The night of March 5th, 2014
The van rumbled down the road, matte black and low in it?s suspension. It groaned as Michael decelerated and prepared to turn onto the winding broken-top road just ahead of the old ?Eldritch Park Parking Lot?. Some two decades ago, someone had nailed a red board with ?CLOSED? in white letters across the sign, but weather had rusted the nails into dust and now it hung by one side. The gate hung half open, ajar and leaning under it?s own weight, and as van turned into it, the impact caused the headlamps to turn off and the tape player to skip. For a moment they travelled only by the bright moonlight, until Michael hit the dashboard with a grunt and the lights came back on. He gave the Chemist a sheepish grin as if to apologize for the van.
Dead lamp posts lined the way into the vast parking lot. Rows and rows and rows of unclaimed spots sprawled out into every direction, broken only by where nature had managed to come up and reclaim the land. Michael drove on the outside of the lot, hugging the tree line as best he could in the cumbersome vehicle. Even as the park proper came into view, most of it was hidden behind tall walls or shrouded in darkness and distance. Only a large lattice work spire with a bell-like top was clearly visible, silhouetted with the moon behind it.
?We?re here,? Michael said. He was pulling up to a spot close to the front, idling in the van while peering out at the entrance from the van. It looked quiet and deserted, though that didn?t necessarily dispute what he expected they?d find inside. There were at least a dozen doors in between a dozen teller booths where people long ago would have purchased tickets, all of which were now empty frames housing the remnants of shattered glass windows. Inside was a lobby, dark and mysterious. Michael thought he saw something move inside, but it could have been just been his wistful imagination. Before getting out of the van he glanced up at the sign on the top of the entrance, reading aloud ?Eldritch Park: Have a Spooky Good Time?.
Happy birthday, he said. It?s a surprise, he said. Get in the van, he said. I promise you?ll like it, he said. She had spent the entire ride there grunting, but not verbalizing anything else. If she had, she would have loaded him with questions, ploys for clues, but instead she was playing along (as much as Jessica plays along). In truth, the mixed tape playing should have been enough of a clue for her, but her attention was too focused on tracking the streets he was taking as he drove, trying to place where they were in town, where they were going.
She was plotting her exit route before they even arrived.
When it became clear they were headed to Eldritch Park, (the signs coming into view and he drove through the empty parking lot) the Chemist cut a look over to him, waiting for some sort of verbal confirmation before she turned wild green eyes out the windows. Her mouth opened, about to question why he brought her to an empty amusement park, though she was incredibly glad there wasn?t going to be crowds. Instead though, the mixed tape stated the obvious reason why as Fela Kuti continued to chant ?Zombie, Zombie,? over and over again.
Her expression changed instantly, going from hesitant concern to wide eyed excitement. ?Are you serious?! Did you just bring me to Zombie Land?!? The passenger door burst open shortly after that, she was unable to be contained. Well-worn combat boots dropped down to the ground as her nose twitched with a deep inhale. She could smell the undead moving around inside, even if she couldn?t see them (yet).
Michael laughed and peered at Jessica through the windows of the driver?s side and passenger's side of the van, watching her bubble over with excitement. ?Maybe,? he said, making a poor attempt at dissuading her from the obvious. Yes, they were at a park. Yes, there were probably zombies inside. The humor he derived from the situation was entirely in seeing her face turn from coldly calculating to an almost childlike glee, though --the Knight?s knowledge of movies was unsurprisingly lacking. ?C?mon. I have stuff to show you.? His blond crowned head dipped towards the rear of the vehicle, and he dangled the ring of keys in his hand. The Malkavian had brought toys, and boy oh boy was she going to be excited.
He was going around to the back of the van when something set him on edge and made his skin crawl. Pausing, he swept the parking lot with sharp greens and sniffed at the air. He saw nothing and no one, but ?
It wasn?t uncommon for the Gangrel to keep tabs on the Chemist, playing the part of unseen guardian for nights on end before making his presence known. But tonight the waffles, and coin toss over which Disney movie they?d sit silently through, could wait. He?d been little more than a thin wisp of supernatural mist, obfuscated from the sight of the unobservant and winding his way into the seemingly mutual endeavor. Atop the van and beneath it, inside and then out. He would have leered stern approval at Michael?s unease, had he the face to do so, settling instead for a mental tick of amusement. Predisposed to dislike the man, whatever his relationship with his ward, Kurran long had a soft spot for the children of the cracked mirror; when he was able to feel the undercurrent of their Madness touching his Lady?s network.
For the time being, he was content to play the observer.
Wednesday night had come, and he had not even seen anything of the day but the first golden orange rays of sunlight that speared through plastic motel blinds. Reason, rationality and the very real need for the woman he'd spent the night with to find a more permanent place to hide out were what had separated them. Restlessness and a head stuffed too full with whirlwind thoughts made him ignore the prospect of acquiring transportation back to town.
Dark gear, the black leather of his coat, the equally dark shirt underneath had him nothing but a slow moving blip on the side of a very deserted road. He didn't mind the solitude or the lack of landmarks as far as the eye could see, and the foreign landscape didn't concern him. His lacking desire for travel might have just been pure laziness.
The sky yawned overhead with emerging stars and rising moons. The cool air had been a balm to the too heated skin of his face and neck. He'd been traveling in the opposite direction that he'd come and he had thought nothing of the road with no vehicles.
But that was hours ago now.
He hadn't remembered much of the trip to meet Leena beyond the stink of the coachman he'd been forced to sit beside. The long stretch had been unremarkable, save for a vast parking lot that had been on his left, now on his right. Like a tumor off the side of a road, it spread out into the vast nothingness of his surroundings, the chain link fence sectioning it off unbroken. But through it, he saw something he hadn't before.
Taillights. Red, warbling as a vehicle made its way over the uneven terrain of the lot. He had yet to pass a gate through which one could enter. Gaze on the rapidly dwindling lights, he picked up his pace.
Either these people were lost as he was, or there was something dreadfully wrong. With them, or with the lot. But they had a vehicle that would get him to town much faster than his legs would.
A full minute's walk finally brought him to a break in the fence, with half of the gate dented inward from, sadly, what looked like a large vehicle. The CLOSED sign with its garish paint and corroded chain still creaked with lingering inertia. He considered it with his mouth pressed into a line. And stepped beyond the gate before he could talk himself out of it.
The prospect of a car was too good an idea to neglect. He could at least ask for a ride or, if he thought it necessary, take the car. Nearly every motion picture he'd seen was an instruction manual on how to do so.
At a clipped pace, he headed across the swath of weed busted asphalt just as two figures were exiting their van.
From down the length of Michael?s spine came the secret, quiet voice. It crawled up the vertebrae like an electric current with spidery legs, and it was armed with all the keys to the doors in his head. There is a black silhouette moving towards the van, it said. It can run faster than a normal man. Highly likely to possess heightened strength and stamina. It will be armed. Go for the eyes first and follow with an attack to the joints of the legs and arms. Odds that it knows magic or possess extraordinary abilities: 60%. Odds that it is friendly: 70%. Odds that it is a zombie: 0%.
The Malkavian grunted and knocked on the van for Jessica?s attention, quickening his path around to the back. He pointed at the stranger moving towards them, a mysterious ship adrift in the sea of choppy black asphalt. One long fingered hand was filling itself with the jagged metalwork of the ring of keys such that they protruded from between tightly clenched knuckles. The other was outstretched to keep the Chemist behind him. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional fluttering of trash and debris by the wind.
Quiet as a whisper and as faint as a dream, something stirred inside the entrance to the grand and rotting park. Something foul and putrid.
Winter was still in the air, but that had not changed the Chemist?s choice of attire. A black pleated skirt that was razor sharp as always, with pockets weighed down with who knows what. A white button down dress shirt with sleeves already rolled up past her elbows was worn as well, the material hinting at the red tank top worn underneath.
As Michael hinted at more of the surprise, Jessica was bounding along for the back of the van like an overly excited child on a sugar high. A song she had already twisted the words to once before was fresh on her lips, she was already humming and singing along to the tune of Funky Town. ?Won?t you take me to? Zombie Town? Won?t you take me to? Zombie Town??
The grunt and knock against the van quieted her song and stalled her pre-emptive celebratory dancing, as she reached the back of the van and he pointed to a running figure headed their way. His outstretched hand was given a roll of wild green eyes and her grunt broke the silence. It was annoyed, and held a lack of concern for whoever it was, but fingers twitched at the edge of her skirt.
?Just open the van up.? She was more interested in the undead scent in the air, than the stranger in the distance.
The Knight grunted acquiescence, though he merely handed her the keys without taking his eyes off the stranger. It was her birthday, after all, and thus the van was her present and hers to open. Sadly, he would miss seeing her expression when she saw the row upon row of weapons, toys, and other assorted party favors.
Over the last few days, he had been on quite a shopping spree, a collecting frenzy that catered towards the sort of violent inclinations and dangerous fetishes he and the Chemist shared. The whole left side of the can was lined floor bed to ceiling with weapons for home, swords and daggers and maces and axes, crossbows and longbows and arrows, armor and shields, and everything inbetween. The right wall had a more modern bent, with everything from shotguns to sledgehammers and chainsaws to electric drills. Michael had even fit a push lawnmower and a bag of assorted grenades. Even his infamous bandoleer hung on a rung on the left, packed full of fresh new goodies.
Footsteps fell between the cracks that nature had forced through the asphalt, and they were quiet, making only as much noise as the tumbling detritus skipping through the hastily shortening distance between himself, the van and the group that drove it. There was a Mark on the back of his neck, closer to his right ear than his left, that he could feel on his skin more than the others. Nyx, the Night-Vision rune, did not so much add light to his surroundings as it did sharpen them, taking away the fuzz, spreading what light there was and evening it out.
He saw a figure rounding the tail of the van, the ball of the figure's hand suggesting a fist and the rigid stretch of its arm like he was meaning to keep something from showing itself. The wall bordering the theme park loomed higher in the distance the closer he came. It seemed to have a presence all its own, as if it was a living entity, meant to hold something back. The bell topped spire was the only indication of what it was.
There was a toss of keys to another pair of hands, a woman, who he might have recognized had he given her a longer look than he did. Most of his attention was on the man, because the man's attention was on him.
He paused with a generous distance still between them, enough for him to see the man's features and the harsh angles of the woman's skirt. Weapons coated the gear on his legs and there were two blades hanging from a sling at his left hip, but he did not reach for them. Instead, he lifted his hands, palms outward.
"Good evening. I was---simply wondering if either of you were heading to Rhy'Din. And if so, would you mind taking on another passenger. I've not much money I could offer for the transport, but you can take what I have."
A glance over her shoulder to the stranger making his approach, but she showed no interest in him, his voiced request or his body language. She was much more interested in what was in the van and what would allow her inside the amusement park. The hum started up again, formerly shushed or not. Gifted with the keys to opening up her present, Jessica did not waste any time in unlocking the door and opening it up with a dragging creak of the door hinge before wild green eyes tried to take everything in all at once.
It was beautiful. It was like Christmas. It was Jessica?s type of candy store.
What should she snag up first?
While Michael and the man discussed things, as Jessica was not prone to continuous bouts of conversation, she climbed up into the back of the van. ?Ooo, machetes! OH AND GUM DROPS!? There was a clatter of two unsheathed machetes on the floorboards of the van, then the tearing of plastic. She found the candy. A few were popped in her mouth and the cause of the silence that followed.
Then a thick sucking sound. ?Oh they?re sour.?
Michael blinked, head tilting into the wind with a curious sniff, though eyes stayed on the approaching man. Armed strangers in deserted parking lots deserved a certain weariness, and the voice in Michael?s head wasn?t making it easy to do much else. Especially when the situation was about to get a lot more interesting. The undead monsters were close and getting closer.
?Zombies,? announced Michael, alerting the other two. Ice broken, he continued with, ?We?ll take you back when we?re done, but we have some work to do. You might want to wait out here.? Voice be damned, the Knight wasn?t about to assume someone could handle themselves without seeing for himself first hand.
Before he got a response from either, Michael vanished into the back of the Van, ducking low and nudging Jessica out of the way so he could collect everything he?d need. The iron limbed Malkavian had little use for armor against the soft attacks of zombies, but he slipped on his helmet and leather jacket out of sheer habit. Over the jacket went his bandoleer, freshly packed with the ancient war tokens of his previous life. Several belts wound around his hips, buckling together in the front, to support a long sword on the left and a mace on the right. He was even selecting a presorted gym bag and slinging it over a shoulder and across his back. The grenades, however, he just nudged towards Jessica with a foot. Something about carrying explosives and incendiaries never felt right to him.
Oh, and one last piece. Tucked away in a corner so she couldn?t see it, Michael produced a birthday hat, a bright yellow cone with cheap elastic strap. That it fit over his helmet was no coincidence.
The first shambling shapes slipped silently from the shadowy doorways, rotting husks only human in the vague outlines they cast against the backdrop of the park?s entrance. They slithered and crawled out through broken windows and doors, stumbling over awkward limbs that moved in strange, terrifying jerks. Most were dressed in the uniforms of park attendants, clothes hanging over protruding bones and rotting bodies like window drapes, but a few fresher specimens seemed to run a more interesting gamut, like lost park visitors or urban adventurers. All in all, the undead wave of shuffling rot totaled a dozen and a half, and moved out into the parking lot like the incoming tide.
Behind them, still inside, larger shades lurked.
The woman's disappearance into the van caught his gaze first, and he had rarely heard such excitement and clank-clatters over weapons. The candy half of her shriek made much more sense to him.
Then---zombies.
The term rang false in his mind. Of all the things he knew existed, had seen and spoken to, and even fought and killed, he had never once met a zombie. In fact, he'd been taught ever since he had begun to train that they did not exist. Other undead beings did, but only as a result of a demonic virus contracted from an unknown demon.
Michael disappeared into the van and Cris stepped forward to take his place, his gaze rapt on the barrier keeping the park from spilling out into the lot as set points of it began to move. Ooze and jerk and slither, emitting bodies like dirt from pores.
He should not have been as surprised to see them as he was. Likewise, he'd been told that dragons were now extinct, and yet he'd seen several walking, talking. One of them knew him by name.
"You plan on battling these things? You came specifically to do so?"
Whatever he had now become, he was no coward. Michael's suggestion that he wait it out was a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He listened to them arm themselves, familiar sounds of metal scraping metal, the tug of buckles into place. Another step forward, and he swept a look down the lurching tide of undead bodies.
The quicker they completed their task, the quicker he would get back to the city. Not to mention, these beings had seen him. Where some had turned with interest heavy on the van, some had turned to the lone figure standing off to the side of it. Even if he did wish to sit and wait, he did not think the other two would be able to keep the entire line from reaching them.
He said nothing else to them but drew one of the two crystal blades free of its sheath at his side. Quiet movement of his lips, a name uttered and lost in the mournful wind and moan of undead, and the length of the blade lit up a harsh white-blue, and he spun its hilt in a palm cold with anticipation.
Rarely did he waste the opportunity of a first move. And his inclusion in this battle wasn't exactly under his control. He'd wait, either for signal from the pair, or until he could no longer.
Once Michael joined her in the van, he?d see one cheek was sucked in momentarily as the thrilling sour taste made her mouth pucker up as a natural reaction. Soon her mouth would curve into a sharp and appreciative smile, a silent showing of thanks before the scent of the undead in the air grew stronger. Time to play!
For a moment the bag of candy was set aside and traded for weapons, holsters and belts slid on to keep a set of pistols at her ribs and throwing knives sheathed and wrapping one of her thighs. Additional magazines were tucked into holster slots and the machetes were crisscrossed at her back. Next was the rope that she found and the mountaineer naturally picked that up as well, allowing it to wrap from her right shoulder to left hip for her to carry with her as it could be needed. The bag of grenades was considered a long moment before she pulled out a belt of them and slung it over the opposite shoulder as the rope, going from her left shoulder to right hip.
Loaded up and weighed down, her shoulders shifted up and down to test the additional weight before she pulled her sunglasses out of her skirt pocket and put them on over her eyes. A tap or two at the rim turned them on before her now free hands were picking up that bag of sour gumdrops she had not forgotten about.
Another gumdrop was popped into her mouth as she made her exit from the van, her head tipping with a look over the man with two blades, clear and lit from the inside and shining outwards. She had little time to be curious and ask questions though because the rustling of the approaching undead could to not be ignored.
Shifting the bag of candy to her right hand, her left reached behind her to unsheathe one of the machetes. It didn?t shine with bright light, but it could reflect the light coming off from the man?s own blade. Her teeth flashed in a razor sharp smile to the closest zombie, the handle twisted in the palm of her left and twirled as though it was a baton and not a weapon.
Birthday girl gets the first kill, right?
( Taken from live play between (in order of appearance): Mad Knight, Jessica Lucino, Kurran and Crispin. )
The van rumbled down the road, matte black and low in it?s suspension. It groaned as Michael decelerated and prepared to turn onto the winding broken-top road just ahead of the old ?Eldritch Park Parking Lot?. Some two decades ago, someone had nailed a red board with ?CLOSED? in white letters across the sign, but weather had rusted the nails into dust and now it hung by one side. The gate hung half open, ajar and leaning under it?s own weight, and as van turned into it, the impact caused the headlamps to turn off and the tape player to skip. For a moment they travelled only by the bright moonlight, until Michael hit the dashboard with a grunt and the lights came back on. He gave the Chemist a sheepish grin as if to apologize for the van.
Dead lamp posts lined the way into the vast parking lot. Rows and rows and rows of unclaimed spots sprawled out into every direction, broken only by where nature had managed to come up and reclaim the land. Michael drove on the outside of the lot, hugging the tree line as best he could in the cumbersome vehicle. Even as the park proper came into view, most of it was hidden behind tall walls or shrouded in darkness and distance. Only a large lattice work spire with a bell-like top was clearly visible, silhouetted with the moon behind it.
?We?re here,? Michael said. He was pulling up to a spot close to the front, idling in the van while peering out at the entrance from the van. It looked quiet and deserted, though that didn?t necessarily dispute what he expected they?d find inside. There were at least a dozen doors in between a dozen teller booths where people long ago would have purchased tickets, all of which were now empty frames housing the remnants of shattered glass windows. Inside was a lobby, dark and mysterious. Michael thought he saw something move inside, but it could have been just been his wistful imagination. Before getting out of the van he glanced up at the sign on the top of the entrance, reading aloud ?Eldritch Park: Have a Spooky Good Time?.
Happy birthday, he said. It?s a surprise, he said. Get in the van, he said. I promise you?ll like it, he said. She had spent the entire ride there grunting, but not verbalizing anything else. If she had, she would have loaded him with questions, ploys for clues, but instead she was playing along (as much as Jessica plays along). In truth, the mixed tape playing should have been enough of a clue for her, but her attention was too focused on tracking the streets he was taking as he drove, trying to place where they were in town, where they were going.
She was plotting her exit route before they even arrived.
When it became clear they were headed to Eldritch Park, (the signs coming into view and he drove through the empty parking lot) the Chemist cut a look over to him, waiting for some sort of verbal confirmation before she turned wild green eyes out the windows. Her mouth opened, about to question why he brought her to an empty amusement park, though she was incredibly glad there wasn?t going to be crowds. Instead though, the mixed tape stated the obvious reason why as Fela Kuti continued to chant ?Zombie, Zombie,? over and over again.
Her expression changed instantly, going from hesitant concern to wide eyed excitement. ?Are you serious?! Did you just bring me to Zombie Land?!? The passenger door burst open shortly after that, she was unable to be contained. Well-worn combat boots dropped down to the ground as her nose twitched with a deep inhale. She could smell the undead moving around inside, even if she couldn?t see them (yet).
Michael laughed and peered at Jessica through the windows of the driver?s side and passenger's side of the van, watching her bubble over with excitement. ?Maybe,? he said, making a poor attempt at dissuading her from the obvious. Yes, they were at a park. Yes, there were probably zombies inside. The humor he derived from the situation was entirely in seeing her face turn from coldly calculating to an almost childlike glee, though --the Knight?s knowledge of movies was unsurprisingly lacking. ?C?mon. I have stuff to show you.? His blond crowned head dipped towards the rear of the vehicle, and he dangled the ring of keys in his hand. The Malkavian had brought toys, and boy oh boy was she going to be excited.
He was going around to the back of the van when something set him on edge and made his skin crawl. Pausing, he swept the parking lot with sharp greens and sniffed at the air. He saw nothing and no one, but ?
It wasn?t uncommon for the Gangrel to keep tabs on the Chemist, playing the part of unseen guardian for nights on end before making his presence known. But tonight the waffles, and coin toss over which Disney movie they?d sit silently through, could wait. He?d been little more than a thin wisp of supernatural mist, obfuscated from the sight of the unobservant and winding his way into the seemingly mutual endeavor. Atop the van and beneath it, inside and then out. He would have leered stern approval at Michael?s unease, had he the face to do so, settling instead for a mental tick of amusement. Predisposed to dislike the man, whatever his relationship with his ward, Kurran long had a soft spot for the children of the cracked mirror; when he was able to feel the undercurrent of their Madness touching his Lady?s network.
For the time being, he was content to play the observer.
Wednesday night had come, and he had not even seen anything of the day but the first golden orange rays of sunlight that speared through plastic motel blinds. Reason, rationality and the very real need for the woman he'd spent the night with to find a more permanent place to hide out were what had separated them. Restlessness and a head stuffed too full with whirlwind thoughts made him ignore the prospect of acquiring transportation back to town.
Dark gear, the black leather of his coat, the equally dark shirt underneath had him nothing but a slow moving blip on the side of a very deserted road. He didn't mind the solitude or the lack of landmarks as far as the eye could see, and the foreign landscape didn't concern him. His lacking desire for travel might have just been pure laziness.
The sky yawned overhead with emerging stars and rising moons. The cool air had been a balm to the too heated skin of his face and neck. He'd been traveling in the opposite direction that he'd come and he had thought nothing of the road with no vehicles.
But that was hours ago now.
He hadn't remembered much of the trip to meet Leena beyond the stink of the coachman he'd been forced to sit beside. The long stretch had been unremarkable, save for a vast parking lot that had been on his left, now on his right. Like a tumor off the side of a road, it spread out into the vast nothingness of his surroundings, the chain link fence sectioning it off unbroken. But through it, he saw something he hadn't before.
Taillights. Red, warbling as a vehicle made its way over the uneven terrain of the lot. He had yet to pass a gate through which one could enter. Gaze on the rapidly dwindling lights, he picked up his pace.
Either these people were lost as he was, or there was something dreadfully wrong. With them, or with the lot. But they had a vehicle that would get him to town much faster than his legs would.
A full minute's walk finally brought him to a break in the fence, with half of the gate dented inward from, sadly, what looked like a large vehicle. The CLOSED sign with its garish paint and corroded chain still creaked with lingering inertia. He considered it with his mouth pressed into a line. And stepped beyond the gate before he could talk himself out of it.
The prospect of a car was too good an idea to neglect. He could at least ask for a ride or, if he thought it necessary, take the car. Nearly every motion picture he'd seen was an instruction manual on how to do so.
At a clipped pace, he headed across the swath of weed busted asphalt just as two figures were exiting their van.
From down the length of Michael?s spine came the secret, quiet voice. It crawled up the vertebrae like an electric current with spidery legs, and it was armed with all the keys to the doors in his head. There is a black silhouette moving towards the van, it said. It can run faster than a normal man. Highly likely to possess heightened strength and stamina. It will be armed. Go for the eyes first and follow with an attack to the joints of the legs and arms. Odds that it knows magic or possess extraordinary abilities: 60%. Odds that it is friendly: 70%. Odds that it is a zombie: 0%.
The Malkavian grunted and knocked on the van for Jessica?s attention, quickening his path around to the back. He pointed at the stranger moving towards them, a mysterious ship adrift in the sea of choppy black asphalt. One long fingered hand was filling itself with the jagged metalwork of the ring of keys such that they protruded from between tightly clenched knuckles. The other was outstretched to keep the Chemist behind him. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional fluttering of trash and debris by the wind.
Quiet as a whisper and as faint as a dream, something stirred inside the entrance to the grand and rotting park. Something foul and putrid.
Winter was still in the air, but that had not changed the Chemist?s choice of attire. A black pleated skirt that was razor sharp as always, with pockets weighed down with who knows what. A white button down dress shirt with sleeves already rolled up past her elbows was worn as well, the material hinting at the red tank top worn underneath.
As Michael hinted at more of the surprise, Jessica was bounding along for the back of the van like an overly excited child on a sugar high. A song she had already twisted the words to once before was fresh on her lips, she was already humming and singing along to the tune of Funky Town. ?Won?t you take me to? Zombie Town? Won?t you take me to? Zombie Town??
The grunt and knock against the van quieted her song and stalled her pre-emptive celebratory dancing, as she reached the back of the van and he pointed to a running figure headed their way. His outstretched hand was given a roll of wild green eyes and her grunt broke the silence. It was annoyed, and held a lack of concern for whoever it was, but fingers twitched at the edge of her skirt.
?Just open the van up.? She was more interested in the undead scent in the air, than the stranger in the distance.
The Knight grunted acquiescence, though he merely handed her the keys without taking his eyes off the stranger. It was her birthday, after all, and thus the van was her present and hers to open. Sadly, he would miss seeing her expression when she saw the row upon row of weapons, toys, and other assorted party favors.
Over the last few days, he had been on quite a shopping spree, a collecting frenzy that catered towards the sort of violent inclinations and dangerous fetishes he and the Chemist shared. The whole left side of the can was lined floor bed to ceiling with weapons for home, swords and daggers and maces and axes, crossbows and longbows and arrows, armor and shields, and everything inbetween. The right wall had a more modern bent, with everything from shotguns to sledgehammers and chainsaws to electric drills. Michael had even fit a push lawnmower and a bag of assorted grenades. Even his infamous bandoleer hung on a rung on the left, packed full of fresh new goodies.
Footsteps fell between the cracks that nature had forced through the asphalt, and they were quiet, making only as much noise as the tumbling detritus skipping through the hastily shortening distance between himself, the van and the group that drove it. There was a Mark on the back of his neck, closer to his right ear than his left, that he could feel on his skin more than the others. Nyx, the Night-Vision rune, did not so much add light to his surroundings as it did sharpen them, taking away the fuzz, spreading what light there was and evening it out.
He saw a figure rounding the tail of the van, the ball of the figure's hand suggesting a fist and the rigid stretch of its arm like he was meaning to keep something from showing itself. The wall bordering the theme park loomed higher in the distance the closer he came. It seemed to have a presence all its own, as if it was a living entity, meant to hold something back. The bell topped spire was the only indication of what it was.
There was a toss of keys to another pair of hands, a woman, who he might have recognized had he given her a longer look than he did. Most of his attention was on the man, because the man's attention was on him.
He paused with a generous distance still between them, enough for him to see the man's features and the harsh angles of the woman's skirt. Weapons coated the gear on his legs and there were two blades hanging from a sling at his left hip, but he did not reach for them. Instead, he lifted his hands, palms outward.
"Good evening. I was---simply wondering if either of you were heading to Rhy'Din. And if so, would you mind taking on another passenger. I've not much money I could offer for the transport, but you can take what I have."
A glance over her shoulder to the stranger making his approach, but she showed no interest in him, his voiced request or his body language. She was much more interested in what was in the van and what would allow her inside the amusement park. The hum started up again, formerly shushed or not. Gifted with the keys to opening up her present, Jessica did not waste any time in unlocking the door and opening it up with a dragging creak of the door hinge before wild green eyes tried to take everything in all at once.
It was beautiful. It was like Christmas. It was Jessica?s type of candy store.
What should she snag up first?
While Michael and the man discussed things, as Jessica was not prone to continuous bouts of conversation, she climbed up into the back of the van. ?Ooo, machetes! OH AND GUM DROPS!? There was a clatter of two unsheathed machetes on the floorboards of the van, then the tearing of plastic. She found the candy. A few were popped in her mouth and the cause of the silence that followed.
Then a thick sucking sound. ?Oh they?re sour.?
Michael blinked, head tilting into the wind with a curious sniff, though eyes stayed on the approaching man. Armed strangers in deserted parking lots deserved a certain weariness, and the voice in Michael?s head wasn?t making it easy to do much else. Especially when the situation was about to get a lot more interesting. The undead monsters were close and getting closer.
?Zombies,? announced Michael, alerting the other two. Ice broken, he continued with, ?We?ll take you back when we?re done, but we have some work to do. You might want to wait out here.? Voice be damned, the Knight wasn?t about to assume someone could handle themselves without seeing for himself first hand.
Before he got a response from either, Michael vanished into the back of the Van, ducking low and nudging Jessica out of the way so he could collect everything he?d need. The iron limbed Malkavian had little use for armor against the soft attacks of zombies, but he slipped on his helmet and leather jacket out of sheer habit. Over the jacket went his bandoleer, freshly packed with the ancient war tokens of his previous life. Several belts wound around his hips, buckling together in the front, to support a long sword on the left and a mace on the right. He was even selecting a presorted gym bag and slinging it over a shoulder and across his back. The grenades, however, he just nudged towards Jessica with a foot. Something about carrying explosives and incendiaries never felt right to him.
Oh, and one last piece. Tucked away in a corner so she couldn?t see it, Michael produced a birthday hat, a bright yellow cone with cheap elastic strap. That it fit over his helmet was no coincidence.
The first shambling shapes slipped silently from the shadowy doorways, rotting husks only human in the vague outlines they cast against the backdrop of the park?s entrance. They slithered and crawled out through broken windows and doors, stumbling over awkward limbs that moved in strange, terrifying jerks. Most were dressed in the uniforms of park attendants, clothes hanging over protruding bones and rotting bodies like window drapes, but a few fresher specimens seemed to run a more interesting gamut, like lost park visitors or urban adventurers. All in all, the undead wave of shuffling rot totaled a dozen and a half, and moved out into the parking lot like the incoming tide.
Behind them, still inside, larger shades lurked.
The woman's disappearance into the van caught his gaze first, and he had rarely heard such excitement and clank-clatters over weapons. The candy half of her shriek made much more sense to him.
Then---zombies.
The term rang false in his mind. Of all the things he knew existed, had seen and spoken to, and even fought and killed, he had never once met a zombie. In fact, he'd been taught ever since he had begun to train that they did not exist. Other undead beings did, but only as a result of a demonic virus contracted from an unknown demon.
Michael disappeared into the van and Cris stepped forward to take his place, his gaze rapt on the barrier keeping the park from spilling out into the lot as set points of it began to move. Ooze and jerk and slither, emitting bodies like dirt from pores.
He should not have been as surprised to see them as he was. Likewise, he'd been told that dragons were now extinct, and yet he'd seen several walking, talking. One of them knew him by name.
"You plan on battling these things? You came specifically to do so?"
Whatever he had now become, he was no coward. Michael's suggestion that he wait it out was a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He listened to them arm themselves, familiar sounds of metal scraping metal, the tug of buckles into place. Another step forward, and he swept a look down the lurching tide of undead bodies.
The quicker they completed their task, the quicker he would get back to the city. Not to mention, these beings had seen him. Where some had turned with interest heavy on the van, some had turned to the lone figure standing off to the side of it. Even if he did wish to sit and wait, he did not think the other two would be able to keep the entire line from reaching them.
He said nothing else to them but drew one of the two crystal blades free of its sheath at his side. Quiet movement of his lips, a name uttered and lost in the mournful wind and moan of undead, and the length of the blade lit up a harsh white-blue, and he spun its hilt in a palm cold with anticipation.
Rarely did he waste the opportunity of a first move. And his inclusion in this battle wasn't exactly under his control. He'd wait, either for signal from the pair, or until he could no longer.
Once Michael joined her in the van, he?d see one cheek was sucked in momentarily as the thrilling sour taste made her mouth pucker up as a natural reaction. Soon her mouth would curve into a sharp and appreciative smile, a silent showing of thanks before the scent of the undead in the air grew stronger. Time to play!
For a moment the bag of candy was set aside and traded for weapons, holsters and belts slid on to keep a set of pistols at her ribs and throwing knives sheathed and wrapping one of her thighs. Additional magazines were tucked into holster slots and the machetes were crisscrossed at her back. Next was the rope that she found and the mountaineer naturally picked that up as well, allowing it to wrap from her right shoulder to left hip for her to carry with her as it could be needed. The bag of grenades was considered a long moment before she pulled out a belt of them and slung it over the opposite shoulder as the rope, going from her left shoulder to right hip.
Loaded up and weighed down, her shoulders shifted up and down to test the additional weight before she pulled her sunglasses out of her skirt pocket and put them on over her eyes. A tap or two at the rim turned them on before her now free hands were picking up that bag of sour gumdrops she had not forgotten about.
Another gumdrop was popped into her mouth as she made her exit from the van, her head tipping with a look over the man with two blades, clear and lit from the inside and shining outwards. She had little time to be curious and ask questions though because the rustling of the approaching undead could to not be ignored.
Shifting the bag of candy to her right hand, her left reached behind her to unsheathe one of the machetes. It didn?t shine with bright light, but it could reflect the light coming off from the man?s own blade. Her teeth flashed in a razor sharp smile to the closest zombie, the handle twisted in the palm of her left and twirled as though it was a baton and not a weapon.
Birthday girl gets the first kill, right?
( Taken from live play between (in order of appearance): Mad Knight, Jessica Lucino, Kurran and Crispin. )