jensenwincest (jensenwincest) wrote in lykeomgcelebs,
jensenwincest
jensenwincest
lykeomgcelebs

Zombie Occupied New York: Day 57


Zombie's Killed:25
Body Count:3
Morale Rating:-2
Group Survivor Count:36

On the first day of the N1H1 outbreak, 75 of us escaped from the Infected. We outran about 67 of our former "fellow man" who'd decided to get the flu injections. The scientists apparently calculated something wrong. The majority of the population have been turned into desensitized meat suits, disregarding their muscular limits. They're not human.

Not for the first time, I've watched as they've done unspeakable things to those of us who are left, I mean really sick things. The only grim silver lining to their modus operandi: They don't leave a body to bury. Otherwise I predict group morale would be floored. Instead, we're still functioning in a low level depression state. Great.

It's 7am, sunrise, in the city that never sleeps. I don't hear anything. A month ago, that would have weirded me out. Now I know it's the mark of 12 hours of relative peace. The infected are hypersensitive to light. They don't sleep. They just hide.

You know what I miss? Aside from cable and communications systems? The Pigeons. Ever since the Infected took over, I haven't seen a single flying rodent. I'm not sure if the Infected are eating them, or they were just smart enough to fly away. Lucky bastards.

Jensen stretched his arms over his head as the rest of the 3 top floors of the16 floor office building woke up. He'd been on watch all night and wouldn't get to sleep now either. Maybe tomorrow.
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Misha came up behind Jensen, tossing a duffle at him, testing his reflexes.

"Hate to put you on double shift, but we're running low on supplies on 15. Goin' on a run and we need a third man, I took the liberty of volunteering your ass." He said with a small sadistic grin.
Jensen grabbed the bag in mid flight, giving Misha a 'don't fuck with me today' look.

"It's not like I need to sleep five hours a day unlike some people I know."

He threw open his gun cabinet and grabbed his shoulder holster, ammo, and a few choice pistols. His shotgun he slid into a home made back holster he'd made during his spare time.
"Sleep's for the weak." Misha says sagely and watches Jensen gear up for the field.

He hitched his own empty duffel over his shoulder and leaned against the wall, "You know you don't always hafta volunteer for duty. I can take a few shifts off your hands."
Jensen kept his back to Misha as he suited up. He was beat, emotionally, physically. But there would be time to deal with his issues when he was dead. Right now, they had to keep on fighting.

He spun around, "And let you have all the fun? I think not."

Devil may care grin on his face, he lead the way out of his own private paradise he'd carved out of an office.
"Danneel's waiting for us down on the main so we better hurry, not like she can't fend for herself or anything, girl kicked my ass last night when I stole her last mars bar." Misha says conversationally as he follows Jensen through the building.

"I swear my whole body is bruised, she's got a bitch of a roundhouse, man."
"If it applies in the old world, it applies double in Zombie land," Jensen rejoined, "Never come between a girl and her chocolate," He pushed open the door to the stairs. It was a long way down.

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Chad sat huddled in a lone cubicle two floors down. He knew he shouldn't've gone out there last night but like fuck if he was going to listen to that dick Ackles one more fuckin' time. Who the hell made that guy boss? You know who's make a better boss than that assface? Chad.

Fuck. It was hot in here. He scratched nervously at his arm, tugging his shirtsleeve down over the mark.
Sophia, always armed, walked through the 14th floor, checking supplies and injuries. The last patrol hadn't gone so well. 3 more raped...ripped to shreds...eaten...right in front of them. It was enough to scar a person for life.

She swallowed hard and kept on walking until she heard a familiar snivvling sound.

"Chad? What's your problem?"

She didn't really care. But their numbers were limited. One more able bodied person down was one less they had to defend their area.
He lifted his head at the sound of his voice, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he had to play it cool, I mean. Pfft so what some sick fuck took a bite out of his arm last night? It wasn't like you know, it actually ate him. Just you know, left some teeth marks.... barely broke the skin.

"My problem," he said smoothly plastering on a lecherous grin, "is how come you won't just give in and have hot end of the world sex with me?"
"Just because you're not infected with mutated N1H1 doesn't mean you're not infected with something" Sophia shuddered. Sex with Chad made her feel sicker than the thought of the Infected getting their hands on her.
"I'm not infected with anything but good looks," he winked even though the need to scratch at his arm was pounding through his blood. But he couldn't, or the bitch would fucking shoot him on spot.
"And possibly hepatitis," Sophia retorted. She narrowed her eyes at him. He looked skeevier than usual.

"Are you okay? You look a little constipated."

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Kristen sat on the counter in the staffroom kitchen on floor 14, waiting for her daily can of Chef Boy R Dee to finish cooking. Man, what she wouldn't do to stop eating ravioli from a can. That shit is revolting.

She hummed to herself as she waited for the microwave to beep, because in these times of zombie apocalypse you needed a little bit of cheer in your life.
"Did you get fat or am I just really hungry?" Jason joked easily, leaning against the counter beside Kristen.
"Cannibal jokes during a zombie apocalypse," she grinned sarcastically, "My you have such class."

She hopped off the counter and pulled her bowl of pasta from the microwave and two forks from the mug of clean utensils by the sink, "If you're nice to me you can have some."
"If you let me have some, I promise if I turn into a zombie you can be the first to kill me," He followed her and the canned pasta.
"How sweet of you," she said with an overdramatic batt of her eyelashes. Kristen handed him the extra fork and placed the bowl in between them on the counter.

"Here's hoping they come back with some Kraft Dinner this time. I see another can of Chef Boy here and I'm going postal on someone's ass."

She bit a piece of ravioli off the end of her fork.
"What? You mean you actually string together a long line of cuss words?!" Jason fake gasped before sucking back some ravioli.

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Katie was up on the roof, gun aimed shakily at the target on some distance away. She was determined to learn how to shoot this thing, get fucking good at it so she could get out there and kill some of those son's of bitches that killed her boyfriend.

It hurt thinking about it, about how she couldn't do anything to save him. Couldn't do anything but run. She couldn't go back and change anything but she was determined to never let anyone else go through what she did. She wanted to help.

If only she could fucking hit the goddamn target for once.
Milo was just coming up to the roof to start his sniper rotation for the day when he saw someone had beat him to it.
That is, until he stepped closer and heard her cussing up a storm. The familiar sounds of learning the trade.

"You'll never be able to shoot straight until you get your breathing under control."
Startled she turned around, putting the gun down and staring at the guy intruding on her time on the roof.

"Thanks for the tip," she said sarcastically, "But I have the roof booked until 11 so if you wouldn't mind," she made a shooing motion.
Milo laughed a little. Sometimes he was surprised he still could.
"Well I've got a patrol going out for supplies for the 15th floor. So if you'd be cool with sharing, I can give them some cover. And I might even be persuaded to teach you how to kill something," He shrugged.
Oh she thought sheepishly, she wasn't aware this little scrawny dude with the lopsided smile was actually one of the ranks. She just figured he was one of the pathetic normies like herself, tossed aside because they were too weak to be anything but protected.

She was embarrassed but she didn't show it, "Fine," Katie huffed and but the safety back on her 45 and stepped back to watch him set up his big ass gun. Which was seriously cool by the way.

"Nice piece." she said offhandlishly after a while.
"I've had some compliments on it. Don't get me wrong, the gun's not too shabby either," He grinned at her lopsidedly, secretly appalled that he'd said something like that to a woman. That was just completely unappropriate.

He set about getting his sight all lined up, trying to fight down the blood rushing to his cheeks.
She snorted, "Did you seriously just make that joke? You did didn't you." she scrunched her face up in disgust, but it didn't hide the small smile on her face.

Which in itself was weird, she hadn't smiled in a long time.

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