charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
The dead guard was already forgotten, in Charlie's mind. As she peered out over the vast expanse of the prison, a small smile played at her lips. Evan was right. This was it. This was freedom. She wasn't one for sentimentality or even hopefulness in any sense of the word. Seeing the grounds, though... this was a place where they could rebuild. A fresh start for everyone, a better life than the crowded safehouses, scarce food, and the governmental hierarchy. Crops could be grown here, with the proper care. Hell, she could even go for a run in the morning without running into zombies, if those high walls had anything to say about it. It was a twisted sense of irony that a prison meant freedom from oppression, but as her friend had said-- these were fucking strange times.
She listened intently to what Rodeo was saying, even if it didn't seem like it as she raised her binoculars again. Her tactical brain was alight, already filing away the information for reference, plotting routes and alternate routes based on where the least resistance would likely be, and figuring out perches where she could protect the others to the best of her ability. "Two-three sounds good," she agreed. Up top was a more comfortable position for her to be in, anyway, and having another person up there to watch her back was fine by her. For all her fighting strength, Charlie was still a sniper first, and it was risky to take a perch in an unknown territory without a spotter. She was perfectly fine having Rodeo as hers.
"Almost seems like a beginning to a bad fucking joke," Charlie mused aloud as she stepped back from the railing, finally lowering her binoculars. "An artist, a fed, a cop, a cri--" A sound caugth her ear and she cut off suddenly from her 'walked into a jail' joke. Scratching. She knew that fucking noise all too well. That sound was the bane of her early morning existence three times a week. It was made from long fingernails hitting a hard surface, which could only mean one thing: a leaper was close.
But before she could open her mouth to warn anyone, it pounced. Charlie saw the blur of movement hit Leah out of the corner of her eye and sprang into action. She drew her pistol, but couldn't risk shooting it while it was still on her-- she was pretty sure an accidental bullet to Leah's face wouldn't endear her to anyone-- but she was still closest. So she did what her gut told her.
"I don't fucking think so, you spring-loaded son of a bitch," she snarled, using an arm to grab the snarling, rotting monster into a headlock and yank it off of her friend. There was a moment of struggle; the leaper was twice her size, but she was stronger than she looked. Once she had the thing pulled back far enough, she pressed her pistol to its temple and fired, the silencer muting the shot to only a thwip. Once the stupid thing went limp, Charlie heaved it bodily over the railing and turned back to Leah, offering her hand to help the woman up. "You all right?"