RESIDENT EVIL: The Time is Now (Story board)

OOC: Sorry matey I'm gunna step in here, Berina and Tao are in the basement as we speak 🙂

Berina's boot crunched on broken glass, grimacing as the shifter turned, the form brisquely changing into Malconins, tilting its head to the side and smiling a little, "Miss me?"

Berina scowled and whipped out her kitana, "Filth!" She spat as the blade shimmered a green hue, Tao's eyes widening along with that of the shifters, "NO!" It grunted as Berina's blade sliced into it, flaiing haggardly to the side Berina looked down ont he almost faceless black humaoid, "Shifters...one of the most weak creations of Umbrellas...lucky I'd been on a clenup team while I was being experimented on in the labs." She hissed, then looking to Chrys, "I remember you...2nd week...you're all grown up..." Berina's eyes and voice were like ice, the ***** was back.

OOC: No problems with the extra crowd, nots at all 😊

Chrys almost expressed a hint of relief, though hardly expressing gratitude as she lowered her fists. Gaze down to the seemingly dead shifter –as Berina had called it- she was surprised that it had been taken down so swiftly. But is it really…?

Brushing away the obviously ridiculous question, turning her eyes to Berina, she arched a brow at the icy look and comment. “In a manner of speaking…” Thinking to her soon to be born child, she couldn’t help but feel weary, as if she had already reached the midpoint of her life.

A thought struck her, Chrys furrowing her brows. “But wait, how did you get down here? Three were required…you’re expecting too…” Stopping herself at the question, she fluttered her eyelids at her error. It was bad enough Raine AND Paul knew of her little dilemma, she didn’t need the rest of the group in the know as well. In her perspective and in the current situation, it was more of a liability than a glorious miracle. Sighing, she massaged her temples. “Apologies. What I meant was, are you expected to find the amethyst pendant as well?”

Shrugging to her unanswered question, Chrys started down a murky wet stone corridor that had opened up in the darkness. “It matters not, point is, we should try to exit this place as soon as possible.” Desert Eagle back in hand, she started down the corridor, Berina leading the way, Tao in center towards whatever the mansion had left to throw at them…

Exiting the damp cement corridor, water streaming down the wall forming tiny puddles, the trace of mildew thick in the stagnant air, the group reached a narrow horizontal stretch of tarmac, ten asymmetrical and out of place doors to choose from.

Chrys, who had been ready to pull the trigger of her Desert Eagle at what she thought would be another biohazard, frowned out the several odd doors. Lowering her gun, she said. “Normally I try not to pick the dumb ass idea but I think splitting up would be our best choice,” She then noticed Berina’s intense gaze to Tao and added onto her statement. “Or perhaps you two could stick together, keep watch over each other?”

Smirking slightly at the thought, Chrys chose the fourth odd door, the frame curvy at the sides then veering off to a slant at the top. Pushing it open, she stepped into what looked like an attraction at a carnival, multifarious mirrors greeting her wherever she turned. Feeling herself start to grow dizzy from the multiple distorted images of herself, she only regained a little concentration at hearing the door slam locked behind her.

“Why am I not even surprised?” Removing her Desert Eagle from its holster, she rose it cautiously into the air, feeling along the wall to determine which was glass and what would be her path. Hand finally brushing against air, she slid down into a mirrored corridor, ignoring her vertigo bringing images and the blue neon lights, determined to get the hell off the floor and out the mansion.

Sighing, pace slow through the labyrinth of mirrors, she soon realized she was going in circles. It was hard to determine which way was which, but there was no way that all the paths would continuously guide her left, down to a dead end hall, force her to make a right, then reach a mirrored clearing. Taking the safety off from her gun, she started to pull the trigger towards a mirror, but got ahold of her self before she could let out a shot.

“Remember Chrys, you’re dealing with Umbrella,” She holstered her gun, swinging her backpack from her back and to her front. Digging inside the heavy black bag, she continued with a raised eyebrow. “Nothing is ever that easy,” She took out a pair of goggles, gaining a broad smile in the process. At the mall, she had done more than just stock up on ammo and get a change of clothes. Being her normal paranoid self, she had gone to the hunting store, borrowing a GPS device along with a pair of night vision/infra-red goggles.

“Let’s see if there’s more to this than meets the eye,” Activating her shades, she held them up to her line of vision, having to hold back a curse at her discovery. “Hello…” Behind every mirror was an ensemble of wires, each connecting to a rectangular box in the center. Inching closer to the glass, she concentrated on the designs of the wires. “It’s an explosive,” Backing away from the mirror, she continued to mutter beneath her breath. “Pressure sensitive…one shot and I would’ve been blown away. Good thing I’m not a complete and total-”

Before she could finish her statement, Chrys backed up into a mirror, losing her balance in the process. Falling rather clumsily to the glass, she massaged her heart, surprised she hadn’t been blown to pieces. Turning her goggles on the massive mirror behind her, she made a face. Not one wire was visible behind it, no explosives, no anything.

Chrys wrapped her cardigan around her elbow, training it to the non-explosive mirror. Behind door number one is… Lunging forward, she struck her elbow into the heavy glass, a spider web crack erupting from its center. Wrapping her cardigan back around her waist, she used the but of the Desert Eagle, knocking it forcefully into the crack. After a few heavy strikes, the mirror collapsed, revealing a plain wooden door.

Entering into the new area, Chrys found herself in a beige carpeted hall, old-fashioned yellowing wallpaper decorating the area. A few wooden doors could be seen to her right and left, gold tarnished knobs covered in dust. She didn’t dare talk to herself, she wasn’t willing to risk the fact that maybe she wasn’t the only being wandering the halls.

Creeping towards the only visible corner, careful not to knock down a dark picture simply labeled Abyss, Chrys prepared her Desert Eagle, footsteps approaching from nearby. Whipping around the corner, she started to shoot, pausing as she recognized the figure before her. “Paul? Where’s Raine? What the hell are you doing here?”

The figure of Paul held out his hands up apprehensively, wide eyed. “The elevator malfunctioned so me, along with Raine, were able to get down here. However, at reaching the doors, we split up and the rest of that story’s history.”

Lowering her gun, Chrys frowned. “Where’s your shotgun?”

He shrugged sheepishly, starting down the hall. “Gave it to Raine.”

Chrys, figuring he was still upset with her, followed a few paces after him. “You gave a 12-gauge Remington to a 16 year old girl?” her tone was so heavily filled in skepticism, she wouldn’t have been surprised if across her forehead were the words, ‘Are you serious?’.

Again, he ignored her, quiet in his nonchalance. Chrys fiddled with her fingers, wondering if now would be a good time for an explanation. “Listen, I know you’re still mad at me but maybe another time would be best to be bitter?”

“I’m not mad,” he said, a hint of bewilderment to his tone. He turned to face her, examining her confused features. “I was looking for a room. We need to talk,” Twisting the knob of the closest door, he hit a light switch by the frame, yellow pouring down into a scattered messy room, grey typewriter hanging off the edge of a scratched wooden bureau and in the far right corner, a key lime table lamb on top of a two-drawer wooden dresser. Still examining Chrys, he motioned his head into the room. “Come.” Without waiting, he entered the room.

Narrowing her eyes, Chrys decided to take up on the invite, strangely wary of his sudden openness. Bad feeling… Blowing a chestnut lock from her cheek, she followed after and into the room, he casually leaning against the chipped wooden bureau. Tensing up at the state of the place, Chrys arched an aloof brow. “What do you want to talk about? How you’re upset? Hate me? What?” She crossed her arms, hoping for none of the above.

He, still staring to her in the same awkward soul piercing manner, slowly walked up to her. Once face to face, he gently cradled her face in his hands. “Chrys, I don’t hate you,” He stroked her cheek softly. “And I could never stay mad at you for too long.” Still clutching onto a cheek, fingertips brushing lightly in her hair, he leaned close, planting a kiss on her lips.

Chrys widened her eyes, surprised, shocked even. She accepted the kiss, closing her eyes as a bitter copper flavor –blood- stained her lips. Allowing him to push her to the door, she felt a strange emotion building inside. It was Paul…it looked like Paul…but it, he wasn’t right. He wasn’t her Paul.

She pulled away and with a small playful smile to hide her anxieties, she stared him in the eyes, no single emotion visible in his. It was like staring to a corpse…eyes lifeless, spent, desolate. As she slid a hand up his arm, she rolled back a sleeve, revealing a tanned forearm, plain as the day.

Brow arching, her free hand formed a fist, punching him as hard as virtually possible in the jaw, then spinning away from the door. Rubbing at his jaw, he started to question her but Chrys managed to speak first, eyes narrowed bitterly. “God damn sneaky doppelgangers…”

Massaging his jaw, he paused mid stroke, crooked grin splitting his face. Glaring from the side, an eye sparkled malevolently. “You caught me. Apologies, I did not have enough time to study him. But humor me,” Smirking, he stared fully to Chrys from stolen eyes. “What gave it away?”

Smarting over her bruised fist, Chrys bitterly looked him over as she started to explain. “Several things. One, no way he’d just instantly find the light switch and be so confident as to not check the room. Two, I know Paul almost as well as I know myself AND you just copy what you see. What you probably weren’t able to catch in your short time of ‘study’ were the tattoos going up his arms. Lastly,” She broke into a scornful smile. “I sincerely doubt he’d give a Remington to a sixteen year old. Don’t think she’d be able to handle the recoil,” Chrys now crossed her arms, serious. “Just how many of you shifters are in this place anyways?”

He smiled broadly, back to the door. Apparently, his jaw wasn’t hurting as much as he had originally let on. He shrugged. “Possibly there are two to three shifters within the mansion. However, there is only one me.” He pointed out.

“And just what are you?”

He had started to take off the worn work jacket, a black shirt visible beneath the cover-up. “I thought you would recognize me. I was, after all, you only minutes ago. Seriously though,” He threw the jacket to the ground, steepling his fingers overhead. “What am I? In a word or two…a mistake.”

“Really…?” Chrys was now backed into the bureau, fingers piercing into the weathered wood. “If that’s the case why aren’t you prowling the streets with your ‘brothers and sisters’? Or do your more screwed up siblings scare you?”

He held up a finger, clarifying. “I said I was a mistake, not an abomination to science. Please do not try to compare me to the inferior products of gene manipulation. My place is at the mansion for it is where I was…reborn. I am Prototype Beta. Beta for short.”

“And I take it you haven’t lured me here just to talk…?” asked Chrys, standing upright, gaze to the yellowed delicately designed walls.

“Correct,” Beta braced himself. “We agreed to the conditions of our spar. Three rounds. The first round received an interruption so that counts as a double loss. Round two will begin here, no items, no stomach blows. Drop the Uzis, katana and the backpack, then we will begin.” Apparently, he hadn’t noticed or had forgotten about the Desert Eagles to her hips.

A loud breath escaped her lips, Chrys disarming herself, casually throwing her bag to the side. Preparing herself for his assault, a sense of nervousness struck her at his form. “Aren’t you going to change back to the image of me? I thought it was supposed to be against my own worst enemy?”

“Oh no,” He shook his head with a taunting smile, his muscles in a relaxed state as he glared to Chrys. “I much prefer this form, I happen to like the effect it has over you.”

“Bastard…” Her eyes gained a glacial hue, Chrys unsure just how to go about fighting a mirror image of the one she loved. Sensing her discomfort, the doppelganger took the opportunity to attempt a strike to her cheek. Clumsily, she blocked the first move, forcing herself into a combat mind state.

He struck out to her rapidly, Chrys parrying or blocking each blow as best as she could, two thoughts starting to bother her. Receiving a hard blow to her shoulder, she jumped across a torn book, wondering if she would ever find an opening. And if she did, would she take it. How am I-, is it right? It’s not Paul but I’m going to have to fight back eventually. But there’s no way I can bring myself to do it. She choked, unable to find the motivation to attack. Just then, she performed a messy evade to the left, Beta forming a fist, landing it into Chrys’s right cheek.

Stumbling back stricken from the blow, Chrys moved a hand to her cheek, amazed. He had struck her…he had actually struck her, and to her face no less. Quickly forgetting her hesitancy, she sneered, arms falling to her sides shaking. She didn’t care about being attacked anywhere else but she hated her face being touched.

Grabbing his arm as he started on another attack, Chrys swung him around and into the bureau, knocking the typewriter to the ground and spraying both their shoes with what little ink was left in the machine. Now it was Beta’s turn to be taken aback, surprised Chrys had finally attacked. Through with playing fair, Chrys charged towards him, hand running down to her right holster. Inches away from the doppelganger, she whipped out her Desert Eagle, going for a headshot. He caught the barrel halfway through the process, Chrys leering as she pulled the trigger into his palm. Blood lightly decorated his cheek, the wall behind showing a trace crimson spatter.

Paling, her grip loosened on the weapon. “It should have blown off your hand. Right now, you should be screaming in agony, blood painting the area, your hand missing,” Her eyes were narrowed into the smallest of slits, bitter cold at the sight. “You’re palm shouldn’t have a bullet sized hole through it. Blood shouldn’t be slowly falling down your wrist as if I’d done nothing more but stabbed you!” She breathed heavily, first out of rage, then from a building fear.

Beta snatched her gun wielding wrist with his unspoiled hand, a cruel smile forming as his irises changed to red, complexion slowly starting to lighten. “Naughty, naughty…” Face molding before her eyes, she was glued to the spot, too horrified to move as she watched the nails on his bleeding hand elongate. “You do not wish to play by your rules? So be it.” Twisting her arm to her back, she dropped the weapon, letting out a small hiss as he seized both wrists in one hand.

Slamming her to the wall, he gripped both Chrys’s wrists, she struggling violently in his hold. His next action immediately stopped her, eyes widening as she felt five sharp nails drag across her back. She started to gasp, closing her eyes and wincing as a second slash was felt, breaking through clothe and skin effortlessly. Biting down on her lip, she held back a whimper, three more swipes following after. At the sixth attack, she screamed with a mixture of tears, eyes closed tightly as she buried her face into the indifferent yellow wall.

“Tell me…” He drawled out, eyes to his blood covered nails in wonder. “Is it a bad thing…is it wrong???” He swiftly slashed at her, blood spraying lightly across his shirt, a muffled yell escaping Chrys. “That hearing one scream pushes me on to the kill?? That…” He ran his palm into her back, piercing his nails through flesh. “I somehow take pleasure in one’s suffering? You’re suffering…?”

Tears streaming down her eyes, anger overwhelmed her, the pain from the swipes across her back pushed back into the darker corners of her mind. With a wild cry, she yanked her wrists from his hold, screaming. “You sadistic psychotic waste of life!” She slapped him hard across his face, relieved that he was no longer holding Paul’s features. No, instead, he resembled something sculpted out of perfection, flawless features, waist length hair. It wasn’t natural, more scary than any form she’d seen him in. Not letting the looks stop her, she lunged out to his throat, Beta catching her arm in a calm fury.

“Do not try and fight me, Chrys!” Pulling her close, he propelled her into the small dresser, Chrys colliding with the key-lime lamp before falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. Sighing, Beta closed his eyes, getting wind of himself. Waltzing over to her downed form, he spoke quietly. “At times…I truly hate myself. This sense of…morals, is that the word? This sense of rules that humanity embedded into my structure. Rule one,” He squatted down, brushing her hair softly. “I can not kill a downed opponent.”

He wiggled his bloodied claws, reducing them to normal size. “That’s life. Though, I am sure you figured out by now that I’m after more than just a good fight. It’s your child I want…”

Chrys had been struggling to stay conscious, the pain starting to blind her into submission. However, at hearing his last sentence, she tensed up. Beta laughed, a humorless chuckle. “Yes Chrys, your child. Call it clichéd, call it odd, just don’t call me a pedophile,” He laughed some more. “It is not like you. It holds a different genetic make-up. Its superior to all around, even the vessel it’s forced to dwell in,” He stopped his laughter, getting to his feet. “I can perfect it…if you allow me to have it. I’ll even make a barter. I will personally guarantee that everyone within this mansion comes out alive if you promise me your child…”

Writhing on the ground in her pain, a twisted smile formed, Chrys laughing lightly to herself in disbelief. Staining the floor with a crimson puddle, too caught up in her pain and laughter, she flipped him off, burying her face back into the ground.

Shaking his head, he tutted. “Are humans truly that selfish? You would be willing to risk the life of several for one who is not even born…one who you’re not certain still lives?” Chrys shuddered at the last thought, closing her eyes as she massaged her waist. “How foolish. Then how about this? Get up. I can do nothing while you writhe about…well, except kill every being within this mansion. Get rid of everything you have to live for then force you to live. I prefer mind games and suffering above all else, it’s my forte,” Watching as she grew ashen faced; he arched a perfect raven brow. “If the idea frightens you, remove yourself from the ground. You have 5…4…3…”

As he neared two, Chrys let out a grunt, flittering her eyelids to clear out the stars. Twitching, she got onto fours, shaking her head disorientated. She wasn’t about to go on a guilt trip over anybody and her child wasn’t up for grabs. Using the dresser for support, she pulled herself upright, breathing heavily as blood trailed down her back.

Beaming proudly, Beta pinched a cheek playfully, Chrys too weak to recoil. “Good girl, that wasn’t too hard,” He released her cheek, stepping back to the bureau. “And because you got up on your own, I’ll even be nice. I will grant you a two minute grace period before the final round begins. Take the time to ask questions or stall for your life,” Sitting on the wooden table, he shrugged, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. “Your call…”

Exiting the damp cement corridor, water streaming down the wall forming tiny puddles, the trace of mildew thick in the stagnant air, the trio reached a narrow horizontal stretch of tarmac, ten asymmetrical and out of place doors to choose from.

Chrys, who had been ready to pull the trigger of her Desert Eagle at what she thought would be another biohazard, frowned out the several odd doors. Lowering her gun, she said. “Normally I try not to pick the dumb ass idea but I think splitting up would be our best choice,” She then noticed Berina’s intense gaze to Tao and added onto her statement. “Or perhaps you two could stick together, keep watch over each other?”

Smirking slightly at the thought, Chrys chose the fourth odd door, the frame curvy at the sides then veering off to a slant at the top. Pushing it open, she stepped into what looked like an attraction at a carnival, multifarious mirrors greeting her wherever she turned. Feeling herself start to grow dizzy from the multiple distorted images of herself, she only regained a little concentration at hearing the door slam locked behind her.

“Why am I not even surprised?” Removing her Desert Eagle from its holster, she rose it cautiously into the air, feeling along the wall to determine which was glass and what would be her path. Hand finally brushing against air, she slid down into a mirrored corridor, ignoring her vertigo bringing images and the blue neon lights, determined to get the hell off the floor and out the mansion.

Sighing, pace slow through the labyrinth of mirrors, she soon realized she was going in circles. It was hard to determine which way was which, but there was no way that all the paths would continuously guide her left, down to a dead end hall, for

( 😮 My bad...I sorta kinda posted the first part twice. Just ignore that last entry of mine and everything should make sense...)

(fair enough lol)

(OOC: And now an extra long continuation...no screw ups this time!)

“My call, huh?” Legs shaking beneath her, evil glare in her eye, she forced herself not to fall back to the floor. She knew the swipes would be painful, but she hadn’t been counting on the after-effect, a complete and total strain on her concentration. Gasping slightly, she risked pushing herself off the dresser, testing out her remaining strength. “Are you just a copycat? Do you have a true form?”

“You’re looking right at it,” responded Beta, eyes closed in rest, he casually relaxing against the wall. Opening a crimson eye, at seeing Chrys’s bemused expression, he decided to explain. “Sure, I can –and do- take on a variety of forms, but this is my original state. Before,” He delicately nibbled a finger, sucking up the blood from his hand lovingly. “I managed to screw myself. Curse myself. Gift myself, even.” The hole in his hand started to patch up, skin molding over muscle and bone. “Fascinating how science can improve one person yet can’t find a cure for the most malicious of viruses.”

Chrys simply arched a brow, massaging her previously bruised shoulder. Despite herself, she grew curious. “Such thoughts. Noticed the way you speak changed.”

Tiredly, he said. “That’s because as I grow accustomed to my environment I adapt to my surroundings eventually mimicking the attitude and speech of others…” Beta then cocked his head, blinking innocently. “Or do you not like the difference and prefer when I speak in a simple, polite manner?”

“Pass,” Chrys brushed away the idea, glaring from the side as she faced the off-kilter lamp. “Makes me think you’re up to something…”

“Never…Miss Stonewell. Never, ever at all,” Seeing suspicion arouse in her eyes, he grinned broadly, demonically. “Okay, I’ll admit, maybe I know more than I let on. Or to be more exact, I know almost your whole life story. Though, don’t think you’re special. I know every little detail about your former comrades in the UBCS, from Andrew’s wife Elizabeth to Kaseus before he became your commander…among other things.” He finished, smiling smarmily.

My god, you’re joking. Chrys was more than troubled at his statement and what he might know about their prior relationship. She gained an aloof expression, blue eyes icily glaring to his. “What ‘other things’ could you be talking about? And…just why in the hell do you know about my team?”

“Deceased team, Chrys, remember, they’re all dead,” He crossed his arms with a pout. “Depletes my purpose a bit. Thing is, Stone, I was the fail-safe. Just in case Rosewood gained a sense of morals, by tomorrow, day five, I was to automatically step in, hunt down and kill your teammates using any method virtually possible. Head games basically. Especially considering...” Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back ecstatic, hair shortening into a messy white, complexion paling and hints of a tattoo visible down a muscular arm.

Borrowing Kaseus’s eyes and appearance, Beta smirked. “…I can become anyone I wish. And,” He shook a finger lightheartedly, warning in his eyes. “Don’t play innocent. I happen to know of your little…excursions with Kaseus. Before AND after your brief romance with Paul. Speaking of the latter…I must make haste to perfect my impersonation, don’t you agree? Five days after I was to kill your comrades, I was to go after Team 66, they were, after all, the more skilled group. Ten days was their survival rate before the undead consumed them or suicide started to smile down to them. Two days after and anyone lived, I’d be taking charge…still haven’t decided if I’d take Drake’s gun blazing form or the leader herself.”

Chrys prepared herself to curse him out, but his next action struck her speechless. Taking on the form of Berina, Beta batted his lashes, motioning to his backside with a frown. “Help me out here. Do you think this impression makes her ass look too big?”

“What?” Laughing low to herself in disbelief, Chrys closed her eyes, shaking her head wearily. After a moment, she managed to mumble. “Her…yours, yeah, its fine. Though, you might wanna tone down the boobs a bit …” As he nodded his thanks, Chrys remained stupefied. Now she had seen everything. From her father, lizard men, past/present day romances, baby daddy’s, head honchos of Umbrella, decomposed relatives, and out of the blue, blue eyed ninja’s, Beta by far, was the weirdest person…thing she had bumped into all week.

Seeing her face, Beta chuckled. “Had a feeling that would calm down your temper over me taking your commander’s form,” He stretched out his hands, reverting back to his original form. “Can’t have you all in a b*tchy rage once round three starts. Even if you’d be a powerhouse you’d be too susceptible to sneak attacks. No, I want this to be a pure skills match. Give you at least two minutes before I break your neck.” He finished with a smile, then starting to hum.

Chrys sighed. She was starting to get severely tired of the countless attempts on her life. What would Beta be? The third? Fourth person that had tried to kill her in the past three days? I may be only 25 but I’m getting waay too old for this shit. Weighing the key-lime lamp carefully in her right hand, she glanced to Beta. “Before you kill me, wanna see a magic trick? Betcha I can make this lamp levitate inches away from your face AND stay suspended in mid air…”

Gaining a childlike curiosity, Beta’s eyes widened, finger to his lips. “Ma…gic?” he annunciated. “I don’t remember just what that is. Alright,” he shrugged, watching Chrys amused. “Show me.”

Damn, almost feel bad when I take advantage of the gullible ones…almost. She obliged with a smile. “But of course. But remember, it stops inches from your face so don’t try and stop it,” Ordered Chrys sternly, waving her left index finger. Beta nodded, waiting for her to perform her ‘trick’. Picking up the porcelain lamp gracefully, Chrys heaved it in Beta’s direction, the lamp crashing into his forehead. She shrugged. “Whaddayknow, guess it doesn’t stop after all.”

“Ow…” Beta stared to her disorientated, disappointed at the failed trick and the broken pieces of glass by his area.

Saluting him, Chrys pulled what she liked to call a guerrilla tactic, which was just a fancy way of saying she yanked open the door and fled down the hall in search of a hiding place. She had twenty seconds until her grace period was up and she couldn’t think of any questions to stall what was starting to seem inevitable. “He’ll find me, we’ll fight, I’ll scream, he’ll destroy me and that sick f*ck will enjoy every god damn minute of it!”

Her fury had come back quickly, just the mere thought of him clawing at the remainder of her back sickening. Sliding down a dimming corridor, footsteps light on the beige carpet, noticing the end of the hall almost pitch black, Chrys stopped. She made her way to a door on her left, starting to twist the silver knob when a black spot staining where she had just come from caught her attention. Or more like several little black spots…it was her footsteps, a fading trail leading right to the door, the ink from the typewriter holding far more consequences than she had originally foreseen.

“Damn…” Knowing she couldn’t hide, Chrys ran into the room ahead, dim navy light barely illuminating the wide clearing. She spread her arms out blindly, stumbling over a bump in the luxuriantly designed ruby rug beneath her feet. Hearing something fall, she ignored it, taking a shaky breath as she inched her way closer to the light source. It was a huge glass wall, almost window like if not for the fact it revealed nothing on the outside. It was just a spiraling darkness, traces of blue in its design, a tormented perspective of the enigmatic universe.

In the center of the glass masterpiece was a keypad, above it a word in red LCD lights reading lumen. “Latin…but what for?” pondered Chrys, blinking at the marvelously dark glass. An image tickled the back of her mind, recognition in her eyes. She had seen the marble-esque glass before, it was an exact replica of the painting she had brushed past earlier. “Simply labeled abyss,” Typing in her last word, at reaching the last letter, all light left in the room vanished, shrouding Chrys in darkness.

Great… Bracing herself for an assault in the dark, she jumped at a loud whirring. The glass in front grew hazy, then a visual of clouds were seen, a skyline in the distance, sunlight piercing into the once blackened room. Stunned, Chrys let a hand fall against the glass, closing her eyes and imagining the warmth of the sun against her palm, the seeds of doubt spiraling away with each strand of shadow.

“Round three…” murmured Beta, softly brushing loose strands of blonde away from her neckline. It had been easy enough for him to sneak up on her. And it would be easy enough for him to crack open her skull.

Or so he thought. He pulled back an arm, preparing a punch but struck nothing but glass, Chrys evading the strike. As she turned to face him, Beta found himself temporarily blinded, she standing directly beneath the artificial surreal glow of the sun, blue eyes afire beneath the morning’s glory. A palm lunged upwards from Chrys, Beta feeling a hard blow to his nose. He staggered back, shocked that he was feeling…pain? That was the word, indefinitely.

Preparing herself for her second attack, Chrys pivoted in her step, striking her elbow hard into the center of Beta’s neck. As the light had taken away her misgivings it had taken away her earlier tactics. She wouldn’t wait for him to get an opening, she wouldn’t allow it. She’d kill him first. Watching him catch his breath, she hastily kneed him in the groin, once, twice, brutal each time.

*TBC

*continuation

Beta fell to his knees, forcing himself not to hunch over, biting his lip to stifle the pain. Wild eyed, Chrys jumped on his back. She wanted for more than just the eccentric experiment to die…she wanted him to suffer. For all he planned to do, for what he had done to her back. Grabbing his hair -it around waist length- she crisscrossed it around his neck, pulling taut with grinded teeth.

Feeling himself in a strangulation hold, Beta struggled back to his feet, clawing at the hair around his neck with a desperate roar. Screeching, Chrys increased her pull, keeping her balance as best as she could as Beta started to sway with her weight. Having enough of her games, Beta caught hold of her hands, throwing Chrys back into a doily-esque white linen curtain, a thick steel pole holding it in place.

Thudding heavily against the wall, Chrys slipped out of insanity mode, groaning as a pain shot down her spine, her bruise from earlier acting up. Vision growing dull, she glanced sideways to the coughing Beta. He started to crawl along the ground to something on the ground, a glint of light coming from an object laying peacefully on the rug.

“Nickel-plated…” breathed Chrys out tiredly. Blue eyes widening at a sudden understanding, she lifted a hand up to her left holster, Desert Eagle nowhere in sight. Looking ahead to the crawling Beta, feet away from her gun, she swore. “Shit!” Gulping, she pulled herself up with the help of the pure white curtain, blood staining the once untouched linen as she shakily got back to her feet.

Giving one final tug as she fought vertigo, the pole suspending the soft white cloth shook loose. Chrys caught it before it could fall, her only weapon to the now gun wielding prototype. Chrys’s marching shadow neared Beta, but he made no attempt to run, the powerful magnum in hand. Facing her from the ground, he literally able to reach out to her, he aimed the gun, not to her head, but to her navel. Grin bordering on psychotic, he pulled the trigger.

A clicking sound could be heard repeatedly, no bullet flying from the Desert Eagle barrel. The one habit that Chrys was grateful she had picked up from her ex-commander was the arrogance they held regarding their weapons. I.E., they both only loaded one, confident enough it would be all they needed. She had loaded her right magnum…in Beta’s hand was her left.

Not risking the time to make a smart ass comment, Chrys pulled back the heavy rod, bringing it with an immeasurable force against Beta’s temple. A sick crack echoed out into the room, along with the strained sound of bending metal. Shocked, Chrys goggled at the out of shape rod. It hadn’t even been hollow but it had still managed to curve!

Solemn, Beta slowly got onto his two feet, looming over Chrys’s figure forebodingly, crimson eyes burning into her soul. Believing it was over, she threw her weapon to the ground bitterly, wanting to look death into the eye. He started to form a sneer, squinting his eyes but paused mid action.

Jaw growing slack, a finger gently glided to the corner of his lips, a trail of blood falling thickly from his mouth. Sticky crimson spilled down from his skull, sliding down raven hair and staining ivory skin. The gun in his hand landed daintily back onto the ground. Beta shook his head in disbelief. He weakly smiled dubiously to Chrys, eyes losing their fury, he only able to mutter one word. “Damn…”

Whether the comment was over the shock that Chrys had managed to hurt him or over the fact that he was even hurt, Chrys wasn’t sure. And at the moment, she could care less. Eyes glowing dangerously, she delivered a hard kick to his bleeding temple, knocking him unconscious into the once white wall.

At seeing him make no attempt to get up, she made the sign of the cross, sighing in relief. “Dios mio, there is a god. Fifth encounter I’ve survived all week!” Frustrated at the thought, she stumbled back to the first room to retrieve her Uzis, katana, Desert Eagle and backpack, soon after, arriving back to the brightly lit room. Weaponry back in order, Chrys squatted with a frown next to Beta, brushing the blood soaked hair from his face, draping it across his shoulder, away from his neck.

Reaching there, she made a troubling discovery. He was alive. After getting struck in the side of his skull, metal pole bending on impact, and heavily bleeding from the wound, the SOB still held the faintest of pulses, death refusing to claim him. Chrys readied a Desert Eagle, drilling it into the side of his temple. “That’s where I come in, isn’t that right? After all, one good turn deserves another…or some crap like that,” With that thought in mind, she let out a small grunt, standing upright.

Holstering her Desert Eagle, she hated herself for one horrible minute, knowing it would come back to haunt her. Sparing his life. However, he had done the same to her and one thing she believed in was karma. She smirked. “Lucky bastard.” Attention now to the keypad, a message scrolled across:

Through the window…darkness and light…all but an…

“Illusion,” finished Chrys. It was the only answer that made sense to her. Keying it in, a sense of disappointment was felt as the sunlight started to fade, the glass parting, releasing a rolling fog as it revealed a wooden stairwell. Disappointment replaced with content, she wasted no time in running up slippery cypress. Pushing the top door open, she found herself in a plain room on what she suspected to be the first floor.

“That was a wasted venture,” After all that, she hadn’t found out anything new and she had just barely managed to escape with her life. Scanning the murky corridors, she soon found a small bathroom. The mirror was smudged, the shower curtains vinyl and mildewed, toilet bowl dirty without water. The counter top was the only renovated item, black marble, white knobs. The water hadn’t been turned on but that was a trivial matter.

Dropping her knapsack onto the counter, she dug hurriedly inside the bag, taking out a bottle of alcohol. She had originally intended to use it for a Molotov cocktail but she needed some form of antiseptic. Ripping the top off, Chrys closed her eyes as she doused her back with the translucent liquid, the stinging sensation dreadful yet wonderful all at once. Shuddering violently once a quarter of the liquid was left, she shakily twisted the cap on, bottle slipping from her fingers back into her bag.

Pulling out a roll of gauze, she clumsily wrapped herself up, weakly laughing at her reflection. “Think I aged ten years in this hellhole, god damn…” Finishing up the roll of gauze, having wrapped herself up the best she could, Chrys threw her cardigan over her shoulders. She had enough vulnerabilities as is. Nobody need know about her current back problems.

Knapsack swaying in her left hand, Desert Eagle in her right, Chrys kicked open the door. She darted her eyes from side to side, checking for anything out of the norm. Seeing nothing, determination in her stride, she made a beeline back to the basement, hoping to find one of her former comrades…

"Sounds good" Billy said to Shalimar, nudging Roger and telling him the score. Roger stands up cocks his gun and waits at the door.

Billy walked room the room waking everyone up ad waiting for them to get dressed. Him getting dressed himself, gathering all his wepons and opening the door.

Billy and Roger did a sweep of the area and set up it tactical places for cover and let Shalimar lead the others to the bus. Roxanne helped Erica and Jack suck with Shalimar all the way to the bus. When they got there they waited for Billy and Roger.

Billy and Roger moved fastish down the corridors of the hotel, aiming their MP5's down ever nook and craney. They werent taking any risks, They reached the front door and Billy covered Roger as he headed for the bus, An infected dog ran from nowere and jumped at Roger. Before Roger could react, starring death in the face Billy had done his job covered his ass. The dog was blown away by a short burst from Billy.

Roger climbed on the bus and covered Billy on his trip over. Billy climbed on the bus and sat in the drivers seat and shut the door. Everybody on the bus sat down in various places. Roger at the back covering the bus.

"Right we need to get somewere, but where" Billy said under his breath. Then he shouted out starting the bus up "So were you think we will find survivors?" Billy asked pulling the bus away from the hotel.

"not a police station. but mybe a place where less people would have been during the time of the spread.i'm gonna say church or a militry base of some short"

"Ok sounds good" Bildo said to Shalimar dodgeing a few obsticals in the road. They pass body's cars burning, cars not burning, rubble, buildings, road blocks. Bildo passed most of these with relitive ease(sp?) but a few of them he clipped.

Bildo wasn't going to fast when he came round the corner and saw a road block, he skidded the bus to stop but there weren't enough room. The bus smashed side on into the blockade, Bildo shook off the daze and tried starting the bus again.

He called back to the others "We all ok?" He said and all five of them confirmed they were ok. The bus wouldn't start not at all it was dead. Bildo looked door side of the bus, where the barricade is "Sh!t blocked in" He said under his breath.

When he was thinking of a way out one of them thing stated banging on the door, then all the windows on the door side smashed. Arms came in a tried to grab everyone, everyon moved to the other side of the bus. It felt like everything went in slow motion while Bildo thought.

((TBC))

((OOC: Oh guy in my last post I put Billy instead of Bildo Sorry, Been Rping under the name of Billy alot recently. But more to come of this thrilling storyline so far lol.))

*CONTINUED*

Bildo thought of a way out, zombies now on all sides of the bus. Then it came to him, THE SKYLIGHTS. "Everybody the skylights" Bildo called out as he stood up. He walked to the middle of the bus, he looked up and smashed the skylight with the butt of his MP5.

"Roger you first lay down some cover fire" Bildo said Roger coming over and getting a leg up through the skylight. He started on the zombies climbing up but not wasting ammo, kicking them if he could. "Shalimar you next" Bildo said to her, but she needed no help and was on the roof before he knew it.

Bildo turned and took a few zombies out that were climbing in the windows. "Erica you next" he said picking her up and Letting Shalimar pull her up through the hole. "Right Roxanne then Jack straight after" Bildo said legging his wife up thourgh the hole and then instantly pushing his son up aswell.

Now Roger, Roxanne, Erica were shooting the zombies that were threatening trying not to waste rounds. Shalimar making her way around kicking and hitting the creatures away. Bildo was inside holding them off but there were too many of them.

He put the MP5 over his shoulder and jumped up pulling himself up through the hole on to the roof. Seconds after the zombies piled into the bus. Bildo stood up, each person covering an angle and Jack stood in the middle pointing out the close ones.

They held for a bit but they were running low on ammo. Just as things couldnt get any worse........................................................................................................................................................................................................

They continued their fight for survial when the S.T.A.R.S Fox Team Chopper came thundering over head and hovered above them.
Bildo's radio went **Bildo Bildo that you down there** Billy picked up his radio everyone continued to fight.

**Yes Yes its me Roger and more surviours, can ya evac us** Bildo said shooting a zombie one handed. **Yeh we can, If we are quick**
Bildo's radio stopped. Moments later a S.T.A.R.S Team member came down on the bus hard with 2 harnesses. "No Time to chat Phil Lets do this, Them 2 first" Bildo said pointing at Jack and Erica.

The man put the harnesses round the two and started to go up, Erica leaving her M14 and little ammo on the roof. Roger ran out of ammo Throwing his MP5 into the raging crowd, saw Erica's weapon and continued his role.

Phil came flying down the rope moments later and said "who's next?". Then Bildo said "Not me and Roger". Then the guy attached the harnesses to Shalimar and Roxanne and went up, Roxanne leaving her M14 and ammo for the guys.

Bildo ran out of ammo as well doing the same as Roger, throwing his MP5 and picking up the M14. He continued to fight him and Roger back to back fending off the horride things. min or so Phil came back down. Roger and Bildo attached themselves quick and were heading up.

In 45 secs they were on the Chopper safe and sound.........................

((There we go guys hows that then?))

((Thats a few characters with a happy ending. Congratulations, you survived 😂 Huh, guess I'll continue something for Chrys in a few days time...))

don't open that door!!!

yeah thats it!

((no they aint out yet lol))

shalimar looked at bildo."what the hell was that back there? it should have been and roger to be saved last. what was you thinking you have a wife and son to take care of . well never the less thank you bildo. just remember them first. we are gonna need some or trans. after this. and weapon with ammo"

shalimar looked down at the streets.it seemed so fearful.not a living soul down there.then she began to think-what was this made for.what good would it have brong.where are the others.-

~i have been dreams like this often.~

Jean-Luc emerged from his tent to the sounds of battle on the far side of the city. Some of his men had heard it as well, and stood watching ther city. They looked to thier commander for the decision. He waved them back. This was not their fight. Besides, he heard another sound. The methodic beating of wind, the sound of a helicopter. Whoever they were, they were safe. He told the men to wake the others and pack of their things. They needed a new camp, they had been here a week. Too long for Jean's liking.

He re-entered his tent, throwing on his worn, short-sleeved, kevlar fatigue jacket, the ensignias of the Swiss Speacial Ops still across the left breast, and the words "Troupes Lourdes", or Heavy Troops, emblazened in black across the back. He put on his fatigue trousers, and a trucker hat, incribed with the words "Swiss Army", crooked on his shaved pate, so that his shadowed his mismatched eyes. He strapped on his thigh holster, placed his Glock handgun in it, slung his hunting rifle over his shoulder and picked up his light HK automatic, his pride and joy. He stapped ammo packs to a belt that ran across his chest, and a few others on the other thigh and belt.

He came back out of his tent fully armed and clothed, and took down his tent with skill and ease, finishing the job in a few minutes. He put that in his pack along with his simple blanket, and put both of those in his pack. He strapped the hunting rifle to the side of his pack and dropped it to the ground, moving to help with the few tents left standing.

When the entire camp was packed, which only took about a half hour, they drew lots. Not to see who would carry the tents, but to see who wouldnt. The men who got the short lots cursed, knowing that they would be scouting ahead for the main force today. They ate a quick breakfast, dry bread and scottish coffee, then stapped on their packs and moved out. Jean-Luc stayed at the head of the main force, although he was not a scout. They would occasionally here a gunshot or two, but they didnt worry - they would have known if the scouts were in real trouble.

They stopped for a quick break near where they had heard the fighting. Jean took about 15 men and patroled the area for anyone who might have survived, had the helicopter not made it in time. There were quite a few of the contaminated ones here; they shot anything that moved. It seemed everyone had gotten out alright though. They looked at the weapons, but they were american, and no use to them without ammo.

They left the scene and returned to camp, strapping their packs back on and setting out. At the end of their trek for the day, they came upon a mansion, and set up their camp outside it, setting up watches and tents, making small campfires to throw off the chill of the night air. Something erred Jean about the masion though, and he picked another team, and entered the place. They roamed about the maze of corridors and passageways, finding nothing of any real interest. Jean-Luc ordered his men back to the camp, and they began re-tracing their steps, marked by a bullethole at every intersection.

Then they heard somthing running down a flight of stairs. The men froze, listening hard, the sound of clicking safeties echoing down the hall. They all raised their guns, Jean choosing his Glock in the close quarter enviroment, and moved down the hall quietly and stealthily, so that mice didnt know of their approach til the group turned the corner. They moved quickly towards the front door, not wanting to tangle with anything that might be in this....place. Jean-Luc sensed it, and he was sure his men did too, something was ary in this mansion.

They reached the front door and exited graciously. Jean-Luc dismissed the men, clicking the safety back on his Glock, and moved to his tent, taking a seat just outside of it. A man brought him some rosti, and Jean-Luc thanked the man and ate it, giving the tin plate back to the man when he had finished.

Jean laid back, looking at the stars. He had once thanked his lucky stars for something, he was sure. Now, as he lay here in this hellhole of plague and suffering, he cursed them.

(Sorry if I distorted time a little)

~it's ok to me~
shalimar look up at the stars also. then she began to sniff several times. the coper was only a mile from the mansion. her eyes flashed yellow. it had been sometime seens this happen. "people are out there. a group of them. i can smell them. but where?"