hypocritical, egotistical / open; zombie apocalypse au

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  • The year is 2051. After two great wars, the surviving humans are confined in a small island. There are little people but enough to make walking outside feel crowded. The air is polluted, disgusting and black. The waters are deadly cold, it's too hard to see and only the crazy will ever dare to try and swim the ocean. Recently an outbreak occurred. A lab infection has caused several people to become zombie-like and cannibalistic. People have already begun evacuating in the panic, seeking bunkers and stealing. The virus is spreading, there is currently no cure. All the scientists who have attempted this hopeless quest are either dead or infected. A bite will either kill you or turn you into another undead clone - chances of survival are low. Some zombies stagger, others run at you at high speeds biting and chomping the air like rabid beasts. Desperation. The air tastes like desperation and the skies haven't brought rain in days, but when rain does happen, more will fall under the sickness and more will become these mindless creatures.

    Enter Leroy (leh-roy), a teenager with well-combed but messy brown hair and bitter green eyes. His head rises when he hears the sound of a flare fire into the sky, exploding in the night's darkness with a colourful boom. He says nothing and returns to scavenging for any extra cans he can find. He is armed with a gun and a club. His gun is tucked beneath his clothes, hidden, and his club lies on the ground for easy reach as the Sixteen Year Old squats down and picks up a heavy metal cylinder. He lifts it, scrunches his nose and then shoves into his bag. Besides the zombies, there is also a war - people bickering over who is right and who is wrong. Being a native of this small island surrounded by water, he is skeptical of the surviving immigrants. Like his side, he believes that they are responsible for the virus in the first place.

    He doesn't notice the sounding footsteps behind him. It could be a zombie, an enemy, or a person.

    AN ARM RAISED, EYES COLD, HE IS SENTENCED TO DEATH

    BLOODCLAN / FORMER RC MED. CAT / 22 MO. / A.K.A. LARKTHROAT / STORAGE / PENNED BY GREY.


  • all opinions ic


    A figure stumbles out of the inky blackness, clutching their arm with one hand and a wicked blade barely clasped in the other. Their clothes are torn and dirty but the damage looks recent - a zombie attack? Or perhaps faction violence? It's hard to tell in the light but a multitude of scars and tattoos run across this individual's body, the most prominent being across their face and the right eye is white and sightless. This is a veteran of at least a couple of conflicts and a survivor of this harsh new world. The air is tense with anticipation and screams of anger and barely controlled chaos. Something is on the way.


    Adolph, ex-military, ex-gangleader and ex-father - although the middle one is still very recent for the Forty Year Old. With a face contorted in pain; the blood streaming between his fingers is evidence of a serious wound. One icy eye alights on Leroy just as the sounds of the horde begin to fill the air. It's now clear what the man is running from. He makes a motion with his hand for the boy to run too because it's clear their position will be overwhelmed in just a few minutes. If it hadn't been clear from his hand gesture the other would rasp, "run!"

    aspen_by_silverlightss-dbzabs7.png

    there's another side that you don't know, you don't know

    —— 49 moons | trad. Riverclan| Biography | daddy's going real real strong ・゚✦


  • It gets louder and louder, and Leroy feels the thin hairs on the back on his neck raise defensively. He doesn't look up, heart thudding as for a brief moment he forgets where his club is. The words shoot at him like gunfire: run. He scrambles to his feet, makes eye contact with the man who seems to be sprinting for his life and glances at the horde behind him. Aw hell no, he's not dying like this. The young man snatches his bag and club and starts running, trying to keep up with the one-eyed man. "This your fault?" he yells his question, wind brushing through his hair as he notices a hiding place and signals for the man to dive around the corner. He rests his body against the wall, tense, and watches the creatures pass.

    Leroy seeks out his gun, seeing a few lingering behind that stop to sniff the air and look around. They lumber, stagger and wheeze air from their porous skin. "Who the fuck are you and how'd you manage to bring an entire flock o' those things?" the boy asks in a harsh whisper, trying to aim his gun at one of the zombies (yes, Grey decided they would be a horde of zombies so if they're wrong - oops?). Of course, trying to fire a gunshot was always a bad idea. It would only alert the ones crawling behind of their hiding spot.


    AN ARM RAISED, EYES COLD, HE IS SENTENCED TO DEATH

    BLOODCLAN / FORMER RC MED. CAT / 22 MO. / A.K.A. LARKTHROAT / STORAGE / PENNED BY GREY.