They Rise

[Anthony Kite]

This a thread for stories regarding the Halloween 2008 events. All are welcome. Let's smash some zombies!

[Anthony Kite]

The zombie apocalypse.

It was something I used to joke about all the time back home. Back before I realized that zombies were real. Before I saw them shambling in the back alleys of a seemingly normal city. Before I learned that they were festering in hundreds--maybe thousands--beneath the streets, abducting people, harvesting brains--harvesting anything, growing stronger. I'm sorry, but an unmanageable zombie infestation is not a fucking tourist attraction. It's not a local quirk.

I don't mean to be overly dramatic here. This shit is really going down and everyone seems awfully cavalier about it except for me. They still joke about cricket bats and boomsticks and The Zombie Survival Guide, but I'm committing it to memory. I have an escape plan.

When the dead first started rising, they were still telling jokes. "Oh, it's just Paragon." "That's just the way things are around this time of the year." But then it didn't stop. Even when we put them down again and again. It's getting worse. Every time there's more. They're getting bigger, smarter.

They're not Vahzilok. I learned that right away the first time I got caught by the ankle when I touched down in Salamanca. Trying to hold them off, all I remember besides--I'll admit it--blinding terror, was thinking, "Don't get bit, don't get bit." I don't know if it works that way with these guys, but I'm not about to take the chance!

We've started going out in teams, like when the Rikti hit, listening in on the emergency band. It was almost fun at first to ride that adrenaline high and take out the mooks faster than they could pop up and feel like we were getting somewhere. I could go home and take a shower and feel like we'd made a difference.

Today we will make that difference. Almost twenty kids, armored up, raring to go, to kick some ass. I'm grinning like a skull to keep from showing how much I don't want to do this. I can barely appreciate it I'm so queasy, but we get the call and we roll out and it's cinematic as fuck.

We drop into King's Row, rain pain down on these things before they even get out of the ground. We're kicking ass, we're saving brains. It's gross beyond gross--Tubgirl has nothing on these guys, the smell, the texture...

Sam and Ves catch up and now it's a proper beat-down on our corner of the street. I've always loved fighting with Sam. She's a real tank: fearless, tough as nails, super protective. We go back-to-back. She keeps everyone's attention while I wind up for an axe kick. Some shambler is about to claw me and she closers her eyes and throws the wild punch that barely misses me but goes straight through it. I get some air and down another one with both fists as it comes to flank us. That's how we roll.

Somethings totally wrong about these zombies, though, I mean, beyond the fact that they're walking dead and they're popping up in the middle of Steel Canyon now. They're too dumb or something--Sam can't hold them off of everyone else, and neither can Dee. Elly and Brandon are getting overrun. And they're hitting us all hard. Ves took such a hard swipe I could actually see her grimace through the black mist that hides her. Beth's cute DIY pants are in shreds and she's favoring an old sprain. Everything always hits me and I soak it all the same, and so far I'm keeping up... But Sam, who I thought was practically invincible--I dunno--she looks tired. We've been wading through these mooks for nearly fifteen minutes and then there's this unholy groan that damn near makes me break for it with whatever shreds of feathers I have left attached. This...thing the size of a Hummer explodes from the ruined tree lawn near the Yellow Line. It has a skull for a head with a nest of rotting black hair. It has some sort of armor made of bone spurs and chared skin and tenons and I honestly can't tell if it's wearing it or if that's just part of its torso. It's one of those things you try not to smell, but it gets in your lungs and it's so thick you can taste it: rotting and burning and sulfurous all at once. I never thought there'd be a day when I'd rather slog through a green sewer to beat down some Vahzilok, but I'd take it over this, I really would.

The uber-zombie shrieks in a gurgley bass and brings a meat fist down on Sam's shoulder and her knees actually buckle. Then I'm in there and nearly drop-kick the thing to give her some room to recover, but it only moves a couple inches. Still, at least it creaks to look at me and not her.

"Sam! You okay?"

She nods, looking kind of shaken but unhurt, at least as far as I can tell, before I catch a backhand across the jaw that spins me like at top as I try to keep my feet. I reset the joint with a pop and blink the adrenaline-numbed pain away to see Sam stomp on the zombie's foot so hard it splatters and the thing falls to a knee in the churned-up grass and gore and what looks like gooey handfuls of my feathers. Now that it's in reach, I grab one of its giant thumbs--or whatever random chunk of dessicated flesh that was serving as a thumb--and wrench it behind in hopes of catching the thing in an arm lock long enough for Sam to squash its face in; but, the arm comes away in my hands like an over-cooked turkey drumstick. My stomach lurches at the popping noises and the chunk of reeking goo that flops out onto my boots. Sam crumples its dry bone face in anyway and now I'm actually glad I didn't have the stomach to eat dinner.

I wade back out into the mooks but I keep an eye on Sam. I'd never been worried--really worried about her in combat. But there's a shadow on her face I've never seen before: a growing dread like she's watching some grim horoscope come true. I roundhouse a zombie's head clean off. I don't know how she does it, being a tank, worrying about everyone all at once. I can't concentrate on both her and what I'm doing as it is. I keep trying to go for pressure points but just end up punching useless holes in gelatinous flesh.

There's that groan again and my skin nearly crawls off. The dirt near Sam's foot roils and I try to find my burst speed to close the distance, but I get no lift anymore and my foot sinks into the hollow lawn ans I yell out to her in warning...

A deafening crack is the last thing I hear as the world goes into bullet time. Hands sprout from the soil like Venus fly traps in time lapse and Sam moves her foot just in time as she spins to look at me. I see her mouth my name but my limbs are made of wood and I know I'm going down. It's a weird feeling to still be mostly conscious when your skull is cracked in two like a coconut--it's healed up before I even hit the ground. My brain resets. In the silence I hear car tires screech, the crashing of the surf, a heart monitor droning, the crowd gasps, wind whistling past...

Get up!

Everything crashes in again as sharp and clear and painless as a silver bell. I'm up--carried across the lawn and plant both feet in a zombie's chest. Another one's throat crumples in my hand. I know that they're clawing and chewing at me but it barely registers over my acute focus on the sequence of crushing and squishing and tearing I have to do to get the zombies off of Sam. She's staring at me now like she's seen Jesus prance by in a Speedo, but she's holding up on her own and I move on to the next wave of zombies clawing their way out of the dirt. Soon everyone's yelling at me and I find enough of a lull to stop and yell back, "What?!"

I catch a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. I wheel and brush against...a wing? Not Elly's. Mine. Green and red. Gigantic. I flail, panicked, at a zombie and manage to punch it out. This can't be good. I don't know what this is, but I know this feeling. I know what this means.

I'd died just then. I should be dead. Again.

The zombies finally stop boiling up and everyone begins to slowly crowd in. Sam's at my elbow, looking worried, and I feel...surprisingly okay, but I'm still shaking--from fear, from the rush, I don't know. My jacket's been shredded but I wipe the blood and mud and goo away and there's nothing to show for it but slowly surfacing bruises.

I realize then that everyone's asking questions and I just keep mumbling, "I'm fine, I'm fine." Sam barks at them to back off and she's saying we should go to M.A.G.I., even though I feel fine, just to be sure. But I do feel fine. I feel fine... What's M.A.G.I. going to do except make this nightmare real?

Eventually I sigh and go along because she's Sam. We take the train and sit in a shocked, pensive silence. But the whole way she holds my hand.

[Delta]

God, I love Paragon City. Where else can I take out all my aggression on dumbass little zombies and be hailed as a hero?

But, right, right. Luke, what'd you do today? Explain.

So I start off the day completely normal. Take a shower, get dressed, rock out to some music, check facebook, shit like that. Go through boring old classes, most of the time literally getting lost in my mind, surfing the web.

But after classes, I decide to hit up the streets on my bike. Harley Electro Slide, I love you, baby. Rest in peace. Well, anyways, I'm cruisin' by when all of a sudden, my Saint Joe's comm goes crazy.

Here these dumbasses are, screaming about zombies in Steel Canyon or something. So what? Shit like that happens every day. I close my eyes, check out the scene through a few of the street cameras. What the hell, you know?

That shit was... messed up. Zombies EVERYWHERE. Then, I see few of my class mates. Sam, Tony, Elly, Dee... Beth. Fighting for their lives, alongside these queer-looking superheroes.

They looked like they were... losing...

I sighed and took the closest exit to the highway, and went well over the speed limit on my way to Steel Canyon. What I do for women.

[Delta]

((switching to third person :S ))

Luke exited the tunneled highway going extremely fast, but slowed down when he saw what was ahead of him. There were thousands of zombies. Regular Dawn of the Dead type stuff.

As he rode down the empty streets and passed the legions and legions of zombies. He was making his way to the Main Square, where the bulk of the invasion was happening and where his friends were. But, that would be a problem. There was just a couple zombies in the way.

Luke closed his eyes as he rode, trying to pinpoint where the zombies were using the street cameras and the best way to get into the fray. When he opened his eyes, he realized that he was now surrounded by zombies. They moaned in unison and lunged for him on his bike. Luke, careful not to be bitten or scratched, flew straight up, leaving his bike to the mercy of the undead hordes.

"Hey! You f@#$in' zombies get offa my bike!"

He started to discharge electricity from his hands, aimed right at the zombie's heads. However, his attacks did little to no damage.

"Shit."

The zombies were starting to dismantle the motorcycle Luke had once cherished, perhaps because the "smell" of him was still on it. Luke, looking very angry, sped up his barrage of attacks on the zombies. In all, he took out one zombie by electricuting the metal necklace she had on, but his attacks had left him exhausted.

"F@#$in' zombies... my bike..."

He sighed and started to fly away. Then, with a devilish smile, he turned around and pointed towards his bike. With a grunt and a bit of concentration, Luke made his motorcycle explode into flames, destroying the zombies around it. With a satisfied grin, he resumed his flight towards the group.

He briefly rested on a nearby roof top, checking for bites (he really has seen too many horror movies), but was interrupted when he heard muffled screaming. He looked over the roof's edge and saw "Godbot", a fairly popular armored hero who is usually seen on Peregrine Island. The giant suit of armor was surrounded by zombies, and wasn't moving much.

"Help! Help!" the armored man yelled.

Luke laughed a little bit, and closed his eyes. He was now inside Godbot's suit. The man was stuck in the horde because the suit had malfunctioned, making the once invincible suit of steel a deathtrap. With a little bit of concentration, though, Luke was able to control the broken suit.

"What? Why is it moving... what's happening?", Godbot said uneasily.

The suit's right fist hooked foward and nailed a zombie in the face, sending a domino effect of knockdown through the group.

"Damn, this is like a f@#$ing video game or something..." Luke said, through the suit's robotic voice.

"Wha... is my suit alive? Hello?"

The suit spun around, knocking away all the surrounding monsters with the robotic fists.

"Yeah, and you don't oil me enough."

Luke continued to pummel his opposition with the suit, until he realized how much of a drain controlling the robot was on his energy.

"Okay, look, guy, I'm going ta re-energize your suit. Get to the Square and help the people there."

"Are you crazy? You know how many zombies there are there?"

"You know how many zombies there are everywhere? Don't be a pussy."

Luke cut out, wiped away the newly dripping blood from his nose, and continued his flight towards the square, albeit a bit wobbily.

[Ineffable Muncie]

They're all around, surrounding him, everyone that Muncie knows. Zombies. He tries to give up, or force his mind to wake up from this, looking up into their faces as they surround him. He's normal, and he can't punch these things. One decayed claw grips his neck as he begins to moan in terror. Out of nowhere, some flashy zombie flies overhead, the green blast of radiation and burning feeling too much... forcing him to sit up in bed.

He's big and strong again, breathing heavily after the nightmare, wondering when they started teaming up against him like that. And why he's never his new self when he goes to sleep. He could probably guess at that second question, but he thought the old nightmares would stop some after the first time he waded into a group of zombies, smashing and hurling the little ones around like they meant nothing even though he felt nearly paralyzed. The sun's rising on a day when he'd normally sleep in, but reaches for the radio instead.

Its quiet, for now, and he gets ready for his day. All his muscles feel like they're on a hair trigger, able to punch a hole through a wall at the sneeze of a mouse. Then he just waits, too wound up. Its a day that makes him regret not calling home, and that makes him happy he's huge. He still doesn't want to call home. He doesn't want to know if he'd get an answer or not.

He finally gets jolted out of his thoughts by the call that zombies are waking up in Steel Canyon. He's in what amounts to a costume for him, heavy chains, symbolic and real, wound around his chest. He's not going to give up and let them come for him. And maybe he'll stop someone else's nightmares in the process.

If not, well, maybe a few zombies will at least choke on him.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

"The Lord help those who help themselves."

That is how the saying go, anyway. And I believe. Oh, sí.

I no es sure who I am. No sure who I suppose to be, and no idea how to become that person or any other even if I did. I have could take off mask, and no do anything but what I feel like, or just esstay en self pity or thought. But I did not.

I find most desperate, lonely esspot of hallow ground in entire city. Deep en midst of Dark Astoria, I train. I pray, and I meditate, but mostly, I train. With mask. Without. Especially without; es very different, and I have no as much experience.

Zombies es everywhere, infinite infestation, moaning, groaning, shambling. Any who dare get in sight of tomb, sacred patch of ground I es choose for sanctuary, es become practice. In malform groups, zombies es disassembled, helping me continue to hone esskill. But just as important, they help esstrenghten my soul, get use to fight with no mercy, get use to walk in horror.

Y, then what happen? Horror come to rest of city. They rise all over, no longer confine to place of infestation like before. Through ground they crawl, come to take living. Lord help those who help themselves. I could have neglect duty; I did no, and now I was prepare for what no one could expect.

I was no entirely prepare, claro. When first time happen, I was en my sanctuary. Strange hush fall, esstrange sound follow. Over comm, which I thought was esstill off, alarm I no understand come. I walk outside, and they come for me. At first, I think, I es finally have caught notice of evil which posses this place, Dark Astoria. They es no longer willing tolerate me, y they es going to throw all they have y finally claim me. I would be taken by unending hordes, y I would fail my family and die, last of line.

But I turn on comm, and I hear this es no just here. City es invade everywhere. Before long, people es shouting es safer en numbers, everyone gather, join like when Rikti come. So I go, leaving trail of dead that es no dead behind me, to join.

To fight a fight I had prepare for, gracias a Dios, without no even knowing.

[Deanna Brookes]

Dee used to like zombies, or at least zombie related things. She owned the Zombie Survival Handbook, dressed as a zombie a few times for Halloween, and regularly did Zombie Movie Marathons, especially around Halloween. Well done, zombie movies were creepy and chilling. Done bad they were hilarious. Either which way was good times.

That hadn’t changed much since she came to Paragon and got her Hero Card. Of course she had encountered Vahz and Pantheon zombies and the first few times for each had struck a cord. But it wasn’t the same raw fear. Barring certain places, they weren’t the hordes that made zombies scary. They weren’t infectious- a single bite didn’t mean your doom. That left a slow, unintelligent foe that was easy to take care of. About the only thing that would strike terror into you was the smell and the threat of ruining a perfectly good pair of shoes.

Which was why she wasn’t particularly worried when she saw the first zombie. She was on her way to her shift a City of Gyros when she saw it, shambling towards her. But then a hand burst from the ground almost as soon as she finished off the first. She danced backwards, her hands glowing brightly as a few more dragged themselves from the ground, and she started to hear other screams ring out through the city. Her stomach flip flopped as she began to fight, beating them off. These weren’t Vahz zombies- they weren’t made of patchwork parts. And she didn’t think they were Pantheon either- they smelt of rotting flesh and earth with none of the lingering sent of herb and incense that came with the Pantheon.

She managed to break clear and book it towards work, checking herself for bites or scratches once she was in relative safety. The initial wave died off as various heroes answered the calls, but as the hours and days passed, it soon because evident. It kept happening. While Paragon was probably the best place in the world for this kind of thing to happen, with the many heroes that called the city home and the War Walls making it easy to contain the zombies when they rose, Deanna couldn’t let go of the deep seated terror deep inside her. She had seen this play out in dozens of movies. A single zombie was nothing, a joke. The horde however… it wore down your defenses. You couldn’t get them all. Eventually they would break through, and you would be trapped in the very place you barricaded for safety.

But she wouldn’t let that happen to her. Her mother, as messed up as she was, had at least taught Dee a few important lessons- you could only rely on yourself and you had to have a plan. So Dee made loud jokes about boomsticks and the Zombie survival handbook and kicking whoever did this in the nads, trying to pretend she wasn’t terrified. She groaned every time the alarms sounded, and joined in with the groups of kids fighting them back in a desperate attempt to keep this manageable. She studied the Survival Handbook more then she had any of her school books, highlighter in hand. Yeah, it was a fiction book, but it was better then nothing, and it at least it was someplace to start when it came to how to build a protected area that would be safe. There was even a beaten notebook, with plans it on how to destroy the stairs to the second floor of the dorms, so zombies couldn’t get up at them- there were enough kids who could fly, jump, or teleport that they wouldn’t be trapped. A good portion of one of her paychecks went towards the couple of cases of canned food and bottled water that now sat in the back of her closet. And her collection of zombie movies and books were stashed back there as well, out of sight.

Dee didn’t like zombies so much anymore.