Duibne Industries - Open to Tacharan, All Others Invite Only

Nova had missed her work. What with one thing and another (boyfriend, if that’s what he was, getting almost murdered, father and brothers trying to liquidate her assets and then frame her for a murder they may or may not have conspired to commit, etc etc, blah blah blah) she hadn’t been in the lab much lately. It had changed in her absence.

For one thing, there were zombies –everywhere-. And for another, they’d changed all the phones to a new system. She beat the receiver of one such phone against the wall, unable to force the device to bend to her will any other way. From one end, she could still hear the electronic operator droning away.

‘If you know the party you want to reach, say their last name now, or hold for operator assistance.’

“Mother. Fucking. Piece….”

Suddenly, she heard ringing coming through the receiver – she froze and listened, holding her breath as the phone rang and rang.

‘Hello.’

“Oh thank you, thank you, I’m trapped, you have to help me…”

’You’ve reached the office of Pearce Mufauquin. Please leave a message after the tone.’

Before the tone could sound, though, someone finally did pick up the phone. She heard a whispered moaning on the other end before throwing the receiver down and stomping it to pieces in revulsion.

In retrospect, this was a pretty bad idea. Cell phones didn’t work in this part of the building. She’d just cut off her only means of communication with the outside world. Cursing her own temper, she took a good look around. All the doors into her lab were double sealed; there was no way to get in now that she had locked everything down. She pulled up the vinyl shade that covered the window, and just as quickly pulled it down again. Yep, the zombies were still there, pressed grotesquely against the four inch glass. Sure, no way to get in, but there was also no way to get out.

Sighing, she looked down at her lab bench. Clamped tightly in her vice grip was a single finger that squirmed and struggled valiantly in spite of being quite separated from its body.

“Well. Might as well get to work.”

'Please find me Nova Piestewa.'

Carol Hedley sat crossed legged in Duibne Industries Security section located on the fifth floor of the main tower. Exactly ten levels above the sub level where the contimination had started. She was thankfully dressed in combat boots, camo fatigues and a tight red shirt with an angry crayon on the front holding up a middle finger. Carol Hedley had one simple request.

'Please find me Nova Piestewa.'

The security team that had been sent down to secure the breach had been decimated, along with approximately 65% of the rest of the compound's team. Simon was no where to be found and currently not answering his cell phone. Nova was somewhere in the building, that's what the security logs say at least, but was not answering her cell phone which meant she was in one of the sub levels which COULD mean she was either dead, infected or dead and infected. Carol, at the moment, was responsible for Tacharan and Duibne Industries movements in Nachton's darkest hour. She really was unhappy.

'Miss Hedley we can't find Nova Piestewa.'

Carol looked up at the haggard security guard who had managed to make it back up to the fifth level without his team. He was covered in blood but not his own. It was him, Carol and about fifty monitors showing nothing but either empty corridors, zombie filled levels or running people on the sidewalk out front. They couldn't find anyone if they tried.

'Yeah. Well, I hope you do find Nova Piestewa because...well there is no because. We just need to find her.'

Dr. Thorpe moved quickly with the collective, searching out the rest of the clean flesh left on the sub levels beneath Duibne Industries. He could smell them but they could not find them. There were doors and secured locks holding them back and even though they had maintained their ability to do basic functions, passwords were lost within the cloud of the collective hunger. Sub level 2 was their prison - the DI security had let them get that far, but the rest of the building had been sealed off once the error had been realized. Still, Dr. Thorpe needed to get out. He wasn't sure why, but he needed to GET OUT AND FEED.

He had been banging his bloodied hands on the locked elevator door for the past twenty minutes when he lifted his nose to the air and inhaled deeply. There was a recognizable smell mixed in with the clean flesh. Fighting to use the collective consciousness he struggled with the scent until...Dr. Thorpe smiled a bloodied, rotten smile.

'Nova,' he whispered.

Sergeant Mitchell washed the rest of the blood off his skin as quickly as possible before he returned to the control room with Carol Hedley. He was scared out of his fucking mind but Carol was just sitting there, staring at the monitors with her cell phone in front of her. Mitchell knew it was bad that none of the other Tacharan had checked in yet, especially the leader. Rolling down his sleeves he quickly walked to her side and leaned forward over the computer console, using the keyboard to call up schematics of the sub levels.

'Unless they've figured it out, there are the air vents to use. They're small but someone small - 'maybe' someone my size but definitely a small female, could fit.' He looked at her - he wasn't suggesting Carol go crawling into the air ventaliation system but she wasn't stupid - he was trying to think of a way that Dr. Piestewa could make it out of the sub levels. If she was still there.

If she was still alive.

Special testing wasn't monitored visually for obvious reasons, but everyone's location was tracked from hallway to door. Everything was locked.

'My best guess is that Dr. Piestewa is still at her last known location, just sealed in,' he checked the log again, 'her offices.'

Sergeant Mitchell shrugged. It was the best they had at the moment and until the Leader had reported in - there wasn't much else they could do but watch.

Nova considered herself a pretty down to earth sort of person. She didn’t freak out over broken nails or squeal and jump on a chair if a mouse skittered by. In fact, she handled lab rats and mice all the time in the course of her work.

Zombie rats and mice, however, were the most disgusting things she had ever seen. She shuddered as she reached in with gloved hands and picked up another specimen. She wasn’t taking any chances – she worked with cages that had the gloves built in, passing them to a buffer cage and then into the study cage. They had to be kept separate because they would go cannibal fairly quickly.

Gross gross gross.

She worked as rapidly as possible, speaking into a recorder rather than taking notes, making slide after slide. There were still many things to try, and so she did not panic, but there was an intensity about her, something frantic in her movements that underlined the meticulous, careful nature of her work. Later her voice would sound breathless, muttered, entirely unlike her usual brassy loud tones. Keys clacked, mice squeaked, scopes clicked, and, almost out of hearing, the zombies moaned. Sweat ran in rivers down her neck.

Something creaked in the ceiling.

“Who’s there?”

She wasn’t expecting an answer, but she got one anyway – a thin, high wail from almost directly above her. She crept toward the flashburn button that would send a burst of chemical flame through the air ducts, but did not press it. The lab had its own vents, separate from the rest of the system, precisely because they wanted no risk of some experiment escaping and causing mass chaos. Pressing the burn button wouldn’t do any good, however – the zombies weren’t in her part of the system, but the public one, the one with no direct access to her lab.

Plaster fell down like snowflakes, swirling around her head.

Could they break through?

Well if they could use the vents, so could she, and she was willing to bet that she could get into her vents faster than they could get out of theirs. Only if she hurried, though – she could hear the scraping metallic sounds that indicated they were making good headway. She shoved her box of slides into her gym bag and hung her recorder around her neck, then climbed up onto the table and ripped off the nearest vent cover with a soft grunt. She started to climb into the small opening she had created for herself, then thought better of it – instead, she swung her legs down hard into the vermin cages, smashing them to smithereens and letting loose a hoard of zombie vermin before swinging back up into the vent system and throwing the cover into place behind her.

That was when she realized that she had nowhere to go. She crawled slowly through the ductwork, making as little noise as possible, but all too quickly found herself at the drop that led to the boiler room. There was no time for indecision; if the zombies found that flashburn button, she was well and truly baked.

She dropped down and landed in a heap in the room below. Behind her, a panel swung closed and sealed, and she could hear a roar of flames. She cringed and moved to the adjacent drop, not knowing what she would do if she encountered more zombies, but knowing that she couldn’t figure out a cure from inside a boiler room.

Her phone chimed, then, and she looked down. She had signal now, and apparently she had missed several calls. Carol, some guy she didn’t know, Security, Carol, Dr. Peabody, Security…geez, you’d think there was some sort of crisis going on. Deciding that the quickest way to get information out would be to tell Carol, she auto dialed, then wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder and continued crawling.

“Carol? They've infiltrated the lab. I'm crawling toward the stairwell, I think...shit, maybe I'm not...uh, anyway I'm okay, I'm on my way...somewhere...fuck.”

Nova's lab coat snagged on a screw in the vents, effectively cutting off her disconnected rant as she struggled to free herself. Soon enough, she was down one lab coat and continuing down the long tunnel.

“Are the patients okay? Shit, are you okay? What's happening?”

The rump shaking thump of her ring tone was blaring in her back pocket and any amount of stealth she might have had dried up instantly as she reached for her phone.

Flipping it on she whispered, 'Two seconds, two seconds!'

The screeching and moaning below her suddenly stopped. Carol squeezed her eyes shut and stayed perfectly still - that was until the panel she was crawling on pushed her up. She scrambled forward, cutting her bare legs on the edges of the now empty section, narrowly missing being grabbed.

'FUCK THE PATIENTS, I'M ABOUT TO GET EATEN - WHERE ARE YOU???'

The panels of the crawlspace began to drop beneath her, forcing her to crawl faster. The crawlspace came to an intersection and she scrambled to the right, further into darkness when suddenly gravity took over and she began to slide down. Carol was plunged into darkness as she gained momentum until she finally hit the bottom, dropping through the panel and into a room. Carol crashed onto a desk, scattering papers and computer equipment and bounced onto the floor.

Dazed but still scared out of her mind, she slowly opened her eyes. Her legs were cut and bleeding, her head throbbed painfully as well as her elbows and hips. Sitting up slowly she tested each limb, relieved to see that nothing was broken. With a deep sigh she looked around the room and recognized it immediately and also found where her phone had fallen.

Quietly she whispered, 'Nova? Are you there? I'm in your lab.'

Nova had what she would describe as a 'bad moment' in the ventilation shaft – an instance where confusion turned to panic, where directional disorientation carried over into everything. On the phone she heard nothing but indignant squawking, and all around her was a world of senseless tunnels and mindless moans.

And then it passed. That was the only way she could explain it – a certain clarity washed over her, and her bad moment simply went away. This wasn't like the raid, where she had to handle a gun and shoot people and get lost and frightened and deal with hostages.

No, this – this was science. She could do this. She could figure this out.

“Okay, I'm coming back.” As an afterthought, she added: “Watch out for the rats.” Hanging up the phone with a soft click, she stretched out flat in the narrow vent, then rolled over and squirmed herself back onto her hand and knees. She crawled back to the first intersection and then, instead of being baffled at which way to go, she looked both ways and worked out which one made sense. One sloped down – duh, that was the way to go. Not rocket science, not by half, but Nova had never been exactly in tune with her sense of direction before. It had always been hard.

As the vent sloped even more, though, she realized a critical mistake – she should have gone down feet first. There was nothing for it now, though; the vent was too narrow to turn around without wasting time she didn't have. She didn't know how she knew that time was short, having never learned to consciously acknowledge each aspect of her perception. The heightened smells and sounds and sights were simply absorbed into her brain, which then processed and spit out a message in her mind – “hurry the fuck up, Nova.”

So it was, then, that she returned to her lab head-first, a queer re-birthing into a land of chemicals and stainless steel. She struck her head on a cabinet, heard herself groan, swear, opened her eyes and saw stars.

It was at this moment that her presence of mind left her; she had remembered the zombie rats.

“Gahhhh!” She stood, ignoring the scream of protest from her aching head, and began flailing wildly, her arms swinging around, her feet stomping, her ponytailed hair swinging around like a bullwhip. It looked as though she had quite suddenly, in the midst of a crisis, taken it into her head to perform a primitive rain dance.

“Get 'em off me, get 'em off me, get 'em...”

She turned to Carol, breathing hard, and realized several things at once:

-There were no rats on her.
-There were no rats in the lab.
-There were no zombies in the lab.
-Nova looked like a tremendous dork.

She froze, straightened her posture, and looked around slowly before turning back to Carol and asking what was, in her mind, a highly pertinent question.

“Where'd all my zombie rats go?”

'Watch out for the what?'

Carol immediately spun around and then climbed onto one of the lab tables. 'Fucking rats? Gah....' Carol shivered and made a face. As she kept a wary eye on the ground, Carol tucked her phone back into her pocket and knelt down to hug her knees. The situation in Duibne was becoming more and more precarious, to say the least. She made it to Nova's lab, just barely, and now she was further down in the ground with nothing above her but the dead or dying.

'Fuck it.'

Carol slid off the table and decided either she gets eaten by something or not - whether it's rats or a lab assistant there was no point in freaking out about it. That was until there was another crash landing from the ceiling. She fell back against the counter top, knocking Nova's surveillance monitors. Suddenly the room was filled with tinny moaning and screeching causing the little hairs on her arms to stand up with fright. She didn't know whether to run from whatever fell out of the ceiling or back away from the monitors - all she knew was that she was having one fucked up night.

Reaching behind her, Carol flipped a couple switches and pressed several buttons, silencing the intercom.

“Get 'em off me, get 'em off me, get 'em...”

It was Nova. Carol ran to Nova, trying to calm her when the vampire seemed to realize where she was. With a pathetic shrug she snorted.

'I'm sorry - but we have no zombie rats here.'

Deep in the shadows, tucked safely in one of the gutters under the sidewalks, a small cat rested. Golden eyes stared out a large grate and up onto the streets above. Which were filled with undead just.. wandering. Amberelle had skirted around all of the Dubine complex in her safe little passageways, peering out at the building periodically trying to see if there were any signs of the still living. And, for any clue as to how to enter the Tacharan stronghold. She was 0-2.

She rested her chin lightly on her front paws and curled up as tight as she could. The Anantya was perfectly still except for her eyes which constantly darted to and fro and the tip of her tail, which twitched slowly in agitation. The situation was not looking very good and the young vampire found her spirits drooping considerably.

Ellis and Simon moved swiftly in the shadows towards Duibne, taking advantage of the zombies fascination with the fire she caused. The streets were cleared which was lucky since the shadows were providing very little cover to begin with. There were small fires along the way as they traveled the short four blocks over to the DI towers. Smoke rose from broken in windows and bodies with missing heads or blown out skulls lay littered in the streets. Ellis slowed as they neared the main south tower and whispered to Simon.

'Even if we get in, what about the zombies inside?'

Duibne Towers stood dark and unwelcoming with smoke rising from the roof top of the south tower and the surrounding buildings void of zombies but full of dead bodies. The night had turned from painfully loud to eerily quiet. Ellis slowed down to a quick walk and held him back slightly with her hand. They did not finish their awkward encounter from a few minutes ago on the downtown strip, instead they pushed on towards Duibne in hopes of catching up with someone not infected - maybe something from the clan at least. So far, nothing.

Simon shook his head as he turned in a circle to survey the area. 'I don't know, but we can't stay out here. They're bound to be back soon.'

Inside the cement tunnel, the small golden furred cat's ears twitched. A voice. She tilted her head to the side, ear turned towards the closest opening back to the streets above. Yes, that was definately voices, and even with the odd distortion of the sound within her tiny haven she could tell they sounded far too coherent to belong to any of the undead she was avoiding.

Amberelle crept cautiously to the storm gutter's opening and looked outwards. Golden eyes flicked this way and that until they came to rest on the two Tacharans she had been seperated from earlier. Her nose twitched as she sniffed, fairly certain they were not infected but far too cautious at this point to take any risk. Once she was satisfied, the Anantya slid up onto the road. She was crouched, belly low and tail curled tightly to her as she crept along beside an overturned newspaper stand towards them.

Simon strained to sense his surroundings but his abilities were so beyond taxed that his perception flickered in and out. Still, he knew he was better off than Ellis who was still showing signs of regenerating - the open wounds on her face had closed but the bruising was still painfully purple and red. She would even be able to break out into a full run if necessary. Simon took her by the elbow and walked her closer to the tower entrance, crossing the littered street.

Suddenly Simon caught movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively he reached for his gun only to find that he was painfully unarmed, thanks to being tossed around from the explosion. His eyes zeroed in on a small cat that was staring at them. The thought occurred to him that it might be infected, but dismissed it after noticing the absence of the rank smell. Shape shifter or just a curious cat looking for help.

Slowly Simon whispered, 'Listen cat - if you have any lives yet, I suggest you get the hell out of dodge.'

If it were possible for a cat to smile, Amberelle did. She liked Simon, he didn't have the same attitude as most of the kindred even half his age. Plus he was concerned amidst all this mayhem for a little alley cat. Yes, the young Anantya decided, she definately liked him.

Stepping into the street cautiously the cat took a few more steps then was more of a blur as she finished walking to them, shifting back to herself in the blink of an eye. Caked in dirt, soot, dried blood and other bits she didn't care to identify Amby knew she was a pretty gruesome sight. But as her eyes scanned Ellis she was silently thankful for the fact that she'd come out of this night a bit better off than these Elders had. So far anyways. The fate of Aishe and the other man.. Nick wasn't it? Well that was unknown but vampires were resiliant so she would hold out hope for them.

Looks like I have a few lives left, non?

Simon's motion towards nothing more than air had not gone unnoticed and she shrugged the heavy backpack off and held it out to him. There were still quite a few toys stuffed in there from their resupply run.

Grinning at him mischeviously, she shrugged her blood matted braid over one shoulder and rested a hand on her hip. I thought you two might be able to use a little help still? Amberelle looked at them, her golden eyes curious.

Ellis' ears began to ring. She shook her head slightly, trying to rid her head of the annoying noise...tingle almost. Her eyebrows furrowed as Simon turned away from her to speak to what appeared to be a cat. Good, she wasn't the only one that was completely out of it.

'You're talking to a cat,' she murmured under her breath. She blinked slowly and watched the cat come forward and shape shift. 'Man...you anantyas. No fair.'

Amberelle stepped forward covered in grime and offered up her bag of weapons. Ellis watched Simon reach forward and retrieve a nine millimeter and just as she lifted her hand, something caught her eye.

'Oh hey...' Simon turned to look at her and Ellis nodded towards his chest. Ellis shook her head again, trying to clear the pain. 'Pretty light.'

The light being the small red laser dot dead center on Simon's chest. No pun intended.

Simon gave Amberelle a lazy smile and with a nod reached forward and picked a weapon from her bag. The Anantya had made it out of the building before Ellis blew it to bits - maybe the others made it out as well, he hoped. Just then Ellis began mumbling and he turned to look at her. She wasn't doing too well - her eyes look vacant and tired, her face a purple mess and any trace of the usually annoying and sarcastic disposition was tempered.

'What?'

Simon looked down at Ellis' gesturing and saw the red laser light. He rolled his eyes. Perfect - now they had some gun wielding yahoo targeting them. Slowly he lifted his eyes back in the direction of the light and saw him. Whatever caliber that gun was - it would probably hurt, not kill but sure as hell ruin his night a little more. He cocked his head to the side, motioning to the owner of the gun.

'Either come along or move along. I'm not in the mood,' Simon said loud enough for the culprit to hear.

Amberelle was watching Ellis with obvious curiosity. The woman was clearly much worse off than she seemed. But, she was mostly holding it together. The Anantya wondered if she would be a hindrance or a help in a confrontation and honestly wasn't sure. Once thing was however. Leaving the Ancient to become zombie food would make her one hell of a threat, so the blonde supposed baby sitting a slightly loopy Tacharan was better than running from the reality of her childhood boogy man. Much, much better.

The laser on Simon's chest made Amby pause. Her smile faded slightly and she slowly turned to follow Simon's gaze and tried to pick the source. The Anantya's eyes shifted, pupils slitting and she focused until the form of a man was clear to her. 'That could be an interesting shot..' Ancient vampiric speed versus one nasty looking rifle. She watched to see what the stranger would do.

Damn, he had been discovered. He noticed that at least one of them were armed. The man, whom Steve was targeting, held a what appeared to be a Glock in his hand. Steve decided to take the mans offer to come along. His fingers clenched around his weapon, his knuckles bulging white out of his hands. He blinked sweat from his eye. Sweat? At this temperature? He turned on the light on his gun., then lowered the weapon. He crept forward a few steps, keeping his knees bent, ready to spring at the slightest indication of danger. "Steve Rowland," he said. "You guys alright?" He hung back, fearing for his life. An automatic weapon would be a good prize for some thug looking to score some new hardware. He wasn't about to die, not yet, anyway. He needed to find as many survivors as he could. It was, after all, his job.

Ellis didn't recognize him to be a vampire, but nowadays that didn't mean much. Being out of Tacharan put her out of the loop, so assuming he was a vampire was just easier. He was hesitant, but then who wouldn't be right now. Were they alright, he asked. She looked down at hands, rather raw looking stumps where fingers used to be and she could only imagine what her face must look like. He'd know soon enough once he got closer. Hopefully he was human. Ellis smiled.

'Oh yeah. Right as rain.'

Watching the stranger come closer Amby started to get that niggle as her training kicked in. This guy walked and carried a weapon like someone who knew what they were doing. He didn't strike her as some lucky guy on the run with a couple weapons picked up at the corner sporting goods store. Not that that was a bad thing.

His question suprised her, but she stayed quiet. Her eyes slid back and forth between him and the other two and she tried not to snort at Ellis' response. She motioned to herself, voice soft as she kept an eye out for the iminent return of the zombie hoards.

I'm Amberelle. Looking at him with narrowed eyes, she motioned with her chin towards the nice piece of hardware he carried. So.. What're you doing out here Steve?

One of the women replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He noticed that she was pretty torn up. The other woman, a blonde with a bag of weapons, was covered in god only knew what, but seemed alright. The man just seemed tired. The blonde came forward, eyeing up his gun. What was he doing? Surviving. He told her that he was a cop, and was looking for intel. Something moved behind him, and Steve swung around, planting rounds into the general area. A mouse scurried by, and Steve swore. That was a waste of munitions. He turned back to the group. He walked forward, but stayed out of range of any physical attacks. That Glock wouldn't do much against a flak jacket, but a head shot would send Steve to his maker. "Does anyone have any idea where the hell we are? I've been wandering around for hours, but I'm only more lost. than when I started." He sighed. What the hell had happened here? Zombies? Now he was shooting mice? He wanted to puke. This was all too much, even for him. Watching his sister get eaten alive was even worse. He looked at the motley trio nearby, waiting for one of them to make a move.

Bad place to be lost, Simon thought to himself, even on a normal day. His forehead crinkled at Rowland's reaction to the noise behind him. Skittish. Great.

'You're on the edge of the industrial district of Nachton - Duibne Industries, it's a medical facility.' Boy that was an understatement, he thought again. 'As far as we can tell this is ground zero for this infection running rampant in the city.'

Simon figured he was new to the city but still undecided on whether or not he was a vampire. Still, he hadn't recognized him or Ellis and of all people Ellis was the most recognizable to their nation. No, this wasn't a vampire, just some poor schmoe caught in the crossfire of doomsday. He decided to let him figure things out on his own. He looked over at Ellis and saw her staring at the man. She was so deprived of blood that he knew what she was thinking but god willing she'd hold off mauling this one in view of his obvious gun skills. Simon would rather have a good shot than a good meal, but then he hadn't blown his fingers off.

Steve nodded. He noticed that the one woman was wounded, and staring at him with a strange look on her face. The blonde, Aberelle, didn't seem all too dangerous, but the way she had looked at his gun scared him. Damn, this was bad. He thought of what Trin had said, and wondered if these were vamps or not. That was all that he needed, three pairs of fangs in his veins. He decided to play it cool. After all, why not die fighting if they were vamps? And, vamp or no, he was obligated to protect every one of them. Even if he did represent a double cheeseburger with fries and a shake to them. He raised his weapon. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm all for getting the flock out of here!" Their path seemed clear, but something wasn't right here. His soldiers sense was buzzing like a ticked-off wasp in his brain. Something was badly wrong here, he just had no clue what.

(Sorry for ignoring you Amby, I am kinda slow today.)
(Ellis: If you are hungry, chow down, just don't go nuts!)

Nova frowned at both Carol’s calm and her answer, disturbed by the mental image of zombie rats running loose through the building. That was going to come back and bite her in the ass one of these days.

“Okay. Right.”

She shrugged off the bag and pulled out her tape recorder, tapping it a couple of times in thought before, quite suddenly, walking briskly to the other side of the lab and flipping three switches in quick succession.

The sound of squeaking filled the lab for a split second before a roar of flames consumed everything in the closed off vent.

“Handy, that. So,” she began, before stopping to pick up a text book and slam it down on a disembodied finger, “Good news and bad news.” The finger began to wriggle even under the weight of the book. Nova struck it several times in quick succession, and it seemed to give up, flopping over onto one side and twitching half heartedly. “Good news is, I think there’s a way to reverse this complete fucking disaster.” The finger started to work its way toward Nova, very slowly. Annoyed, she swept it into a nearby drawer. “Bad news is, I’ll probably need a week or so to figure it out. Either that or a seriously lucky break.”

“So yeah. We might be fucked.”

Oddly, stating the obvious brightened her mood; she'd reached that giddy moment that comes after complete panic but before total madness. She bounced a little on her toes as she looked around the lab. "Samples would be good. Get lucky with those all the time."

'A week? We're not going to last 7 hours, much less 7 days. You know what they're going to do probably in the next couple of hours? They're going to fucking fire bomb the streets of Nachton.'

Carol wasn't stupid and she had seen enough survival movies to know what the steps of containment were for a city. She finished Resident Evil on the playstation - she was in the know.

'If you need a sample, there's a fuckton of it everywhere - I'm assuming you mean...what...like an origin sample? From the start of the infection, right?'

Carol moved towards Nova's computer bay and signed in. Linking into DI's main frame she was able to scan through the security cameras. She had started to do this up stairs in the main control room but got distracted by her brilliant plan to go up into the ventilation system to find Nova. Completing her task now she searched through the video files and explained to Nova what she was doing.

'Basically we can track this back to the start of the infection. The system went red with the alarm and locked everything down.' Her fingers clicked on the keyboard and then moved over to the mouse - putting up a triple window view of the lower labs. 'Here. It originated out of Dr. Thorpe's office.'

The video stream showed Dr. Thorpe eating his assistant. Carol backed up the time on the video to five minutes prior, showing the good doctor working on his experiment. The logs indicated that it was a hybrid hyper strain of adrenaline. 'What the hell was he working on - hyper adrenaline strain? For what?'

Carol could only speculate what the need would be for something like that - military most likely. DI was involved in many major illegal testing for the government - sometimes even foreign. Money was money. She shrugged off the guilt and watched the video. Dr. Thorpe suddenly sneezed.

'Fuck me - this was started with a sneeze?' She rolled her eyes. Typical. 'Dr. Thorpe runs out of the lab after the security guards opened up the containment seal. He's bound to still be in here. The sub levels were immediately locked down but it managed to spread pretty far with the guards opening everything up. He might be down here.'

Her hope deflated a little as she considered how far the good doctor may have gotten. Standing Carol moved towards the front of Nova's lab, back to the hallways. She'd be stupid to go out and decided against it - still, if she could get a call out. She reached down and tried the lab phones. Dead. Her cell phone was still back where she had fallen in and she moved towards the broken table, near the lab exit. Carol reached down and found her phone, flipping it open.

'Let me see if I can get a call out first,' she called out to Nova and turned her back towards the exit, looking down at her phone. A piece of her hair flew forward from a gush air and she reached out and tucked it back behind her ear. Then she froze. Carol angled the display of her phone to look over her shoulder, to see what she could see in the reflection of it.

Well, at least she knew where Dr. Thorpe was.

Ellis was hungry, painfully so and she could not stop staring at the human. She must have been a sight to behold, but she really didn't care. The hunger always took care of any humility one might feel. Tilting her head to the side, she eyed the man from head to toe. Ellis could drain him in a minute flat, she wagered, so when he nodded to her to follow him, she almost laughed out loud. She took a step towards Rowland and then turned to speak to Simon and Amberelle over her shoulder.

'If I'm not back in ten minutes...call the police.' Then she smiled a sickly smile, her skin still bruised and swollen. Ellis pulled on her turtleneck sweater and took a few more labored steps towards the man.

As they edged away from Simon and Amberelle, Ellis closed the distance between her and the man, noting the laser sighting was still on and aiming at her. She chuckled.

'Was there something I could do for you...Mr. Rowland?' Ellis drew out the last syllable of his name with a smile.

Steve snarled, noting the sarcasm in her voice. He was sure she didn't know of the small propane blowtorch in his backpack. He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "Cut the crap, vampire. Yeah, I know what you are. I'm willing to help you, just don't go nuts." He cocked his head, eyes on her face. "Go on, get your grub on."

Caution had an annoying way of interfering with hunger, Ellis noted. Still, she closed the distance between them to a foot. She wanted him to be clear in what he was offering - not that she wasn't about to take it anyway.

'Now why, Mr. Rowland...would you do that...for me?' Ellis asked in a lazy drawl, again drawing out the last syllable of his name.

'Are you careless, Mr. Rowland or just...not too bright?'

It was clear though, he knew what he was up against. She really hoped that was fear talking, not stupidity.

Steve snarled with surpressed rage. What the hell was this bitch thinking? He controlled himself. "Look, vamp. I don't have time for this, and we need to get the fuck out of here. So, since you need blood, and I have a ready supply, I'd sugest that you get off you high god-damn horse and feed for a bit, that way we can get lost. And, in case you're wondering how I know you're a vampire, I happen to ba a familiar. So, do we have a deal, or am I gonna have to kill you?" He raised his weapon a few inches, never moving that red dot from the vampire's face. "One thing: take only what you need. I need to be able to fight, since I'm the only one here who can take on a whole herd of those damn zombies and come out smiling."

(ooc: Ellis, you can bite, just don't off me, dang it!)

Ellis grinned.

'Well Mr. Rowland, dyings hard to come by in Nachton, although I appreciate your concern.' She summoned every last bit of strength and focus in her and grabbed Steve Rowland, new citizen of Nachton, by his face and twisted him off his feet. Ellis pressed her lips close to his ear and whispered.

'This is going to hurt.'

The achingly soft skin was pierced like butter with her fangs; Ellis giggled, it was so sweet and fresh. She took one big swallow and shuddered as the fresh blood past her tongue and went down her throat. Oh there was no stopping her now, this was too pure, too wonderful to ever stop and she drank Steve Rowland's blood hard and fast, losing herself in the warmth of the blood.

The pain shot through her body as she immediately began to regenerate. The tight, raw fingers began to grow skin and cartilage, the broken bones and the weak, torn muscles reattaching themselves as the blood nourished her, sweeping her away in a painful ecstasy and not once did she consider Mr. Rowland's puny life.

Suddenly a hard hand was on her shoulder. A soft voice was calling her name - Simon's voice. She was killing the human and Simon was trying to help by stopping her. With a roll of her eyes Ellis disengaged, releasing Rowland like a forgotten bit of trash. She chuckled again and pushed passed Simon.

'Welcome to Nachton, Mr. Rowland.'

((OOC - permission to eat Mr. Rowland))

Simon watched Ellis move away slowly with that look of sick glee plastered on her face. He sighed slowly and looked over at Amberelle. They'd be lucky if Ellis didn't kill Rowland on the spot, especially with her need being at a critical level. He could use a bit of blood himself, but it would have to wait.

Looking back at Ellis, Simon rolled his shoulders as he watched them talk - Rowland with obvious edge in his voice, Ellis with a syrupy sweetness. Simon was positive that she had no intention on taking what she needed - it was always what she wanted. Simon tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants just as Ellis grabbed Rowland with a quickness he didn't think she still had in her and began to feed.

She was vicious with her feeding, always making it as painful as possible. Simon quickly walked over and touched her on the shoulder.

'Ellis'

Her green eyes opened and glared back at Simon. Ellis narrowed them and then as quickly as she grabbed him, she dropped him. The purple bruises on her face faded and her fingers healed, skin regenerating before his eyes. You could see the tempered humility leave and be replaced by her usual tenacity. She welcomed Rowland again to Nachton and pushed passed Simon towards Amberelle. With her usual flair she picked a weapon from the bag and with a sweet, happy smile, batted her eyelashes and waited.

“Mmmhmm,” Nova responded as she unloaded her slides, though which remark she was answering was unspecified. She plugged a headphone into one ear and began playing back her comments while scanning in her slides, opening window after window on her computer. Carol was using another to search the security cameras, something she couldn't do as she didn't have that kind of access, and in spite of the blonde's more excitable countenance, they worked efficiently together. By the time Carol had made her way to Dr. Thorpe's logs, she had her graphs prepared. She raised a finger, almost cheerfully, and downloaded her fellow scientist's data onto a thumb drive.

There was one lucky break. The next one followed in the form of a sneeze, and this time she raised two fingers.

“Prolly inhaled something – lets see what he's got here...”

Frowning, she took over the controls while Carol went for a phone, forgetting that she had busted the land line in the lab. Rewind, fast forward. Rewind, fast forward.

“Finding out what he inhaled would be...” suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Shit was about to go down. Normally her instinct would be to run like hell but there was nowhere to go. Also, she was feeling lucky – a sentiment that she didn't think Carol would appreciate, but she felt it nonetheless. She turned around, slowly.

She grinned, and raised three fingers. Then she went at Dr. Thorpe at a dead run.

She'd had to turn away as Ellis grabbed the man. Part of it was just revulsion but another part of her didn't want to be reminded she was hungry. It was a blessing in disguise in many ways that the infected had such a foul stench to her sensitive nose. She barely looked at Ellis as the woman grabbed a weapon and smiled that sweet smile that made fear run up her spine. Yes, that was the devil alright just like the stories said.

Amby zipped the bag shut and shrugged it back on as she walked quickly over to the human. She held her hand out to the man and looked him over. He was brash, trigger happy and ballsy. He'd be useful, for certain.

Are you alright? Her voice was soft and filled with compassion as she whispered to him. The faint scent of blood that lingered around him made her mouth water and she swallowed convulsively. You're lucky I only feed on criminals.. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. I overheard you say you were a familiar.. what clan do you belong to?

If he was Anantya property she was going to have to watch out for him, she thought with an inward sigh.

"Anantya," Steve said, wiping his neck and getting to his feet, ignoring the woman's outstretched hand. That other dumb bitch had damn near been filled with lead when she went bonkers on him like that. This blonde was pushing her luck, too. What kind of idiot got close quarters with an armed and wounded man? "Trinity Jordan's pet, if you get my drift." Keeping his distance from the woman who had recently had her teeth in his neck, Steve took stock of his comrades. The wounded woman was looking a load better, the man had put the gun away, and the blonde, Amberelle, was acting like a mother watching a toddler. Talk about annoying. Keeping his thoughts in check, he spoke to the group at large. "So, do any of you have a plan, or are you just making this up as you go along?" Better find out now, rather than get pinned down in a firefight or something. This was turning out to be one of the worst nights of Steve's life.

Carol's smell was intoxicating, the sickenly sweet aroma of her flesh wafted by him as he stood in the doorway behind her. Slowly the little blonde turned and faced him, her expression mixed with fear and revoltion. Saliva began to fill his mouth, dripping down the raw and exposed flesh where his lips had been. The last bit of his humanity held his hunger in check but with every step Carol took back, Dr. Thorpe met with a forward step. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing until he found himself hovering over her as he pinned her to the desk. His teeth ached as he fought the urge to tear her sweet flesh off her face.

A new scent came into the room - a familiar one. Carol shivered beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut and Dr. Thorpe tore his eyes away from her to look up.

'Nova...' he murmured.

Dr. Thorpe climbed over Carol, rushing to Nova his need to speak to her overwhelming the hunger. His mind struggled between human and zombie and with great determination tried to form the words with his bloodied mouth. He closed his eyes and spoke.

'It's...not too late...Nova.'

His own voice sent shivers down his spine. Whatever he was had almost completely slipped away and was replaced by a blood thirsty, flesh eating monster. His hands shook as he lifted them, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, holding his black and bruised flesh out to Nova. He struggled again with his words.

'Hurry.'

'Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.'

His name was Larry Bingham and this wasn't what he signed up for. With a grunt Larry pulled himself up and over a barrier, trying desperately to avoid the dozen zombies clamoring behind him.

'Ooof!' He landed on his feet and kept running as he crossed the length of the rooftop to the stairs leading down to the maintence entrance.

'Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked.' He chanted the mantra as he made the last final feet to the door and pulled on the door knob. Larry nearly lost his footing as the door opened freely toward him. With a quick look behind him, he slammed the door just as the zombies made it over the helio pad barrier.

It was eeriely quiet and deserted in the maintence floor of Duibne Industries. It was nothing but steel and machinery vibrating softly. He willed himself to move and searched for something to brace the door with. He moved into the first doorway and discovered the security room with monitors lined the top half of one wall. The zombies were all over the helio pad now, blocking any access to his helicopter.

Across from that were gated cabinets with shotguns and munitions, the doors ajar leaving easy access. Grabbing a shotgun he loaded it with shells and turned back toward the monitors.

Nothing.

They were gone - all of them. In the one minute it took for him to retrieve and load the shotgun, the zombies had disappeared. He looked at the control panel and began touching buttons, looking for the camera views. One of the control sticks moved the camera that overlooked the entire roof top and he panned it around. Still nothing. Again he ran his fingers over the console, discovering the playback. He wound one tape back and in the distance he saw it. An explosion caught the attention of the zombies and like lemmings they ran toward it - right off the roof top.

Larry wasted no time gathering up his weapon and heading back to the doorway.

Jet Donovan, channel 2 field reporter for KTUU NBC affiliate was a little upset about being eaten. It passed though, which he knew it would. The upset part, not the being eaten part. However, both passed and he faded quickly into oblivion.

That was until the gut wrenching pain of being reborn into a lifeless thing happened.

The muscles in his gut cramped painfully, his entire body stiffening into one rock hard spasm as the air was pushed out of his lungs, choking the last bit of what he was out of him. The night air slipped from invisibility to a palatable thing with scents of nearby dead and life invading his nostrils. Slowly he stood to his knees and inhaled deeply.

They had dragged his body off the platform and most of the muscle in his upper right arm had been chewed off. It hung at his side with its bone exposed. He was having a bad day indeed. Suddenly the smell of flesh hit him like a jackhammer to the forehead and he turned toward the opposite side of the helicopter. He stood at the aircraft's tail end and watched someone scurry to the cockpit.

'Larry...'

Larry jumped the barrier, shotgun in hand and made his way back across the roof top. The orange plume of smoke was rising into the night sky several blocks over and it apparently had caught the attention of his dead assailants. He climbed onto the platform again and wasted no time climbing into the helicopter's cockpit, starting lift off procedures. The chopter blades began to slowly spin, as Larry looked on with an impatient prayer. The whumpf whumpf sound finally progressed to a high speed hum and he pulled back on the stick.

The helicopter lifted off the ground, only to dip slightly which Larry attributed to his haste in not waiting to complete the final checks. His plan was to get the fuck out of dodge, hoping against hope that the military didn't shoot him down. Forty feet above the platform, Larry turned the helicopter to the left, guiding it over the edge. He watched his gauges and thought back to earlier this evening - having to put up with that vain son of a bitch Jet Donovan and his ridiculous ego. With a smile Larry looked up and to the left, checking the helicopter's clearance.

Jet Donovan was standing on the helicopter's step clinging to his window, staring at Larry with lifeless eyes and a partially missing arm. Much to his surprise, Larry watched Jet check his reflection in the helicopter window before he punched through it, grabbing Larry's neck - effectively ripping his throat out.

He really didn't want to go in there.

Simon gave Rowland's question some thought and decided they didn't have too much choice. Duibne was undoubtedly locked down but as Tacharan's leader he had override control of the facility.

But he really didn't want to go in there.

Simon walked quickly over to the entrance of DI and answered Mr. Rowland. 'Duibne's security levels would protect us from anything coming from above,' meaning military cleansing which Simon didn't have to say out loud. He did not add that DI happened to be ground zero, or was the most probable conclusion that the infection started there. Cleaning up the mess when this was over - god willing it would be soon - DI would have its hand full dodging accusations and global sanctions. They'd burn that bridge when they got to it.

'Let's move inside before...'. Simon didn't have the chance to finish. He barely had the chance to react when Ellis came flying at him, knocking him to the ground. Watching her mid air he understood why though, and for the first time thanked her agility as they flew through the glass doors of Duibne.

Stop thinking and start acting.

Ellis considered this train of thought as Simon exhibited his leadership skills. She followed him as she unconsciously checked her weapon and balanced it in her right hand. Simon was talking about the sublevels which were similiar to the Domicile. The sublevels that conducted illegal viral and military experimentation which probably is ground zero for the infection spreading across the city. She wondered how she missed out on those particular tests. The possibilities would have been insane fun with her still leading the clan. Oh well.

Rowland's fresh blood left a tingling in her as her body continued to regenerate, but it still left her well below normal reaction time. This would be her excuse when looking back at this moment since any other day at 100% performance, she would have noticed the niggling at the back of her neck much earlier. Ellis shook her head, trying to shake off the weird itch as she continued her slow stroll toward Simon and stiffled her snickering.

With her left hand Ellis reached up and scratched behind her ear, rolling her eyes up when her perception finally kicked in and communicated with her realization. It's funny, hindsight and all - she'd look back and thought - fiery explosions seemed to follow her around. As if some divine being kept writing her story to involve blood, murder and mayhem mixed with the occasional 'oh shit' explosions.

Oh and glass...lots and lots of breaking glass.

Larry Bingham's helicopter barely cleared the heli-pad on the main tower of Duibne Industries. However, Larry Bingham's head did not and it dropped to the roof top, along with what once was one Jet Donovan, NBC affiliate field reporter who had hopes to someday anchor the 5:00 o'clock news. The news helicopter veered off to the left and the propeller blades tipped over, causing the cockpit alarm to sound off - not that Larry Bingham's torso could have done anything about it - and the aircraft rolled upside down and penetrated the glass windows of the glass tower. From there it fell quickly albeit silently and it greeted the group standing directly under it with little fanfaire and warning.

The explosion to follow the helicopter reaching the street below would blow out the bottom entrance of Duibne Industries, stretching out across in every direction for several hundred yards. Shards of glass would erupt and spray the streets, surging back up three stories blanketing the area in white hot fire.

Ready or not, the world was ending.

((OOC - Feel free to RP your reaction to the explosion. The only way to survive, however, will be running into DI and seeking protection within the lobby. Please out yourselves in preparation for the end.))

The blonde had watched Steve get up and just shook her head. Looking away from the group, the Anantya was annoyed with finding herself suddenly feeling responsible for him now. "Not that any one would ever blame me for letting something happen to a familair on a night like this," came to mind but was quickly rejected. She would know, and she was too honorable to abandon someone, especially not someone bound to her Clan.

About the same time that Ellis lunged towards Simon, Amberelle became aware and looked up with horror filled gold eyes. There wasn't even time to scream a warning as she spun and jerked the human up off his feet. The glass was already shattering around the couple ahead of them as she flung him in as far as her inhuman strength would let her, up and over to land behind the reception desk. There may have been a thud but Amby was not paying attention as she dove in behind the Ancients, leather covered arms and hands coming up to protect her head as she rolled and tumbled over the glass covered lobby floor.

((OOC : permission given to move and manhandle Steve!))

Steve felt the thump of rotor blades, and heard the explosion. Before he could look up, a hand grabbed the back of his flak jacket and slung him through the air. He flew through a wall of glass, then slammed against a wall. He landed inside the building, behind a receptionist's desk. He got up, weapon at the ready. The other three chuckleheads had made it, and seemed alright. Steve looked for zombies. None yet, but that could change at any time. He ran to an elevator, and hit the button. Still active. Great. He turned to the others. "Alright, let's find an armory or something, then go somewhere that we can secure." One thing bothered him: who the hell had had the strength to launch his ass like that? He would have to watch his ass around these three. Any one of them could be an enemy...