Kat Warbler (sharkswithguns) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2012-12-02 13:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | bruce banner/hulk, kat warbler |
Who? Kat (open to Bruce, since he's coming to find her, if you wanna play?)
What? Zombies! Biting! Onoes!
Where? Kat's apartment
When? Noonish today.
Why? Because I can't just kill a character in a simple manner!
Rating? Highish? Swearing + zombie-style violence/gore.
Kat had thoiught she'd be perfectly find if she just stayed where she was, holed up here in her apartment with her salt and her gun and her newly-acquired groceries, and watched stupid movies and, generally, just stayed out of the way. Demons couldn't get in past the wards, after all, so it would be fine as long as she didn't go anywhere, right?
Except, apparently, when she wasn't paying attention (somewhere between the latest horror movie on Netflix, and venturing into her darkroom to get some work done), things had escalated from demons to... something else entirely. Someone had been knocking on her door, and she'd stupidly assumed it was one of the other complex residents, or something, and just opened it up, only to see a stranger standing there, dressed in a dirty suit, looking pale and creepy. Asking if she could help him had probably been stupid - she should have spent that extra handful of seconds on grabbing her gun, or at least closing and bolting the door.
He'd lashed out at her, catching her arm and sinking his teeth in before she'd managed to shove him off, and then he'd clawed at her as she pushed him back far enough to get the door closed, and she was definitely bleeding pretty bad from whatever it had done to her shoulder, it was soaking into her sweater and her head was kind of spinny, but I've been bit was definitely circulating in there, right next to damn, I loved this top and oh God oh God oh God.
Her back to the door, she grabbed for her phone and put up a quick message, half-frantic and half-numb with dread. What happened in horror movies when people were bitten flashed through her mind - hell, she'd been watching some stupid zombie film just this morning. She was screwed. She was seriously screwed. She was probably turning into a zombie. Zombies didn't get to survive.
Kat rose to her feet shakily, stripping off her sweater, letting the blood-soaked garment fall on the nearby table, instead of dropping it on the carpet (not that it would matter, soon, she'd be dead and why should she care about carpet? But then, maybe Epiphany would want to offer the place to someone else, wouldn't be easy if there were bloodstains everywhere), and ran the kitchen tap water over the bite on her arm. It was red all around it, had definitely broken the skin - there was an uncomfortable, nauseous moment where she was pretty damn sure she was looking at parts of her arm that she had no interest in seeing, muscles and maybe tendons and oh, God, is that the fucking bone?
Okay. Okay. Breathe, Kat. Fuck.
She didn't want to be a zombie. She had to figure this out. Winding the kitchen towel around her arm, she picked her phone back up. Damage control. If she was doomed, she wasn't gonna bring anyone else down with her, that was for damn sure.