exsiliumlogs | [PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

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[PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

Date & Time: All day Friday, December 14th and onward.
Location: Initiate Hold
Characters: All
Summary: The plague has taken hold and there are rampant, angry undead critters running around! Better get rid of them quick, before you attract the Scourge Horde.
Warnings: Undead attacks, localized around cute woodland critters.

[The death tolls of all the woodland animals had come around the same time. Some lasted longer than others, but for the most part, it appeared that most of the sickly animals had passed sometime in the middle of the night. The next morning, transports would awaken to find their furry friends looking...well, less than furry. Their eyes glow a sickly yellow, patches of fur fall off their body, and they continuously cry for help.

Help from whom? You?

Or the group of rampaging ghouls charging toward you?]

[ooc: Original plot post is here!. If you would like me to NPC ghoul attacks in your thread, please mark your subject line with three asterisks. (***) Otherwise, feel free to do it amongst yourselves! Please note that I won't be able to NPC threads until tomorrow afternoon.]

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[ What God has to do with this, Sharpe doesn't know. This seems more like the devil's work than anything else, and he thinks briefly of the man who introduced himself as Lucifer before he dismisses it. His enemies are the ones placed in front of him, and he doesn't have the time to go haring off on a wild goose's chase to visit some guy who might or might not have something to do with a bunch of walking corpses around.

Instead, he looks at Mia for a long moment, and at the windows. No hammer or nails, and he doesn't think his sword makes for a good woodcutter's axe. He sighs quietly. ]

Staying here'd be a foolish thing ta do. Come on, ma'am. Follow me.

[ He walks back out of the room. His own is on the first floor as well,and he doesn't have hammer or nails. But he's been looking through this building, and the thirteenth floor is empty - probably due to some sort of superstition or something. Sharpe isn't going to think much about that. Instead, he glances back at Mia, shifting his rifle further up his back. ]

There's rooms up top that's empty. We can stay there fer a bit.

[ And he looks down the hallway, and- ]

Quite a bit of stairs ta climb. Can you climb well, ma'am?

They're stairs, Sharpe, not rock-faces.

( If she sounds sour, she is sour -- she hadn't wanted to follow him, but had last relented while picking up her tablet and shoving it under one arm. Her keys jangle in her hand and Mia looks back down the hall, glad to see the door had shut when she'd pulled it along behind her. )

I can climb.

( She catches up, stalking ahead on shorter legs to tug on the door handle to the stairs. See? She was raring to go! )

Be as it may, but it's quite a bit of stairs.

[ They can take the lift, but damned if Sharpe is risking his life by stepping into a huge empty box that supposedly goes up and down. He doesn't know how it works, or if it's safe, and he's not going to add one more risk to the pack.

He bounces on the balls of his feet for a moment before he starts up the stairs. He keeps one eye on her, one on the road in front. ]

Safest ta go ta the roof. I can start shooting at the buggers from up there as well.

[ Hopefully. ]

( Mia trucks along, grimacing as the water she hadn't noticed in her galoshes earlier squeak and squishes around her feet. She'll need to get them off, or risk -- terrible pruning? Ha!

You've got weird priorities, Mia Fey.

This whole place was weird. She smiled, grimly determined. She needed to hear back from Maya as soon as possible. Her little sister, out with those zombies roaming the streets? )

I've never seen you reload.

( She hesitates when she hears something, but it turns out to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

Mia shakes her head, and continues to climb. Fifteen stories... fifteen flights of stairs? Thank god she was in shape! )

[ Sharpe shoots her a grin from his shoulder. ]

That 'cause yer not paying attention, ma'am. Three shots per minute's what I can do, and I'm fast enough ta be missed if you aren't paying attention proper.

[ It's thirty flights of stairs of some sort. Sharpe knows where the roof is anymore, and he slows down a little, reaching over to take her elbow. It's quite a lot to walk, and most people aren't infantrymen, used to climbing hills and mountains in nothing but their boots. The bottoms of his feet are harder than some rocks with all the walking he does.

(He's an officer. Technically, he can get a horse to ride. But horses are expensive and he prefers having his feet on the ground. The damned things have never liked him anyhow.)

He looks at Mia for a long moment. ]

You worried 'bout someone, ma'am?

( Okay, fair point, she had no idea what he did, and when to gun got louder she admittedly looked elsewhere. May to use her powers of observation!

His question shakes her out of her own mental worries, hugging the tablet closer to herself as if it's a viable link to the people she cares about. )

My little sister. I haven't heard from her since last night.

( It's a belated moment to notice he has her elbow -- she blinks, then pushes herself to keep up and exceed the pace she'd otherwise been keeping. )

[ He notices her increased speed, and he can't help but admire her a little bit for that. Most educated women he knows will start complaining that he's going too fast, and even camp followers start clamouring on the pack mules or supply carts after a while. Sharpe keeps going at his pace, keeping an eye on Mia to make sure she's not already panting. ]

Yer sister, eh? How old is she?

[ He nods at the tablet. ]

You've called her yet?

[ He thinks that he's thankful to the Initiative, in a way. At least they haven't brought Lucille here. Or God forbid, Hakeswille. Or Jane. ]

( She's breathing audibly, but she's keeping herself together well in spite of it. )

Yeah, but I'll need to call again. The roof, you said?

( Mia's fingers tap on the handrail as she continues up. )

I'll call her again from up there. She'll be safe.

( There's no real choice in that. Even if people were "brought back" by the Initiative, she didn't want a reason to ever expect she could end up having a reason to challenge her own sister's spirit. )

She's eighteen now. She's a smart girl.

[ He slows down his steps. Not very visibly and not immediately - just enough that she'll just find it a little bit easier to keep up with him as the seconds pass by. Not much more than that. ]

Are you telling me that, or yerself?

[ He winces a little as those words escape him, and Sharpe sighs quietly. ]

Look, you've got something ta show me what she looks like? I can go find her once I get you up ta the roof.

[ Though it'll leave her pretty defenseless on the rooftop. Oh well. He's only one person, goddamnit. ]

Let me try and get her on the line when we're up there. If she's safe and sound, there's no reason for you to put yourself in danger leaving again.

( There's more firm resolve in her voice this time than before. It's the sort that brings her to the door leading out on the roof, with the broken lock from before either of them had arrived. )

Guess I should be thankful some repairs take more time than others.

( As she opens the door, not certain she should simply walk through. What if someone else had the same idea?

Getting shot herself sounded like a less than stellar way to end the day. )

Thank you, Major.

[ If the door has been locked, Sharpe is going to shoot it. But as it is, there's a broken lock, and he looks at it. It won't be much help if a horde suddenly burst through the only exit, but- well, Sharpe just have to keep a sharp ear on any possible footsteps, won't he? ]

Don't thank me just yet. Stay back.

[ He grabs hold of the hole where the knob had been, pulling the door open. He ducks behind the doorframe- alright, that side is empty. And he steps out of the door, his rifle cocked and loaded, and Sharpe stamps his feet hard. Hard enough to dislodge some of the dust on the roof's floor, and he lets the sound of the hammer cocking backwards echo loudly.

Silence. No footsteps. No sound of breathing. Sharpe looks at Mia, giving her a look to tell her to stay put before he goes over to the other side. He checks the nooks and crannies of the rooftop before he goes over to the railing, aiming his rifle downwards even as he looks down and takes one more round around the roof, checking down below to see if there's anyone hiding down there.

No one. Christ, they're the first to have such an idea, or some sort. He trots back to Mia, the hammer of his rifle back in position. ]

You can come along now, ma'am. There ain't anyone here.

( Mia was already dialing Maya, speaking at her tablet when voicemail picks up. )

Hey Maya, give me a call when you get this message. I hope your day hasn't been half as exciting as mine has so far.

( She attempts to keep her tone light, smiling at the non-responsive tablet before ending the connection.

She glances back up, walking after Sharpe with a glance up at the heavy grey skies. )

We're the only ones here? That's surprising.

[ Sharpe hears the tail-end of it, but he respectfully keeps a distance until she stops talking. He follows her gaze up to the skies before flickering back to her. ]

Aye. Makes me think what can be so bad 'ere that people's avoiding it.

[ Or maybe it's just that they're not braving the stairs or the height. If not for the zombies, Sharpe wouldn't have come up here either. ]

Never stops raining here, does it? [ He looks down at his clothes. ] Don't even got the chance to wash me clothes in this damned weather.

They do have washing machines, you know.

( Mia pulls her raincoat around herself more tightly, wandering toward the edge of the rooftop. )

They pay you enough for at least a change of clothes to wear while the rest washes.

( Hell, he would wander around naked if he wanted. It wasn't illegal yet around here. )

[ Sharpe leans against the railing, looking downwards. There aren't any shambling figures right at those moment, but he's keeping his eyes down anyhow. But he's still listening to Mia, and he snorts at those words. ]

I've seen those clothes they're selling, and none of 'em make any sense. [ By which he means: they don't look familiar. ] 'sides, I'm a Rifleman, and I ain't going ta wear other clothes when me uniform's good enough.

[ Pause, and he turns over to grin at her. ]

I don't smell that bad, do I?

Horrible.

( It's blunt and honest, which is about what she expects him to expect form her. )

Though the dead guys down there might have you beat, for what it's worth.

( She sends him a half-grin in return, to the point where she's attempting to normalize through joking. There isn't as much going on down below as she expected, though a few shambling corpses appear to be waltzing down the road. )

[ Sharpe lifts an arm and turns his head, taking a long deep breath of himself. He can't smell much beyond the thick cake of gunpowder that seems to have been pressed straight into his skin, and that smells horrid enough already - of rotten eggs and burnt trees. Sharpe takes a slightly deeper breath and tries to find the rank scent of sweat- but he gives it up after a second and makes a face. ]

Not by much. [ Dryly. ] The smell of gunpowder ain't poison, though I don't smell of rot, at least.

[ A pause. And he leans back onto the railing, looking at Mia for a long moment. ]

You alright there, ma'am?

I'm in the far future and zombies are real.

( Ghosts she's used to. She smiles, feeling exertion catch up with her. The side of the roof she leans again becomes support. Just for a moment. )

All things considered? I'm doing better than I thought I would. And you, Major?

[ He chuckles slightly, reaching out and dropping his arm over Mia's shoulders, pulling her slightly closer so she can lean against him then against the roof. He probably shouldn't, given that she's told him he's smelled bad at all, but it's an instinct for Sharpe, now, to do that. ]

I've got an enemy ta shoot at and a war ta fight. [ Wryly. ] 'Cept fer the dripping flesh, it's just like 'ome. I'm alright, ma'am.

[ He pauses, looking at her for a long moment. ]

You can sleep here, if you like. I'd be keeping a watch out, so it'd be safe.

( He smells terrible. Really. Mia startles, something she turns into a dry laugh. )

One war into another? You're not getting the prettiest picture of human history.

( She can appreciate the intent, but she's stood on her own for a long time now. She thinks briefly of Diego, closing her eyes as she pats Sharpe's arm. It's one form of reassurance as she turns and pulls herself away, looking to pace the rooftop between where they stood and the bulk of the elevator's top pulleys and cableworks. )

I don't think I'll be much for sleeping tonight. But thank you.

[ He lets her go, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of the railing instead. She reminds him, just a little, of Teresa, of a strong woman who doesn't need his help for anything because she's perfectly capable of doing it all on her own. That if his help is ever asked for, it's what she wants, and somehow that makes it all the better.

(Sometimes he wonders if he has ever truly loved Jane at all, or if he has just married her because she was beautiful, she was in need, and Sharpe had known he would never find another woman like Teresa. It's not a very pleasant thought, not for Jane or himself, but the more he thinks of it, the more he thinks it might be true. Lucille doesn't ever need him the way Jane does. He needs her more, for she gives him a safe place, a secure place, somewhere that he can rest his shoulders after the constant war.

But Jane had needed him- or rather, Jane needed someone, and he was convenient. She hadn't really needed him at all, and isn't that the most bitter pill to swallow?)

Sharpe snorts quietly, giving Mia a crooked smile as he pushes away his thoughts. ]

There ain't pretty pictures of human history that I've ever seen. Not in the place I've been. No pretty pictures of human present either, though there's plenty of pretty ladies. [ Grins.

In any case: ]

I ain't telling you stories if yer staying awake. I'm not the one good at tales.

( It's enough of a nonsensical to get Mia to pause in her pacing, one hand unwinding from its distracted grip on her jacket over her breastbone. She smiles, shaking her head. )

That's fine. If we need stories, I can manage that much. Even if it's been a while since I've told Maya a bedtime story.

( It would be a cold and bitter night, worse if she didn't hear back from Maya. But it would be okay. She firmly believed in that.

There was nothing else that she could allow herself to do. It's about the only reason she keeps smiling. Time for tears, if any are coming, after everything is done. )

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[PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

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