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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 10, 2009 23:54:38 GMT
Sometimes it was almost possible to forget about the fucked-up state of the world when the night was right. Jack Malloy considered this statement as he said it. Rectifying it, he surmised that it was possible to forget about the fucked-up state of the world when the night was right, and you'd had enough to drink.
He raised the half-empty bourbon bottle in a toast to this excellent line of reasoning, and continued walking his patrol, strolling casually down the first floor walkway, idly watching out the window to the stairs outside. There'd been no activity nearby for a worryingly long time, but Malloy couldn't sum up enough worry to do the patrol sober.
For fuck's sake, he'd saved every one of the ungrateful bastards in this Station at least once, was it too little to ask that they didn't bother him with such trivial things as patrol duty? Shaking his head, he took another long slug from the glass bottle.
He stopped at one window, letting his gaze play over the slowly decomposing corpses outside, most reduced to little more than picked apart skeletons, that still lay from the Stand almost 2 months ago. Dumb fucks that they were. Another mocking, silent toast was raised in their memory, and he poured some of the strong Canadian liquor out of the smashed window, letting it fall in an amber stream onto the stone below.
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Post by Eddie "The Mutt" Sillian on Apr 11, 2009 0:12:22 GMT
Ed was retching silently as he crept through the piles of decomposing corpses, picking the clearest way that avoided being seen. This time he had left the dogs at home, well home which was yet another barricaded flat. Enough food and water to last for three days and the possibility for them to get out through a grating where even a zombie couldn’t get it. They were safe enough.
He on the other hand, wasn’t. He barely had two clips of ammo left and the fact was that he needed more. He could do with other weapons really but knew he wouldn’t be that lucky. So, he was doing what he did best, he was going thieving. He knew there were a lot of people holed up in the police station, they were bound to have ammunition, and maybe guns he could made off with. Once inside, if you were talking and looked healthy, people didn’t tend to notice you too much. He did have a hood on though, just in case he happened to walk past a colleague. Most of his colleagues he had mugged on his way out, or pick pocketed. Not a good idea to see them now.
Finally making his way to the foot of the station wall he looked up. There was a ladder, a fire escape ladder that had been drawn up so the zombies couldn’t actually get in. The thing was, they didn’t know how to stand on things. Pulling over the remnant of an old garbage bin, the climbed on top and grabbed the ladders, scrambling upwards until he was out of breath. He didn’t look down until he was outside of a window. Even at just one floor up he felt a general pulling in his groinal area that made him all too aware of gravity.
He pushed the window open and scrabbled in, dropping into the corridor quietly and straightening up, right behind the figure of a rather taller man. Bugger
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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 11, 2009 12:15:31 GMT
The scrambling below piqued Malloy's interest, particularly when it seemed to involve something climbing up the ladder. He'd never heard of an Infected doing that - but it was never wise to underestimate them, they could be frighteningly smart at times.....or, of course it was some sneaky fucking survivor trying to break in to his little kingdom here, in which case this could be a whole lot more fun.....
Letting the noise continue, he became quite still, moving forward into the shadows slightly and pulling his gun out, a little waveringly given his inebriated state. But impending danger can be quite sobering, he'd found, placing the whisky bottle on the floor beside him. When the sounds died out to but a light drop behind him, he waited a couple of seconds before spinning and jumping, letting his hands seek out something tangible to grab, leaving the rest to gravity and momentum. If his hunch about it being another living person wasn't right, this move was about to bite him right in the arse - or arm, or neck, or shoulder, or all of the above, probably.
The two men hit the floor with a loud thud, and Malloy tried to use his right hand, still clenching his Glock, to move it into a more effective position should he need to start shooting. "It's rude to sneak up on people. And trespassing is a crime, particularly in a Police Station." His words were a hiss, slightly winded as he was by the sudden tackle, his breath weighted and almost dripping with cheap whisky.
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Post by Infected on Apr 11, 2009 13:10:35 GMT
A lone feral stalked slowly down Afferton Drive, its bloodied eyes unfocused as it gradually picked down the street, seemingly oblivious to its surroundings. In a past life, it had been a young businessman clearly, a ripped, grimy and bloodstained black suit hanging half on, half off of the walking corpse. The feral was in the prime of Infection, however, not decomposed or damaged enough to be much slower, or weakened, by the effects of long unlife, but enough to be oblivious to danger or care.
The sounds of disturbance in the Police Station made its head snap round, eyes focusing now on the building's facade, a chilling shriek tearing from rotting vocal chords, and it began to run towards the building, sounds of movement further up the street suggesting it not being alone.
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Post by Eddie "The Mutt" Sillian on Apr 11, 2009 15:27:54 GMT
He had barely landed and looked at the man before he found himself thrust on the floor, thrown backwards under the weight of the somewhat larger man. He grunted and made a squeaking noise as he tried to shuffle out of the way, hopefully to get out of the window, but luck wasn't on his side. He found himself looking at the barrel of a gun and into the face of a drunk man... a man he knew.
Inwardly he cringed but outwardly he smiled nearly simperinglyand put his hands up in a gesture of submission. "'ey boss!" He grinned, anything to save his own skin. "It's me, Ed!" He flapped his hands in an attempt to scramble away but unsucessfully. "...Mutt." He added, just to clarify. Most people hadn't really paid attention to his first name.
"I weren't sneakin'..." He said in some vain attempt to cover up the fact that he had. His dark mottled brown eyes were panicky, all the worse for smelling the alcohol on Malloy's breath. he wanted to cringe away but knew that wouldn't be the best idea. "I were just..." He stopped, cut short by the scream of some rotting corpse outside. A loud, ferral scream that made him shiver in fear and disgust. "I think we might 'ave more problems 'en why I'm 'ere..."
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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 11, 2009 18:19:28 GMT
Slowly comprehension dawned through darkness and the alcohol. "Fucking Eddie fucking Sillian.....what the fuck are you doing here?" Mutt. None other than a K9 Unit cop - a "brother in arms" would seem a good thing to most, but not at all for Jack. He'd been about to go down for massive corruption, half the force were looking down on him from their suddenly high horses, the other half pitied him for getting caught.
Eddie had always been a good kid - not exactly as straight and narrow as most, but in the few times he'd met him Eddie had never exactly rankled Malloy too much. Of course, he was a thief - and criminals never like other criminals - and he was a K9 officer - you could never trust them, it was always them who made drugs busts and it was impossible to skim off some of the take if there was dogs around. And they weren't real cops anyway, just glorified dog handlers.
The commotion and shrieks in the street broke his train of thought, and he slowly let Eddie go, lowering the handgun a little as he stood - aiming at the man's chest rather than head now.
"I'll ask you questions later...."
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Post by Eddie "The Mutt" Sillian on Apr 11, 2009 18:42:50 GMT
Ed grinned manically, trying to mask his panic a little. Jack Malloy was as bent as a fucking bendy straw, but it didn't mean that he wouldn't take Eddie down pretty quickly. His mind raced trying to think if he had taken anything from him recently, since the infection. When Malloy released him Eddie smiled even wider and leapt back, putting about three metres between them before he spoke again.
"Wotcha Jack! Awrigh'?" He approached to the window ledge and looked out. Well, the massing of zombies outside cut him from getting out that way. Bugger. "I ain't got nuffin' to shoot 'em wiv." He looked out the window, acutely aware of the gun at the bottom of his half empty pack (The dogs were guarding the contents to make room for whatever he would steal) that hopefully could remain there untouched. This was the opportune moment to aquire a weapon.
"You gunna take 'em out or point that thin' an me?" He asked, looking back at the gun still aimed at him. He was hesitant to push this.
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Post by Infected on Apr 11, 2009 19:39:44 GMT
The feral stalked closer to the windows, sniffing at the air despite the decomposed state of it's nasal passages. It stopped, head circling to eye the two figures just visible inside the Station House. It shrieked again, and four figures in a similar state came shambling into view, drawn to their kin's cries. However, they couldn't move as fast or intuitively as the younger feral, which leapt from a standing position onto a bin, then to claw at the wall. It hadn't seen the fire escape yet, and it may not, but there was a good chance.
The Shamblers kept coming, aimed directly at the barricades. Some residual memory told them that meant there was a meal inside, and they started to smash at protruding pieces of wood and metal. Nothing major gave, but it was a worrisome sidenote to the far more dangerous feral.
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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 11, 2009 19:48:48 GMT
"Don't push your luck, Mutt. If there's only one or two you're a bigger threat, you pilfering shit. Yes, I remember that phone you lifted from the scene in the 22nd Precinct - I had my eye on that." He said it, but he aimed the gun away, moving slowly to the empty window pane to look down at the newly arrived Infected, still very aware of Eddie behind him. Wouldn't put it past the kid to have a knife, or to try and push him out - it was paranoid, sure, but he never trusted other crooks.
The feral was sniffing around after the abortive attempt to climb the wall from the bins, and Jack hoped it couldn't get onto the fire escape, the usual point of entry for the survivors inside. The ferals were difficult to stop, particularly when they were as young and sprightly as this one. Sighting along the Glock's length, he aimed for it's chest, trying to slow the fucker down enough for a headshot. One bullet and the opposite effect - the Infected snapped backwards, fixed him with one evil glare then started to scamper off, probably to circle in the darkness beyond the Station's lights.
Malloy fired off a couple of rounds after it, then turned to Eddie, bringing the gun back up to sight at the man's chest. He was acutely conscious of the Infected smashing away at his barricades downstairs, but hoped at least one of his fucking useless little band of ingrates would sort them out, so he didn't have to. "So, Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?"
He took a couple of steps forward, the gun not wavering in the slightest. He'd shot people before, this was no big deal for Malloy - he didn't want to, but he'd have no moral qualms with the act.
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Post by Eddie "The Mutt" Sillian on Apr 11, 2009 21:04:12 GMT
"I'm falattered you think I'm the threat." He grinned and snickered in his usual dry laugh, pulling a dog end from behind his ear and lighting it to watch the zombie fall. Only it didn't. The beast ran off while Jack was still aiming a second shot. "an' I thought you were on o' the best." He wasn't smiling as much anymore. Even one might rouse a pack of others. He was a little worried now.
Whne it was finally out of sight he turned his eye back to his next biggest threat, Jack. " 'm calling back to see if I can help. You guys looked stranded 'n all." He smiled, trying to pull that one but he doubted that anyone would believe him. If he said he would get the shopping for his own mother he got incredulous looks, this was just flat out unbelievable.
As malloy neared Eddie raised his hands and stepped back, only to bump into the wall and to not bump into the open window. "Aww, come on man, 'm not armed. No need to point tha' at me..." He tried the smile again, dog end clamped firmly in one side of his mouth and ran a mucky hand through his toiletbrush hair. "Come oonnn..."
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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 11, 2009 22:41:22 GMT
Malloy took another step, a little sick grin playing on his features. He'd had to be so nice recently, helping out people who couldn't help themselves.....and that always brought out the worst in him. So easily, a little smack and a little push, and Eddie would fall to the merciless Shamblers below, his dazed body ripped apart by their unstoppable ferocity.....
Five shots rang out, one after the other in quick succession. Three of the Shamblers fell straight away, crumpled heaps on the stone steps, the other staggering for a moment to fall into the barricade, messily impaled on a broken spur of wood. "I am one of the best."
Slowly, easily, he lowered the Glock, then seemed to consider something. Jack raised the handgun again, barrel pressing lightly against Eddie's cheek. He took a step forward, pushing with the gun to force Eddie onto the very sill of the window. "Now, Mutt, give me one good fucking reason not to drop you right now, you simpering thieving piece of shit."
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Post by Eddie "The Mutt" Sillian on Apr 11, 2009 23:04:29 GMT
Eddie jumped manically as Malloy began to shoot. He nearly lauched himself off the sill, nearly. A brief hand checked that he was in fact still whole before he turned wide and panicking eyes at Malloy. "Sorry, 'm just kiddin' around. I know you're the best..." He turned his head briefly and glanced down. if the drop didn't kill him, they would.
"Come on, 'm a mate! I never did you when you had them drugs on ya!" He was babbling, anything to get that gun away from him. The gun pressed hard against his cheek and he leaned back as far as he dared. His adams apple was bobbing madly, throwing the scars of animal bites on his throat into huge relief. "... The dogs, they smelt it but I stopped 'em. At the bust in Williams!" He was speaking so quickly the words were blending together and with his accent it only made them harder to understand.
He man didn't look like letting off, not one bit and Ed's brain was getting ahead of him. "I can get ya stuff. Whatever ya like... the dogs, they's good at that. Come onnn mate!" He moaned, hands grasping piteously at the sill and edge of the window frame. "Pleeeaaaase."
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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 11, 2009 23:28:32 GMT
Slowly, almost begrudgingly, Malloy lowered the gun, using one hand to roughly pull the smaller man back inside the corridor. The talk of letting him off in the past hadn't saved Eddie's life - fuck, that almost made him drop the guy, the less who knew about his past the better, and all it proved really was that he'd made a mistake - Eddie could have gone far, if he'd shopped Malloy then. Or he could have got gunned down by other crooked cops for being a snitch. Williamsburg's Finest were a fickle bunch.
No, the talk of scoring "stuff" now was what saved him - although Malloy wasn't sure if he'd have killed him anyway - it would be good collateral if he got out, and was always handy for personal use, or keeping people in check. It piqued his interest, and that interest was what saved him.
"You just made a very good move there Eddie. You could almost say it saved you.....for now." He'd let the Mutt back onto secure footing, but pointedly not moved to allow him full access to the building. "You've got two weeks - come back then, with this 'stuff' you mentioned, and then maybe I'll be a little more hospitable. Might even slide something your way." The hint was left hanging, Eddie could take it any way he wanted - and it was true, they had most things inside the Police Station - cigarettes, a few guns, ammo...didn't mean that Malloy would follow through.
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Post by Eddie "The Mutt" Sillian on Apr 12, 2009 10:24:21 GMT
Relief wased over him as he was pulled from the window sill and allowed secure footing once more. A crooked smile washed over hims face but his mind was still racing. The fact was that Malloy still had a gun and Ed would never be able to get his out of his pack. He wasn't a crack shot anyway. He had a knife strapped to his hip, hidden under his shirt but a knife against a gun was hopeless. He couldn't kill him now... better wait. He might be useful.
He knew he couldn't trust Malloy. Of course he couldn't. The man was a grade A crook like him, but that only meant he knew he couldn't trust him. Bring the dogs next time, they'd help. But now he had made work for himself. Not that he wasn't on the hunt anyway, anything he could grab and he would take it, the issue being the ones that had been big with the harder stuff had guns... a lot of them still had guns and were still walking, and talking.
"I'll getcha wha' ya need. You can't spare is a gun or anythin'? It's a hard world an' some Doctor Bitch stole mine." He frowned. Of course he hadn't been stupid enough to let her steal his gun, but she had the rest of his pack and that was infuriating. She had her necklace...
"You ain't gunna rip me off are ya boss?" He grinned. "You wouldn't do that to ol' Mutt... since 'm the one on the outside with the access, would ya?" He was backing up against the window. There was no way he could get into the police station to rob them this way. He could always go down and find another way in but he was freaked in case Malloy caught him again.
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Post by Jack Malloy on Apr 12, 2009 10:37:03 GMT
Malloy paused, almost as if considering the Mutt's words. "Well, since you're the one with the biiig outside connections, I'm sure a little thing like a gun won't be hard to find." There was no way he was arming the little shit along with letting him live. Jack couldn't let himself do as many nice things as that in a day - it might harm his reputation.
"However, I'm not a completely heartless bastard. Here." Jack stooped and picked up a loose piece of masonry that lay at his feet, a half-brick with a gnarl of cement at it's end. Pressing it into Eddie's hands with exaggerated friendliness, Malloy couldn't help but let loose the biggest, most sardonic smirk he'd done all day. Maybe this patrol hadn't been so bad.
The gun went back up to Eddie's face, and he used it to motion out the window. "Now, Mutt, get out of my sight. And if you come back and try to break into my little set-up here again, I'm going to have to kneecap you, and leave you for the Shamblers."
He knelt, not dropping the gun as he went down, and picked up his whisky bottle with his left hand. Motioning again, Jack took a half step forward, crowding Eddie a little in the empty window. "I nearly forgot, when you come back next week, don't try and climb in like today. That would be a very big mistake. No, just come up to the barricades....and shout for attention...."
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