Michael Bluth (oneson) wrote in themandalay, @ 2017-05-26 10:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, !plot, michael bluth |
01
WHO: Michael and YOU!
WHAT: After spending majority of the mini zombie apocalypse in his room, Michael leaves after the coast is confirmed to be clear. Apparently this becomes a volunteer clean-up thing.
WHEN: 25 May, afternoon
WHERE: Outside the Mandalay
RATING/STATUS: Likely PG for language, will be edited if necessary. Incomplete.
Michael Bluth had an issue with staying still. Primarily this stemmed from the fact that his efficiency fed directly into his self-esteem--in Michael's eyes, that was his only redeeming quality--but lately it was more because he was turning furiously, awfully restless.
Survival instinct told him to stay in his room for majority of what he still liked to think was a bad dream (Michael had no combat experience or a want for any), his awkward attempts at the Internet and days spent staring out the window all that really kept him busy. Even when the rain started pouring he didn't leave; he didn't want to believe things were going to be okay in gut feeling, and decided to wait until there were guaranteed authorities to confirm it.
It was when a military presence came to affirm just that that Michael allowed himself to leave, but after the relative comfort of a hotel room, the beating Vegas sun was certainly something else.
He wasn't sure what he planned on doing outside--if he was being honest, he never really thought that far. The vision of soldiers flitting around wasn't comforting enough for him to believe he could find a flight back home to Orange County, and if anything made him wonder if going out was a good idea. Before he could change his mind about it, however, one such soldier spotted Michael wandering, and believing him to be a decent addition to the team, asked if he wanted to help.
Michael, who was already at a loss, agreed quietly.
Now he was here, crinkling his nose as he set to work picking up zombie parts and putting them in garbage bags. It wasn't a nice job, and it certainly wasn't what he expected upon leaving, but at least it was better than sitting around doing nothing. The stench of the undead was everywhere, made even worse as the bodies rotted in the heat.
Michael had a butcher's knife to cut the corpses into pieces for easier carrying and disposal, which was as traumatisingly awful as anyone would expect. Having been working on cleaning up this area the past hour or so on his own, his head perked up when he noticed someone approaching.
"Hey," he called, lifting a gloved hand from being wrapped around a dead wrist. "Are you here to clean up? I could really use the help." This sentence was punctuated with the wet sound of Michael's knife cutting into an arm socket; he'd already gotten somewhat used to the work, as much as it made him want to heave.