Post by Diana Vernon on Feb 13, 2015 3:39:50 GMT -6
Diana bit her lips, returning to prop her arms propped on the office desk, tapping her fingers on the surface, nails scratching whatever surfacing remained on the old plywood desk. "Arkadiy, a gas mask? With a group of stragglers? What about this doesn't scream raider to you?"
'Yet they weren't aggressive', she thought, pushing herself off the desk and marching out of the room, clipping her walkie-talkie to her waist. 'Either they're smart or they're just weak survivors that just happened to get through Chicago without getting mauled to death by a pack of infected. Then she heard the word Fermilab, but she really knew nothing about any facilities around the area. It sounded too surreal to be true. They should at least be told they're not wanted here.' Diana eyed a weapon rack in the corner of the main hub, where Walgreen's photo booth was normally set up. The teeth of some smiling white woman and the cracked half of a child's elated face were all that notified her of its original purpose. 'We can't expect the weak to take up arms. We can't burden ourselves. Kyle knew this. And it got us this far.' She pursed her lips as she pushed aside the once-automatic door. She jumped on her Yamaha motorcycle, its red sheen under the bright sun, grabbing her helmet which hung under the handlebars, kicking the metal stand with her heel as she shoved the helmet on and revved her vehicle, accelerating toward the barricade hastily.
A muffled sound came from her walkie-talkie as her motorcycle's engine roared across the bridge. Whatever it was, it was likely redundant, an assumption from either Marshall or Arkadiy that she simply wasn't interested in what they had to say. It wasn't a good reputation to have, she often thought, but there was something absurd about their gullibility that they would even give an ear to very lightly armed scavengers. She slowed her pace as the barricade came to view, stopping by a small lot for hers and other vehicles. She propped her cycle and walked towards the barricade, not bothering to take off her helmet but lifting her visor as she came towards Arkadiy, looking ahead of him to the stragglers.
The first thing she noticed, even from her distance, was their hygiene. While ragged, their clothes weren't torn or [very] stained. Most of their hairstyles were misshapen but apparently clean, minus the man in the ragged, manmade gas suit that seemed to be influenced by every post-apocalyptic slasher movie. It was clear, however, they stood with a purpose more dedicated and strong than simple survival. The woman with the short ebony hair, especially, seemed especially motivated, and that just came from her eyes, which seemed directed at all, even her, though she had just approached.
'I've been quick to judge before', she thought, 'But you'd think Fermilab would have had access to better supplies... I wouldn't doubt he's a raving madman on top of a liar.'
"State your names and your purpose," she commanded, resting her hands on the manmade curtain wall-esque pile of refuse, "And quickly. If I hear the word 'supplies' even once, I'll turn you away without hesitation. We're not taking in refugees."
(10k years later I writer this and I probably got the entire setting and attitude wrong BUT at least I started again yay)
'Yet they weren't aggressive', she thought, pushing herself off the desk and marching out of the room, clipping her walkie-talkie to her waist. 'Either they're smart or they're just weak survivors that just happened to get through Chicago without getting mauled to death by a pack of infected. Then she heard the word Fermilab, but she really knew nothing about any facilities around the area. It sounded too surreal to be true. They should at least be told they're not wanted here.' Diana eyed a weapon rack in the corner of the main hub, where Walgreen's photo booth was normally set up. The teeth of some smiling white woman and the cracked half of a child's elated face were all that notified her of its original purpose. 'We can't expect the weak to take up arms. We can't burden ourselves. Kyle knew this. And it got us this far.' She pursed her lips as she pushed aside the once-automatic door. She jumped on her Yamaha motorcycle, its red sheen under the bright sun, grabbing her helmet which hung under the handlebars, kicking the metal stand with her heel as she shoved the helmet on and revved her vehicle, accelerating toward the barricade hastily.
A muffled sound came from her walkie-talkie as her motorcycle's engine roared across the bridge. Whatever it was, it was likely redundant, an assumption from either Marshall or Arkadiy that she simply wasn't interested in what they had to say. It wasn't a good reputation to have, she often thought, but there was something absurd about their gullibility that they would even give an ear to very lightly armed scavengers. She slowed her pace as the barricade came to view, stopping by a small lot for hers and other vehicles. She propped her cycle and walked towards the barricade, not bothering to take off her helmet but lifting her visor as she came towards Arkadiy, looking ahead of him to the stragglers.
The first thing she noticed, even from her distance, was their hygiene. While ragged, their clothes weren't torn or [very] stained. Most of their hairstyles were misshapen but apparently clean, minus the man in the ragged, manmade gas suit that seemed to be influenced by every post-apocalyptic slasher movie. It was clear, however, they stood with a purpose more dedicated and strong than simple survival. The woman with the short ebony hair, especially, seemed especially motivated, and that just came from her eyes, which seemed directed at all, even her, though she had just approached.
'I've been quick to judge before', she thought, 'But you'd think Fermilab would have had access to better supplies... I wouldn't doubt he's a raving madman on top of a liar.'
"State your names and your purpose," she commanded, resting her hands on the manmade curtain wall-esque pile of refuse, "And quickly. If I hear the word 'supplies' even once, I'll turn you away without hesitation. We're not taking in refugees."
(10k years later I writer this and I probably got the entire setting and attitude wrong BUT at least I started again yay)