his mind to lurk behind. he gathered himself together, and, obviously shaken, he began to rummage in an open crate. He was in luck. Sitting inside was items he could use, things that made him feel safe. Lying in the straw packaging was a set of night vision goggles. Next to them, a gasmask and near the bottom, wrapped carefully in bubblewrap was some kevlar vambraces and kneepads. Laughing as his fortune, forgetting about his unknown stalker, he strapped his arm and leg protection on and pocketing the gasmask, and applying the nightviision goggles, he crept out into the darkness. No more shadows, no more fear. He raided another box, rewarding him with a pair of military boots. Better than trainers. Lastly, just before he left, he spotted a Sledgehammer lying nochelantly near an office, with a door mysteriously ripped off it hinges. Eyes lit up, he apporached the hammer. Picking it up, memories and happiness filled him. He was ready for anything now. Leaving the warehouse behind him, Ghosty placed the Nightvis goggles in his backpakc and strode off down the road.

About three blocks away a person Steve had never met in his life came across a corpse in a decomposed state leaning against the window.

OOC: i didnt wanna get a gun. guns seem so silly when theirs nothing really around to attack him. Instead i got a hammer ^^ oh i love hammers. and all the gear i got should be enough for the entire RP. I was gonna get a gilly suit aswell but i thought tbh, thats a bit over the top....

this isnt my fault i watched the film wilderness the other day and ive kinda got into a minor obsession with it. now my char jsut needs a crossbow, some beartraps and a pack of trained to kill dogs........ ^^

and a gilly suit

Emperors Faithful wrote:

Golden Eyed Scout wrote:

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Feth, mate. Not exactly a friendly enconter, was it? BTW, what house are you talking about?

When meeting someone new, I always do that. The house you siad your character was crying on the stoop of.

Well, how did we get in?

P.S. Everyone here seems to be doing a lot of wetting themselves or wetting others, and I've noticed this on other Roleplay threads as well. Is this a fasctination or something on Dakka?

IR:

Harry opened his eyes. The room was dark. It looked like they were in some sort of store. A bakery? In the corner of his eyes he could make out the figure of his captor, leaning against the door. He tried to move, but his hands were wound tightly.

"Feth!" He swore silently. Just as he thought he found help, the guy pulls a knife on him. Back in Dubai, they'd just been kids waving thier toys around, but this guy looked serious. Harry took a sniff, and swore again. He'd wet himself? Man, that was weak. He squirmed around a little, but couldn't loosen the rope. Dammit, he thought. This guy knew his stuff.

Turning over, Harry felt something clink against his hip. His eyes lit up, his lucky knife! It was an ornate piece of work, encrusted with stones and ending in a wicked curve. Perfect for digging into someones ribs. Not that he'd ever done anything like that. It was rusty, and probably worth squat, but he'd had it since forever. Well...5 years. Now, if only he could reach it...

Dave watched out of the corner of his eye, faking sleep. It was entertaining to see him try and get free. It gave him quite a bit of insight into Harry.
Harry twisted and moved his wrists every which way, trying to loosen the ropes. He tried not to smile as he heard the slight rasp of a knife sliding clear of a sheath.
"Slimy bastard." Thought Dave.
Let's see where this goes, Dave decided. He saw the ropes fall to the side. Harry got up, and ready his knife in a standard grip. Well, not quite.
His hand shook more then a little as he inched closer. Dave got a look at it. It was impractical and gaudy, with jewels studded all around it's curving length.
When Harry was three feet away, he readied the knife, and prepared to lunge at Dave. That was when he struck. His eyes snapped open, and he smiled wickedly.

The KA-BAR rested against his thigh, still in it's sheath, but withing easy reach. Dave sweep kicked, taking Harry's feet from him. The knife slid out of reach of Harry.
Dave immediately got to his feet, kicked Harry in the ribs twice, then grabbed his left ankle. Placing it firmly between his thighs, he fell down onto Harry.
Acting swiftly, he placed a chinlock on Harry, and completed the Step Over Toe Sleeperhold. Harry struggled for a few moments, then began to stop.
When the motion had ended, Dave let go and got up. He took two steps to the fallen weapon when hands grabbed his ankle, and pulled hard.
Dave dropped like a sack of potatoes, going down backwards. He managed to tuck his head in, and avoid a concussion. Harry was up, and had something in his hands.
Dimly Dave realized it was a piece of masonry. It came down hard into his stomach, and blasted the air from his chest. Harry
readied for another strike, and Dave brought his right leg up, and manged to score a kick behind Harry's ear. His face went blank, and he swayed. He stumbled back
and fell against a wall. His knife was right next to him. Realizing this, he grabbed it up, and stod again. Dave jumped to his feet, and the blade was there.

Harry came at him, with wild, uncoordinated slashes. Dave dodged these easily. When Harry took another step to get back into range, Dave came
with an upward strike, cutting open the front ofHarry's shirt and drawing a bright red line. He hadn't put enough behind it to draw blood.

"Damn. I'd really hate to have to kill you now." Dave said. Harry responded, and Dave expected it fully.

"You sick feth, you nearly killed me!" Harry screamed. He came agin, but this time faster, less off balance. The strikes were still wild though, and he left his right arm open
, even when he came up to guard. Dave readied his knife as Harry came on again, screaming obscenities as he did so.

Time seemed to slow for Dave. Things came into focus, colors sharper. As adrenaline flooded his bloodstream, Dave acted, his mind no longer controlling his
body. Instinct took over. Primal visions flooded his mind, though he would not process them till later. Memories long ago ingrained in his DNA awoke, strong in their intensity.
His body felt like it was weighed down, though in reality, he moved faster then he ever had.

His right arm came up, and grasped Harry's wrist. He pulled, and Harry stumbled closer, left leg far out, leaving his already off balanced body in an even worse position. Dave's knee came up, into the groin. Harry dropped the knife. But he was not done. Dave's head snapped forward, slamming into Harry's nose. The KA-BAR
slashed in, sealing the deal. A bright splash of blood came, brighter then any red Dave had ever seen.

Harry dropped, grasping the torn tendon of his wrist. Dave stood before him, and spoke again.

"That knife is for decoration only, imbalanced and unfit to much more then look pretty in some collectors case. You attack without taking into
consideration what will happen to your balance. Your strikes are better suited towards a straight blade, as you don't possess the finese to manipulate
all the advantages they can provide. And you overthink stuff, unwilling to follow you natural body rhythm."

Dave knelt down, and saw that Harry had lost a lot of blood in just a few moments. he pulled out a .22 shell from his pocket, as well as his lighter.
He cracked the cap off the top, and shook the gunpowder out onto Harry's wrist.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

The flame hit the gunpowder, and answered his question. He leapt up, screaming. The flame had done it's work though. The gunpowder had cauterized the wound,
preventing the blood from escaping. Harry fell back, in too much pain and agony to even whimper.

Davetook a bottle of pills from his bag, and shook out four. Harry tried to crawl away, but he trapped him, and forced him to swallow the painkillers.
Harry glared at him, but didn't do much else. Dave picked him up and set him down in the same corner he'd been tied up in. Harry had passed out. Again.

"Well, all said and done, that went surprisingly well." Dave said cheerfully as he laid down for true sleep.

OOC: Nice fight! But I am curious as to why you are so hostile?

Harry woke up, and rubbed his wrist gingerly, which still felt like it was burning. At first, everything seemed like a blur. He ran the back of his wirst against his nose and saw blood, dried blood. Feth. Had he been in a fight or something? The he remembered. Damn, that guy had been playing with him. And for a second he'd thought he was on top.

He hit his head against the wall. Why the feth was he so stupid. This wasn't any schoolyard brawl, this was a real situation. This guy was a fighter, maybe a killer, who knows how much he had a hand in the this whole thing?Next time, think first, fight later.

Outside the sky was starting to lighten, it was morning. On the opposite side of the room that guy...geez he didn't even know his name, started to stir.

Now was the time to get some answers, or at least ask some questions...

Ghosty walked along an empty street. Silence covered him like a shroud, he knew soemthing was wrong, and he had heard, last night, a scream. It was loud, blood curdling, someone in pain. He had spent the night searching every building, every room for a sign of life but he had found none. But the scream had been real. It hadnt been his imagination, had it? As dawn broke he imagined he saw a man sitting on a park bench some ten metres away from him. He roared out "HEY!" and ran over to the prone figure. When he got there, knowone was sitting. It was abandoned, except for a mouldy newspaper sitting in a puddle of suspicious looking reddy brown liquid. He picked it up, and flicking off some debriis, read the first page. Most of it was indesipherable, the ink had run and parts of the paper had decomposed. Yet he made out words such as 'mass evacu- ' and 'catastrophe'. As he read on, a grim picture formed in his mind. Something had happened, and the governement had tried to move people away from the cities. Maybe im not the only one left, Ghosty thought, before correcting himself, I heard a scream, of course im not the only one left. Something, however, a phrase on the newspaper, reminded him of a time before. He cursed for the second time, hating his amnesia. He couldnt remeber anything. But the words reminded him of a girl. He didnt understand the significance of her, but he knew she was importent to him. But now she was gone. He felt deep sorrow, without truly knowing why and he tugged at his dreadlocks. Uncontrollable emotion erupted through him, and with a ferocious bellow he threw himself at a nearby car, hammer in hand. The first blow caused the alarm to start to scream, deafeningly loud. The second blow, shattered the window screen and the third blow crumpeled the bonnet. He carried on smashing at it with his sledge, tears streaming, teeth bared, growling and snarling with each strike. He was making a huge racket, and he decided, he had spent too long already looking for people. If he wanted to find survivors, he was going to make them come to him. Steve then leapt of the obliterated car, and started to move towards another vehicle, when he spotted a motorbike, resting against the wall of a building. It stood out due to its lack of dust and soemthing about it screamed 'survivor'. The fact the headlight was still on helped this summary. He hefted the sledge and pulled the gasmask out of his bag. strapping it onto his face he moved towards the building. Aterall, in this new world, it would probably be best to make a first impression that stuck, and nothing stuck more than a hammer weilding one eyed gasmask wearing pyscopath with dreadlocks, whos covered in dried blood and dirt.

Dan flicked round pistol drawn he fired and hit something it splattered blood everywhere
but when he looked there was nothing there. he decided to head for the tower to see
further for survivors. he only thought he saw things out of the corner of his eye but he
couldn't know for certain.

As he reached the tower he swore he saw movement at the top. but when he reached
the top there was nothing there. so either it was his imagination or ... well there was
no other way down other than the stairs so it must have jumped. he dismissed this
idea. he looked he could so lots of smoke and lights in the south probably Philadelphia
and in the north, Monroe he could see movement and a few lights. before he left for
Monroe he looked at the ruined county of Northampton.

Emperors Faithful wrote:OOC: Nice fight! But I am curious as to why you are so hostile?

Harry woke up, and rubbed his wrist gingerly, which still felt like it was burning. At first, everything seemed like a blur. He ran the back of his wirst against his wrist and saw blood, dried blood. Feth. Had he been in a fight or something? The he remembered. Damn, that guy had been playing with him. And for a second he'd thought he was on top.

He hit his head against the wall. Why the feth was he so stupid. This wasn't any schoolyard brawl, this was a real situation. This guy was a fighter, maybe a killer, who knows how much he had a hand in the this whole thing?Next time, think first, fight later.

Outside the sky was starting to lighten, it was morning. On the opposite side of the room that guy...geez he didn't even know his name, started to stir.

Now was the time to get some answers, or at least ask some questions...

I'm exagerrating my natural hostility/aggression to create some dramtic effect.

Dave opened his eyes and saw the Harry guy was finally up.

"Sleep well?" He asked, each word absolutely oozing with sarcasm.

"Why'd you try and kill me you sick feth!"

"To see if you were worth my time. If you can't handle yourself in a fight, you have no value to me. And try not to wave your arm to much. It'll reopen the
wound, and I really don't feel like wasting another round on you."

"Did you have anything to do with this..." he struggled for the right word, "Apocalypse, you bastard!" Harry screamed.

Dave's response was calm, no longer sarcastic.

"If I did, don't you think I'd have made sure everybody was dead? Wouldn't do to let anybody ruin my New Utopia, right?"

"Feth you, you slimy piece of crap."

"Fine. Go out into that brave new world outside and see how long you make it. I know I can make it to Philly on my own. Can you?"

Harry stopped, confused.

"At least tell me how you knew what to do to bring me down. You get some sort of training or something?" He asked finally.

"I know where to make a person hurt. It doesn't take a master to know that cutting the wrist will sever a few tendons.
Or that a knee to the groin will bring someone down. Or that nearly breaking someone's nose will give them something to think about. Don't you know
anything about the human body? What, you never paid attention in class?"

Harry retorted, still not convinced.

"Last time I checked, my classes never told me how to nearly kill someone."

Dave sighed. He'd have to lie to make him believe. Not that lying was hard for him. He was a natural actor, a born comedian, capable of making people believe any
bull he came up with, so long as it was delivered right.

"I used to get trained in Penchak Silat. It's an Indonesian Martial Art."

Dave hadn't really lied, more like strecthing the truth. He had taken a few classes, but had not gone to one in quite some years.

"Alright. What did you mean about Philly?" Harry asked.

"Huge deal for medicine. Lots of companies dealing with pharmaceuticals. It should have at least some drugs left. Who knows where to find this stuff now.
Don't look at me like that. What, you think I don't do research on cities that I'm thinking of going to for colledge?"

Harry shook his head. What the feth was this guys deal? Nearly killing him, and then worried about medicine.
Harry chuckled. The crazy bastard probally needed his Prozac.

Dave turned suddenly at the sound of a slow rhythm tic tapping on the door. Tap Tap Tap. It was now that Dave noticed a car alarm blaring in the distance, and he realized that the chances are there was someone outside. After all, cars don’t start to go off for no reason. No, something was definitely wrong. Tap Tap Tap.
Harry was frozen on the spot staring at the door. Tap Tap Tap. Whoever was out there was just in front of the door. Tap Tap Tap. Dave edged closer to the door, sweeping his fringe back out of his eyes he slowly drew his KA-BAR. Tap Tap Tap. Then, just as he was less than a foot from the door, knife readied, the door was smashed of its hinges. Silhouetted in the door way, was a tall dark figure. Thick, tangled dreadlocks fell over his face, and thick vambraces covered his bared arms. He was splattered with grime and dirt, and he was bleeding from various places on his body. In one gloved hand, he held a huge sledgehammer, his veins popping on his forearm from the obvious strain. His face was covered with a Russian style Mk III Gasmask, which had a menacing heir about it.

Ghosty looked down at Harry who was half lying on the floor, propped against a worktable. He was pale and shivering, probably malnourished but more importantly judging by the dried blood on the floor, and by the way his eyes kept darting off to the right, Ghosty realized that the boy on the floor wasn’t alone in the house. “Hey mate, are you alrigh-” Steve managed to spin and raise his arm fast enough to block the dagger slash with his vambrace. His unknown assailant struck at him again, smashing him hard in the ribs. Ghosty staggered backwards but managed to block another swipe from the knife, before he took another strike to the chest. He felt a rib crack, and he gritted his teeth from the sharp pain. Letting out a loud yell he through himself at the attacker. Immediately two things became apparent. The first was that his opponent was almost a foot shorter than him, which led to the second point, that his opponent wasn’t fully matured; he was only 14 or 15. This meant he wasn’t as heavily built as himself. Steve used his weight and strength to his advantage, barreling into Dave with enough force to knock anything flying. He smashed into him and they both crashed to the floor. Ghosty noticed something was sticking through his stomach.

Dave pushed the man off himself after a considerable struggle. It didn’t help something warm was quickly covering himself. Oh god, he though, this guy better not have pissed on him. However after he had lifted the groaning body up and dropped him next to him he realized it wasn’t piss. Dave’s entire forearm was soaked in blood. It dawned on him that he was still holding his KA-BAR, and it was glistening in the light of dawn.
Harry screamed at him “Why did you have to stab the poor bastard!”
For once, Dave was speechless. He looked at the rapid pool of blood forming around the man, and back at his Knife. “Sh*t!”

Ghosty groaned in pain and removed his mask; he was sweating heavily, and was shivering all over. He was dimly aware of something being pressed against his stomach wound hard, and looked down with his decant eye, to view Harry holding a piece of cloth against it. He was also trying to rip up more cloth to make a bandage. Steve looked over to Dave who was standing, arms folded, looking at him from across the room.
“Why the hell did you have to stab me you dumb feth? Have you any idea how long I’ve been looking for survivors?”
Dave carried on watching, but after a few seconds, stated “how’d you lose your eye?”
Ghosty grunted in pain as a bandage was fastened over his stomach wound. “Ouch. I dunno, I woke up with it gouged out. I guess something happened but I hit my head and I can’t remember anything.”

OOC: Is your name in this thing Ghosty or Steve?

Harry shook his head. "Serves you right, mate. Who the hell wears a gas-mask and all that crap without wanting to look like some sort of pysco? There's nothing wrong with the air is there?"

Harry took a deep sniff and wrinkled his nose, rolling his eyes. "Apart from the smell of piss and blood."

He looked at the wound in Steve's gut. "Oh sh**. That looks bad. We're gonna need to get you fixed. Here let me..." Harry had taken enough First Aid lessons so that he knew what he was doing, and he adjusted the bandage securely. "That won't do though. The wound may get infected and without meds, mate, you'd be pretty fethed."

Harry turned to Dave. "You said that there were dru-I mean, medicine in Philly's place, right? We'll need to get this fella over there." Harry puased. "Who is Philly anyway?"