not the easy job it was meant to be Who: Corey and Eli Where: Corey and Serge's house When: evening Warnings: violence
Corey had been packing up a few things, making sure the rifle was loaded and she had enough ammo, just in case. Certainly, she was guessing she wouldn't need it, but she wanted it. She'd learned a long time ago to never go anywhere completely unarmed. So, she didn't. She thought she was ready, though. She had just grabbed a quick bite to eat, before she went to Eli's.
She finished up the pb and j sandwich she'd made herself, then started to head to the stairs, so she could grab her bag. She had to pause, however, as she heard footsteps on the porch. Turning instead toward the windows, she saw through the sheers several other people heading toward her house. She didn't know them. No one was familiar beyond 'maybe I've seen that guy at the grocery store'. A moment later, there was a knock on the door. Instinct told her she shouldn't open it. She didn't know why, she didn't get what had tripped her trouble radar but it was. And one other thing she'd learned a long time ago – she needed to trust her instincts. It was better to be wrong and feel stupid than right and be caught in a situation you didn't want to be in.
Instinct proved right as the seconds stacked up behind that first knock, two silhouettes leaning into the glass of the front door to peer through before falling back. All at once it smashed open, lock splintering in the frame as the chain ripped apart, and the two were moving in. Both were men, though one looked young enough to barely qualify, and past them on the porch a third man peered in as a woman watched the street beyond the house.
“The old guy in?” asked the older intruder as he fixed a grin on Corey that said he knew the answer. “It’s probably best if you just play nice and come with us,” he went on, nodding to the younger as they moved to either side of Corey, “But I’m kinda hoping you don’t.”
When the glass cracked, Corey was already moving. The closest weapon she had was her slingshot, perpetually in her back pocket, and she pulled it out with one hand, the other into her front pocket for ammunition. She didn't try to draw attention to it, however, instead marking details of the people in front of her in mind. They seemed to be armed, weapons that wouldn’t make much noise. She’d seen a lot of those types later in the zombie infestation. Practical. "You're gonna want to walk away," Corey warned, voice low. Definitely not the tone of a frightened teenager. Fear was a waste of time. It didn't help matters. Only details, strategy and skill did.
Something about the way she watched them seemed to unnerve the younger of the lead two, and when Corey spoke he had to hesitate. Which made him the smart one, unfortunately for the lot of them. “What I want is to make both sides of that face match,” his older companion spat out with another cruel smile as the third man and woman both slipped inside and pushed the cracked door shut behind them. “Grab her,” he told them, slipping a long survival knife free, “We’ll have some fun before the drop.”
Corey saw that hesitation there. When the order was given, and the mention of 'fun', Corey was brought back to some of the less savory individuals that she and her grandfather had dealt with out there. It was why she knew how to do things girls her age shouldn't know how to do, even including the whole zombie apocalypse thing. She went with her first strategy, and pulled the slingshot and metal ball, and aimed straight for the leader's eye. If the one was hesitating, half blinding the one in charge before anyone even got to her might get him to bolt. If nothing else? It was going to be demoralizing as hell for them.
The woman who’d just come in had enough time to gape as Corey drew and aimed, and to utter the words “Is that a fucking sling--” before she released. Her target, the would-be leader, couldn’t help flinching reflexively, and the twitch of his head was just enough to let Corey’s shot catch him on the inner corner of one eye. The crack of impact might’ve been the bridge of his nose breaking just before blood came from one nostril, or maybe her shot ricocheting off as it left a clear, wet trail of ruptured eyeball splattered against the guy’s face.
His screams made it clear that A) he hadn’t seen that coming, and B) he knew he wouldn’t be seeing much else with that eye. All at once, the dam broke as Corey’s first target staggered back behind his comrades, both the woman and third man lunging towards her as the youngest abductor froze.
Corey tried to run then, the quarters too close for comfort. It wasn't quite enough room to really get this going if people weren't going to leave yet. Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough to outrun people already advancing and lunging, and she hit the floor with the woman, shoulder clipping against an end table, topping that and the lamp on it's surface to the floor.
There weren’t many moments that still illustrated how different Corey’s upbringing had been, not in the world they had now. After all, everyone alive today was a survivor, and most people thought that leveled the playing field. Most people hadn’t been trained in hand-to-hand combat, either; not in the way that made it combat, instead of just a fight.
The woman who hit the floor with her, for instance? Her only focus was weight for leverage as she grabbed and pushed, trying to keep Corey prone on the floor. “Get her legs!” she snapped to the man who’d rushed with her, then looked to the frozen kid, “Grab a fucking pillow or something!”
Well, it was close combat now. When the man got down in range, Corey reached up to jam her fingers tight against the man's throat, almost like she was just trying to grab his windpipe. Which, technically, was exactly what she was doing - she even pulled, pretty much attempting to rip it out. While she didn't have the strength to do it, it would fuck up his day. She wasn't in a position to cut off the blood flow to the brain to knock him out long enough, she had to do other things. With her other hand she grabbed at the lamp, swinging it hard to shatter against his head.
He toppled away from her, sprawling into the woman trying to pin Corey down and forcing her away as well. She kicked out at Corey as she fell, an awkward try that still stomped on one shoulder forcefully before she hit the ground. Rolling free, the woman snarled at Corey as she got clear of the tangle of bodies, grabbing her discarded hatchet.
Corey rolled, some of the glass biting into her hands and arms as she pushed herself up to her feet, to dash toward the stairs. She had one goal – to get to her room, so she could get the rifle, or at the very least more weapons. She made it to the stairs before the man was behind her, grabbing at her legs. She hit the stairs hard, and rolled, planting her feet as solidly as she could on the guy and pushing. She got just enough leverage to push him into the woman who was coming, and then she was back to scrambling down the stairs. At the top of the steps she grabbed a table she was betting came with the house. It was a small, end table type thing and she sent it down the steps just to buy her another few moments.
She heard shouts and barked orders behind her, but her mind was immediately on getting to her room. She got there in no time, and shut and locked the door, knowing it wouldn’t hold, but she wasn’t actually hiding. It didn’t have to hold.
Grabbing the rifle, she was up on her bed even as she heard them at her door. Her headboard was a simple thing, but gave her enough height to push out a trap door in the ceiling, one she’d put in herself that led to the attic. She didn’t climb up, however, not yet. Corey turned, and took steady aim at the door, not firing through it. The door rattled hard in it’s frame once, then gave way entirely.
The first one through the door was the woman, and Corey pulled the trigger after a quick correction of her aim. The bullet ripped through her head, splattering brain and blood all over the man who’d been right behind her. She also noted that the bullet had lodged itself in the man’s shoulder, having gone straight through the woman.
She took a second shot, this one center mass because of him being doubled over, not giving her a proper shot. Then she was climbing upwards, hoping she got there before the guy was back on his feet.
Eli had thought he would meet Corey halfway and when she didn’t show, he continued on towards her house. When he saw the front door standing open, he broke into a run, the commotion inside becoming clearer with every second. A gunshot rang through the night and Eli pulled his shirt over his head and shifted, kicking off his pants before rushing into the house.
The man stumbling around downstairs was his first target, half-blind but on his way up the stairs. Eli growled and leapt at him, teeth sinking into his calf as he pulled him back down. The man cursed as he rolled, blood dripping from one empty socket as he slashed towards the wolf with his knife. It barely registered with Eli, who bit down harder, bone cracking beneath his teeth.
Getting up to the attic was easy, and she scrambled back, reloading the rifle. She waited, eyes on the opening as she heard the guy in her room moving around. She moved the rifle barrel as she tracked the movement, and when it stopped, she fired another shot. The bullet bit through the floorboard, and there was thud as something hit the floor. Dropping back down into the room, she pulled her knife, pouncing down on the felled man, and she started stabbing. She started, and didn't stop, blood flying from the blade to spatter on the floor and her bedspread.
Once Eli chomped down, it was hard to let go. Instinct had him tearing at the flesh, his head shaking side to side till he realized he’ll ripped the man’s leg off. The one-eyed man had done everything he could to stop the wolf, but the knife stuck in his hide wasn’t enough. What did catch his attention, though, was the shotgun blast from behind. It stung like a bitch and he dropped the man’s leg with a growl, leaving him to bleed to death as he spun on the kid with the shotgun. He hadn’t even seen him when he’d come through the door, but now he had Eli’s complete attention. Shooting at a wolf and not killing it obviously shook the kid up, and he hesitated to shoot again. In that second, Eli pounced, taking the kid down as the gun went off, shooting out a window as Eli tore his neck open.
Corey looked up at the sound of the shotgun blast. What the hell was that? Slowly getting up off of the twitching corpse beneath her, she moved silently into the hall, stepping over the other body. She got to the top of the steps and peered down, crouching in a fluid motion. She was covered in blood, and she saw as a wolf she recognized was taking down the remaining members of the hit squad. She wanted to relax, but her eyes were ticking elsewhere, just to be sure there weren't any other hidden enemies.
It was the quiet that tore Eli away, the fading of the man’s heartbeat and the silence all around him. He looked up, blood dripping from his jowls, and turned towards Corey. She made quite a sight, covered in blood, knife in her hand, and though the normal response was probably not to smile, that was exactly what Eli did. It looked quite ferocious in his wolf form, his teeth bared at her, but nothing about his demeanor indicated a threat. He looked about the room, just to be sure they were alone, then slowly walked over to her.
She figured if Eli wasn't growling or looking for more people then his senses were the ones to trust. She met him on the steps, crouching to reach out to him. “Thanks,” she told him, voice softer than her appearance would have indicated.
Eli lifted his head, letting his muzzle brush along her hand till her fingers stopped between his ears. He wanted to ask if she’d been hurt, but he had no words, not in this form. Briefly he debated going back for his clothes, which couldn’t be that far out the door, then decided his modesty wasn’t worth leaving her at this moment. Eli shifted, the blood on him more evident against his skin than his fur as he crouched next to her. “Are you hurt?”
Corey shook her head. "Not bad," she told him. She wasn't completely unscathed or anything, but she wasn't what she would consider 'injured'. She looked him over, not even blushing considering what they'd both just been through. "You?" she asked, frowning as she thought she saw. "...you caught buckshot."
In any other situation, Eli would have been blushing himself, but not right now. Not after the fight they’d just been through… with people, not zombies. That was a new one for him. “I’m okay. Not sure how, but… yeah. It stings, but not like I was shot.” He did, in fact, have nine little red welts on his back, bleeding but not badly, along with a cut down his shoulder where he’d been stabbed, though it hardly looked like a stab wound. The blood made everything look worse, but Eli definitely didn’t feel like the kind of fight he’d just been in.
“Could be the adrenaline,” Corey said, eyeing him critically. She ticked her gaze to his eyes. “We should go have you checked out either way,” she suggested. “But either way, we gotta move. It won't take that long for whoever sent these guys to work out that they failed.” Technically, she was guessing that people would be imagining it would have been an easy job.
Eli nodded. It could definitely be the adrenaline, though he had a hard time believing he could have taken that shot before he was a werewolf. “Grab a change of clothes. You can shower at my place and call your grandfather, let him know what went down.” It might even be safer at his place, now that there were three werewolves there, plus Finn, though it was clear Corey could hold her own.
Corey nodded. “I'm already packed anyway, I was just on my way to your place,” she said, getting up to head and grab everything. Including the rifle. Because if anything came at them on the way, they were getting a ventilated cranium for their trouble.
Eli took the moment Corey went to grab her stuff to step outside and grab his pants. A wolf walking through town would garner far more attention than two bloody kids, since the gore could be hidden by the night. A wolf, however, stood out if it was seen. He didn’t bother with his shirt, though, deciding to leave it off just in case he needed to shift again. Standing in her living room, he looked at the mess, sighed, then picked up the shotgun. “He won’t be needing it.”
Corey headed down the steps, cleaning her knife off on a dry patch of shirt before sliding it back into it's sheath. Her bag was over one shoulder, the rifle over the other. Nodding gravely, she started out the door. Shit had just gotten very real, and she was going to face it head on.