cityarcade | MEME: Apocalypse Drabbles

Russell Clank

They wake up to chaos.

Russell's phone is ringing off the hook, and Saffron tells him sleepily to let it go to voice mail as she burrows in next to him, her face tucked into his neck. Laughing, Russell says he's gotta take it, it might be the station, but he doesn't move more than his arm, to reach over and grab his phone off his nightstand.

He stops laughing once he answers the call and hears what the voice on the other end has to say.

"What is it?" Saffron asks, noticing the fear in his eyes as she lifts her head.

"They're takin' over the fuckin' city," he says in a dazed voice, not even noticing he completely misses the nightstand when he goes to set his phone down. "It happened overnight, how did it happen so quick-"

That's all he gets out before both of them hear the noise. Thumping, on Russell's front door. "Russell, what the hell is going on," Saffron says as both of their heads snap in the direction of the noise.

"What's goin' on is we need to get armed, right fuckin now," Russell replies, and in a flash, both of them are up, yanking on clothes at a breakneck pace.

Neither of them are content to sit where they are, and he's got guns and ammo enough for the both of them. The first one, the one banging on the door, goes down with a bullet from Russell's gun in its forehead. They watch each other's backs as they make their way downstairs, the elevator blessedly clear, and as they head outside, guns blazing, they both know they've got people they need to see to.

"Stay close to me," he says, and she just nods from where she's standing at his shoulder. They'll get through this, together.

Andrea

What are you most afraid of?

It's the kind of question that get asked in a game, in the dark, the kind of dark that's always edged with the promise of light and therefore only terrifying for-pretend. This isn't that kind of dark. This isn't that kind of game. She asks him because she's reaching out, fumbling in the blackness, when they're holed up on the seventh floor of one of the office buildings downtown and they're listening to the monsters howling out in the streets.

The monsters are hungry. When the darkness came it ate everyone else.

What are you most afraid of?

Being alone.

She watched Neil ripped away from him, screaming. They were all screaming a lot in those early days--can one even call them days when there's no longer any such thing? Neil was taken by the dark, his hand twisted out of Mike's, and she heard the force of it break two of his fingers. Mike wasn't screaming from the pain.

Now he's very quiet most of the time.

"You're not alone."

He leans back against a row of filing cabinets, flicking the safety on and off his gun. On and off. On and off. "One of us is gonna be." They're burning paper in a trash can for a little light, praying it won't make it through the paint slathered over the windows, because you need light, you go fucking crazy without it, you'll risk death for a tiny bit of it. In that dim flickering she can see that he won't look at her. "It's just a matter of time."

She knows he wants to die. She's not sure she can stop him. And then what? The truth is that Mike is a selfish bastard and that won't change and he knows it.

"I won't let you stop fighting." She hates how petulant it sounds, but at least it gets him to look at her. His eyes look like hollow pits. She remembers they found food not too long ago but she can't remember him eating any of it.

She has to make him. She'll beat him into it if that's what it takes.

"You can still shoot straight," he says after a long moment. "That's not nothing."

It takes her a few minutes to understand that this is his way of telling her that he'll stay alive for now. That he won't abandon her to the thing of which he's most afraid.

The monsters are screaming for their blood. One way or another she's going to starve them to fucking death.

The world had ended at 3.17 pm with a phone call. Not just one though or a hundred but a thousand or ten thousand. Ten thousand phone calls placed at precisely 3.17 infecting half and killing the others. Some called it Miranda, some called it Romero, some called it a computer virus except it didn't infect computers... it infected people.

Andrea called them Walkers but she called them Flocks. Birds of a feather flocked together, it was something Alfred had taught her a lifetime ago. A lifetime or twenty eight days, she didn't know which felt longer. Twenty eight days running, half starved and dirty. Twenty eight sleepless days, twenty eight long nights in which they ran.

They'd lost Dean in the escape to the outskirts of the city, they'd lost Clem at the farms... it had been bloody. Violent. They moved, they always moved trying to keep ahead of the flocks as the creatures moved through the day always searching for them. It was after the farm that Andrea had started screaming in her sleep. She didn't stop until Sam covered her mouth each day they slept and held her, she didn't stop until Cass started killing to keep them safe, she didn't stop until Cass had pressed a rifle into her hand.

The world ended twenty eight days ago at 3.17. She'd never get used to this.

Lily

Mike Pinocchio

Subject Delta

In a way, it's a whole lot like what happened before, but this time lasts longer. At least, it does for Russell. Last time he died only days after it started and this time he's still here, moving, keeping alive.

Everything's on fire and there are screams sometimes, but mostly it's quiet. Mostly it's just the crackle of flames and the occasional explosion as a gas tank somewhere finally catches and goes up. It's not just a town or a city this time either, it's everything, the whole world. At least, that's what he and Delta can figure from what they've seen.

They haven't seen anyone else alive in a long time. Weeks, Russell thinks, but he can't remember anymore. Food is scarce and they're both getting thinner. Russell's always been skinny, so he notices it more with Delta than himself, but he knows how he feels. Maybe he doesn't look quite so sick, but he feels like shit, more often than not. He has the shakes, which make it hard to aim his weapon, which makes hunting next to impossible. It'll have to happen soon and he has to talk to Delta about it, even if neither of them want to.

They're huddled together in a small house. Maybe it was a cottage, it's hard to tell now. The furniture's all gone and two of the walls are nearly burned away, but there's one room near the back that offers decent cover from the wind. It's back here, a small fire burning, that Rusell tells him.

"Starving to death's a bad way to go, man," he says when he's done explaining what he's going to do. He doesn't need Delta to do anything, but he does need him to understand why.

"Then I'll be alone," Delta answers.

Russell wants to point out that everyone is alone now, even if they've got someone with them. It's not the same as before, there's no such thing as company or comfort. But instead he just smiles a little.

"But you'll have food," he says, looking up. The roof is burned away and every so often he can catch a blurred glimpse of stars through the ash and soot in the air. "At least for a little while."

Delta thinks about this for a moment, then nods, even though Russell can tell he's not happy about it. "When?" he asks.

"Gotta be soon," Russell says. "Otherwise there won't be anything left on me worth eating."

D:

fuck me and he would too because he's practical like that but jesus christ all the DDDDDD: forever

Edited 2012-08-04 17:23 (UTC)

Stuart Dakin

Sybil Crawley

Kaine

Running seems like cowardice. These people are still alive for all the horror they have suffered. Ravening creatures terrorizing the city they live in, but Sybil will not run. She will not run when there are people to help.

Too quickly she realises she is alone. Her nurses kit seems woefully inadequate and yet she does what she can. Bandaging wounds, saying a kind word to those who are beyond saving. Each loss breaks her heart but there is nothing she can do about them.

This is what her mother worried about. Not nursing at a hospital removed from the front but dealing with the war as it happened. The horror is unlike anything she's seen but Sybil doesn't flinch. She is focused on her many patients and how she can help each of them.

The attack of the creatures breaks through to where she is and for the first time that day Sybil is convinced she will die. It seems someone has another idea, swooping in to destroy the ravening beast.

"Do what you need. I'll keep them off you."

They're the only words she hears the costumed man speak, but they're enough. Sybil turns back to her work, determined to help all that she can and sure that someone is watching over her.

The city was unprepared for the creatures, but I cant blame then. Only in hindsight can you think that you should have been.prepared for something like this. There are pockets of resistance and refuge, places where.people go to be safe or get help. I always try to look in on those places first.

Today, I'm especially glad I did. Peter fights because he feels he has a responsibility. Ben fought to make the world a better place. Me? I'm not sure my motives are that pure ht I do know one reason I fight; because some things deserve to be protected.

Sybil is one of those things. She fouls have left. Should have left, but she didn't. She stayed to help.

When the creatures start to attack, I throw myself in their way without a thought. I don't know how many of them there are but it doesn't matter. Nome of them will so much as touch her.

I welcome the fight with he monsters, it gives me a chance to let go, to fight with holding nothing back. I'm practically an animal anyway and this is a good excuse to let that side of myself free.

When it's all over, none of them got through. There wad never any doubt thought, they never had a chance. I was always the biggest monster here. I didn't get away unscathed, but it's nothing that wont heal.

"You should be safe for now."

"Thank you," it's not enough to say, but she's nothing to give him but her appreciation. Exhausted in a way that she has never experienced before she wants to simply lead those well enough to shelter, to find a place she can rest. At least until this all starts again.

She still doesn't understand how the Reavers got here. Saffron had seen their ships one day, spotted them from her apartment window, and she'd known what they were immediately, smoke coming from the engines of half burned-out hulls splashed with red. There'd been so many of them, and with Reavers, there's nowhere to hide, not when they're all trapped within the city.

However it happened, though, there's no looking back now. People are dying all over the city, dying and much worse besides. Saffron's armed herself as much as possible, guns at each hip and calf, a sword across her back, and one of their axes in her hands. There's no way she's going down, not without a fight at least, knowing what they'll do to her if they manage to catch her.

She runs into him outside her apartment building one night. She hasn't been staying in one place, keeping on the move, sleeping with one eye open and only coming back home every once in a while. She's beheading a Reaver with her axe when he drops down from above and takes care of another one with brutal efficiency.

"I've been looking for you," he says simply. No questions, no need for explanations.

"I've been around," she replies, and they both take steps toward each other, but before either of them can say anything else, she spots one behind him and shouts, "Duck!" right as he's looking at something over her shoulder and growling, "Look out!"

Saffron goes down and the Scarlet Spider goes up. She throws the axe from a crouch, sending it directly into the Reaver's forehead as he falls onto the one behind her from above, breaking its neck before it can barely register what's going on.

"How long are they gonna keep this shit up?" he asks as they move towards each other again, neither of them stopping until they're standing so close they're nearly touching, Saffron having to tilt her head back to look at him. She's going to need to retrieve her axe, sooner rather than later.

"As long as any of them are still alive," she replies.

He gives a brusque nod, then strides over and yanks her axe from the Reaver's forehead. Turning back around, he walks back and hands it to her. "Looks like we've got work to do, then."

Edited 2012-08-05 01:47 (UTC)

She watches him sleep, the familiar rise and fall of his chest. His hands empty and scarred reaching out for her in his sleep. The sheets twisted around his waist, one leg draped over hers heavily. She tries to move, she needs to move but his body moves with her until his face presses against her shoulder.

Not now. She relaxes, leaning back into the warmth of his arms. Reaching out to touch his face with a gentle touch, she sighed as he nuzzled her neck, murmuring her name in his sleep. She watches him, curling her body into his heat and allowing for one moment to forget the pain. The sharp puncture of skin, the screams, the fear.

She will have to move, not now. She can spend a moment longer with him. She'll go soon. She has to go soon... she's already changing.

In the land of No Internet, on my phone, so you get all at once. I'll answer prompts tomorrow:

Hanna Heller
Neil McCormick
Spike
Jane Timoney
Tommy Conlon
Ursula
Patrick Bateman

"Stop squirming," Andrea hisses, knowing that even if she sits on Spike, it won't stop him from moving if he really wants to. He's a lot stronger than she is, which becomes more obvious every day. The machines are too big for her, too heavy to move even once they've been deactivated, but Spike kicks them aside sometimes like they're nothing more than tin cans. So far, he's the best person to be with, so Andrea makes sure to stick close.

"Well, it bloody hurts," he hisses back as she finally gets another of the bullets out of his shoulder. There's blood pouring down his side, but it's the last one and she leans back, reaching for some of their clean clothes to press against the wounds.

"I know it hurts, but you asked me to take them out for you," she points out. This isn't the first time they've had this argument, it likely won't be the last. He gets hurt, she patches him up at his request and he bitches at her while she does. It's as close to tradition as they have.

When Spike rolls over again, she's not surprised to find him grinning.

"You love this," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Something satisfying about fighting the good fight, isn't there, love?" he asks, even though that's not quite it anymore and they both know it. It's both more and less than that and Andrea isn't even sure how many people there are left to fight for. She's about to say this when Spike touches her hand. "Let's just leave it at that," he says and she nods.

It gives them something both to hope for, she figures.

Maybe he could have predicted that it would end like this. Maybe it wouldn't have made any fucking difference.

They're in the countryside when it happens. Blinding flash in the direction of downtown, a hot shockwave that knocks them both flat, and then, rising into the reddening sky, a plume. Spreading. Mushrooming.

Neither of them has to ask what's happened.

It had to have been only a few kilotons, because only a relatively small sector of the city has been completely obliterated. But there are fires and they spread. Survivors are spilling out into the outer edge of the city, into the country. Burned. Some badly. Some so badly it doesn't take more than a glance to know that they won't live. And that's a mercy.

They don't immediately take stock of the lost and the dead, the faces they're both looking for that they don't see in the makeshift camps that are springing up around the river and the farms. They both thinking them, and they both know the names they're thinking are the same.

At night, in a lean-to far enough from the camps that the screams are more distant, they lie together on an old blanket and Mike combs his fingers through Neil's hair, and again he's sure they're both thinking the same thing. That all their time now is borrowed. That the wind is wrong and there's nowhere to run.

"No way to know how big a dose we're taking," Mike murmurs against Neil's temple. "Could start getting sick tomorrow. Could take longer."

Neil doesn't say anything. That's okay. There really isn't much to say. It's all down to waiting now, and maybe the less time they have to wait, the better. He turns his head, leans up on one elbow and presses his parted lips to the edge of Mike's jaw.

This place has teeth and now it's chewing.

"If it gets bad enough I'll take care of you," Mike breathes, and he doesn't elaborate. He knows he doesn't have to. "I'll take care of both of us."

And at least this time they get to go on to whatever's next together.

They're at work, everything running smoothly as usual, when it starts, and by the time they decide they'd better get the hell out it's too late. The virus spreads that fast, transmitted through a bite, turning the affected into something unnatural. Neil and Saffron exchange a look, and then they bar the door.

Two hours later and they still haven't forgotten there's something inherently amusing about fending off the undead with sex toys.

"We're gonna run out of this shit sooner or later, you know," Neil says, upending a box of their biggest dildos from a second story window onto a group of them below; it's surprisingly effective.

"I know," Saffron replies. Both of them realize he's stating the obvious. "Someone's bound to show up." Her money's on a certain web-slinging acquaintance of hers, but there's Russell too, and Mike, and one of their friends will make their way to this place, eventually.

"Yeah," is all Neil says in reply, and they just look at each other for a second before both of them reach out at the same time and clasp hands, squeezing briefly before they turn back to their respective windows. "Yeah."

[Have to go in to work for a while, will be back later to write drabbles!]

~~Saffron~~ Helen

Toshiko Sato

All at once:

Katniss Everdeen
Molly Stearns
Driver
Eames
Jacob Palmer
Eduardo Saverin
Lucy Carrigan
Brendan Conlon
Jenny Mellor

The first time it happens, Lily thinks they're still in a dream. The street in front of them looks like it's folding under and she turns to Eames to ask him what's happening, but the look on his face makes it clear in an instant that they're out. This is really happening to them. The asphalt under them crumples and Lily's ankle breaks with a loud snap.

It's only his hand hooked under her arm that keeps her alive, but she'll never dance again. She knows that even without the broken ankle. The world in front of them is falling apart at the seams.

Eames looks out for her as she heals, but it's hard. There's no one to set the bone, even though he does his best. When it's better, she walks with a limp, the joint rolling in an unnatural way and it's never going to get any better, but she figures it no longer matters. They're joined by others and sometimes people go their separate ways, but she always sticks close to him. It's because he pulled her back from the edge and she isn't sure where else to go. It's the first time in her life that she doesn't know what to do.

One day he asks her what she thinks is happening, if things will ever go back to normal and Lily, who's never had much of a problem rolling with the punches, lifts one shoulder in a shrug and gives him a grin.

"Even if it did, would it matter?" she asks and although she's in bed with him, although he can see everything she still does her best to hide her ankle from him. He glances down and she knows he sees it anyway.

"No," he answers. "I suppose you're right."

"Nothing would be the same," she says and although she doesn't say it outright, she's sure he knows what she means. Nothing will ever be the same because she won't ever be the same. Because she's broken.

omg my heart

When shit goes bad, it doesn't happen all at once. It's a slow, tedious descent. We have time to think about it, to really understand the kind of shit that's in store for us, that no amount of preparing will protect us from. And eventually, the only solace any of us have left is distraction. And those of us that have means of escape have to hide it, snatching guilty moments of peace and telling ourselves it's okay not to share. There's just not enough to go around.

I'm able to keep it from him, when I start to break the rules. At least for a while. The first time I walk through a door and find myself looking down at a pair of little girls with corn-silk hair, I'm smart enough to keep it to myself. Then, it becomes a game I play with myself. When I start to build, it happens naturally. Organically. Rooms and hallways to house moments. People. Places. Walls and doors and locks to keep them safe. Places I can visit, discover all over again, relive when the memories start to fade.

By the time I realize he's noticed, he's known for a long time.

"This has to stop."

I look up and it takes me a full minute to realize that he shouldn't be standing there, leaning in the doorway of Wendy Peterson's childhood bedroom, looking somehow too large and out of place. She's sprawled on the bed, a joint burning between her lips, and when he speaks, she doesn't look his way. They... my projections. They hardly notice him anymore.

"This has to stop," he says again, and it's rare for me to hear worry in his voice. Rarer for me to hear pain. I think maybe I'm hearing both.

"Fuck you," I laugh, reaching over to claim the joint from Wendy, taking in a deep drag that just doesn't quite have the bite to it that it should. "You tell me what's out there worth waking up for and I'll stop. Just one fucking thing."

He steps forward and I hold the joint out to him, expecting him to take it, but instead, his hand reaches up to touch my cheek, and I expect it to feel warm and alive, the way it always did, but it doesn't. It feels muted, distant and already pulling away.

"Goodbye, darling," he says and it's not until he's turning to walk away that I realize I can't remember his name. Whatever room I put that in, I lost a while back.

Hell, maybe he never told it to me at all.

WHY

Because I love you? XD

Cassandra Cain

I don't know when the Queen got here, if I could have noticed what was going on earlier to prevent it from getting to this point or not. All I know is that it's Manhattan, it's Spider Island, all over again.

Only this time, there aren't all the heroes around to stop her or slow her down. Sure, a version of Cap is here and there's the Black Widow but they have no defense against what's coming and are turned into spiders just like everyone else.

Cass and I are the only ones left. The only humans in a city full of spider-people. I guess she has a limited immunity similar to what Mary Jane got from Peter. When I explained it to her it actually got a laugh out of her, which was nice. I guess if we're about to die it will be nice to hear her laugh one last time.

I'm not even sure that killing the Queen will turn everyone back. In fact, I'm fairly sure it won't. It might prevent them from being so homicidal though. Maybe after that we can work on developing a cure from my blood.

Or maybe we'll just have to learn to live with giant ass spider-people running around. Or rather I will, since eventually Cass will also turn into one. What do they say about liking someone for their personality and not their looks?

I'm really going to miss that smile though.

She gives it to me one last time before putting her mask on and I find myself returning it. The action still feels a bit strange to me but I'm growing more used to it. I just hope this isn't the last time it happens.

Nodding to her, I slip out the window and go invisible. It's her job to distract the bugs long enough for me to get close to the Queen. Then, it's all up to me to prove that in an island full of spider-monsters, I'm still the scariest thing around.

I might die, but I feel good about my chances. I've killed the Queen before and as I look over my shoulder to see Cass sneak out after me I realize this time I have something personal to fight for.

All in one go!

Stephen Meyers
Katie Marks
Hannah Weaver
Eden McCain
Olive Penderghast
Cameron Winklevoss

MEME: Apocalypse Drabbles

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