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Post by Balto-Boy on May 18, 2008 21:08:35 GMT -5
NOTICE: I AM NOT A MASTER STORY WRITER. BARE WITH ME AS I TRY THIS "FAN-FIC" FAD. Also, this isn't based on the actual Zombie Nation thread. It just kinda fits the theme. Now that that's out of the way, let's get this show on the road. Introduction This was Brawl City at it's definate lowest. All around the once glorious metropolis that was teeming with busy pedestrians and marketplaces was now a tropical wasteland; the large buildings now concrete ruins with grasses and plants growing on and around. One could see the famous insanely tall tower spewed across the ground in pieces and framework fragments. The only citizens roaming in the open were corpes, living and dead. How can a corpse live? Normally it cannot, but certain circumstances allowed it to become possible. Of course, none of this was meant to happen. The very thing that was supposed to help the Brawlers and their world has turned the world into a nearly lifeless savannah and the Brawlers into either zombies or scared children forced into hiding. Near a rubble pile-up at the city gates was a small cellar door that lead underground. If one was to follow the trail below the door, they would find a lab lit by a single florescent light. The lab was small, about 30 by 50 feet in area. It contained only one fairly large countertop in the middle of it that was littered with papers and equipment. One Brawler was working tirelessly everyday. A human figure was busily examining guages, computer files, and flasks holding strange liquids. The figure wore a lab coat with dark blue pants. He was wearing a buzz-cut hairstyle and had extremely pale skin. After he finished with the business at his desk, his feet shuffled quickly to a glass cage at the far side of his laboratory. This cage held something very special: the figure's test subject (One of many, actually. This was just the latest one that hasn't died yet). This subject was chained to the floor at the wrists and ankles under the cage. He had ruffled jet-black hair and wore a grey hoodie with blue jeans and black shoes. As the figure approached the subject's cage, the subject scratched and slapped at the inside of the cage. It growled furiously and fogged up the glass with it's cold, dead breath. "Relax, John," the figure told him. "It's just your buddy, Nekrozoa, here to try something." Next to the cage was a cast-iron glove that would go up to someone's elbow. Nekrozoa slipped it on. The glove's fingers held a syringe containing a sickly red liquid. Nekrozoa quickly opened a door on the side of the cage with his uncovered left hand. After jerking the hand to his side, he slowly creeped his gloved hand into the cage. After getting in about 6 inches, the subject lurched over quickly and bit Nekrozoa's arm. "John, you know as well as I do your teeth can't get through there," Nekrozoa told the John zombie trying to gnaw it's way to the flesh on Nekrozoa's right arm. Nekrozoa twisted his wrist around so the syringe stuck itself into John's shoulder. He pressed on the syringe. The liquid entered John's bloodstream. Nekrozoa pulled his arm out, locked the cage's door, de-gloved his arm, and watched. John sniffed his shoulder in curiousity. Then he started to shiver violently. His hair basically plopped to the ground. John's reflexes quickened and he started scratching himself intensely. Slowly, John's body sank to the floor. He slapped his hand on the glass again and continued to slide down. His eyes were locked with Nekrozoa's. Slowly, John started to close his eyes. He was all the way on the floor now. He stopped moving. He stopped breathing. Nekrozoa looked at the floor and slowly shook his head. He was rubbing his temples as he rose his head to look back at the unmoving John zombie. Nekrozoa sighed thickly. Fantasic, he thought to himself, I guess I'll have to go out and get another.He tore off the coat to reveal a torn, dark-grey sweater. As he headed towards the lab's exit, he grabbed a duffle bag. He stuffed a human-sized burlap sack and a shotgun with rounds into the duffle bag. He rested a baseball bat on his right shoulder and the duffle bag's strap on the other and headed towards the exit. |
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Post by RobotKilla on May 18, 2008 21:20:16 GMT -5
Wow...for someone who says he's not good at writing, that was pretty good.
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 18, 2008 21:24:06 GMT -5
Wow...for someone who says he's not good at writing, that was pretty good. Well, I didn't think I was, but I will admit that that came out much better than I expected. |
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Post by The Omnipresence on May 18, 2008 21:33:13 GMT -5
Boy, are you sure thats Nekrozoa and not Will Smith?
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 18, 2008 21:34:28 GMT -5
Boy, are you sure thats Nekrozoa and not Will Smith? *glances around nervously* ..... uh.... yes. |
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Post by Grimscott on May 19, 2008 0:05:44 GMT -5
Poor, poor John.
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Post by The Omnipresence on May 19, 2008 0:30:28 GMT -5
John was a bitch, a filthy bitch, and I'd bust his balls! |
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Post by Grimscott on May 19, 2008 2:35:32 GMT -5
John was a bitch, a filthy bitch, and I'd bust his balls! So in other words, you will miss him dearly? |
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Post by McJesus on May 19, 2008 6:52:02 GMT -5
I'm gonna enjoy this.
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Post by rabiesisme on May 19, 2008 11:07:52 GMT -5
Does complementing this kwalify as sucking admin dick?
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Post by Maybe Might Not Be Moneybags on May 19, 2008 12:45:19 GMT -5
I'll make sure to grab a copy of the script of I am Legend everytime I read this...  |
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 19, 2008 16:24:51 GMT -5
Does complementing this kwalify as sucking admin dick? Not necessarily. Praising it like a god on the other hand... |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2008 16:30:52 GMT -5
Wow, this isn't half bad. I'd like to see a continuation of this.
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 19, 2008 21:53:39 GMT -5
Chapter 1: Sightseeing She awoke with a startle. She quickly arose against the wall she was sleeping near to see what awoke her. She saw nothing, then looked to her right. A sleeping child napped next to her. The child wore a white shirt and a light-blue scarf. He was laying in a fetal position; one hand under his side and the other atop of his messy brown hair. She sighed with relief and rose up to her feet. They were in a dank, wet room. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all different shades of brown. The only thing making any real difference between each of the walls was the occasional crack in the wooden planks and some shattered windows. Dripping could be heard in the corner of the room. Wallpaper had virtually been ripped off completely. Every now and then, one might find a shred of the faded wallpaper still holding on: pink decorated with white and yellow flowers. As she walked away from her sleeping place and the child, the girl grabbed her scythe and headed towards a doorway at her left. She went through the doorway into a small room lighted by a couple of light bulbs hanging from loose wires. They occasionally sparked off and on again. This room contained a family-sized dinner table with chairs around it; 2 on each of the wide ends and 1 on each narrow one. Some of the room's carpeting remained on one side of the room and nowhere else. The rest of the floor was composed of yellow-tan wooden planks. The walls were painted an odd shade of green. For some reason or another, the paint decided to hold its ground. There was a window with blinds covering most of it. There were three panels of the blinds cut out so one could see through them. In front of the window was a single chair with some sort of creature sitting in it holding binoculars to his face, ignoring the world around him, watching intently as if the only thing that mattered in his life was the constant observance of the wasteland outside. The creature was covered in brown fur. His only articles of clothing were a pair of blue jeans and a golden glove with a brown belt securing it to the wrist on his right hand. He had no shoes and had a head shaped similarly to that of a fox. The girl spoke to him. "Have you seen any yet?" The creature never looked away from the binoculars' view. "Nope, not yet. At least not close enough to notice us. There's just a couple out there on the horizon." "I believe it's my turn to watch," the girl mentioned. "You sure, Grim?" He replied, still keeping his eyes in the binoculars. "I can stand an hour or two more if you still need some sleep." "Nah, I got it. I'm nice and refreshed now." The creature finally put down his binoculars. His face held an expression of relief and showed a hint of happiness. "Oh, thank you. I was actually starting to get tired there." "You lying little bastard." The creature stood up from his chair, stepped toward Grim, and held out the binoculars. "Yeah, I know. I was just trying to be nice." GrimScott took the binoculars from him and put her scythe near the doorway where she entered. With the hand now not holding anything, she slightly pushed the creature to the side so that she could get to the chair. She flattened out her kilt and sat down. GrimScott looked at the creature and thanked him. Then she held the binoculars up and looked as intently as the creature did a short time ago. "No problem," the creature told her. He yawned and stretched out his arms up high in the air. His arms then swooped down to his waist likes eagles swooping down on their prey. His back hunched over, he smacked his lips a couple of times and headed into the room where the child was sleeping. "You'll yell if you see anything, right?" "I'm not that stupid, Balto." "Alrighty, just checkin'. Makin' sure you knew what you were doing." The creature looked down at the sleeping child, now spread-eagle on his back with drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He took about 5 steps away from him toward the dry far corner of the room and crouched down on his haunches and hands. He started pacing in a circle and eventually plopped down to the floor, hands under his chin and his legs curled up under him and to the side. GrimScott continued to look through the binoculars. **** "Balto! Get in here!" Balto-Boy awoke slowly. Reluctantly, he rose up to sitting. He managed to stand up, albiet slowly still, and dragged his feet to the room where GrimScott still watched. As Balto-Boy entered the room, GrimScott quickly glanced at him and looked back through the binoculars just as quickly. "Hey, you might want to see this." Balto-Boy was now standing behind and left of the sole chair. GrimScott looked back, handed him the binoculars, and rose out of the chair so Balto-Boy could sit down. Balto-Boy sat down. He resumed his before-mentioned position of observance. He suddenly wore an awkward look on his face-eyes squinted and mouth hanging open- and leaned forward towards the window. "Is that..." he started. "...is that Nekrozoa?!" |
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Post by Maybe Might Not Be Moneybags on May 19, 2008 22:43:39 GMT -5
Hm, who IS that sleeping kid?
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Post by The Omnipresence on May 19, 2008 22:46:36 GMT -5
And with that chapter, Will Smith fades from my mind.
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Post by Grimscott on May 19, 2008 22:47:49 GMT -5
Hm, who IS that sleeping kid? Says "he", so it can't be Grimpresence. |
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Post by McJesus on May 20, 2008 3:03:43 GMT -5
I have a hunch on who it is, but I'll keep it to myself.
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 20, 2008 11:33:27 GMT -5
Hm, who IS that sleeping kid? One can only imagine... |
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Post by Deleted on May 20, 2008 18:44:18 GMT -5
Hm, who IS that sleeping kid? One can only imagine... Hmmm... Grimto-Boy?? lol, beastality. |
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Post by RobotKilla on May 20, 2008 18:52:59 GMT -5
I wonder who has a kid version of himself..... |
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Post by Maybe Might Not Be Moneybags on May 20, 2008 19:10:57 GMT -5
I wonder who has a kid version of himself..... A sleeping child napped next to her. The child wore a white shirt and a light-blue scarf. He was laying in a fetal position; one hand under his side and the other atop of his messy brown hair. Yeah, that TOATALY sounds like your blue capped, shirtless, "Kid" Robotkilla. |
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Hat Salesman
Hero
Hey hey mama, said the way you move[M0n:-6104]
Well, hello there.
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Post by Hat Salesman on May 20, 2008 20:11:19 GMT -5
Better not be making fun of my age...
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Post by RobotKilla on May 20, 2008 20:29:29 GMT -5
I wonder who has a kid version of himself..... A sleeping child napped next to her. The child wore a white shirt and a light-blue scarf. He was laying in a fetal position; one hand under his side and the other atop of his messy brown hair. Yeah, that TOATALY sounds like your blue capped, shirtless, "Kid" Robotkilla. He's a stick. How do you know he didn't just put the white shirt and lightblue scarf on in the story? |
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Post by Grimscott on May 20, 2008 20:30:49 GMT -5
Hmmm... Grimto-Boy?? lol, beastality. Hopefully not, since we heard no description of the child being hairy. . . |
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 22, 2008 22:20:29 GMT -5
Chapter 2: Hades It was once a nice family suburb. The neighborhood street was now an abandoned run of pavement. Along the edges of the roads, grass and plants seemed to have moved away. They weren't growing anymore. All that was left there was dried-up soil. The houses at the sides of the street were, for the most part, collapsed into themselves. Only a handful of houses still had upheld roofs and some of them had the walls folded in on top of one another. The only house that was left in tact was at the dead end of the road. It was a two-story, family sized home made mostly of brick. The rest was made up of aqua-colored panels. Only the house's roof was the least bit damaged; partially caved in on its right side. Peeking out from a wall of one of the houses was Nekrozoa. Naturally, zombies were all over the place. They wandered in packs, with no particular destination, simply looking for food. And, naturally, Nekrozoa didn't want them to see him. His head barely showing aside of the covering house's wall, Nekrozoa scanned the landscape. When none of them were looking in his direction, he made a mad-dash to the other side of the street to the cover of another house with his duffle bag of equipment slapping his side as he ran. With careful observations, he continued the pattern of moving from house to house until he found what he was looking for: a loner. In the backyard of one house, there was a lone zombie wandering aimlessly at a slow walking speed. Nekrozoa kept his back to the wall he hid behind. The zombie was working its way to his cover. Nekrozoa dug around in his duffle bag. He pulled out the corpse of a small animal. It was grey and cat-like, had whiskers, a white belly, and a tail tipped with black fur. Without hesitation, Nekrozoa tossed the little critter out towards the zombie. At least you're good for something... he thought to himself. Nekrozoa got down low on the ground and peeked out slightly around the corner. The zombie took the bait. It sped its pace and lurched onto the little animal. As it fed on the remains, Nekrozoa held up his baseball bat over his head. Nekrozoa was within inches of the feasting zombie when he swung the bat with a great amount of force on the back of the zombie's neck. The zombie dropped his snack and fell onto the grass with a soft "thud". Nekrozoa, seeing that it wasn't moving, gave the zombie a gentle kick. Still no movement. He grabbed it and flipped it onto its back. Then Nekrozoa placed his finger slightly below the undead being's nose. It was still breathing. Nekrozoa dragged the unconscious beast so it sat against house wall relative to the yard next to a still-running air conditioner and reached back around the corner to pull the burlap sack out from his duffle bag. Carefully, he slid the duffle bag over the zombie's head. Then his torso and arms. And eventually to its waist. With the zombie that far in the bag, Nekrozoa took the bag by the edges and gave a quick yank into the air so the zombie's legs would go in and, thus, the zombie would be completely submerged in the burlap tomb. With that out of the way, Nekrozoa held the bag's mouth up in the air and tied it shut. As if impersonating Santa Claus carrying a sack of toys, Nekrozoa tossed the bag over his shoulder and walked back around the house corner, his bat held in his right hand and the bag secured with his left. As he reached his duffle bag's resting place, however, he noticed something across the street. A movement. Rather quick, too; not exactly the norm of the zombies he has encountered. He saw some sort of shape blaze around to the back of a house. On another note, he could've sworn he's recognized the shape before. Nekrozoa laid the trapped zombie down with his equipment. He dug around into his duffle bag and eventually pulled out his shotgun and a hand-full of shells. He raised the shotgun and gave it a solid (and rather noisy for his liking) cock to load the first shell. After carefully peeking around the corner once again, he dashed across the road once more to the house the shape ran behind. Back to the new house's wall, he peeked around the corner. No zombies as far as he could see. He still kept the shotgun raised nonetheless. With a quick jerk, he spun around the corner like a top and snapped up the shotgun into his shoulder. This yard contained a broken-down picnic table, a small cement porch with a sun shade hanging over it. He could see children's toys scattered all over the place. Slowly, Nekrozoa trotted through the yard, scanning the place, finger on the shotgun's trigger. Finally, Nekrozoa reached the picnic table. Hiding behind the frame was the shape he was looking for. It was a humanoid being. At least the torso and legs were humanoid. On its back were two stubs sticking out and pointing to the side. The right one was just a light blue and bent stub that extended about 6 inches out. The other one was what looked like a tattered and torn wing. Now obviously useless. It was basically just the frame aside from a few stray feathers. It was wearing blue jeans that had the bottom of the legs flipped up. Under that was a pair of black and white shoes. Especially interesting was the arms and head. The arms were purple for the most part. the bottom of the arms were a golden yellow and bore what appeared to be suckers you'd find on an octopus. And the head... the head was a red delicious apple with one huge leaf protruding from the head. It was hunched over in a ball. The beast seemed to be hiding for some reason. Nowadays, you didn't really need a reason to hide, though. Nekrozoa approached the beast and placed the hand that held the shotgun's barrel on its shoulder. In a soft tone, almost a whisper, he spoke to it. "AppleCore? Are you okay?" The beast's torso shot up like a jack-in-the-box and its head swiveled wildly to look at what decided to speak to it. Its eyes were a couple of grey circles that lack any real gleam of life to them. It had earthworms for eyebrows and didn't have any real mouth at all. One could see how tired and exhausted it was through its face. Bruising had appeared in random places on its head. The bags under its eyes were heavy to the point where it was rather depressing. "AppleCore!" Nekrozoa said in a loud whisper. "Where have you been?" AppleCore rose up to its feet to look down onto Nekrozoa. The beast was easily 10 feet tall, probably more. As it looked into Nekrozoa's eyes, it gave him a fierce and angry stare. Nekrozoa lowered his shotgun slightly. "What's wrong, guy? We've got to get out of here! Now! I can take you to a safe house by the city gates!" AppleCore continued to stare. "You're starting to creep me out here, AppleCore. Are you coming or wha-" A look of shear horror ran across Nekrozoa's face. He finally figured it out. As quickly as he could, Nekrozoa snapped the shotgun back up into position so it pointed at AppleCore's head. AppleCore, in response, brought his left arm back, across its chest, and brought the arm through the shotgun, knocking it out of Nekrozoa's hands. The flying shotgun went off in the air (hitting some leaves on a tree at best) and landed softly in a bush. AppleCore looked up into the sky and let out some sort of noise so loud it was probably heard from miles around. It reminded Nekrozoa of a movie where a kidnapped girl was yelling for help through a cloth over her mouth. Nekrozoa was now hunched over on the ground, gritting his teeth, eyes held shut as hard as they could, and hands as hard as he could on the sides of his head. Finally, the noise faded away. Nekrozoa raised his head up to see AppleCore's arms raised high above its head. Nekrozoa leaped to the side just in time to avoid a swift swipe that smashed into the ground with enough force to lift and shake the earth. Nekrozoa stumbled up into a running position and ran away from the enraged AppleCore, now stomping its way after Nekrozoa. Nekrozoa ran back to his bag of supplies across the street. Every zombie was now looking at him. The zombies surrounding him on all sides started to chase him, running at a jogging pace and swinging their arms wildly. Nekrozoa grabbed the burlap bag that held the sleeping zombie and ran back into the street. In the middle of the street, he seemed to be a rabbit with wolves closing in on him from all sides. The zombies were making their way towards him; their eyes opened wide and drool flying from their rotted, grinning mouths. He could see an angered AppleCore zombie standing behind the hoard, watching and marching with them. Nekrozoa's eyes were opened wide and his mouth was agape. Desperately, still having the burlap bag slumped over his shoulder, Nekrozoa searched frantically for an opening for him to run through. He didn't see one. **** "You hear that?" Balto-Boy asked. "Yeah, I did," GrimScott answered back. "Can't be good, can it?" "'Fraid not. Wake Blue up, would ya? I'll grab the masks and goggles." |
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Post by The Omnipresence on May 22, 2008 22:39:07 GMT -5
Yes! Someones going to die! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 22, 2008 22:49:51 GMT -5
Yes! Someones going to die! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!! One Brawler is already dead, though... And it's not AppleCore. |
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Post by rabiesisme on May 22, 2008 23:09:59 GMT -5
OMG Cuteseh!
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Post by Balto-Boy on May 22, 2008 23:11:14 GMT -5
*ding, ding, ding* We have a winner. |
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