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Post by Carina Jones on Feb 3, 2012 13:50:01 GMT -5
*glomps Weaver* Another excellent chapter. I can't wait to see which way this goes. ^-^
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 15:12:20 GMT -5
MUAHAHAHA~ I have no idea!
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 22:50:54 GMT -5
Italy-2012
The three walked through the ruined streets- carefully eyeing the destroyed buildings in case someone was accidentally crushed by falling debris. Sicily's eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon, there was still gunfire and no citizen was in the streets. Cars sat, though they had probably been driven in the last week a fine layer of dust coated what was left of their carcasses. She looked into the window of one; in sat a mother, in her arms a small child- the boy was possible three. She knocked on the window, they looked alive, “Hello?” she asked, nothing. They were dead. She stumbled back, tripping over some rubble, her eyes still focused on their pain-stricken pale faces-
“You okay?” Calabria asked, helping her back up.
Sicily nodded, the image imprinted in her mind: “I just want to get out of here.” her head was starting to spin, she watched as her brothers looked worriedly at her. “I'm fine. Don't worry.”
“All of you's guys! There are survivors!” A deep voice shouted, Sicily and Calabria were torn off the ground, hauled up by their shirts onto a passing military vehicle. As Sicily was tossed into the vehicle she landed, her head connecting sharply with a human soldier's knee, he smiled at her.
“What's your name, gorgeous,” he purred in broken Italian. She could hear Vinci glaring at the man.
“I'm taken,” she stated, also shooting him a glare. The man smirked in reply, gripping his M38 a tad bit tighter.
A few of the soldiers snorted, “Surprised y'all are alive, the gas knocked a bunch of people off their rockers.”
“What?” Vinci asked, more interested than appalled “How so?”
“Well aren't you the little Da Vinci, aren't ya?” the man chuckled at his joke, Vinci surprised a smirk of his own. “They went nuts, funny in the head ya see? All over the world too,” he stopped, “No one's found a cure so we just wind up having to shoot 'em.”
“Why didn't you shoot us?”
“'Cause, you weren't the color of cigarette ash and you didn't try and kill us.”
“Va?!” Vinci blurted out, his eyes flicking from the soldier over to the sharp-shooter who sat stoically on the roof.
“Yeah, that's right, the gas makes you want to kill everyone, it's like a fucking zombie horror movie. If you're bit then you catch it.” Vinci became silent, Sicily watched as he put on his “thinking face” which was him sitting quietly focusing on the floor or some random object, in this case his hands as he thought. His brows always furrowed into a slightly angered look while he frowned at nothing in particular.
“Then why aren't all of you wearing gas masks?” Sicily took over the conversation, her brother would be a dead weight until someone or something snapped him out of it.
“Acron gave the world these helpful little devices, they're everywhere now, I dunno how you guys don't know about them, everyone has to have 'em,” the man said, spitting out a small piece of plastic, “dunno how it works but it's a filter of some sort. Better take one b'fore you all are infected as well.” he said, slipping the thing back in his mouth before reaching around in a bag and giving each of them the small device.
“Acron,” Sicily repeated, glaring. “you guys wouldn't happen to take us there, would you?”
“Are you kidding? We're blowing this joint,” the sharp-shooter said. Sicily recognized his deep, multi-accented voice, but couldn't place it. “Right Silly?”
“Hook?”
“You still call me by that?” the mobster chuckled, Ignazio took a long draw on his cigar. Hook was his old nickname, the one they called him from his torture methods. A sadist to the end, he would string people up one meat hooks through the bottom of their ribcage and break fingers and toes as they bled out. It was amusing to him.
“Why are you here? Aren't you concerned about cover?”
“Normally I would be, but I ain't to keen on getting sick ya hear?” he muttered. His bald head accented by two large dark eyebrows and a scar that followed his jawline.
“So how's Nutso?” he asked, nodding towards Vinci who was staring at his hands and muttering something. “Still crazy?”
“Still crazy,” Calabria confirmed with a nod.
The only non-Southern Italian province looked up, his gold eyes blinking behind his cracked dirty glasses; “I think Acron dropped the first bombs.” he began, fiddling with the filter in his hands, he was practically jumping with excitement. “think about it, with the millions of casualties no one has suspected them for the reason that they gave us information about the weapons... and then gave out the filters.. .”
“You really are crazy!”
“No. I just have a tenancy to use my brain more than most.” Vinci now sounded dead serious, he looked to his siblings for support.
“Vin, you're being paranoid, and you're in shock. While everything's calm why not take a nap or something?” Sicily tried to calm him. She hated not backing him for support, but at the moment. His face portrayed betrayal;
“Calabria, you understand, si?” the man looked at his older brother.
“If it is Russia or whoever that did drop the bomb we might be chasing an invisible foe, you guys don't even know if you saw Lorenzo in there.”
Vinci closed his shock-opened mouth. Had his siblings really just said that? He watched protestors as they shouted from their windows, protesting the government and the war. They had entered a more populated part of the city. He still didn't feel safe though. People began to swarm the military vehicle- trying to climb onto it.
“Back off ya mangy sons of bitches!” Ignazio barked, pointing the large semi-automatic at the advancing crowds.
“It's the end! God is punishing us for our sins!” They heard one man shout, joined in by the shouts of many.
Vinci watched as Ignazio trained his gun on them; “You can't hurt civilians!” he said, trying to get the hit-man’s attention.
“Watch me.” He growled, firing off a few shots to try and disperse the crowds. People screamed running back into their homes.
Sicily glared at her violent relative. If he had had access to more weapons the street would have been painted with blood. “Infected,” Ignazio called to the rest of the military, swinging his gun around to point at someone stumbling towards the vehicle.
The person was indeed the color of cigarette ash- their eyes sunken into their head as they stumbled forth. Before Sicily and the rest could have a proper view of the head though Ignazio fired- taking the creatures face of. It suck to the ground, decapitated.
The Mafia sat back in his perch atop the car. “So, how's life?”
And so a new character enters, actually, he's appeared a couple of times. But meet Ignazio Vargas!
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Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Feb 3, 2012 23:05:19 GMT -5
O.o creepy....you've made it zombie now....
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 23:06:12 GMT -5
Not quite zombie yet, but thanks. I'm trying not to go zombie. But I need another antagonist at the moment.
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Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Feb 3, 2012 23:15:24 GMT -5
chicka, the only thing that would make them more zombie is if they ate people...
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 23:16:14 GMT -5
I know... *head desk* Stupid stupid stupid... I'm losing heart in this story.
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Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Feb 3, 2012 23:18:36 GMT -5
no!!! *hugs* It's ok though...it works! Really!
Oh, i bet there's a cure at the labs...
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 23:19:50 GMT -5
I still don't feel like I've done as much as I should've with this.
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Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Feb 3, 2012 23:21:32 GMT -5
You mean you wanted to do more with it!?!?!?!
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 23:22:35 GMT -5
Not like that, I just don't find it to be well written.
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Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Feb 3, 2012 23:26:02 GMT -5
Really? I find it very well written. *hugs*
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 3, 2012 23:27:26 GMT -5
*snuggles* Thanks.
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Post by Carina Jones on Feb 4, 2012 10:15:29 GMT -5
O.O Wow.
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Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Feb 4, 2012 10:22:22 GMT -5
What?
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