The Deadland

[ when Rat can focus again against the lurch and shift of worlds and consciousness, it's the smell that hits him first. The overwhelming stench of rotten flesh and clotted blood, offal and bacteria. And the rust of iron.

When his vision slides back, he recognises the cage for what it is. What he doesn't recognise is the pile of meat that must have been a large animal at some point in the past. He's used to dead things, though, and after he remembers to breathe shallowly and through his mouth, he can occupy himself with working out a way out of the cage some bastard left him in.


An hour or so later, and he's exhausted himself trying to break the lock with alternatively a large rock and a shard of femur. It's only after this resounding failure that he deigns to try the radio. ]

Someone want to tell me why I'm in a fucking cage?

[Action]

[Normally, Mami Tomoe was a very competent, focused fighter. Watching her fight was like watching a deadly dance, all smooth movements and precise shots.

This Mami, however, was barely a shadow of what she once was. Her mind and heart had been a wreck when she woke up in that strange room. The conversation with that strange child - I can grant any wish you want - had only brought up another wave of horrible memories. She was confused, upset, and stuck in the middle of a complete breakdown with nobody there to help her.

So when she appeared in the world proper, and near-immediately found herself face-to-face with a strange hybrid monster that should not have scared her after all she had seen, but was utterly terrifying to her in her current mental state, she did the first thing her horror-stricken mind thought of: run.

So she does. As she does, enough sense comes back to her to fight, defend yourself. So she turns, summons a rifle, and fires. Her hands are shaking too much and the bullet just about grazes the creature, so she discards it and summons another rifle. This shot manages to hit, but only barely. So she summons a third, aims, squeezes the trigger...

Click.

It's empty.]

What...

[Her shock and confusion causes her to hesitate just long enough; the monster, wounded and snarling, pounces.]

[Radio; some time later]

[The voice coming in over the radio is shaky, but a bit less frightened than its owner had been when she first woke up.] This place... I don't understand. I should be dead. How... how am I here?

[OOC: the action is first come, first serve, to keep things from getting confusing! If someone else tagged the action already, feel free to tag the radio post instead.]

Outside the bakery on Mercy Cross there are several bits of the attacking beasties thrown about, namely arms and legs and chest cavities and whatnot, chopped up much like you’d expect from the butcher next door. And one of the front plate glass doors is bent, tempered glass crinkling and cracked in spider-web like designs as its nearly off its last hinge. Through the blood there isn’t a trail of any footprints inward, though there is a man inside the bakery, packing loaves of bread into a large brown paper bag with a strawberry danish between his teeth. If money only mattered, he’d be into the cash register as well.

In a black long sleeve shirt, one sleeve pulled back to his elbow and a pair of dark jeans, he’s finally changed out of his white sleeved jacket to something a little more inconspicuous to rummage around the shops in. And even this inconspicuous outfit is splattered with a bit of blood.