charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
Maybe it was odd, but seeing how worn and overgrown the outside of the Sing Sing walls were comforted Charlie, in a way. She could already hear a few far-off groans and moans, and the walls were overgrown with bushes and ivy. Ellis had been strange for that exact reason: everything was relatively manicured and well-kept on the island, and there had been no sign of activity there, human or otherwise. This was different. It was too early to tell, but she wouldn't be surprised if the only things living in here were zombies.
It was a welcome relief, considering how her nerves were jangling with both anticipation and fear. The car ride had been exceptionally uncomfortable and awkward, especially after the whole bear incident yesterday (thanks to the Queen Bitch of Ungrateful Bratlandia)-- it was better than having everyone at each other's throats, sure, but she was less sure about what it meant. Fighting was clear; there was a problem to be fixed. This? She thought she knew about the problem, but had no idea how to go about fixing it, or if it even could be fixed. Maybe she'd always have to put up with feeling like the tension would snap any moment and there'd be an all-out brawl, but she hoped not. Living on edge in fear of constant drama was absolutely exhausting for her mental state.
Snapping back to reality when Evan gave the orders for them to go upstairs, she made a note to talk to him about strategy. It certainly wasn't standard military procedure: while he was putting people with the most training on point, they weren't the heavy hitters in the group. If it had been her, she would've put someone fast-reacting and designed for close-range combat, like Leah or Evan. And it surprised her even more that he'd trust Rodeo to watch their backs, but this wasn't the time to argue. That'd have to wait until they got back to Manhattan safely, hopefully with a home base to call their own.
"I'll get the lock," Charlie told them, pulling out a small leather case and flipping it open, revealing a set of lockpicks and torsion wrenches she'd scavenged from a locksmith's shop a few months ago. Lockpicking was a skill she'd been taught the very basics of back before the apocalypse, but once the world ended and stealth was key to her survival, she'd covered it in depth. She placed the silenced pistol in her hands on the ground in front of her and crouched down to examine the lock more closely, selecting the right pick for the job and beginning to fiddle carefully. It only took her a few minutes of awkward silence to feel the tumblers click into place. With a grin, she picked up her weapon and pulled open the door, slowly, ready to fire at anything that moved.
When nothing came charging out, she shrugged and glanced at the rest of the group. "Once we take this tower we should be able to assess how much fucking work we're gonna have to put into clearing this place out," she stated, before stepping inside to begin the slow, careful trek up the stairs.