spin_kick_snap: (Contortionist: Spangles 02)
The drumbeat of the dead echoed across the lot like a relentless overseer on an ancient slave ship. Gorgon's confident smirk faded and even Stealth seemed shaken.

Below them, the exes parted to let the trucks drive up. Over a dozen of them, all spray-painted with different shades of green. Seventeens rode on the roof and hung out the windows. At the head of the parade, Rodney Cesares rode in the back of a National Guard truck decorated with skulls and a large neon-green 17 on the hood. They whooped and hollered and fired their guns into the sky.

And it continues... )

[NFI, NFB, OOC welcome. Preplayed by the masterful crew represented here, [livejournal.com profile] whoisalicewhite, [livejournal.com profile] tigerundercover/[livejournal.com profile] vdistinctive, [livejournal.com profile] rebelseekspizza, [livejournal.com profile] not_every_mage, and [livejournal.com profile] soniaroadsqueen. Bits of text adapted from Ex-Heroes by Peter Clines. Last of the posts for the day, though check out the comments for the last bit. Warning for NPC death]
spin_kick_snap: (Zombie 02 (Forlorn))
Josh Garcetti checked on his latest patient, an appendicitis case. She'd come in on her own, he'd pulled out the offending organ, and now she was asleep. Her stitches were clean and tight, no seepage at all. He tried not to dwell on the fact that at one time, he could have repaired her without a single incision. Of course, lots of things had been different back then. The world had been alive, for one. So had Midknight and Cairax and Blockbuster and Banzai.

So had Meredith.

He made a few quick marks on her chart, then stepped out into the nurses' station and made another set of notes on the night log. Then he turned to the cabinets and found himself inches from Stealth. He stumbled back and the move yanked his withered hand out of its pocket. "Jesus," he snapped. "Do you have to pop out of nowhere like that?"

The cloaked woman said nothing.

Footsteps made him turn and St. George stepped in from the hallway. He was bare-chested and covered in bruises. "George," Josh said with a nod. "What happened to you? What the hell's going on?"

But George wasn't alone. Zzzap was with him, and Cerberus, and Gorgon, too, which was weird because Gorgon never came to see him. He suffered Josh's company only on Stealth's most stringent orders. And there were others as well, strangers. Or so he thought at first glance. But the two younger guys seemed familiar in a way that nagged at his memory and in the center of the group-- "Mystique?" he asked. "I thought you'd left to go find help after Banzai died."

"After you let her die," Gorgon spat. "While you were napping because you put her at the end of the fucking line and made her wait for hours."

Now he recognized the young men. They'd come to fetch Banzai home, back in the early days. She had refused and they'd fought and he'd left early, unable to take Nick's blatant jealousy and Max's smug amusement and his own guilt. "What are you all--" but Stealth interrupted him.

"When we were discussing the progression of the disease," she said, "you said you have had the virus hanging over you for almost a year. You were bitten eight months and six days ago."

He blinked twice, then a third time. "That all? Feels a hell of a lot longer. Sorry I don't have a computer-like mind like you." He shrugged and re-pocketed his dead hand. "Is that everything? Mr. Willis would love to get a few Vicodin so he can sleep."

Her feet shifted and she was between Josh and the cabinet. He sighed and pointed at a row of bottles. "Do you mind?"

"The first definite sighting of an ex-human," she continued, "was ten months ago. On March 9th, an unidentified woman assaulted a group of Seventeens in a parking lot. The attack which infected Rodney Cesares."

Josh shrugged again, but his eyes flitted between the two heroes and then back towards the tiny group of strangers. St. George realized his hands rolled themselves into fists.

Stealth still hadn't moved. She was tense but fluid. She was confident. "Your wife died almost a year ago, didn't she, Regenerator? Eleven months ago yesterday."

The doctor's glare shot past her, past Gorgon's stricken face and Zzzap's staticky buzz of shock. It landed on the three familiar faces in the crowd and he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

A little late for apologies )

[Content warning for mentions of previous, off-camera suicide attempts and attempted execution of an NPC. NFI, NFB, OOC welcome. Preplayed by the masterful crew represented here, [livejournal.com profile] whoisalicewhite, [livejournal.com profile] tigerundercover/[livejournal.com profile] vdistinctive, [livejournal.com profile] rebelseekspizza, [livejournal.com profile] not_every_mage, and [livejournal.com profile] soniaroadsqueen. Bits of text adapted from Chapter Twenty-Four of Ex-Heroes by Peter Clines]
spin_kick_snap: (Hurt/Upset)
After discovering that Anders could heal the infected, the heroes of LA had been buoyed up by the knowledge that they could stop the spread of the zombie virus. Regenerator couldn't change anyone who had become of full-fledged zombie, but he was able to heal those they got to in time. It helped that the victims tended to have as much as a whole day between when they were bitten and when they turned. Stealth got word out to the populations that were most vulnerable, promising 'free and discreet care' to anyone who needed it, for whatever reason, and soon people were coming to them, either to be healed by 'Genny or two get heroes to help transport the infected back. 'Genny set up a walk-in clinic in a warehouse Stealth had procured and rather than patrolling, Banzai had started helping him there. She was fast, she was agile, she was good at calming people down--she made an excellent assistant and a new rapport sprang up between them.

They were saving lives. They were making a difference. It even made having to move back in with her family (under the guise of visiting for 'spring break') more palatable.

This rush of good feeling lasted for three days. Just three days. They knew they weren't stopping new zombies from turning, but between the people they were healing and the zombies the rest were killing, they really thought they were making a difference.

They were wrong. They were so wrong.

It was Sarah who woke Kathy up from her nap, eyes wide and a little scared. The fear alone had the bottom dropping out of Kathy's stomach; Sarah didn't do scared. She'd gone to school everyday through Seventeen territory and hadn't even flinched. "Sarah," she said, holding out a hand. "What is it?"

"Something's happening," Sarah said, going to sit on Kathy's bed and curling up against her big sister. "Something big. There was some kind of terrorist attack today--like a biological thing. People were screaming and rioting and attacking one another on Hollywood and Highland. Just out in the street in the middle of the day! Like--people ripped one another's throats out and stuff. It's all over the net--people were taking videos and running and screaming--they attacked little kids! And the way they looked--!" Sarah shuddered, hiding her face. "It was awful. Like a horror movie but for real. I watched people die. It looked like some were getting eaten."

"You shouldn't be watching this kind of stuff," Kathy said absently, stroking her sister's hair while her mind whirled. "It's just going to freak you out. Don't worry, the superheroes will fix it."

"I hope so," Sarah said, cuddling close. "Cause the videos I saw? It looked like the end of the world."

[NFB, but Kathy's going to be calling people. If you want her to call you (or want to call her), ping in and she did!]
spin_kick_snap: (Glare)
Things that really plucked Kathy's last nerve: 1) turning around and seeing a giant mountain of luggage behind her at the gym when she was perfectly well-adjusted, thank you, and 2) turning around and seeing a trail of mooks trussed like the Thanksgiving turkey behind her on patrol the night before when she was perfectly capable of handling herself, thank you. Never mind that she hadn't noticed at least three of them on her tail--in fact, that just made it even more annoying You know what made someone feel even more resentful? Knowing that she should be feeling grateful instead. Ugh! Not that she had any idea who this 'mysterious benefactor' was--the brief glimpses she'd caught of him showed that he was too tall to be Eliot and too compact to be Mr. Hardison. Which meant that Eliot had farmed this...this...this baby-sitting job off on someone else, because he couldn't be bothered.

So, yeah. She'd gone to sleep fulminating over that and woke up with a duffel bag at the foot of her bed that said Never going to be good enough and you know what? Kathy was just done. The baggage had only gotten worse throughout the day until Kathy had shoved her gi into a backpack and lit out for Baltimore after lunch. Anything to be away from that stupid island for the rest of the day. And, hey, maybe that would make it a lot ha.rder for her obnoxious shadow to find her, too.

Honestly, could today get any worse?

[For them that know who they are, please! NFB]
spin_kick_snap: (Work Out Hair)
If anyone asked Kathy how she was dealing with the events of Monday's little destination adventure, she'd tell them she was doing just fine, thank you. She'd had her crying, she'd had a good talk, she'd drowned her brain out with purely physical pleasure for a bit, and now she was much better. The only lasting consequence of Monday was her new inability to walk past a certain empty room on the fifth floor without blushing a little bit. Everything was fine.

Granted, she hadn't gone out and patrolled as Banzai even once yet this week. And she was spending hours at the gym and in the salle, weight-training and working on the moves Eliot had been drilling into her for several months now. Oh, and she wasn't sleeping well at all, even with how exhausted she was. But those weren't related, either to one another or to Monday. They just...were. She was just adjusting after a week away. Or the change in seasons and the darkening days were messing with her natural rhythms. Or it was stress over college applications. Kathy had a hundred different excuses she could apply to the situation--or would if there were a situation.

Which there wasn't.

Because she was fine.

Take today for instance. She had dubstep blaring wile she did set after set after set of pushups. Beneath her on the floor was her Italian textbook; she was memorizing verb conjugation with every rep. On her bed were several dresses so she could figure out what to wear for the dance this weekend in between sets. In all, a completely normal day with nothing at all amiss.

See? Kathy was fine.

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