Click Click Boom (Open)

[Nathan Rewoldt]

The man held his head in one hand as he stumbled to the side, his free arm lashing out fiercely, with demonic ferocity as he savagely tried to keep himself alive. His balled up fist connecting with a satisfying crunch as the raider lost a tooth or two, not that it was enough to stop that fuck-up from giving it his all just to reach Nathan. However, in the few seconds bought from the strike to the killers face, Nathan had regained enough lucid thought to draw the Hi-Power browning from it's place tucked neatly in the back of his jeans. Just has his right hand closed around the comforting texture of the pistol grip, he was forced to duck his body and sway to the left in an effort to avoid two wildly thrown punches from the raider who now had a profuse amount of blood dripping from his open jaws.

"Nice gun. How about you hand it over, kid." The sickening voice of the raider was cracked and wreaked of alcohol, death, and cruelty. Nathan watched as the mans eyes starred at the piece he held so confidently. Nathan let a small grin split his features, the motion bringing a biting sensation of pain down the left side of his face, the same location where the brutes fist had struck him only a moment earlier. As the raider saw that smile dance across the cold face of Nathan, he recognized the look in his eyes, the same look so many raiders got before the big moment of glory. And it was in that moment he knew he was going to die.

The monster lashed forward, fear replacing that cocky shine in his eyes. Milliseconds before his fist should have stricken Nathan in the jaw, he raised the pistol and squeezed the trigger in quick succession. One, two three shots rang out through the hollowed church, echoing for a few seconds before only silence remained. The raider lay in a bloodied heap upon the floor, the first two shots taking him in the chest, the third tearing through his left shoulder and exiting only centimeters from his spinal cord through the back. He had been dead before the corpse even hit the floor.

Sliding the weapon back into his jeans, Nathan turned his gaze away from the dead man and looked up, eyes shining with a hunter like gaze. These people seldom ran alone, they were pack animals. Sighing gently, the former drug dealer shrugged the heavy wool peacoat from his frame and let it hit the floor. The adrenaline that currently was pumping through his veins was enough to keep his slender frame warm and the coat was only a hindrance in the chance another might decide to jump in and see if he could succeed where their friend had failed. Casting one last glance at the fallen murderer, he felt no remorse for his killing. Survival of the fittest, nowadays. Turning upon his heel, Nathan walked away from it all.

It was funny how quickly age old habits had a way of working themselves to the surface, even without thought or want. As if it sensed a quick break from the violence and bloodshed, his body took advantage of the respite and produced an unlit cigarette which was eased between his waiting lips, and only a fraction of a second later the zippo sprung to life igniting the cancerous cigarette. Not that he really cared about the side-effects anymore. Hell, if he lived long enough to get cancer in a fucked up world like this, he'd consider himself one lucky prick. Taking the smoke from between his lips and holding it between experienced fingers, Nathan let out a satisfying breath, watching the smoke curl up onto the rafters of the long dead church.

As he watched the smoke dance further and further away, his curious eyes noticed the multitude of paintings and writings upon the walls of the old church. He knew this place was old, old as Hell, and had probably seen it's share of world ending events, though he knew none of them had ever been as serious as the problem that was currently dancing it's way across the globe, leaving a trail of broken lives and corpses as it went. It humored the young man how in the face of imminent demise people gave in to age old believe that God could save them. This church was little more than a pile f rocks and wood, yet people had flocked here and upon any available surfaces where messages like, 'Only God Can Save Us' and 'Fear His Judgment'. Shaking his head lightly, Nathan continued his walk. He had never believed in that spiritual bullshit. As far as he was concerned there was the world they lived in, and that was good enough for him.

His gentle musings were quickly interrupted as he heard a loud crash from behind him. Whipping around, gun already in hand and hammer cocked back ready to go, he was mildly surprised, but greatly relieved. What he saw facing him was a stray tabby cat, her bright orange eyes starring back at him and the weapon he held. Sliding the pistol away, Nathan slowly sat down upon the cold and dirty floor of the Abbey. Holding out a single hand, his eyes remained locked to those of the cats, and he watched as she came forward, rubbing her face upon his hand. Taking another deep breath of the cigarette, he allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of contentment and security.

Sometimes pretending this world wasn't completely fucked to Hell was the only way to remain sane.

[casey leigh kerr]

- - - - AND THE FLAGS ARE ALL DEAD ( at the top of their poles )

The streets were littered with paper and rubble, making the city look that much more desolate. Raiders had been through already, the evidence left in poorly done graffiti and broken windows. The echo of a motorcycle bounced back and forth between the walls that barricaded either side of the street as Casey crept along. A frown made it's way across her face, leaving her feel a little more tired and a little more annoyed. She wondered who the tags were for, and what they were trying to boast about? Nothing really mattered anymore.

Shrugging her shoulders, she leaned down and kicked the bike up in speed, wheels rolling viciously over fliers and signs that advertised Savior this and Apocalypse that. She could remember a time when men stood on street corners holding signs with big bold headlines that screamed the end was near. Casey had thought them crazy once, but knowing what she did now, she almost regretted it. Except there were no regrets anymore, no point in thinking about it. She had spent her first year in the country wondering over all the things she could have done to save everyone, but she was no scientist. Just a woman who knew nothing beyond violence. In the end it all came down to this: there was nothing anyone could have done. The end came, and it left only a handful of people in the world.

The autumn chill caught under her helmet at the same time she released a long sigh. It steamed up the plastic shield, blocking her line of sight. Reaching up with one hand, she yanked off the helmet while using the other to steer the bike to a stop. Casey sat for a moment in the middle of the street, hidden mostly by two gutted cars. The thought of staying in this place came and went as she shook her head. She was a sitting duck. Tucking her hair up once more, she put the helmet back on and was gone.

It wasn't long until she was free of the city and was staring at the monstrous ruins of Kirkstall Abbey. Of all the things that had changed, the abbey was not one of them. It had fallen to beautiful ruin long before the fall of mankind. Casey remembered visiting it once with Rachel, the two of them roaming the ruins and snapping pictures like every couple in the world over had. It seemed surreal that she should be out here by herself for no other reason than sentimental value. There was nothing to take from that place. At least nothing useful. However, sentimental value mandated she go in.

Rather than ride the short distance across the street to the abbey, she hopped off and pushed. If there was anyone waiting for her in the building, she didn't particularly wish to alert them to her presence. Knocking the kickstand down, she leaned the machine over onto it, took the keys from the ignition and stuffed them in her pocket. Her next move was to slide the baseball bat from the make-shift harness she had created with her backpack. That she kept at hand, the box cutter stayed nestled in the cuff of her boot.

Rather than step inside right away, she walked around it, peering in various windows and occasionally losing herself in the past. The building itself was huge and, admittedly, she hadn't entered simply for fear of getting lost. Of course, this would seem contradictory when looking at the place she had chosen as a headquarters. Hell, some of the windows were so high it would take a second person sitting on her shoulders to even try and look through.

Wandering around, Casey eventually found a crack. It would be a good access point, and this way she wouldn't have to move any doors. If there were any doors. It was quite a squeeze, and she had to take off her helmet as well as fold up on herself to even hope to get through, but by some miracle, she managed. When she was on the other side, however, she vowed that she would not be doing that every again, whether the doors in this place creaked or not. For the second time, she pinned her hair up and popped the helmet back on. Partly because it was a hindrance, but mostly because she didn't want to leave it somewhere and have someone nick it.

Tapping the baseball bat on the bottom of her boots, she continued on, tripping only once on a piece of fallen God knows what. The lack of people in this building was somehow more disturbing than that of the city itself. If Leeds had been busy before the infection, this place had been hopping. Apparently, something about a bunch of fallen down old rocks attracted people like flies. Casey had no room to judge, the romance of the ruins had drawn her on several occasions. Even now, she moved over to the massive pillars and ran a hand over the cold stone. This place was beautiful in it's disrepair.

Rolling her shoulders, she reached for the zipper of her jacket, then hesitated. Something told her she would be much better leaving it on, in case someone just happened to come along and decide to attack. Sure, she could drop it, but then she would have to pick it up should she need to haul ass out of trouble if it got too heavy. Even she couldn't take on a pack of raiders single handed. Anyone who thought they could was a damned fool.

tagged: no one! and yet, here I am!
tunes: death letter - johnny farmer
threads: same ol' same
text: 998

o: Kittyyyyy![/center]

[Nathan Rewoldt]

Keeping those hazel eyes of his fixed upon the female tabby as she continued to rub herself upon his hand, her pleased purr filling his ears as she went; Nathan couldn't help but let a small smile crack across his face. He wondered what the world looked like through her eyes, how one day so many had occupied her world, how one day this city had been alive and then the next it had very literally died. Honestly, the man doubted much of dear ol' Mother Nature missed any of Humankind that much, after all they had never been much more than a parasitic existence upon her beauty.

Letting his left hand glide up to his lips, he took the cigarette from it's holding place, the smoke puffing from his nostrils as his head tilted to the side gently, looking at the small female as she herself sat down and looked back at him. Patting her on her head with his free hand, Nathan took another drag from the cigarette before standing, having had enough of play time and make believe, it was time to get back to the real world. No matter how fucking awful that god-forsaken place was. Taking one last drag from the cigarette, the man tossed the thing to the ground and extinguished it's life beneath the heel of one shoe. However, that was when things started to change.

Eyes quickly fell back down upon the feline as her ears perked to the side and eyes gazed down a long and dimly lit corridor. Nathan followed her gaze, staring down into darkness and he felt his stomach tighten. One thing he had learned from this new world was to always trust the animal instinct. If they drank the water, he drank the water, if they avoided places, he did the same fucking thing. Well, right now this little lady had all senses on high alert about something, and Nathan didn't like that. Not one bit. His right hand inadvertently rose to his face and stroked the tender skin that a few moments ago had been a twisted raiders punching bag. Now that wasn't something he was too keen on going back to in a hurry.

Eyes narrowed dangerously as he pondered his options. He could take the way he had come from, one that for this moment at least he knew to be moderately safe, or he could go down option number two and see just what it was that had Miss Kitty so perked. Looking back down to the tabby, who swished her tail once or twice before wandering off, Nathan smiled lightly to himself. He knew in his heart of hearts that he was going with option number two. So with that in mind he grabbed his coat off a pile of debris, threw it back over his shoulders, and without casting a second glance back took off down the hall. He had not idea what he was throwing himself at, but then again he never did anymore.

Nathan knew he was driven with something between a homicidal rage and a suicidal desire, but he was okay with it. Everything he thought he would be had fallen apart right in front of him, even before the Fall, and now he didn't even have a chance at redemption. The most he had been able to salvage from this world was finding his Sister, the young girl that had abandoned by their parents just as he had. Though the horrors he had gone through to find her seemed dwarfed by what had happened when he had finally been reunited with his own kindred. The very thought of these things had Nathan's hands balling so tightly into fists that it turned his knuckles white and was drawing blood from his palms as the nails bit into his own flesh. Taking a deep breath the man paused his march, hazel eyes looking up.

As he starred upon the stained glass mural before his eyes, he simply looked on in silent approval. He had never known much of the Bible or it's stories, which left him clueless to the scene he currently looked upon, but he understood the beauty behind it. He knew that to some this very image was enough to make even this fucked up world seem okay, and he respected that fact of it. Turning away to continue his hunt, Nathan cast one final and approving look to the window.

The scene depicted upon the glass was that of the Archangel Michael's banishment of Lucifer.

Picking his way through the dying church, he couldn't help but let his own mind wander down the path he had opened despite the many locks he had erected to try to keep these painful visions locked away. Stopping again, the man let one arm reach out and support himself against a wall as he starred down at the ground, mind racing. He could still hear her screams in his mind, he could still see the raiders swarmed upon her stripped and beaten body. He could see the looks of savage lust and cruelty upon their face, hear her begging for them to stop. Closing his eyes tightly against the memories, Nathan bit his lower lip, remembering how even after he had killed the three that had tormented his sister she had begged him while choking on her own tears and blood to kill her. She had begged him to end her life. It still felt like yesterday, the memories feeling so vividly real as he recounted sliding the gun beneath her jaw, gently pressing against her neck as his own hand held tightly to hers, as he whispered how he loved her and how he was sorry he had failed.

Then only a single shot rang through his head. And at that Nathan vomited on the floor of the Abbey.

After a few moments the man leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing ragged and labored as the back of his hand wiped across his open mouth, his eyes wide and pained. However, within those seconds the locks once again began to replace themselves upon his mind, they once again began to retake control and assert themselves. However, in those moments it had become clear why he chose the path that possibly led to danger when he knew of one that was safe. Why he risked a run in with raiders when he knew a way of avoidance. Because he no longer cared of himself, the world had no need for a failed brother and forgotten soul; but it did have need for a man willing to kill every one of those marauders that he came across.

So with that Nathan continued his walk and exited the corridor just in time to come across the one he presumed he was hunting. Clad in a motorbike helmet and a leather jacket he had no way of exactly telling the sex or size of the figure. However, it didn't matter, it was armed and he knew better than to judge people on appearance alone anymore. Only a month ago he had nearly lost his life to an elderly woman who had slashed at his throat with a steak knife. No, he was done offering the benefit of the doubt to anyone, not anymore. Watching as the person went about their business, Nathan once again drew a cigarette from the dwindling pack and raised it to his lips. He allowed the metallic clang of the zippo flicking open to light his precious addiction and the sound of it snapping shut be his introduction. After all, he was a man of few words.

That and he didn't feel like screaming, "Come smack me in the head with your bat!". Not yet at least, maybe later on they could play rough. Because everyone knew if it wasn't rough, it wasn't fun.