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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

started a Left 4 Dead story, not really super serial about it, but im gonna keep it as something to fall back on when i have nothing to write for my other projects


Old Post Jul 3rd, 2010 05:57 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Chapter 1

Four weeks after the first infection….

“C’mon, the hospital isn’t too far up the block now,” Jacob said trying to motivate his only ally.

“CEDA had better be there,” Ronnie said in a shaky voice.

Unfortunately for the pair, the whole block was infested with those things. They shambled around or fought amongst themselves for unknown reasons. Jacob and Ronnie climbed a ladder leading up to a fire escape in the alley and pulled a pair of sniper rifles from their backs. From that vantage point, they were able to take out most of the Infected until one of the shot Infected stumbled into an alarmed car before collapsing onto the ground, dead. The alarm caused every Infected person on the street and roofs surrounding the two Survivors to stand alert and look from the blaring car up to the Survivors on the roof. A unanimous cry of terrifying proportions met their ears as the Horde gathered their voices to strike fear into the Survivor’s hearts. They all bared their teeth and ran forward like a stampede of wild animals. Some only had one arm and sometimes even no arms at all, but they managed to climb the building nonetheless.

“Run!!!” Ronnie said grabbing the other Survivor by the collar and half dragged him across the twelve inch gap between the buildings.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!” Jacob was half sobbing as they ran and jumped across the rooftops.

Soon enough, they were at the corner of the street and the hospital’s emergency room seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel. Wood and steel panels covered the windows and glass doors of the emergency room, giving the building an eerie look to it in the late afternoon sun. Jacob pulled a Molotov from his belt and lit it with a butane lighter before tossing it behind him where it landed between them and the portion of the Horde who were taking the high road. Ronnie used another lighter to light a pipe bomb and tossed it towards the middle of the Horde swarming in the street. With the flames burning high and the pipe bomb’s beeping timer distracting the rest of the Infected, they made their way hastily down the fire escape. Once on the street, they each pulled out an Adrenaline shot to boost their speed across the four lane road. In the threshold of safety, they began shouting like madmen at whoever was inside.

“Open up! We’re Immune! We’re not Infected!” Jacob began shouting as he pounded his fists on the heavy steel panel.

A huge explosion rocked the ground as the Pipebomb finally went off and the flames on the roof died down. Now there weren’t anymore distractions to keep the Horde from charging full speed ahead at the two Survivors.

“Heeeeeelp!!!” Ronnie screamed on the top of his lungs.

The sound of shelves being moved aside and the screech of the metal panel being pulled out of the way rang in their ears. Hands reached out from the darkness of the doorway and pulled Ronnie and Jacob inside just before the Infected could reach them. Four pairs of hands struggled against the weight of the Infected as they pushed against the steel panel. Finally, they were able to secure it with a chain before piling wooden boards and cement blocks along the edges of the panel and toping it all of with a heavy metal shelf. Jacob and Ronnie collapsed onto the floor, out of breath and with adrenaline still pumping in their veins.

“Are you two alright?” a woman’s voice asked sounding slightly panicked.

Standing above them with her hands on her knees was a sight for sore eyes. An honest to goodness woman who wasn’t foaming at the mouth and trying to bite either of the men’s faces off. Her brown eyes stared at them, awaiting an answer while her blonde hair was messy and unkempt as if she had just rolled out of bed. Still, she was gorgeous. She was wearing a black t-shirt depicting an Australian band famous for their lead guitarist sporting a school uniform at the age of 55 and a pair of dirty jeans. Strapped onto her back were an axe and a Combat Shotgun and strapped to her thighs in holsters were a pair of pistols.

“Just a little tired is all,” Jacob answered trying to puff out his chest like a tough guy, but instead he erupted into a coughing fit.

“Here, take a drink, son,” said a man with wise blue eyes and salt and pepper hair.

He was wearing a blue button up shirt with a black tie and black formal pants. Judging by the ID pinned to his belt, he was a doctor. He handed the men each a bottle of water and began assessing their wounds. He had an AK-47 on his arm and a magnum on his thigh, but otherwise he looked like any normal doctor one would see in a hospital like the one they were in now. He even pulled a pen light from his breast pocket and flashed the light briefly into their eyes.

“You look fine except for some dehydration and fatigue,” the doctor concluded.

“Thank you, both of you,” Ronnie choked out once he had found his voice.

“No problem, you’re the first Survivors we’ve seen in two days,” the woman said sitting on one of the benches that lined the room. “I’m Angela by the way.”

“And I’m Peter,” the doctor introduced himself.



“Well boys, it looks like we’re up shit creek without a paddle,” Angela said sounding tired.

“That’s not true,” Peter corrected. “We’re armed, and if we can make it to the garage, we can escape in my van.”

“Great! Which way is that?” Ronnie asked.

“Through the staff cafeteria and down a flight of steps. It’s parked on the lowest level with the rest of the surgeons,” he explained.

“Excellent! Let’s go!” Jacob exclaimed excitedly.

“One problem, though… my keys are in my office,” Peter said solemnly.

“How big of a detour is that?” Angela asked looking at the map behind a glass case on the wall.

“Instead of cutting through the cafeteria, we’ll have to venture through the morgue, that should lead us to a clear path to my van,” he said.

“Morgue… great,” Ronnie choked.


Old Post Jul 3rd, 2010 05:58 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Chapter 2- The Witch

Jacob led the group out the door with Peter close behind him to give directions. Ronnie brought up the rear and Angela was right behind Peter. There weren’t as many Infected as they had initially expected in the hospital, but something told them that it would soon change. They had to climb up one of the elevator shafts when they discovered the stairs to be blocked and the elevator cables to be broken. Once on the correct floor, the ominous sounds of one of the most feared Infected met their ears.

“Shh! Everyone, turn your lights off,” Jacob said as soon as everyone had climbed out of the shaft.

They froze in their spots and listened with breaths held. A soft sobbing could be heard over the various sounds of other Infected hiding somewhere on the floor and still outside in the streets of Los Angeles. Normally, the sound would indicate either a child who’s lost her mother or a woman who is in need of assistance, but after a month of dealing with the new world and it’s rules, this sobbing struck not sympathy but cold fear into the hearts of even the toughest men.

“It’s a Witch,” Ronnie squeaked.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Angela whispered sarcastically.

“Be quiet guys,” Peter ordered. “Let’s just keep moving, okay?”

They tiptoed through the hall as best as they could. Infected began to bombard them more and more as they ventured forth. The closer and closer they got the louder and louder the Witch’s cries became, which didn’t sit well with anyone. Finally, Peter told them his office was right around the corner, but when Angela peeked to check for Infected, she darted back with a strangled gasp.

“That many?” Ronnie asked clutching his gun with white knuckles.

“No… she’s right there,” she said referring to the Witch.

Sitting and rocking on the floor directly across from the door to Peter’s office was the Witch. Her long fingered hands were covering her eyes as she sobbed continuously and her hair flopping back and forth as she rocked. Whatever remained of her clothing hung on her pale, thin body in grey rags. Even though she looked like on of those anorexic super-models, every survivor standing in that corridor knew what strength lay hidden away. From their vantage point, the sickly sweet odor of rotted meat was strong in their nostrils.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan,” Jacob said moving into action.

He grabbed a discarded gurney and set it up like a barricade where he crouched down on the rubble strewn floor and mounted his sniper rifle on the top. He explained that he would provide cover for Peter as he snuck past the Witch as quietly as possible into his office to grab the key. If she became agitated and began growling, he would lock in on her and if she looked like she was about to stand up and attack, he would shoot her in the head. This however, wouldn’t kill her instantly, but only stun her. Hopefully the stunned Witch would give them enough time to regroup around the corner further down the hall where they would hit her with everything they had.

“Are you sure that’ll work?” Ronnie croaked.

“Who knows, maybe she’ll just keep coming regardless,” Jacob said with a shrug.

“Excellent,” Ronnie said.

“At least it’s a plan, something to do instead of just running in guns blazing,” Angela said reloading her shotgun.

“I’m ready, let’s do this thing,” Peter announced standing up from his crouched position.

Once Jacob took his spot and lined the Witch up in his sights, Peter moved out from behind the gurney. As he twisted the doorknob and slipped inside soft growls could be heard in between the Witches sobs which made Jacob position his finger close to the trigger. Inside the office, Peter rummaged through his desk until he finally found his car keys; he also grabbed his surgeon’s tools just in case. When he reemerged from the door, he was clutching the keys in one hand so they wouldn’t jingle and the case under his arm while he held a pistol in the other hand, finger hovering right over the trigger. Once again, the Witch began to growl softly in between the sobs as she rocked back and forth.

Peter thought he was home free when the gigantic fist of a Charger punched through the wall and knocked him backwards. Jacob kept his sights on the Witch because her growls grew louder and louder with the shouts from the Charger and the survivors. Ronnie aimed his Assault Rifle at the Charger and fired a continuous stream of bullets. When the chamber clicked empty, he quickly reloaded and continued shooting until the Infected was dead. An angry scream came from behind Peter and he darted out of the way just in time for the Witch to get her claws embedded in the wall right where his head used to be.

Jacob squeezed the trigger and the Witch stumbled back for a few seconds, long enough for Ronnie, Angela and Jacob to line up shots once Peter was out of the way. They knew she was only after Peter, the person who startled her so they unloaded everything they had into her frail looking body until she finally collapsed. Infected began to pour out of their hiding places and Angela shouted for Peter to stick the case of surgeon’s tools and his car keys into her backpack so he could help them shoot. More and more Infected came at them from all directions as they backed away to the elevator shaft. At last the coast was clear enough for them to climb back down the ladder and down through the roof of the elevator where they found themselves in a corridor leading to the morgue.


Old Post Jul 6th, 2010 01:48 AM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Chapter 3- The Screamer

“You know, when I was a kid… I always wanted to be a witch,” Angela panted as she leaned against a wall. “You know, like from Harry Potter?”

“I’m guessing that dream changed, huh?” Ronnie asked.

“**** yeah, it has,” she chuckled.

“I don’t have a lot of ammo left guys,” Peter announced.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find some soon enough,” Angela comforted.

“Yeah, there’s all kinds of safehouses set up all over the city, they have ammunition by the crate in every one of them,” Jacob said.

“Well, we’re almost home free, at least,” Peter said. “The morgue is right through those doors to the left.”

“Hey guys… listen…,” Ronnie said.

Somewhere down the hall, strange cackling sounds could be heard.

“Could it be a Jockey?” Peter asked.

“No… the Jockey sounds different,” Jacob said. “It screams more… this one sounds more like a mental patient.”

“Well I highly doubt a mental patient broke out of the secure mental ward un-Infected,” Peter said in a strangled tone.

“I don’t like this, it’s coming right from inside the morgue,” Angela said sounding scared for the first time.

Slowly they ventured forth down the hall. They checked to make sure their weapons were all fully loaded before they looked through the wire-meshed glass in the swinging doors. Inside they saw exactly what it sounded like: a mental patient. He was shuffling around the room with his arms bound in a straightjacket. He didn’t seem to notice his surroundings as he shambled around and occasionally bumped into the autopsy tables. His head lulled back and forth and his eyes rolled wildly in his eye sockets. A perpetual grin contorted his face and saliva rolled over his lips as he laughed madly.

“What the **** is that thing?” Ronnie asked breaking the stunned silence of the survivors.

The Infected mental patient immediately stopped his shuffling. His head rolled to face the survivors and it bobbed up and down with each soft cackle. Then it did something they’d never seen an Infected do before… the grin on its face changed from one of madness, to one of pure malice. Suddenly it rushed towards them, leaning its body forward as it pushed through the doors with surprising strength. The survivors were thrown to the ground and the Infected ran off towards the elevator and turned the corner.

“Where’s it going?” Angela asked.

“I don’t know…,” Peter said standing back up.

“Well what’s down there?” she asked.

“Uhh… um… the cafeteria… the MRI… and XRAY,” he said pausing to think.

“Let’s follow it!” Angela shouted just before taking off.

They pursued the mental patient as it ran with speed through the halls. The entire way, it was cackling and laughing manically. Finally it ran through a set of swinging, double doors and Angela, who was leading the pursuit, ran in after it. There, in the center of the cafeteria it stood with that same evil grin. Angela reacted far too late as the Infected had already reared its head back and opened its mouth wide. It sucked in a great amount of air before expelling it all out in one tremendous scream. The scream was far more terrifying than the Witch’s sobs or the Tank’s growls, it sounded like something from a world not their own. Finally, the scream cut off and the equally terrifying answering scream of a Horde was heard.

“Shoot that little bastard!” Jacob screamed as the Horde began to smash in the windows and climb through.

Angela put a single shell into the patient’s brain and it fell to the floor in a lifeless heap. Even though the perpetrator was dead, the damage had been done, and the Horde now advanced on them in even bigger numbers than the one caused by the car alarm. It was a daunting sight to see so many people after them at once, but somehow, the four survivors struck up their courage and held back the Horde. Peter called out for them to follow him and they did so without hesitation. Away from the Horde they went until they finally found a heavy steel door labeled “Parking Garage- B Level” in red, stenciled letters. The survivors threw open the door and slammed it shut, but a slab of concrete crashed through the other side and sent them all slamming into a pillar.

“It’s a ****ing Taaaaaaaaaank!” Ronnie screamed on the top of his lungs.

They heaved the slab away from them and ran as fast as their injuries would allow. Every once in a while an Infected would get close enough that they had to take a shot to get rid of the creature. Once, an Infected dubbed the Spitter spat a glob of acidic goop in their path and they had to stop for a few seconds until the pool dissipated. All the while, the Tank continued to barrage them with cars and slabs of concrete from the floor, ceiling or pillars. Fed up, Angela turned and unloaded her gun into the Tank so that it finally fell to the ground as dead as a doornail.

At long last, they were able to climb into the doctor’s van and speed off towards the exit. Peter ran down more than one zombie in his pursuit for the exit and had to clean the windshield of their blood more than once. In the back, Ronnie and Jacob bounced around as if they were inside a pinball machine. Peter crashed through the exit with spectacular brilliance worthy of a cheesy Hollywood action movie and they sped off into the sunset to find a safe house that would accommodate a van. Just as the sunset had begun to touch the famous “Hollywood” sign, they found an auto body shop that had been converted into a safe house.


Old Post Jul 6th, 2010 01:49 AM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Chapter 4- The Safe House

Most safe houses were a small room set aside in convenient places such as a storeroom. Some were nicer than others, featuring sinks or even toilets, while some were simply reinforced shacks set up in a section of a tunnel or even in a train car. Regardless of where they were, they were almost always impenetrable, like the converted emergency room at the hospital. They were fully stocked with dehydrated food, bottled water, medical supplies, ammunition and, most importantly, weapons. CEDA, the Civil Emergency and Defence Agency encouraged people to set them up in the early days of the infection, known to most people as the Green Flu.

When shit really began to hit the fan, CEDA was relieved of its duties to protect the public and the Army stepped in to take over by order of the government. They make regular sweeps every city to restock safe houses and evacuate any people immune to the Green Flu. No one knows what happens once you get taken in by the Army, but most people believe they take you to one of a thousand ships sailing the oceans where they keep you until the infection blows over. If that will ever happen. When CEDA was trying to deal with the infection as quietly as possible, they would separate people they suspected of being Carriers and people who were truly immune. Carriers are people who aren’t affected by the symptoms of the Green Flu but can still pass it on to others. That proved worthless as deemed by the military and so they stepped in and shut CEDA down for good.

The safe house the survivors had discovered was one of the rare gigantic safe rooms that was big enough to fill two city buses inside. It was even stocked with tools to fix vehicles up and a generator for power, as long as it was gassed up properly. The survivors had just finished a meal when Jacob began to walk around the room and read the graffiti left behind by survivors who had passed through. It was everywhere in the city, telling people where to go and what to expect as well as messages to friends and family who can’t sit around forever and wait. Once you looked past the death tolls, you could find some pretty interesting conversations on the walls.

“How’s the graffiti look, Jake?” Peter asked.

“Well, it looks as if San Fernando and Beverly Hills are completely overrun,” he announced sadly.

“I wonder how many celebs are running around out there,” Angela wondered out loud as she scraped the bottom of a soup can for one last mouthful.

“Are you kidding? All those rich, hoity toity bastards? They probably got the first express out of this hellhole as soon as rumors began to spread,” Jake laughed.

“Who’s your favorite actor?” Ronnie asked to no one in particular.

“Mila Jovovich,” Peter said.

“Mel Brooks,” Angela answered.

“Robert DeNiro,” Jacob called from the other side of the room.

“Kristen Stewart,” Ronnie said last.

“Really? She’s a terrible actor!” Angela chuckled.

“Not really,” Ronnie mumbled shyly.

“To each their own, I guess,” she said setting the soup can aside.

“So what did you do for a living, Angela?” Peter asked.

“I was an NCIS special agent,” she said leaning back against her backpack. “Stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Before that I was in the Navy, got up to Lieutenant Commander before I left.”

“Shit… so you’re like a federal agent?” Ronnie asked.

“Got the badge to prove it,” she said reaching into a pocket on her backpack and pulled out her ID.

“I was a neurosurgeon,” Peter said as he passed the badge to Ronnie.

“I lived at home with my mom,” Ronnie said, his cheeks turned red.

“What about you, Jake? What was your job?” Angela asked.

“LAPD. Saw some of the first incidents of the infection, saw it take my buddies,” he answered.

“I was on an assignment here in LA, I don’t even know if my friends made it out alive or not,” Angela said.

“I studied Patient X’s charts, they even managed to ship his body to the hospital for study,” Peter explained.

“Really?” Jacob asked moving away from the graffiti covered walls.

“No one knows what his name was, either due to the government covering it up or because he never gave a name. There wasn’t even a medical history included in the chart. I took brain matter samples for analysis and studied the EEG’s from his time spent in the hospital,” he continued.

“So do you know what happened? What the hell the infection is?” Ronnie asked.

“According to the results, most signs pointed to a severely mutated strain of rabies. There was an animal bite on his left forearm and several claw marks,” he said.

“So an animal with rabies, or some form of rabies, attacked him. What kind of animal was it?” Angela asked.

“It was too difficult to tell because decomposition had taken its toll,” he explained.

“What about cause of death?” Jacob asked.

“Blunt force trauma to the temple,” he said. “When he turned, he began to attack the doctors and nurses, even bit a few before someone hit him with something heavy. Like an IV stand or telephone or something.”

“That is something,” Ronnie said. “I was at the mall with some girl I knew from college when they started attacking. We locked ourselves in a bathroom, but she’d been bitten. Eventually she turned on me and I had to drown her in one of the toilets.”

“Death by swirly,” Angela laughed.

They all laughed for a few minutes before calming down and settling into a silence. Outside they could hear Infected screaming and pounding on the door.

“Well, it looks like we’re in this together from now on, huh?” Angela asked.

“Looks like it,” Jacob agreed leaning against a stack of snow tires.

“We should have a plan, someplace to head to,” Peter said.

“The ocean. Steal a boat or something and just sail around,” Ronnie said.

“That’s good. We could stick somewhat close to the shoreline, just in case,” Angela said.

“So we have a plan, then. We find a harbor, steal a boat and sail,” Jacob said. He yawned and closed his eyes. “Now let’s sleep.”


Old Post Jul 7th, 2010 05:59 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Chapter 5- San Pedro

It took a few days to navigate the streets of LA before they finally found a clear path to San Pedro. A lot of debris littered the sidewalks and many buildings had collapsed at the hands of a Tank or a Charger chasing down other survivors. But at last they managed to drive to the bridge that connected to the highway. However, the bridge was clogged with cars and sixteen-wheelers as far as the eye could see. This forced the group to abandon their mode of transportation and walk the length of the highway to San Pedro on foot.

“Well… it looks like we’re going to have to do things the old fashioned way,” Angela sighed looking out the windshield.

“There’s plenty of Infected everywhere, that’s for sure,” Peter said.

“Let’s just get this thing over with, okay? I don’t like sitting here in the open,” Jacob said gripping the door handle.

They took a quick stock of their health packs, pills and ammo stash before leaving the van behind with the key still in the ignition. Immediately they found a sign that pointed out the direction to San Pedro. It stated that it was about five miles away and then it went on to list the various attractions in the harbor area.

“Awesome, we can stop and get a burger from Burger Tank before we take a stroll through the park,” Angela joked.

“And then we can all go see a movie after checking into a hotel,” Ronnie continued on.

“Man, I hope a Smoker doesn’t sit in front of me, those guys are taller than NBA stars,” she laughed.

“A Smoker’s going to kill your asses if you don’t pay attention!” Jacob shouted shooting into the trees behind the sign.

“Sorry,” Ronnie said smothering a smile.

Ten miles later, three close calls and a Witch dodging later, they found the exit to San Pedro. Like the rest of the highway, the road leading off was a maze of cars. There seemed to be a lot of bodies, both Infected and non-Infected, as they traversed the streets. Night began to fall and they decided to take refuge in the back of a gas station at the bottom of the off-ramp. There, they found bad news in the writing on the walls.

“****in’ shit!” Jacob cried in the middle of his reading.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked startled.

“Looks like there aren’t anymore boats left in the harbor,” he announced.

“When was the last writing?” Ronnie asked.

“The day before yesterday,” Jacob said grimly as he sat down.

“We’re in LA, there’s bound to be more than one household with a boat,” Angela said trying to keep hope alive.

“And then what? All the streets are clogged worse than a morbidly obese guy’s arteries,” Ronnie stated.

“That’s true,” she mumbled feeling a bit deflated.

“There has to be a way out of here,” Peter pondered.

“How about we check it out anyway? We came all this way, we can’t just give it all up now,” Angela said. “Maybe the Navy or Army came back and are waiting for survivors. That message is a few days old by now, shit changes everyday.”

“You are overly optimistic, you know that?” Ronnie asked with a laugh.

“Somebody has to be,” she shrugged.

“Okay, tomorrow we’ll go to the docks, see if anyone is there,” Peter agreed.

* * *
It turned out that there weren’t any boats left. Neither a cargo ship, nor a speed boat was tied up at the docks. Even Angela’s optimism couldn’t salvage the group’s spirits. They took shelter in a warehouse for the time being until they could think of something else to do. So to pass the time by, they talked about their lives before the zombie apocalypse. Angela talked about her life in the Navy then Jacob recounted various nights on the job as a police officer.

“I was actually going to be a lawyer when I graduated from high school,” Ronnie revealed when it was his turn.

“Wow. Really?” Peter asked, impressed.

“Yep, I had it all planned out, until my dad died and left all his money to this mistress he had been seeing behind my mom’s back for years. I applied for federal aid and various scholarships, but was shot down every time. Eventually I gave up,” he explained. “I got a job in a gun store, learned to shoot and spent the rest of my time playing World of Warcraft. Sometimes I’d go days without sleep, my body just running on the fumes of coffee, Mountain Dew and adrenaline.”

“You mean you didn’t have a girlfriend or anything?” Angela asked.

“Are you kidding?” he laughed bitterly. “I’m a nerd. A loser. In LA, girls didn’t dig losers who still lived with their moms. In school and even in the neighborhood they tended to look down on me because I didn’t drive a car that cost an arm and a leg.”

“You weren’t there to please them,” she scoffed. “You’re supposed to find someone who pleases you and if they in turn are pleased by you, then it’s a match.”

“Maybe where you come from, but this is a whole different world from the one you came from,” Ronnie cried in a frustrated tone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was in your shoes at one time. After I graduated college, I was shot down for all the scholarships I had applied for. Then the schools I was trying to enroll in rejected me because of my math scores on the SAT. That’s when I joined the Navy. They didn’t care if I didn’t know the formula to determine the area of a ten sided polygon, only that I was willing to serve my country. Then I found a new calling in NCIS after they popped onto the submarine I was stationed on had a murder case. I had always been interested in forensics as a kid, so I requested a transfer. Two months later I’m puking my guts out the first time I see an autopsy.”

“But I bet there were guys lining up around the block to date you, right?” Ronnie asked with a touch of bitterness.

“Wrong,” she corrected. “For I, too, was an outcast. Im my school days I never went with what everybody else thought. I had a mind of my own and I used it. Still do occasionally.” She knocked a fist lightly to her skull. “I didn’t listen to the same music or watch the same movies or wear the same clothes as everybody else. That made me an outcast. While everyone was rushing out to the stores to pick up the newest Usher or Nelly CD, I listened to my parent’s old records from their teenage years. While everyone was obsessed with wearing Abercrombie and Fitch, I had to wear my brother’s old hand-me-downs. When asked for my opinion, I gave it, and was in turn told to shut the **** up.” She paused to take a breath. “The closest I ever came to dating a guy was in training camp. He was a Navy brat living on the base where I was trained. But it turned out he was dipping his fingers into one too many pies, if you catch my drift. Eventually his father, a general, banned him from setting foot onto the training grounds.”

They sat in silence for a long time after that, the only sound between them was a humming coming from outside in the harbor. Eventually the humming got louder and louder until it turned into a roar in their ears.

“What the hell is that?!” Jacob screamed.

“Whatever it is, it’s definitely going to attract a horde!” Peter stated loudly.

Suddenly the floor beneath their feet shook with the force of an earthquake and the survivors were thrown to the floor. Finally the roaring and shaking stopped and through ringing ears they heard the cry of the horde. More shaking occurred as a Tank or two ran by. One of the Tanks jumped onto the room and left giant dents as it ran. The survivors all ran over to one of the boarded up windows and peered tentatively through the gaps between the boards. The Infected didn’t pause once to look back at the warehouse as they sprinted to the cause of the crash. It turned out to be a ship, a cargo ship according to Angela. The hull was severely damaged but didn’t seem to be punctured anywhere. The zombies tore through the doors leading below deck and disappeared into the innards of the ship.

Then they did something no one had ever thought possible… they retreated. The survivors ducked out of sight as the horde ran past once again. A Tank, most likely the same one, jumped onto the roof again in one huge bound. This time, his feet nearly came through the metal roof. Whatever was in that ship had scared the shit out of an entire horde of zombies.

“We should check it out,” Angela whispered for fear of Infected that decided to stick around.

“Are you crazy?” Ronnie squeaked.

“Like a fox,” she responded.

“It is a ship,” Peter said glancing over to his comrades.

“And we’ve got enough weapons to take down whatever is on that ship,” Jacob agreed.

“Or… or maybe there wasn’t anything on the ship,” Ronnie said, trying to be positive.

“There you go,” Angela smiled. “That’s optimism, my friend.”


Old Post Jul 8th, 2010 05:09 AM
That ACDC Chick is currently offline Click here to Send That ACDC Chick a Private Message Find more posts by That ACDC Chick Edit/Delete Message Reply w/Quote Quick Quote
That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Chapter 6- The Ship

They stepped onto the ship, gunning down any lone zombies as they did so. When they reached for the door, Angela froze and pressed a finger to her lips. From the other side of the door they could hear a moaning sound. It sent chills down the spines of the four survivors so bad that even Jacob’s knuckles turned white. The sound was all too familiar, the recent memory of their encounter in the hospital still very fresh in their minds. This time, however, it seemed that there was more than one inside.

“M-maybe it’s… it’s just the hull of the ship,” Angela stammered. She swallowed and stared at the door as if she could see through the five inch-thick steel. “You know… ships and subs make all sorts of strange noises… especially at night.”

Her hand continued to hover over the door handle as she listened. Inside, the moaning seemed to move around slightly. Finally she sucked in a breath, wrenched open the door and shone their lights inside. The moaning turned out to be coming from an unusually large number of Witches sitting in every available space inside the hallway leading below deck. The survivors all cursed silently before shutting off their lights.

“Let’s just back away slowly and go back to the safe house,” Peter whispered.

Angela swung the door closed as quietly and as quickly as she dared. But the salty air of the Pacific Ocean caused the door hinges to squeak, the sound was like the cry of a large bird in the night. The Witches began to growl. Finally, Angela spun the wheel on the door that acted as the lock. She backed away slowly alongside the rest of her allies. No one knew if a Witches claws could cut through five inches of steel, but it seemed that with all those Witches just in the front hallway, the combined effort could tear that door to shreds.

About halfway across the deck, Ronnie tripped over the door to one of the shipping crates on deck. This sent him crashing to the cold metal and his gun flew out of his hand. When it landed, the flashlight clicked on and the gun misfired right into the path of a Witch sitting in the shadows on the deck. Her head whipped around to glare at the harsh light, her eyes glowing red in the beam. She bared her teeth before standing and gave out a terrifying shriek. Ronnie tried to stand up and run but the Witch was much faster. She caught him in the torso with her claws leaving a trail of gashes on his side. He stumbled forward and held onto the railing of the ship, his hands clutched at the wound, but blood gushed forth between his fingers.

She tackled him from seemingly nowhere and both Infected and survivor flipped over the railing and splattered onto the pavement below. However, the Witch survived the fall but unfortunately, Ronnie didn’t make it. She took a few more swipes at his lifeless body before she saw his neck twisted at an impossible angle. The Witch took a few more swipes at his already lifeless body before letting out another otherworldly shriek and running off into the night. The survivors stood helplessly on the deck, staring in horror at the scene they had just witnessed.

In the old world, before zombies leapt straight out of fiction and into reality, there was a lot of violence. There were wars, both abroad and at home, murders and other despicable acts of violence the public was made known. And that was just the nightly news. There were also Hollywood blockbusters that made their money scaring the living daylights out of anyone who dared to watch them. Songs describing violent and lewd acts in their lyrics, some decades old. And there were video games that cashed in on the human desire to shoot things in the head until they didn’t move anymore. But this… the brutal slaying of Ronnie, a would-be law student and constant outcast, was something not even the best CGI could recreate accurately.

The survivors made it down to the dock in a stunned haze. Angela remembered closing Ronnie’s fear-filled eyes before they slid him into the ocean. She remembered his blood on her hands, an inky black in the moonlight, once he had sunk below the surface. The last thing she remembered was a few stray tears falling from her eyes as Peter and Jacob guided her inside the safe house and closed the door tightly behind them. She awoke the next morning under her sleeping bag. She, Jacob and Peter had pulled their bags close together and slept as if they were cramped in a tiny room. She sat up and expected to see Ronnie sprawled out on the other side of Jacob or Peter. But his sleeping bag was still empty as it lay a few feet away.

For the rest of the day, they all expected Ronnie to knock on the front door to the safe house or pop up from behind the crates of dehydrated food and tell them it was all a bad dream. But the bad dream never ended as they were reminded of his death when they glanced outside and saw the pool of blood at the edge of the dock. They held a silent vigil in his honor and didn’t dare to venture outside their sanctuary for another three days.

* * *
“So we need another plan,” Jacob determined on the fourth morning.

They were still sipping on coffee from tin cans that once held soup inside when the subject came up.

“Yeah, we can’t continue to skulk around this safe house for the rest of our lives,” Angela agreed.

“There’s bound to be a security office or a police station around here somewhere,” Peter pondered. “Or at least something that has a radio tower.”

“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Angela asked slyly.

“If that line of thought includes radioing the Navy? Then yes,” he answered.

“I like it,” Jacob said.

“So let’s first find a map of this place,” Angela suggested.

“That gas station is bound to have some,” Peter said tossing the tin can he used as a cup aside.

“So it’s agreed then? We go to the gas station and find a map, from there, we find the nearest radio tower and contact the Navy,” Angela said.

“Not to sound corny, but let’s do this,” Jacob said holstering a Magnum.


Old Post Jul 9th, 2010 05:18 AM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

woohoo for a new project!!

Chapter 1- Around the Block
2 Weeks After First Infection
“Hold up,” Bill called quietly as they walked through an alleyway filled with the corpses of Infected.
He was looking down at one of the bodies; the torso seemed to have been blown to smithereens, leaving only the legs behind. He bent down, his bad knee cracking painfully as he did, and scooped up a bit of the green liquid leaking from the corpse.
“Ain’t seen anything like this before,” he muttered staring at the reeking substance.
“Jesus,” Francis said loudly from behind Bill. “Don’t let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself.”
Bill looked up at Francis and gave him one of his best glares, one earned from tour after tour in Vietnam. He stood up and moved on, smearing the bile on Francis’ vest as he went.
“They’re changing,” he grumbled.
“Aww…. Dammit, Bill! Augh, it stinks!” the burly man shouted, trying as best as he could to wipe it off.
Louis chuckled softly from beside Francis. That’s when they heard the crying.
“Someone’s still alive!” Zoey said squashing down the instinct that it might be a trap.
They located the source of the crying. It seemed to be coming from behind a metal door set into one of the buildings lining the alley. Bill cautiously pushed the door open to reveal a pitch black room. Zoey turned the flashlight attached to the end of one of her two pistols and panned it across the immediate area. They moved forward slowly, keeping in a crouch and keeping their eyes peeled for any Infected hiding in the darkness. As they got deeper into the room, the crying began to grow louder.
“Hello? Hello?” Zoey called out in a soothing tone. Lightning flashed outside and illuminated the room for a split second. “It’s okay… we’re gonna-.”
“Lights off!” Bill hissed pushing Zoey’s flashlight away from one of the back corners.
She looked questioningly at the old man but the realization quickly dawned on her. A woman crying, sitting in a pitch black room and agitated by light: they had stumbled upon a Witch. They began to back away as slowly and quietly as they could while outside Louis and Francis stood guard outside the door. Then, from the end of the alleyway they had came from, snarls and cries of Infected started to approach. Francis began firing upon the crowd with his pump shotgun.
“Oh shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Louis cried. He ran into through to door to alert Bill and Zoey. “They’re coming!”
He shined the light on the end of his submachine gun over to Bill and Zoey and right into the face of the Witch. She turned and glared at Louis with red eyes and a snarl on her lips.
“What the-,” he began.
“Run like hell!!!” Zoey screamed rising from the floor and running out.
Right before he left the room, Bill turned and shot a few rounds at the Witch before grabbing the door knob and slamming the heavy door in the Witch’s face. This, however, did not stop her as she used her clawed hands to punch a dent in the metal door the size of a tire. Louis held his body against the door until she punched a hole through the door. Louis shouted and took a few steps back before unloading the clip of his SMG into the Witch.
“Do you like that?!” he asked with his finger holding down the trigger.
“Stick together!” Francis shouted as they began to be surrounded.
From above the survivors on a fire escape, a Smoker reared back and shot forth his tongue with a smoke filled cry. The tongue wrapped itself around Bill and hauled him a few feet from the ground.
Francis saw the Vietnam vet dangling in mid-air. “Hold on!” he shouted.
He shot the Smoker, which burst into a cloud of smoke and severed the tongue holding Bill.
“Guys…?” Zoey asked.
Francis hauled Bill to his feet and shot the Infected approaching from behind him and then the one behind Bill.
“Merry Christmas!” he said with that unbearable smirk of his.
Zoey unstrapped the pipe bomb she held on her waist and tossed it into the center of the incoming Infected. The beeping and flashing light attached to the pipe bomb attracted them immediately and they all ran for the beeping little death trap.
“Fire in the hole!” she screamed.
They ducked for cover behind a dumpster at the end of the alleyway and when the bomb exploded, it sent a red mist of Infected and body parts flying through the air. Louis looked up after the explosion to see a helicopter flying overhead.
“Hey!” he shouted, running after it and into the middle of the street. “We’re over here! We’re not infected! Down here!”
The helicopter flew on, not able to see Louis waving his arms back and forth.
“Dammit!” he cursed when it disappeared behind the city’s skyline.
Behind him, a Hunter positioned itself on the edge of a building. It hopped down and dangled from one arm, ready to pounce. Beneath its hood, the Hunter pulled its lips back into a snarl and let out a terrifying scream as it pounced on Louis, pinning him to the ground.
Zoey ran over, knocked the Hunter off of Louis and opened fire on it as it staggered back using a pair of pistols. Louis then pulled his own pistol from his waist and delivered the final headshot to the creature, knocking it into an alarmed car. The body of the Hunter set the car alarm off, which blared louder than hell in the dark night. The cry of the horde of Infected was horrifying, even more so than the cry of a Witch. It gave the survivors nightmares every time they closed their eyes in a safe room. Waves of Infected poured over the fences and through the streets, following the source of their rage.
“Oh, this is gonna get bad,” Bill said.
Then another sound rose over the horde’s cries, a deep, booming sound that resonated in the survivor’s heads and shook their bones with every step it took: a Tank. As the Tank ran, it threw its tree trunk-sized arms into the air, not caring if it hit other zombies or various obstacles in its way. One punch hit a car, sending it flying into a fence behind the survivors and knocking a huge chunk out of it.
“Run … or shoot?” Louis asked with a terrified look on his face.
Bill narrowed his eyes at the incoming monster.
“Run or shoot?!” Louis cried, his voice teeming with fear.
“Both!” Bill ordered.
They clamored into another alleyway; all the while shoot the Tank and its accompanying horde.
“Get to the roof!” Louis shouted pointing to a fire escape.
“Go! Go! Go!” Francis shouted as he unloaded on the Tank from the base of the ladder. “Come one! Come on!”
Just as the Tank was about to smash Francis into a pancake, Bill opened fire, enraging the Tank. It turned on the old man who dodged the incoming fist and the Tank smashed through a brick wall. Angrier than ever, the Tank grabbed a slab of concrete from the ground and hurled it at the Francis and Louis, who were scrambling up the fire escape.
“Heads up!” Louis shouted, dodging the slab by an inch.
Bill reached for the ladder and Zoey appeared over the edge of the railing on top of the fire escape.
“Go! I’ll hold them off!” she screamed firing into the crowd in order for the men to finish their climb.
The Tank followed the survivors up the ladder, and the metal supports embedded into the side of the building began to give away. As the fire escape fell away from the building, one of Zoey’s guns flew from her hand and her stomach did a somersault as she fell through the air for a split second.
“Francis!” she cried out as she grabbed hold of his outstretched hand.
He and Louis hulled her over the edge of the roof and collapsed, breathless from their battle.
“We made it! I can’t believe we made it!” Louis laughed.
“Son, we just crossed the street,” Bill said gruffly. He paused to light a cigarette. “Let’s not throw a party ‘til we’re outta the city.”
He walked over the S.O.S. sign painted on the roof and over to a table underneath an awning which held an ammo cache and health packs. Below them in the street, swarms of Infected surrounded the flaming car left behind by the Tank.


Old Post Oct 11th, 2010 01:51 AM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

haven't been posting in here a lot, huh?
i haven't even been writing all too much lately anyways not really in the mood for it
but i was working on a POTC story, might pick it back up, might let it sit and collect dust for a while more, who knows

Part 1- Ch. 1
Port Atún- 1743

“Stop that man!!!” a woman shouted from the doorway to a bakery. She pointed a gnarled, dough covered finger at a man walking nonchalantly down the dirt road with an overly bulky coat draped over his shoulders.
When the heads turned, his hesitated for just a second, and that second was enough for a roll to tumble from under his coat and land in the dirt at his feet.
“Bugger,” the man muttered under his breath before taking off at full speed, no longer taking care to keep the sack hidden under his coat.
He dipped and dived through markets and down alleyways but the small mob of commoners stuck to him like flies on a corpse. It was some time before he finally managed to get ahead enough from the pack that he was able to duck behind a stack of crates and give them the slip. He chuckled at their stupidity and his own genius before opening the sack and selecting a delectable looking loaf of bread to sink into. He tore a sizeable chunk from it and lifted the break to his mouth when he heard someone whisper his name.
“Sparrow… Jack Sparrow,” someone said in a deep, booming tone.
His hand froze just before his mouth and he felt his heart race. He knew that voice, but where from? He clutched the sack of bread to his chest and peaked slowly around the edge of the crates.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jack said with a “please-don’t-kill-me” grin when he saw the figure towering over him, “was this your hiding spot?”
The figure’s shadow engulfed the pirate captain and his world turned black when the blow hit his head.
Meanwhile, on a ship longer than it was wide cut through the waves at haste. This was the Triton; a ship crewed by a band of ruthless pirates, each with a dozen stories to tell from a single mark on their bodies. At the helm stood the captain; a woman captain. She barked orders with a voice sharper than the twin blades tucked away on her hips. Her hair billowed out in the sea breeze, shining silver in the setting sun. First glances at the Triton’s captain sent some men, the ignorant ones, snickering, others, the smart ones, cowered back once they laid eyes on her approach. Then there were other men who dared challenge the captain, these were the stupid ones.
As they made their final approach to the docks, a line of crew hauled the rigging to tuck away the sails while the rest worked to slowly lower the two 3-ton anchors into the waters. Out of the corner of her eye, the Triton’s captain saw a ship darker than shadows slip away from the harbor and disappear into the setting sun. Her sea-blue eyes narrowed at the sight, but a call from her first mate drew her attention away.
“Ready to make port, Captain Bartimaeus!” the man, Adamsson was his name, shouted over the sounds of rigging groaning under their load and men grunting as they worked.
“Good, heave starboard anchor by a foot or so, I can feel it digging into the floor too far,” she ordered.
Bartimaeus was not her true family name, but she had decided on it long ago to fill in the gap left from only having a first name.
‘Can’t have the men call their captain by their first name,’ she had said. ‘It doesn’t instill the respect the title demands.’
She turned the wheel until the narrow ship was able to pull up to the dock, missing it by a fraction. As soon as the nose brushed past the edge of the dock, men swung down to run ahead and secure the two foot diameter ropes to the poles sticking up from the bottom of the shallow harbor. They pulled taught as soon as they were secured and prevented the nose of the ship from ramming into the shore.
“Men!” Captain Bartimaeus shouted. “We take shifts ashore! Port crew takes the first shift! Settle your businesses, and be back here before the sun rises! Then the starboard crew is off! Understand?!”
A collective “Aye” roared from the crowd and the men divided amongst their sections.
“We depart tomorrow evening once the ship has been restocked. Anyone who falls behind is left behind! Now move out!”
‘This way there is always an eye on the big prizes we keep below,’ she had told them when her decision was questioned for the first and last time.
The captain made sure everything was as it was supposed to be and stepped into her quarters.
“Mother, please let me go ashore,” a voice said as soon as she opened the door.
The voice belonged to a girl, the captain’s daughter. She lounged back in the throne-like chair with her boot clad feet resting comfortably on a stack of maps and notes Captain Bartimaeus had left there. The captain heaved a sigh and closed the door behind her. She shared the narrow room with the girl because the alternative was out of the question. She’d seen the crew’s quarters and refused to allow her only daughter to wallow around in those conditions. Pirates they may be, but they were still women.
“Only if Mr. Adamsson accompanies you,” she said hanging the black over coat she was wearing on a peg. “Now get those things off me maps, girl, or I’ll hang them from the mast for the crows to pluck.”
Jacquelyn sighed and did as her mother told her.
“In case you haven’t noticed, mother, I’m eighteen years old,” the young pirate said removing herself from the captain’s chair.
“And yet you’re still young and you’re still my daughter and so I refuse to allow you off this ship without even a little supervision. End of discussion. Bye bye. See you later,” Captain Bartimaeus fumed grabbing her coat and a small, ornate wooden box as she stormed out. “Mr. Adamsson!”
“Aye, cap’n,” said a dark skinned pirate who was tying a length of rope into a dozen different knots.
“Make sure my daughter doesn’t leave this ship unsupervised,” the captain ordered. “She’s becoming restless.” She removed her hat to wipe the sweat from her brow and smooth back her silver hair.
“Tis the sea calling her,” Adamsson, a former slave sprung free from captivity by Captain Bartimaeus herself, mused.
“Aye,” the woman sighed. “I fear the worst if I don’t tell her the truth soon. I also fear what will happen when she learns the truth.”
“Worry not, cap’n, the young miss will be in good hands should she choose to step foot on land,” Adamsson promised.
“I thank ye, now… I must be off to investigate our latest adventure.” She smiled and held up the ornate box.


Old Post Jun 13th, 2011 05:41 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Ch. 2
The first thing Jack noticed when he came to was the motion of waves rocking a ship. It was quite comforting so he kept his eyes closed for a bit longer so he could enjoy the sensation. But then something cold and slimy slipped its way down his neck and into his shirt. Jack yelped in panic and shook the creature free from his shirt before it did any damage. After a few seconds of dancing around his cramped cell, a small, jellyfish-like creature plopped onto the floor of his cell and scooted off into a small nook under the plank bed. From somewhere in the shadows outside his cell, someone chuckled.
“That was almost worth the hours I’ve spent in here listening to you mumble nonsense in your sleep,” a man as tall as a mountain said as he stepped from the shadows and threw back his cloak.
“I know you… you were on the Pearl before that scurvy dog, Barbossa, took her from me. Now… what was your name, again?” Jack wondered.
“Bo’sun! Is the prisoner away, yet?!” a harsh voice shouted.
“Aye, sir, he just came to,” Bo’sun said as he scowled at Captain Sparrow through the bars of his cell.
“Good, we’re almost at the meeting place, make sure the good Captain doesn’t go anywhere,” the voice said followed by the sound of a door slamming shut and chains being rattled.
During this exchange, Jack took the time to take in his surroundings. The hull of the ship he was trapped on was made of a strange wood that seemed to have shadows embedded in the grains. They moved continuously and took the shapes of various creatures and people. The sight unsettled Jack and so he turned his gaze away to look for an exit.
“There’s no point trying to escape, Jack Sparrow,” Bo’sun said grabbing a seat on a small stool that was propped against a wall. “Even if you made your way out of that cell, there are a hundred men between here and the edge of the deck to stop you.”
“Ah, but you’re forgetting something, mate,” Jack said laying a hand on his heart. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”
The larger of the two men chuckled. “And yet… you’re in there… and I’m out here.”
“For now,” Jack said waggling a finger through the bars. “Only for now.”
Back in Port Atún, Captain Bartimaeus burst through the door of a well-known jeweler. The shriveled man behind the counter didn’t look up from his work nor did he acknowledge the new presence in his shop. His apprentice, however, nearly shot through the roof when he jumped in fear. The captain appraised the two men for a minute or two and finally shut the door tight behind her. She twisted the lock into place and turned the sign from Open to Closed. Still, the man did not look up.
“If you’re looking to rob me, pirate, you would do better down the road at Flynnigans. They have much better wares that go for much higher on the black market,” the old man said in a bored tone.
“I am not looking to rob you, good sir. I simply need you to appraise something of value I came across while on the open seas and do not have the desire for anyone who need not be involved know about the item,” she said laying the ornate box gently on the glass countertop.
The man set his current assignment aside and lifted the lid. A shimmering light emanated from inside, drawing the man’s curiosity in even further.
“Oh, my, my, my,” he whispered as he gently removed the artifact with a pair of tweezers. “What have we here?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you to tell me,” the pirate admitted leaning on the countertop. “I… found it while on an expedition.”
“Stole it is more like, sir. Probably slit the throat of whoever owned it,” the apprentice commented.
Bartimaeus turned to glare at the boy, taking in his features for the first time. He was a short piece of work, barely reaching her chest with the crown of his head. His face was round like that of a newborn infant and he had a cheap pair of glasses perched on his nose and peeked out from underneath a greasy mop of shoulder length hair. When her gaze landed on him, he jumped slightly and began to shake slightly.
“Would you like to meet the blade that did the slitting?” the captain asked menacingly pulling a hidden blade from somewhere on her person and holding the point to his pale throat.
“Dwyer! If you cannot interact with the customers properly, then be off with you! Pirate or not, this woman is a customer and deserves respect!” the man shouted without taking his magnified eye off of the item.
The pirate chuckled and slid the blade back into its sheath. “Better listen to your master, boy,” she advised.
“It seems to be a scale of some kind,” the man said after careful examination.
“A scale…. As in a fish scale?” she asked turning back to the real matter at hand.
“Not from any fish that I’ve seen,” he admitted setting the scale gently back in its box. “The way the light seems to emanate from it. Changing colors every passing second. It releases a sort of energy then turns hot and cold and then it smells of the earth.” He sighed and lifted the magnifier from his eye. “Whatever creature that scale came from, it is certain to be extremely rare and valuable.”
“Rare and valuable,” she repeated the old man’s words in a whisper. Suddenly visions of grandeur danced before her eyes. A second ship, then a third and maybe a fourth. A whole fleet of ships under her control. A new set of clothes. And rum, lots and lots of rum.
Captain Bartimaeus tossed a few golden coins onto the countertop and scooped up her prize. “I thank you, good sir, even if your whelp of an apprentice has some manners to learn, you have been a great deal of help to me and my cause.” She tipped her hat and departed the shop.
“A rare and valuable fish. Ready or not, here I come,” she whispered to herself as she walked the trek back to her ship.


Old Post Jun 13th, 2011 05:41 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Ch. 3
Jack was in a bit of a sticky situation. He was on an eerie ship crewed by bounty hunters and they were taking him to some unknown location. His sword, pistol, coat and hat had been taken from him while he was unconscious and worst of all; he hadn’t gotten a single bite from the bread he worked so hard to steal. When a group of burly men descended the stairs to the brig, Jack had to choice but to comply or risk certain harm. So they clapped irons around his wrists and half dragged him up to the deck. The first thing Jack saw was the abundance of sea mist curling over the rafters and invading every nook and cranny of the deck. It was thicker than a cabin boy’s skull and Jack knew immediately where they were making port.
“Isla Sirena,” he gasped in horror.
“Ahh, so you do know where you’re headed, huh, Jack Sparrow?” a man with a thick red beard that reached down to his round belly said.
“I know my destination, but I do not know my captors. Well… most of them,” he said looking around at the faces on the deck.
“That be not important. What is important is that ye walk the plank, Sparrow,” one of the crew said pulling a rapier from his belt and prodding Jack with the tip.
“Ay, careful with that end, it’s quite dangerous,” he said as he backed off of the edge of the ship and into the murky waters below.
A minute later, a scaly hand lifted up from the water and threw a bag onto the deck of the ship. When it landed, the contents spilled to reveal multicolored jewels of all shapes and sizes. The payment. Bo’sun looked over the edge of the rail and squinted into the murky depths.
“Captain,” he spat into the water.
Below the waves, Jack was fighting with all his might to reach the surface, but he was greatly hindered by the weight of the irons around his wrists. Then, a sound reached him from somewhere in the fogged waters.
Despite Captain Bartimaeus’s promises of departure, she held the men back for a day or two more as she plotted the course they were to take. First she started by popping down to the bookstore and reading as much material as she could about rainbow colored fish. All signs pointed towards a legend in Hindu mythology which told of a giant fish with rainbow scales that swallowed Buddha. A group of fishermen then caught the fish and freed Buddha and the fish then granted their region a bounty of food for a whole year.
“Who would be willing to pay the most for a giant, magical fish that grants the captors a bounty of food for a whole year,” she mused one evening as she and the crew ate what was left of the supplies they had on board the ship before they made port.
“And who’s to say the magical fish wouldn’t continue to grant a food bounty even after that year is up,” a deck hand by the name of Jacobs pointed out through a mouthful of potatoes.
“I’m turning in,” Jacquelyn announced.
“You’ve barely touched your plate,” the captain noticed. “At least finish your meat or orange.”
Jacquelyn snatched the chunk of meat from her plate and tore a piece off with her teeth then took the orange and stormed out of the dining hall.
“Blast that girl!” Captain Bartimaeus exclaimed as the men grew silent.
“I think it’s time to tell her the truth,” Adamsson suggested.
“Give her a minute to cool down first, then we can talk,” Bartimaeus muttered gripping the table with an iron hold. “Back to your conversations before I string you up the lot of you!” she barked noticing the silence for the first time.
Up in the captain’s quarters Jacquelyn was at war within herself. She realized her recent behavior was uncalled for but at the same time she couldn’t hide from it anymore. The sea was calling her. It wanted her to become one with it. To submit to its beauty and allow it to carry her away to unknown realms. The song it sang was intoxicating, stronger than any drink or treasure. She opened the windows along the back wall and looked down into the inky black abyss. As she stared into the waves sloshing against the hull of the Triton, the song became louder, stronger. It pulled her in, it called to her. Before she realized what was happening, she was diving headfirst into the waves below stripped of her clothing. She expected the water to slap her in the face like an icy fist, but instead, it enveloped her. Welcomed her as if she were back where she belonged.
‘I am home,’ she realized as she allowed herself to sink deeper beneath the waves. ‘How could mother have kept this from me?’
When she tried to kick her feet in order to swim deeper and deeper, it felt wrong… different. She stopped and looked at where she expected her legs to be. But instead of long, slender legs that used to be housed in men’s breaches and sea boots she now found a long tail with light blue scales ending in fins that flared out like a lady’s skirt. She let out the remaining surface air from her lungs in a mighty scream that she was surprised to find met her ears. She reached down and felt the tail, finding it to be real. This only unsettled her more. Until she realized that she hadn’t downed yet, that she was breathing as easily as she would on the surface, in a way, it was easier to breathe underwater than it was to breathe surface air.
“What am I?” she wondered out loud.
“A mermaid, my child,” a chorus of voices answered.
She turned in a circle to find herself surrounded by women all like her. Their hair shone in the moonlight and floated around their faces like otherworldly halos. Jacquelyn tried to cower away from the creatures, these mermaids, but they were everywhere and she was having trouble moving.
“Do not fear us, child,” they said in harmony. “We are your people and we have come to teach you.”
Out of habit, Jacquelyn reached to where her sword used to hang, but instead of a hilt, she grasped at the empty space at her hip. She panicked and did the only thing she could think to do; she dived deeper. She went to depths that would surely kill a normal human from the sheer pressure around her. But Jacquelyn didn’t feel the change all too much other than a slight popping sound in her ears. Suddenly, she crashed into the sea floor and a cloud of sand and muck obscured her vision. Shadows danced in the cloud, shadows with claws and fangs and tentacles and barnacles covering their being. Finally, a set of arms wrapped around Jacquelyn and the mermaids whisked her off to their lair.
Back on the Triton, Captain Bartimaeus decided it was time to talk with her daughter. She stood outside the thick, oak doors and stared at the carvings in the wood as she mustered up her courage. Finally, she laid her hands on the hand polished crystal door knobs and pushed the doors open.
“Jacquelyn, I believe it is time we had a talk, you and I,” she said striding through the doorway. “I know you don’t want to speak to me, but there is something you have to know. It’s extremely… important.” She let her voice fade off into silence when she noted the absence of her daughter. “Jacquelyn?”
The captain walked around her quarters and pulled back curtains and blankets searching for the girl.
“Jacquelyn?!” she cried out feeling the panic rise in her chest. Then she noticed the clothes neatly folded and piled underneath the windows… which were open to the cool sea air. “JACQELYN ROSE!!!” she screamed into the night as she stared with despair at the black waters below.
Captain Bartimaeus burst out onto the deck and ran for the helm where the alarm bell was.
“All hands!!!” she shouted as she rang the bell. “Scour the ship and the town!!! If you must, search other ships in port!!! Find Jacquelyn! Find her and bring her here!!!”
“Where could she have gone?” Adamsson asked. “You don’t think….”
A light flashed on in the pirate captain’s brain and she reached into her coat. From it she pulled a small, handheld spyglass that shone silver in the light of the moon. It looked normal as is, but this spyglass was a gift from Calypso’s human form, Tia Dalma. That meant it had a few tricks up its sleeve. She pulled the spyglass out to its full length and twisted one of the ends so that a new lense slid into place. Instead of a regular clean lense, this one was green and it presented Bartimaeus the world as if it were high noon even though it was midnight.
“Nothing,” she whispered and she twisted the end once more so that a new lense slotted into place. This one was blue and she now aimed the spyglass downward towards the water. What she saw through the glass made her gasp in alarm. “She went into the sea. She swam deeper and deeper until she reached the sea floor… then they took her.”
“Who… who took her, cap’n?” Adamsson asked anxiously.
“Mermaids,” Captain Bartimaeus snarled as she collapsed the spyglass back down to its original form and replaced it in her coat.


Old Post Jun 13th, 2011 05:42 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Part 2-
Ch. 4
60 miles away from Tortuga- 1725
Arianna was laying amongst the coral. It was her favorite thing to do on bright, clear days like that one. She watched the different creatures float by on the currents and see the different things the humans had left behind drift by. She was drifting off into a light sleep when a giant shadow overtook her. Then came the sound of something heavy being dropped into the sea. Arianna opened her eyes to find a massive black object hurtling towards her. She barely had time to swim away from the path of destruction when it landed where she had been mere seconds ago.
Once the cloud of sediment had cleared, she peered out from her hiding spot to find a giant hook digging into the floor. Attached to the giant hook was a long metal chain that reached up through the water to the shadow above. Not knowing whether or not the anchor was alive or inanimate, she picked up a random piece of driftwood sticking out of the sand and slowly moved towards it. She prodded it gently in case it was alive and ready to attack then dived behind her cover in the form of a boulder worn smooth by the ocean currents over centuries. When it didn’t leap forward and attack, Arianna tried again, this time putting a bit more force behind her swing. Still nothing.
“What in the name of Poseidon is this?” she asked herself in the mermaid tongue.
Arianna laid her hand on the anchor and felt its cold metal surface. Deciding to get to the bottom of the mysterious object that had disturbed her relaxing day, she swam towards the surface, following the links of the chain as they snaked upwards into the ship. The only sea creatures in the area were the barnacles attached to the wood and they were no good in conversation of any kind, so she had no one to ask what the giant shadow really was. She placed her hand gently on the wooden hull and felt the vibrations inside. Heavy footfalls of burly human men. She could also make out voices, but she didn’t know the language of man, so she had no idea what was being said.
She swam further towards the surface until her silvery head poked out. Keeping her mouth below the surface of the waves, she moved slowly around the giant (to her) ship.
“What is it?” she asked once more, her voice sounding like waves crashing against a shore in the open sea air.
Then she made her first mistake; she moved out of the shadow of the ship and into the sunlight where the sun’s rays bounced off her silvery hair and tail. Excited cries came from the ship’s deck.
“Look there!” someone said.
“There’s silver in the water!” another said.
“Get a net! Let’s see if we can’t reel it in!” yet another ordered.
Arianna tried to dive for cover but the men aboard the ship were quicker on the draw. Before she even had time to register the danger of the situation, the net had already ensnared her and was now lifting her from her safe haven. Arianna thrashed about on the deck like a dying fish, but the strength of the men was too great for her.
“My, my, my. What do we have here, boys?” the voice who had ordered the net said in a delighted tone.
“Tis a mermaid. They’re bad luck, they are,” someone said backing away.
“We should throw her back before she casts a curse on us,” the man’s friend suggested backing away as well.
“Quiet! The lot of ye!” the obvious ring leader ordered. “This mermaid could be of some value once we make port in Tortuga. Who knows, perhaps we can abandon Jack in Tortuga, take the profit from this lovely’s sale and be on our merry little way.”
“Aye,” a few men whispered in awe.
“Throw her in the brig! And someone wake that scoundrel from his drunken stupor!” the leader shouted.
Four of the burlier men lifted the net and carried Arianna below into a cell where they locked her away. She cried out for help, but there was no one to hear or understand her. The sea creatures had all been scared away from the dropping of the anchor and to the men of this pirate crew, her words sounded like nothing more than the waves crashing against the ship. So she lay there, defeated and alone for the moment, praying to the sea gods for assistance.


Old Post Jun 13th, 2011 05:43 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

Ch. 5
Ragetti and Pintel crept through the captain’s quarters with care. Jack wasn’t known for violence, but it didn’t hurt to be careful around a pirate lord. The pirate lord in question was lounging back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk while his head lolled back and a dribble of drool snaked down his chin and an empty bottle of rum laid on his chest with a limp hand clutching its neck. Every once in a while, Jack would spout a string of nonsense, grunt and go back to snoring.
“How are we gonna do it?” Ragetti asked rubbing at the wooden eyeball in his socket.
“I don’t know… nudge him a bit?” Pintel suggested.
“Seems a shame to wake him,” the first man mused. “He looks so peaceful.”
“Shut it and go wake the captain!” the second ordered giving Ragetti a slap.
“I’m already awake you blasted idiots,” Jack said without lifting the hat from his eyes. “How anyone can sleep with you two blabbering on is beyond me.”
“Th-th-there’s something you need to see, cap’n,” Ragetti said backing away.
“Would it have anything to do with the commotion that took place on deck?” Jack inquired finally lifting his hat and sitting up.
“A-aye, sir. She’s locked in the brig now, as per the c- er, first mate’s orders,” Pintel explained backing up with his nephew.
“She?” Jack asked halting a sip from a newly opened bottle of rum.
Below deck, Arianna wasn’t feeling too well. Taken from the sea, she had dried out. Her silver hair had lost its shine and her tail was clammy and cold. When she lifted a hand from her tail, scales stuck to her hand and fluttered away in flakes. If she had any water in her to cry, she would. Then the door slammed open to reveal Barbossa. The look on his face sent her cowering against the back wall of her cell.
“Can ye speak?” he asked.
When she turned away, unable to understand, he took it as a no.
“Barbossa,” Jack said from the top of the stairs.
“Aye, captain,” he said struggling around the title.
“Leave me with her,” he ordered.
Barbossa looked as if he wanted to run Jack through for insolence, but he remembered who was in the seat of power for the moment and complied. Once alone, Jack unlocked the cell and stepped inside.
“You don’t look too good, love,” he noted. “Strange that you can’t speak. The other mermaids I’ve met could do more than speak.” A shudder ran down his spine as he remembered their songs.
A small sound, like that of a babbling brook escaped the girl’s throat. This took Jack by surprise, but somehow made sense to him. This girl wasn’t like the other mermaids he had met. They were savage beasts who would instantly attack any man as soon as they came in range. But this girl, it was as if she had never come into contact with a man before. Then an idea struck him.
‘If this is her first time meeting a human,’ he realized, ‘then this is her first time out of the ocean. And it’s killing her.’
He grabbed a bucket and dipped it into the troph where they kept water for cleaning and a rag hanging from the side of the troph. He dipped the rag in the sea water and let it drip over her tail. The life seemed to reignite inside her as he dowsed her in the water. When he dumped the bucket over her head, she lifted the sopping wet strands of hair from her face and smiled at him. Then, Arianna did something that surprised both pirate and mermaid. She kissed him. From this kiss, she was somehow able to access the recesses of his mind. Unlock the secrets of his language. When they released each other, she leaned back against the wall of her cell and closed her eyes as the new knowledge unfolded inside of her mind.
“If that’s how you say thank you, I believe this will be an excellent friendship,” he said with a smile revealing golden teeth.
“I agree, Captain Sparrow,” she said in English.
“Ah… so you can speak,” he said sitting back on his haunches and examining her. “Why the ruse?”
“I couldn’t before our little… exchange,” she said.
“Even though I do not fully understand, I am more than happy,” he said truthfully.
She responded with a giggle and a flip of her tail fins.
“Once we make port in Tortuga, I’ll have the men hunt down a tank big enough for you. Sure, it’ll be just another cell, but at least in that one, you won’t die.”
“I thank ye, captain,” she said with a slight bow.
Jack made his leave in order to get the men moving, but not before leaving Arianna with a few buckets full of water to hold her over. A mermaid that hadn’t tried to bite the flesh from his bones. The idea excited him more than anything had in a while and almost made him forget about the heaps of treasure waiting for him on Isla de Muerta. Almost.
“No one is to touch her unless I give them the go ahead,” he ordered as soon as he locked the door down to the brig and hid the key in his jacket. “Now then… haul the anchor and let’s make port! There better be an open dock this time.”


Old Post Jun 13th, 2011 05:43 PM
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That ACDC Chick
All That Noiz

Gender: Female
Location: Stuff and Things

something i wrote up quick for fun. might or might not see it through
The Goal

Pain ripped through her body. It seared her mind and blackened her vision. A strangled sound met her ears, but she wasn’t sure if it came from her own throat or not. Every nerve ending was on fire and beneath that, her organs felt as if they were being sent through a meat grinder. Through all this, she somehow remembered the spirit’s words. Whispered softly into her ear as she stood before the doorway to her destination.
‘Keep your goal in mind, child,’ it had said. ‘For those without a goal shall be consumed and perish within the pain. Once you realize this goal, you must hold onto it. It is your one lifeline that will connect you with the mortal world. The only thing keeping you anchored onto this plane. Now go, child. Step forth if you are ready.’
She didn’t expect the pain to be this intense. After the trials to gain all of the objects, all of the suffering she had endured, she thought she knew pain. She thought she had become acquainted with it and recognized its true for, but no. This was true pain. This was true suffering. Through the pain, one thought cut through, or at least she thought it did. My goal. She didn’t remember thinking those words, nor did she remember thinking about her goal, but suddenly it was there. Bright and warm. She grasped it and held on. The reason for her goal. The motive behind it. What spurred her on. It all grew clearer and clearer in her shattered mind until she realized the pain was lessening.
On the cavern floor she lay, welcoming the cool air into her lungs. She did not feel the sharp rocks touch her skin. She did not see the shadows moving along the walls. She did not hear the water dripping beside her ear. The one thing that consumed her was her goal and the long path that still lay before her in order to realize it. Sometime later, she did not know how long, she realized that she was laughing and a little after that she understood why. She had beaten it. She had faced death and conquered it. As the laughter bubbled inside her, he senses slowly returned. First was the taste and smell of the dark cavern around her followed by the sensation of sharp, wet rocks under her back and the sound of the shadows’ whispers. Finally her sight cleared and she saw the light still being given off by the objects, now scattered and broken around her.
She willed herself to move, to rise from the ground and as she rose, she noticed that she now felt light and fast. In the fading glow of the objects, she waved her arm in front of her face and was amazed by the speed at which it moved. Flexing her fingers, she found them to be strong, as if she could crush even the strongest grade steel to powder in her grip. She didn’t know how, or why, but the objects had given her strength beyond that she had possessed before. Perhaps she was even stronger than the gods themselves. But no, she wouldn’t allow that thought to grow for that was not her goal. Her goal was much simpler than ruling over the mortal world.
As the glow from the objects finally faded, she noticed a new light source. One coming from a corner far off down the cavern’s hall. With a smile, she stepped forward and with her one true goal still fresh in her scarred mind, she began the journey down that path to fulfill it.


Old Post Oct 10th, 2011 05:17 PM
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