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20731 No. 20731
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” Someone yells. It’s impossible to tell who with all this chaos, but at least I know it’s one of my men. The altered pipe bomb tumbles through the air past me and into the horde, flashing red and screaming in terrified electronic beeps which must seem like dinner bells to the infected. It’s so strange to watch them turn away from us and desperately dive for the small cylinder, as if it was their only means of salvation from their endless hunger and pain.

Its is.

*BOOM* The bomb explodes in a thunderous roar that transforms everything around it into a bright flash and red mist. I open my eyes again and peek up over the barrier to behold the black mark staining the now cracked marble floor of the hotel.

“All clear.” A man behind me shouts after a moment. Rising from behind the splintered thick wooden counter I assess the damage and am thankful it was only half torn down now. Those bastards, they nearly tore through it in only a few swings. How are they so strong? So fast? You want to call zombie bullshit on it, but there is no time. There is never time to relax.

“It’s safe to come out. Everyone stay together.” The room behind opens and the small line of civilian survivors trickle out. Christ, there are only 6 of them now. How did it come to this? Women and children. The elderly and the weak willed. Wave after wave of the undead hit us and it tears away pieces, like ocean water washing away a sand castle. A moment of chaos and we lose another person, only to have kill them again. God this is beyond fucked up. We had 30 in the beginning! Now there are only six, none of them able to even hold a gun properly. It’s hard enough that I only have two other squad mates left. But here we are, 9 total strangers but the closest thing to family we all have now. Because we’re alive. Because we’re not infected.

“I don’t like it sir. We’re getting low on ammo and the airport is still at least two klicks away.” The burly black man beside me complains as he wipes crimson smears from his shotgun. He’s right to complain, this shit is ridiculous.

“Got any other ideas, Simmons?”

“No sir. Just saying.” He sighs and keeps cleaning.

“I hear yah.” I sigh too. It’s been a long day. A long week in fact.

*tat tat. ta-ta-tat* The metallic clicks echo down the narrow deserted city street with all the effect that a giant gong would. Dammit, we don’t need this noise! Even if its-

“You hear that?” The lanky redhead by the door asks warily.

“Hell, that was an M16! Holy shit someone else is out there! Come on, we gotta find ‘em!” Simmons excitedly hops up and glances through one of the ground floor windows.

“Hold! We run out there blindly and we’re as good as dead.” I look around. “Simmons, you’re with me. Biggs, you stay with the survivors. We’ll be back in 30.”

“Ah fuck.” Biggs wedges a chair against the door then returns to reloading the knockoff AK we had to steal from the pawn shop yesterday. “Fine, but you get night watch tonight.”

*ta-ta-ta-tat* The gunfire is closer this time. We move out.


“I’m telling you, I saw something duck into that alley.” Simmons whispers softly. “Dressed in full black, but not like civvies. What do you want to do? Follow them in?”

“No. If it really is another uninfected, they might blow off our heads the moment we step inside. Worst case scenario it’s a new zed type or a madman with a gun. Either way, I’m not comfortable stepping into the open.”

“About that sir. There’s something that just doesn’t feel right. I mean I we’ve thinned them out some, but….” His voice becomes hoarse with worry. “I haven’t seen a single zed on the last two blocks.”

He’s right. This feels all wrong. We should have already made contact with some. The bodies on the streets, they’re not torn apart by fighting or cannibalism. It’s like they simply fell over. Something just snuffed them out and…

*tink tink tink* A small black and green canister bounces across the floor and lands between us by the window. That shape…OH COME ON who is dumb enough to use an M84 in the middle of a

*THWOOSH* *WRIIIIIIIIIIIIIII* Jumping away didn’t help too much, and covering the ears and eyes can only do so much at this distance. A horrible high pitched ring screams in my mind as blurred images charge into the room moments after the flash bang. I reach for my gun, but it’s kicked away effortlessly. One of the black figure jumps on top of me and yells something I can’t understand.

Slowly my vision and hearing return.

“I said rank and regiment!” The woman kneeling on my chest shouts again. Her sharp red eyes bore into mine furiously. I’m so entranced by them I hardly notice the long light purple hair hanging out from parts of her black SWAT helmet. Her soft red lips move again, giving fleeting glimpses of dazzling white teeth.

“Maybe he doesn’t have any.” A male voice says calmly behind her.

“Rank. And. Regiment. Now.” She growls dangerously, moving the nose of her assault rifle closer to my head.

[ ] Write-in name and military division.
(random examples: Air Force, Marines, Army, Navy. Reserve, National Guard, Special Forces, Coast Guard, etc and feel free to be as specific as you want)

>> No. 20732
[x] John John, Coast Guard
For the stupid.
>> No. 20733
File 124465280747.jpg - (540.14KB , 663x879 , Vet_____by_Gavade.jpg ) [iqdb]
[x] Bill (Young)
[x] Green Beret
>> No. 20735
Rank: Sergeant.
Regiment: 22nd Special Air Service.
Name: "Soap" MacTavish
>> No. 20739
[x] Bill (Young)
[x] Green Beret

Get it rolling!
>> No. 20743
[x] Bill (Young)
[x] Green Beret
>> No. 20747
[Q] Bill (Young)
[Q] Green Beret
>> No. 20750
File 124467535977.jpg - (156.11KB , 249x384 , geared.jpg ) [iqdb]
“Lt. William Ashley. Twentieth Special Forces Group.” I shout.

“A green beret?” She seems puzzled. “This is a dead zone. Why are you here?”

“Evac mission. They pulled anybody in reserve to help move the civvies. We were the last group, but our bird went down at the extraction point. Transmitter must be busted because we haven’t heard from HQ in days. We’ve been holed up here for about a week now. Heard a chopper today and figured something must be up, so we were heading to the airport.”

“How many with you?” A large man with white hair and a calm expression steps forward and offers me a hand as the woman rises from my chest. He is in full assault gear to. Who are these people?

“Six civilians, but only two of my crew are left. We are getting low on supplies. Please tell me you’re here to pull us out.” The floor feels like its shifting under my feet. Why the hell did they have ‘nade us?

“Negative.” He replies sternly. “We aren’t here to help. You’re on your own.”

My anger lets loose after his words hit me like a backhand. “Wait just a fucking minute. I’ve got people whose lives are on the line. Real healthy uninfected people! What the hell takes priority over that?!”

“Our mission, that’s what,” the woman interjects. “We’ll call for an extra helo to pick you up once we’re done, but in the meantime we’ve got work to do. Now you tell your people to wait and stay quiet. If you stir up a nest this whole mission will be FUBAR.” The walkie talkie at her waist beeps twice and she immediately pulls it out. “Report.”

Another woman’s voice emerges from the radio. “I see a group held up in a hotel half a klick west down the main avenue. There is activity outside. Something has the zeds spooked.”

“What?!” I shout without realizing. “We’ve only been gone 30 minutes, and cleared out most of them in the area anyways.”

Her red eyes go wide. “Did you use any explosives?! Anything to powerful enough to draw a horde?!” She demands.

“Well sure, we were getting low on ammo and had to use a few pipe bombs.” I admit without embarrassment. “But why should that-“

“Shit” She mutters and turns to the white haired man with the transmitter. “Call for immediate evac. We can’t make it to site Sigma with the package without contact. If they catch even a whiff of it we’re finished.” He immediately starts playing with his headset, speaking urgently with some invisible person. After a minute of strong words, he drops his hand from his ear.

“We’ll have a chopper here in 10 minutes. But Reisen, with all the noise a helo makes we’ll have…”

“I know, Rin, but there’s no other choice.” She glares at me again. “We’re heading to the roof. Move out.” They start to file out.

“Wait, what about our people?! We’ve only got one armed man over there!” Simmons shouts after them. The woman turns and opens her mouth to speak, but the radio squawks loudly in her hand.

“Incoming! We have incoming. I spot two I repeat two tanks in the fray. Hotel group is overrun.” The sightless voice declares.

“Understood. Get back here ASAP. We’re airborne in 10.” She replaces the radio on her belt and glances back and forth between us. “Your people are already dead.” She replies coldly.

The man she called Rin stops her as she walks away. “There’s enough room for these two on the way out. No point in leaving them.”

She slaps away his arm. “You deal with it,” she murmurs and then disappears into the hallway. The white haired man sighs.

“Listen. It’s finished here. You can stay and try to head back looking for survivors, or you can leave with us and report to base our base. But don’t get in our way. You don’t realize it, but you’ve already put our mission in jeopardy just by being here. Now come on while there is still a chance.” He hands me my rifle which I gladly take it.


The roof is small and narrow, barely 10 by 30 meters, with little cover other than a large AC unit in the corner. No way a UH-60 or Sikorsky S-76 can land here; it’ll have to hover next to the building. The man with the transmitter busily ties off a rope to an exhaust pipe and tosses it over the side. Another is preoccupied carrying some metallic box about the size of a mid tower PC. I’d ask what it is, but the yellow biohazard markings on it deter me.

“Fuck, they’re dead!” Simmons moans beside me. “Bill, sir, what do we do now?”

“Do what she says.” I point to the woman who had me pinned just minutes before. The one now setting up an M60 on the AC. “It’s our only ticket out of here.”

A roar begins to grow in the streets. Shouts. Footsteps. Even the ground starts to tremble. They’re coming.

“Get ready!” Someone shouts.

Choose an option for yourself and Simmons. (2)

[ ] Aim for the doorway. It’s a bottleneck.
[ ] Watch the adjacent rooftops. There might be smokers.
[ ] Offer help to the man with the rope. It might be significant.
[ ] Whatever that box is, it seems important. Help cover it.
[ ] Move behind the AC as well. She might need assistance reloading.
[ ] Write-in
>> No. 20751
[Simmons] Aim for the doorway. It’s a bottleneck.
[Bill] Watch the adjacent rooftops. There might be smokers.
>> No. 20754
[Simmons] Aim for the doorway. It’s a bottleneck.
[Bill] Watch the adjacent rooftops. There might be smokers.
>> No. 20755
[Simmons] Aim for the doorway. It’s a bottleneck.
[Bill] Watch the adjacent rooftops. There might be smokers.

Also... Al Simmons?
>> No. 20934
[Simmons] Watch the adjacent rooftops. There might be smokers.
[Bill] Offer help to the man with the rope. It might be significant.
>> No. 21072
Please continue this story.
>> No. 21073
Oh trust me, this story will continue. I've just been distracted with RoTS in /th/ and other things. Updates will come!
>> No. 21602
File 124970817924.jpg - (71.62KB , 800x402 , Rooftop2.jpg ) [iqdb]
(writer’s note: by M60 I meant M240. Sorry about that. Also SAW stands for Squad Automatic Weapon)

“Simmons, you’re holding down the fort. I don’t want a single zed getting past that doorway.”

“Sir, I’m pretty sure that chick with the machine gun has it covered.” However his eyes say otherwise as he glances at the slender woman who pinned me as she runs the feed line across her M240. Truth be told, it bothers me a bit too; those suckers got a mean kickback not suited for any lady. On the other hand, she looks mean enough that I’d be more scared of her than the SAW itself.

“Son, my world’s been flipped upside down more times than a flapjack. The moment we’re pretty sure about anything is the moment we’re dead. Now you keep your sights on that point and if any of them start getting through, let loose. Otherwise save your ammo and stay smart.”

“Roger that!” Simmons automatically barks. “Umm…what will you be doing sir?”

I grin. “Them smokers have been getting mighty smart lately. I’m covering the sides, unless you want a hot date with one that’ll end in good tongue.” He gags overdramatically. That’s good. Gotta keep a sense of humor, even if we just lost everyone we knew. Keeps you sane, or at least functional. Cry later. “Didn’t think so. Good luck, soldier.”

“Thank you sir. Good hunting.” We salute, but before I make my way to the perch he calls out. “Oh, Bill sir? Don’t forget you owe me a beer when we’re out of here.”

“Count on it!” I shout back. Hell if we survive this I’ll make the devil himself come up for a drink.

It takes a minute to properly get situated in my spot towards the back, making sure to be clear from the line of fire to the doorway, before I run a final check on my supplies. 300 shots for the rifle, one pipe bomb, a molotov, a pair of pistols, and I’m fresh out of pills. Definitely ‘last stand’ material. Shit, this is gonna get rougher than a cat’s tongue on sandpaper. At least I got a nice view the buildings to the sides. If one of those bastards shows up, I’ll know.

“INCOMING!” Someone shouts seconds before the cries and moans of the horde pour out from the stairwell. The ground trembles slightly at the combined weight of them all rampaging up the building. Seconds later a pale face emerges from the shadows. It’s always the same with grey skin and torn clothes: a man in a tattered suit, a woman in jeans, a child with a stupid logo on his shirt. All of them with insane soulless eyes and screams of rage and hunger. God I wish it was the only language they knew, but it’s not. Some of them talk like parrots, repeating themselves over and over again with a tirade of nonsensical words. The M240 fires in staggered 4 second bursts which drowns out the zombies’ calls with glorious thunder. I can barely even hear the gurgled screams of pain oozing out of the doorway along with their black blood. Just when I’m about to shout a compliment, something explodes just within the threshold; must have been a boomer. Chunks of flesh and slime tumble out past the splintered wood hanging from the door hinges and roll a few feet before stopping. Heh, something about the way they die always tickled me in a demented sort of way.

Another wave comes, but something draws my attention. It’s faint against the smothering gunfire, but I can hear it. Coughing, like someone was hacking up a lung. Seems like someone is trying to outflank us.

“Hraak hraak. Plaaarg.” a strangled noise calls out nearby. About time too; I’ve been waiting for you, bastard. My eyes bounce back and forth between the adjacent balconies when something catches my interest. Greenish yellow spores linger in the air like a sickly signature of death. Now I’ve got you…

A head briefly bobs into view; some poor sap in a flannel jacket it looks like. He could have been anyone: a trucker, a boy scout leader, an ex con, a missionary. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of us are what we were anymore, living or dead. Still, these special zeds give me the creeps, like there something left over in them. Like there is more to them than mindless fury. They think I’m telling you. They work out the situation.

They remember.

“Hraaaaa” the Smoker opens its mouth and from it soars out an unnaturally long tentacle, heading straight the man with the biohazard case.

TAT-TAT-TAT. A short round fires from my rifle straight at him. He ducks back, but not nearly quickly enough. They might remember, but they’re still dumb as a sack of bricks. Doesn’t matter if this one can think or not, since I know the last thing to go through its head was its teeth and a chunk of lead. With a satisfying pop the Smoker bursts into a dusty cloud of pestilence. Its tongue didn’t even reach halfway across and now hangs limply on the side of the brick wall. If I had time I’d pat myself on the back, but seems like I’m never that lucky.

“Shit, I’m jammed!” The SAW gunner shouts behind me at about roughly the same time that white haired man with the rope calls out for help as he continues to tug and pull at the black nylon line he threw over the side. Aww hell, that can’t be good. Good thing we got a momentary lull. Otherwise we’d be pretty fu-

The rooftop suddenly shudders and a terrifying roar of pure hatred reverberates from the bullet ridden stairwell top. Simmon’s rifle rings out as he joins the fray seconds before the cement opening cracks and shatters. What look like a gorilla on steroids crashes through the opening, causing half the wall to crumble. A Tank. Oh shit a Tank.


[ ] Try to draw the Tank’s attention.
[ ] Help the man pulling up the rope.
[ ] Help that damn girl reload the machine gun.
[ ] Whatever that box is, it seems important. Help cover it.
[ ] Stay where you are.

Always Optional
[ ] Use item (designate item)
>> No. 21604
[X ] Try to draw the Tank’s attention.
Hmm.. didn't you notice a propane canister just before exiting the stairwell? Set it off to stagger the tank.

[X] Help that damn girl reload the machine gun.
While the tank is dazed try to help Reisen reload the machine gun. If you are unsuccessful get away from Reisen quickly so that the tank does not focus on her.
>> No. 21629

The fuck?
>> No. 21631
Yes yes, I already had a talk with a /k/ommando about this. I should have said "m249."
>> No. 21636
[x] >>21604
>> No. 21638
[x] >>21604
>> No. 21646
File 124996188598.jpg - (152.07KB , 407x405 , Advice-Zergface-Operator-Operator-Operator-Operato.jpg ) [iqdb]
The M240 fringes on being a SAW though (Even though it is a Medium Machine Gun used mostly as a vehicle mounted weapon as opposed to the M249 which is a Light Machine Gun), with the M240b being a platoon based two man weapons system with one working ammunition and one firing (which would explain the weapon jamming, although given the condition of most M249s in service now would also make sense). If anything the the M240B is a Platoon Automatic Weapon, which would make sense to be present in a situation if scavenged from a routed Army defense force.

Regardless, semantics, etc.

Sounds like a plan.
>> No. 21761
Update please.