i wanna do bad things with you

[jill "little" clarke]

TAGS OPEN --- WORDS 868 --- OUTFIT HERE --- HAIR HERE

Although she was panting heavily and her muscles were protesting loudly, a burst of speed went through her at the sight of headquarters. For the past two blocks Little had been running non-stop, steadily boiling herself within her tight leather jacket, with three zombies obviously on her tail and a possible score of slow but hopeful zombies around a block behind. Two of them were of medium speeds, but the other seemed to be nearly back to its human speed, making the chase lose any fun her imagination tried to provide. The two tote bags swinging in her hands were fourth on her mental list of main reasons she’d decided to leg it to headquarters rather than stop and kill them.

Number one on the list went back to when she obtained the contents now filling her tote bags and irritated her most. All morning was spent trying to locate anything she could bring back, as it seemed like all the houses and buildings within a days walk had been picked clean. The only good part of this was that the area was considerably less full of zombies compared to the rest of the area, allowing her to only need to blow the minds of a few zombies. Finally, as she was close to calling it quits, Little found a small shop (which, according to the sign, used to ‘sell premium furniture at low prices!’) that appeared to have been a safe house.
It also appeared to have been recently overtaken by zombies; overturned furniture and trails of blood showed signs of a struggle, and there was a freshly decaying arm in front of a door –well, doorframe with a door nearby- which led her to what used to probably be a storage room, had more recently been used as the safe room, and was now home to seven zombies. With pistol already at hand Little quickly put them down, thankful that her quiet, careful entry hadn’t alerted them of their presence.

It didn’t take long to locate the food -most of which were canned goods, though there were a couple boxes of cereal- and a few water bottles. The canned goods were enough to fill one bag and, to keep them from making much noise when she moved, Little wrapped them in a blanket she found next to a tatty sleeping bag. Among the bodies of the zombies she’d freshly killed and the ones killed by the previous occupants Little found more pistols of various makes as well as a couple of bent, bloody pipes. The pistols were emptied (and looking down, she knew exactly what on), but she put them in the second bag next to her Indian war club, along with the water bottles and cereal boxes.

During this time, with her mind so focused on her unexpected success, Little forgot to reload her pistol.

Only luck let her make it as far as she did without alerting any zombies of her presence; but of course, it had to run out. At the same moment that she saw the zombies they saw her, she realized she hadn’t reloaded and probably only had two bullets left in it at most. At the same moment she ran they revealed their speed, making her realize that to face off with them with her club would be a risk not worth taking unless she absolutely had to (aka, problem number two). Between these two problems, problem three was created: if she used her pistol now, the sound would draw more zombies over.

Having realized where she was, Little decided to try and run it, and now she was quite glad she had. With the door to the ground level less than a minute away, she heard the sound of a sniper shot crack through the air and a faint thud of a zombie dropping. A kick succession of these noises followed, and then there was only the sound of her own hard breathing in her ears. Despite knowing this meant she was relatively safe now, Little continued her pace until she was roughly opening and shutting the front doors and literally tumbling down the trap door.

It appeared the guards stationed there had been alerted to her oncoming presence, for their only reaction was to laugh and take the bags to storage for her. Chuckling faintly back, Little remained sprawled on the ground, grinning like an idiot despite barely being able to get enough air back in her lungs. The only movement she could muster from her now-aching arms was to unzip her jacket, revealing the damp white tank top underneath. Little could practically feel the heat rising off her in waves; this was a problem she faced every time she scavenged, but it was a necessary safety measure to protect her arms from bites.

After a few minutes, when her breathing was under better control, she gathered her strength and weakly rose to a sitting position. Lethargically peeling off her jacket and scooting over to a wall which she heavily rest her back against, Little called out, cringing at how raspy her voice sounded, “Do any of you guys have some water?"

[marilyn roman]

Marilyn sat at the edge of the chair that rocked back and forth under her weight and with every moved forward it would creak in protest. Though the sound was the most annoying sound ever to Marilyn's ears and the only one in the dank room that smelled of rotting wood and materials of unknown. She didn't mind as long as it gave her a view moments of peace. It was hard work in the life and times of Marilyn and sometimes it just got to her, it was like little voices driving her insane, but only they where real. Also very unintelligent and needed to be told more than once even then she would give in and tell them just to fuck off. So she could go out and do the job herself. She thought this way it would get done quicker and be a less of a problem later on. The tension in her body seem to rise even more than normal as she sat there thinking of every failure she had to go in and save, every comment about the NYX , and how weak and reckless the NYX was with nothing to show. Right then and there Marilyn realized if she where left alone with her own devices aka her own mind. She would go Fucking insane. As Marilyn took her first measly steps out of the room, the tension was lifted or maybe that was the warm heat radiating off her body. Probably cause the room she had just left smelled of a gym locker and the heat in there was unbearable, but being as ignorant as she was. she did her best to ignore everything for a moment alone.
Everything in the hallway was quite which was abnormal. There was always some kind of motion. If there wasn't there would be no use for her to spend and hour in eighty degree weather or close to it just to be alone. It wasn't until later when Marilyn was walking towards then end of the hallway when she heard the racket coming up stares from the balcony. Three to five warriors where running up the stairs falling under each others feet trying to reach the top. Marilyn was at the bottom looking up, her hands on the rail about ready to see what was so interesting. Where it made her underling run faster than if they where being chaste by zombies.
Her feet moved in rhythmic beats as her pace moved faster up the stair. Some people crowded around the stairs talking in groups. She pushed her way threw until she felt the effects of being so close to the disease effected mist. Which made her put on her gas mask that hung loosely around her neck. There was closely to fifteen people. All which crowded around the edges looking out into the distance. She moved closer to one of the hit man's snipers to get a better look. A scavenger ran towards the head quarters of the NYX. The anger built up inside Marilyn like a bomb ready to explode. This was the reason they where out here standing around like idiots because they wanted to see one if their own members being chaste for the amusement. Make the girl panic before saving her in the heat of the moment.
Marilyn grabbed the sniper by his coat, twirling it around her hand before pushing the bastard towards the group of men. She bent down on one knee, scraping it across the concrete ripping threw her pair of jeans. She grabbed the cold metal in her hand. She never handled a sniper before, but she knew how to aim. As a red blur past the lens of the rifle and a pair of zombies came into view. She fired the bullet, landing it between the eye's knocking it dead. The crowd of men cheered behind her. She fired off another round of shot knocking the others dead in their tracks as well.
The scavenger, a young women maybe a year or two younger than Marilyn sinks into the wall to rest. In one quick motion she picks herself up from the ground and lifts the mask over her head to shout orders.
" Hey get your fucking lazy asses moving and go help her" She barked to the others, who didn't hesitate. She threw the sniper to her left as she jogged down the step backed into the building. Once standing outside beside "Little" Who she soon recognized when she was by her side. Marilyn was glad to see that the others had already taken her supplies to storage. she looked down upon little who meekly responded with“Do any of you guys have some water?"
She handed her a half bottle of water, that she had on her when she was left in the councils room alone. The bottle of water landed in Little's lap.
" I hope you can take care of yourself cause I'm not helping you up" She said leaning on the wall with one shoulder waiting for her response.