charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
Maybe it was gruesome, but Charlie was strangely at home in battle. She'd been dealing in bloodshed for a long time, from the military to the FBI. Bullets and guts were practically a currency for her, a sense of normality that made her particularly suited for a post-apocalyptic landscape. Zombies, however, fought mindlessly. It might've made her a terrible person but she'd missed fighting enemies that could think, that could fight back. More than that, she missed exacting justice like she used to. However misguided she'd been, however much she regretted not questioning her orders, however sick it made her... she enjoyed the fight. There were times when she thought that adrenaline rush was the only time she was truly alive. And it made her a terrifyingly confident, ruthless, and vicious opponent on the battlefield. There was no hesitation in her killing, just aiming for the head or chest and shooting. If she weren't so caught up in the fight, she'd probably be concerned with the impression she was making on her friends and allies.
Of course, this sort of battlefield was somewhat alien. There were familiar elements: the sounds of bullets ricocheting off walls, of shots hitting flesh were something she knew and was extremely comfortable with. Being concerned amidst all the chaos about someone else was another. The thought of Brandon or worse, of Rodeo being out there, hurt, made her want to finish this quicker, despite the adrenaline and feeling alive. They were all she had left now, the reason why she wasn't charging into this place guns blazing (well, relatively-- at least she had a team and a plan now) She couldn't lose them.
The sound of knives hitting knives was new, too. All of her previous experiences were gunfights-- there wasn't a lot of call for knife-fights when you were a sniper-- but she'd managed to find her place. Her job was to provide suppressing fire (courtesy of her trusty M4A1 carbine, the standard reciever switched out for the shorter CQBR), to scatter their opponents so Evan and Eli could get close enough. She also did her best to take out any other gunmen they ran into. Knives could only do so much against a barrage of bullets. It had worked well enough until they'd reached the main chamber-- she'd gotten flanked by two guards and had to switch gears, quickly slinging the carbine onto her back and making a run for cover. She couldn't outmuscle them, but she could outwit and outrun them.
And outgun them, of course.
Her grin bordered on manic as she popped out from cover, easily taking down the first guard with a few shots. She'd just managed to incapacitate the second guard with a shot to the thigh when she heard that crazy motherfucker speak.
Disappoint? Her lips twisted into a smile as she watched this Tallis person approach. "You realize your boss has given me the advantage here," Charlie taunted between shots. "He wants me alive. I want you deader than a fucking doornail." She raised her voice much like the leader psycho had, mocking him. "I dunno, sweetheart. Your welcoming committee's pretty fucking disappointing. Way too easy to turn 'em into fucking smears on the concrete. What'd you pick, the pussiest folks in New York for your fucking cult?" She asked, curling her lip into a sneer. This man was an insane, visionless coward and she was not going to fall to the likes of him.