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RPG Resident Evil: Salvation(Play)


Charles
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Thick black and dark gray clouds appeared painted onto the sky with the thick bristles of God?s paintbrush, a chill wind whipping through the trees that lined the rode on the distant ground as if to dry the scene on the canvas of the world. The gray seemed to bleed from the sky, permeating like the bitter cold around them. The red and yellows mixed with green that were the colors of fall in Maine where bled away to become offshoots of the gray that seemed to wish to work its way into the very souls of those it touched.Sheets of rain battered the plane on the stretch of vast heavens, falling like stones upon the silver metal hide of the machine, visibility minimized to levels that made flying nearly impossible.

Needless to say it was going to be a rather dark and stormy night.

Stone's assistant, Jason Biccardi sat in contemplation as his associate Joshua tried the best he could to conduct business with cell phones that would not work and satellite internet connections that would fail. Biccardi did not blame him; he doubted if anything could be heard through the banshee?s wail of the storm.

Vile and contemptuous were the passengers set to land upon Hell's gate. Murderer's, arsonists, drug atticts and theives; a chariot of Satan's Imps prepared to dance with the devil. Pupils glazed over with malicious intent and minds swarmed with visions of deceipt serveyed one another. The one known as Mr. Levia systematically sized up everyone...like they were his prey....or so Biccardi thought.

Reeling at the slight verberations of the aircraft, Jason Biccardi, rose slowly and deliberately. The man also spoke slowly, his New England accent holding through his otherwise monotone voice. One would think him an automaton if one heard him, but many of the passengers knew the reason why he spoke without passion. He had a simple mind for a simple life. Fear's thin fingers tugged at the hairs on the back of his neck, standing them rigid and stiff. Evenly he said, "You people couldn't find a way through life. Now it's time that you make one for yourself. Upon your arrival after a brief stayover, our correspondent shall provide you with your requested weaponry. You must understand, your records bespeak the low level of trust we must place within each of you. That is why you are unarmed at the moment."

Howling winds threatened the aircraft noisily. Shrill and hissing it made clear it's own demonic delights. Biccardi was thrusted forward slightly, as the damned few entered slight turbulance. Earlier, Stone had smiled a bit of his trademark smile as he joked about talking to Satan about how really to control someone. "The Devil still thought that an empty shell the perfect puppet made," Stone had said. "No? a puppet who desired to serve was a puppet that was loyal for life."

Biccardi now wondered if Stone had been referring to him as a puppet, or the sinners before him now. Chuckling sarcastically, he chastised himself inwardly for even comparing himself to them.

Upon landing, Biccardi reached into his coat pocket and retrieved an envelope inviting him to the party that everyone was to attend before the mission began. It was during this party, located on a island hidden in the thick swirl of rain and mists, that weaponry would be distributed and participants would get to know one another. He handed it to Joshua, the aid immediately knowing to hold on to it for safekeeping and further investigation later. Biccardi watched as his aid slipped the invitation into the right breast pocket of his suit jacket before nodding his goodbyes and exiting into his designated car.

Biccardi sighed as he felt the rain pound him relentlessly and soak him to the bone almost instantly. Deciding the dryness was preferred to secrecy that he was anything more then an average man, and pulled his coat over his head keeping him dry. The man who was going to be everyone's guide to the island began to slowly move toward the shoreline with Biccardi following in tow.

Biccadi frowned as he was forced to trudge through the mud in Italian shoes that cost more then most high-end computers. But, as an aristorcrat of society, he at least made sure that his shoes were going to be clean when they finally made it to the small dock by the bridge that contained a rickety looking dingy. Nervously, he peered over his shoulder to see the prying eyes of the ones known as Andrew and Levyn Cecylon stripping his soul apart layer by layer.

Their guide was neither talkative nor friendly, furthering the apprehension in the air. He reminded Biccardi of them.... Under his breath he thanked God that he would be out of the house upon the arrival of the artillary.

Everyone stepped on to the dingy and sat upon the sopping wet plank that served as a seat while the guide got on and took the two oars in hand. Biccardi raised an eyebrow as the man began to row them out into the choppy water, figuring the man would at least opt for a motor on his boat in such stormy waters.

The mists swallowed them whole, making the land behind them fade from view and the land in front of them slowly come into it in a hazy, sort of dreamlike vision. Biccardi watched the approaching land before the thundering bass of thunder and a sharp flash of lighting drew his eye to the top of a sheer cliff as the day seemed to bleed quickly into night. Silhouetted in the flash of lighting were the towring spires of what looked like an extremely gothic Victorian house. The perfect place to host a Halloween party Biccardi thought?

?or a Horror story.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[I]I'm using this house as a brief "stayover" before the actual adventure, to give everyone a chance to interact with each others characters or develop personalities/alliances. Maybe we'll throw some action in there too.[/I]
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They all sit and wait silently but Kain sits the quietest.They soon get to the house and step inside.

Kain-.........

Kyle-Hi.Name's Kyle.

Kain-Kain.....

Levyn-Hello.

Anima-How ya doin?

Kain-.......where are my weapons?

Baccardi-Here everyone you weaponary.

Baccardi hands each person they're weapons which they load up.

Kain-The extra ammo I requested?

Baccardi-In this back pack.

Seifer-When do we leave?

Baccardi-Tomorrow.So you guys can talk and rest if you want.

Kain puts his guns in their holsters.The 2 Uzis at his sides the 9mm on his ankle and the shotgun on his back and the desert eagle in his hand.They all sit talking and waiting for the break of dawn to come.
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The large Victorian house was a silhouette as the lightning flashed and cracked through the skies. Outside stood several of the participants, but one stood out as he was distanced from the group. His long white hair flowing in the wind, he prison clothes had been replaced by his clothing of choice. As he stared blank face at the menacing structure of the house, a man wearing a suit and sunglasses approached him. Both stared coldly at each other as another flash of lightning lite up the sky, slowly the man in the suit holds up a clip board and pen as he began to speak.

Suited man: Who do we have here? Name please.

Once again there was silence, and slowly the large white haired man began to speak. A partially thick Russian accent rolled of his tongue.

Serge: Serge, Serge Schaufele.

Suited man: Ah, yes. Serge, you were literally plucked from the jaws of death. I'm guessing you're feeling lucky?

Serge slowly turned his head look away into the dark distance, and then spoke again.

Serge: I was plucked from freedom, now leave me.

The suited man was quiet as Serge began to enter the house, as did some of the other "guest". The doors creaked, as he pushed the large double doors aside and made his way in. The halls were semi dark as the only light came from candle all along the walls, as Serge stood looking around at the large main hall he could only think "This is my home now..."
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[i]Drake's eyes slowly retracted, focusing on the sleety clouds high above. His hands had balled into iron-strong fists, something tugging at his mind. His green eyes narrowed into tiny, glinting threads of hate. His look never seemed to change, always cold, distant, evil. His expression rarely changed. This was one of them.

His face reconfigured to a more relaxed, indifferent mask of isolation. He surveyed the area, keenly taking in everything as his hand slipped deep within his left pocket. When he pulled them out, the pack of Camels and the lighter sparkled in the dimly-lit air, the pack's plastic coat crinkling sharply. Drake made a single motion, unwrapping the box, throwing the covering carelessly away. In a mere split-second, he lit the cigarrette, puffing deeply.

Reeling away, he coughed once.[/i]

"Old.....Too old.. Shoulda got s'more before I came to this God-Forsaken pissin hole-in-the-ground," he uttered.

[i]Suddenly, a voice of maleviolent tone rang out from behind him.[/i]

"That stuff'll kill you, ya know?" snarled Craig.

"Sunnova *****....Craig? Haven't seen [b]you[/b] in a while. What you in fa'?" leered Drake with a more relaxed tone.

"Arson, murder, attempted murder. Arson gone wrong. You?" shot back Craig.

"Hah! HA! Well, one day, I had enough of this **** of laying low...... So I took my .45......and unleashed all Hell upon these little punks on the street. Proceded to jack deya' money and some crack..... Heh...... Apparently someone saw me kill 'em. And BOOM! Four years wasted cuz I spent too much time hangin' 'round," sneered Drake, face returning to his usual, omnious settings.

"You always was the violent one..," retorted Craig with a darkening expression.

"Don't remind me," Drake muttered, lowering his head to look down the patio siding...
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Kame: << Smriks >> So when does the action start ?.

Kain: << Looks over>>

Kame: What I just wish to know when I need to fend for myself .. Cass none of you look friendly.

Kain: << Blinks then looks back >>

Kame: << Grins >> Well as I said none of ya look friendly ? you all know if we don't fight together we'll Die
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Craig looked up at the scorched sky, the cloud's distorted by the heavy rain. His lifeless expression, that Drake knew so well, came across his face as he stared blanky up at the sky. Drake knew Craig was calculating something. He was one of few that understood Craig's insanity as genious.

Drake: What's wrong Craig?

Craig continues to stare blanky at the sky, the heavy rain beating down on his face, soaking into his skin. He took a long blink, then looked at Drake calmly.

Craig: N-nothing.............. it's..... it's fine.

Drake: Don't lie to me dude, I know you too well.

Craig: I don't want to tell you infront of all these people.

Craig rubbed his hands over his face, a sign of fatigue. Craig didn't really like too much communication, he would get pissed off very easily. He looks to the right as he moved his hand away, and saw someone very familiar. There stood his old cell mate, Seifer.

Drake: How did you manage to get on this death trip? You should still have 25 years left.

Craig: My attourney pleaded a case of insanity......... I've been in a maximum security asylum ever since.

Drake: Well, your insanity just seems to make you more intelligent....... your IQ is like 50 points higher than everyone else's here......... save myself.

Suddenly the group were beckoned to enter the House..... the rest of the group were about to recieve their weapons.
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Kain-I know.

Kame-So you should losen up.What were you in for?

Kain-I killed 5 people and for grand theft.I have lost all remorse for my actions.Now if you don't mind.....

Kame-Sorry.

The group of convicts walk into the house and take seats.Kain stares out a window and sees something running but his eye isn't quick enough to catch it.

Craig-Hey you!

Kain-*turns around*

Craig-Hi.

Kain-:therock:

Craig-Did you see that?

Kain-What?

Craig-Something is out there.

Kain-............

Drake-Who's this?

Craig-Don't know.What's your name?

Kain-Kain......I'm going to go to sleep.Where's my room?

Baccardi-Up the stairs to the left.You'll be rooming with Kame.

Kame-Cool!

Kain-..........

Kain walks into his room and trys to ignore Kame and falls to sleep after an hour.
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[I]They'll find out soon enough.[/I]

Every niche of the Victorian quarters seemed to whisper with an indescribable apprehension. Every gaudy curtain, glazed in a thin layer of dust called for tingling spine and tension. Tree limbs, archaic, deprived of life, scratched agonizingly at fogged window panes. Jaded eyes, enveloped in a blanket of darkness burned holes into the most deprived of visitors. Distant sounds of choppy waters, colder than death's fingers, lapped against shoreline rocks desparately.

[I] If they're anything like the others..[/I]


Each paticipant in the game of fate, void of conscious, checked in their appropriate weaponry. Some ascended the elequent staircase and proceeded to their quarters, while others reveled in their own torturous thoughts. Yet, the house's incantations rose above them.

[I] The weapons weren't supposed to be distributed until morning. I wasn't supposed to be here.[/I]

High above, behind masses of mist and percipitation, the night smiled down upon those under it's watch......and so did the house. Hell on Earth? Not exactly. For the participants of Stone's game would soon travel mountains to enjoy the smoothness of the road that lie ahead. Others, would join the scarlet serpants thirteen rings. Something was on the horizon...and it was thirsty, captivated by the sweetest bloodlust...

"Man shall not feel pain until tears have burned his eyes," Stone said before Biccardi bid him good night via cell phone.

"It is time I bring them together for the last gathering," Biccardi mumbled silently clutching a thick envelope that read in scarlet lettering, "UMBRELLA."
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In the corner of the large hall Andrew stood, arms folded leaning against the wall. He looked slightly downward, with a glance of hate. His stair was enough to turn a man insane. He suddenly snapped out of his day dream and looked at the others talking and mixing like fools. He uncrossed his arms and picked up a glass and began sipping it not knowing what was inside. He had soon downed it and several other glasses of the same stuff. He walkred out from his corner and walked straight up the stairs ignoring everyone he passed. He soon got to the top of the large staircase and looked at the rooms left and right. He pulled the open letter out of his pocket and found his room number. '23'. He quickly headed for that door and unlocked it with the key that was in the envelope. He dropped straight onto the bed and quickly fel into a deep slumber dreaming of crazy things.
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[I]Craig was sitting in a chair, leaning on his left elbow, with his left hand pressed up against his cheek. On the table before him was his assigned minigun. Craig was motionless, he just stared at the minigun. On the side just above the trigger, was a silver plate. There was a woman's silhoette in an interesting pose engraved in it, and in elegant writing below was the name "Heather". Seifer approahed Craig, and looked at him puzzlingly. Drake stood next to Seifer.

Seifer: What's he upto?

Drake: Oh, he's just studying his weapon........ give him an hour.

Seifer: Whats to study? There's nothing wrong with it.....

Drake: Yeah, it great........ but Craig's finding a way to make it perfect.

Seifer: Huh???

Drake: You'll see................ you'll see[/I]
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Just a note, safter cloud. You're getting everyone's characters completely wrong. I know for a fact that Craig wouldn't go "Hey you" or "Hi". And Drake's.....What's the word.......Demonic. Like, he wouldn't ask who you are.... Just snap your neck..:demon:
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
[i]Drake had long-since grown quiet, simply sitting around, polishing his .45 with a tattered rag he's had since his was a baby. Nothing could get this smothered mass of grime away from Drake; it was very imortant to him.

A good three minutes passed, Drake just sitting in a posh, refined-looking chair, cleaning every speck of his .45. It was like an obsession. Someone had touched it; he had to clense it. Had to. Had to. HAD to.

Finally calming himself, he arose from his chair, at the very moment Biccardi entered the huge rec. room. Under Biccardi's shoulder rested a manilla envelope, with something written on it. something which Drake couldn't quite make out. Something Drake was going to see, weither Biccardi liked it or not...[/i]
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Guest QuickSilver
seifer: he may find a way to make it perfect but it would never beat the likes of my desert eagle look at the smooth indentations, i cant wait to try this baby out.*holds up gun and looks through the sight*

craig:*tuts* this gun once in its perfect form will be the ultimate weapon

seifer: i would like to see you do that
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Sorry if I got the chars wrong.I'll try again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kain walks out of his room with a kind of "I don't really wanna talk"look on his face.He still had all his guns loaded and holstered.Him and Andrew catch a sight of each other out of their eye.

Kain-...............:flaming:

Andrew-.................:flaming:

Seifer stands next to Drake and asks him a question.

Seifer-Now what are those two doing?

Drake-Don't......know.....

Kame soon walks down the stairs.

Kame-Looks kinda scary...

Kain turns his head and starts to polish his guns.

Andrew-.........

Kain-........

Seifer-Who are you?

Kain-Kain.

Seifer-Seifer.*holds out hand*

Kain-*stares at Seifer*

Biccardi-Listen up people!Your going to be leaving at 1:00 p.m!So eat up and rest up because this my be your last chance to do this!

Some dishes of food are brought out like pork chops smothered in gravy,turkey,mashed potatoes,and beer.Kain stares at the food like it's the enemy.But he soon starts to eat.
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The candles in the halls danced, and flickered making shadows seem to have a life of their own. As other "guest" either make conversation, or demanded their weapons Serge still stood in the center of the main hall. Serge was in no rush, to him he was still on death row and the clock was slowly ticking away. Not even the threat of death scared this man, but he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach usually when he thinks something bad may happen. As he look around at the large dark portraits on the walls he sudden turned to the right coming face to face with another convict, slightly shorter than he. Serge look down at the guy's face, and suddenly the former inmate began to speak as Serge stared blank faced once again.

Danny: Hey, my names Danny Williams. But you can call me Dan, or Danny. So what were ya' in for? Me, I was in for tapping the governments computers in the US mint. I was having money delivered to a certain place for me to pick it up, but it didn't take long for them to figure it out and bust me. But hey they got what they had coming to them. I mean I worked there for close to eight years, then they fired me out of the blue. Just like that. [I]*Snaps fingers*[/I] No special parting gift, no pension, NOTHING! Idiots! Anyway, want were you in for?

Danny made contact with Serge's cold eyes, and his back went cold. Danny stood for several moment with his hand extended out to shake Serge's hand, but it never happened. Serge just began to speak in low harsh tone of voice still protruding with his Russian accent.

Serge: You Americans talk to much. So Dan, you basically robbed the US mint?

Danny shuttered slightly at the voice, and the look he was receiving didn't help very much. Danny slowly shook his head confirming what Serge had said.

Danny: Yea, basically. So, uh want's your name?

Serge continued leaving Danny in mystery of his name, but continued to taunt him about why his was imprisoned.

Serge: So you're a hacker then? You do know that you are in a house full of murders don't you?

Danny hadn't really given it a thought, and it was apparently obvious as he began to slowly look around at the rest of the people in the room. Danny just stared off into space thinking about it, suddenly Serge speaks again.

Serge: The name is Serge.

Serge turned away from Danny and began to walk down a long hall connected to the main hall, Danny snapped out of his trance and spoke again.

Danny: Hey, Serge, what were you in for?

Serge turn, and looked at Danny. Danny looking a little uneasy now that he realized he was in a room full of murderers, but his curiosity kept him wanting to know about Serge's conviction.

Serge: Mass genocide...you have just meant the biggest murderer here, and you didn't even think about it. Next time if I were you I'd watch who you walk up to, because the next one could be your last. As for me, I am not here for conversation so next time you try to talk to me.......I'll rip your jaw off.

Serge turned and continued down the hall disappearing in the dancing shadows as Danny stood wide eyed looking ready to throw up. Danny quivered, and shook in fear looking around once again.
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<< Kame looks up at Biccardi >>

Kame: << Rolls his eyes >> Gotta love those last timers ? << Starts to eat >>

Kain: Why must you always talk !!??

Kame: Because its better then being a stiff board like yourself. ?.

Kain: << Looks back down at the Food >> Whatever.

Kame: << Looks over at Seifer >> Seifer Right?? ?..

Seifer: yup ..

Kame: What you in for ?
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The sky, wearing its necklace of infinite diamons beamed down upon the hellish dwelling behind a layer of mist and precipitation.

[I] Tick...tock....tick....tock..[/I]

Night's creepers retreated hesitantly unto the safety of their baron covens that resembled the dark hearts of the house guests. That night some slept while others inwardly wept. Could strategy insure survival...one wondered. "Playing off one's emotions would be nearly impossible", Biccardi had scribbled into his notebook frantically. "I would rather have been sent to Umbrella myself," he grumbled, "then spend a night with these vial wretches." He had always lived by a simple motto: "He who angers you, controls you." After little deliberation, Biccardi decided that angering these.....people..... would be his undoing. "Even the devil knows fear," he wrote, "and they shall only know true pain when tears sting their eyes."

[I]Night's icey glare finally melted away, but the stark atmosphere remained....along with the thick fog. Elsewhere.....[/I]

Mark peered through the morning vapor, at the ominous stone structure before him as wind rattled garbage cans and slapped the window curtains high above. There was a faint light somewhere in the room he was looking into. The wind pried at the red baseball cap on his head, and as though angered because it couldn't tear it loose, the wind blew a great cloud of dust and ashes and bits of paper into his face, eyes, and nose. It smacked against his ears as though it were giving him a final, exasperated blow as proof of it's displeasure in not being able to make him move on.

Mark, braced his body against the wind's attack determined to finish thinking about what lie ahead of him in the building before he went up. Finally, he pushed the door open and stood there, nodding his head. The hall was dark, creating a melancholy mood.

The low-wattage bulb in the ceiling shed just enough pale light so that he wouldn't actually fall over--well, a piano that someone had carelessly left at the foot of the stairs; so that you could see the outline of possibly a military tank if it were dragged in from a battlefield by some angry being.

However, if he dropped his gun or some combat knife, he thought to himself, he'd have to get down on his hands and knees and scrabble around on the cracked tile floor before he could ever hope to find it. This situation couldn't afford such vulnerablility....

And he was wrong about being able to see a tank or piano because the hallway really wasn't wide enough to admit either one. The stairs went up steeply-dark high narrow steps. He stared at them both fascinated and intimidated. Going up stairs like those you ought to find a newer and more intricate- a much-involved and perfected kind of hell at the top-the very top.

There was no sound except for the steam hissing in the radiator. The silence and the dimly lit hallway and the smell of stale air depressed him. It was like a dead weight landing on his chest.

On the third-floor landing he stopped. A man was standing in the hall. His back was turned toward him. He hesitated. It was still early morning, but it was dark in the hall and he was alone. Everyone else had.....perished.

Mark's barretta stirred nervously in his jacket. Slowly reaching for it with quivering fingers, he called aloud, "Quincy....is that you?" No answer.

[I] Damn Stone, Mark thought. Freedom never came without a price...and a crime never goes unpaid. What made him think he was special? He had made the same mistake twelve year old Sarah made when she trusted him--he had trusted a stranger. [/I]

The hot fetid air surrounding Mark, choked him. This hallway was just as dark as the one downstairs.

He turned then and saw that the man had his arms wound tightly around a girl and he was pressed so closely to her and was bending so far over her that they had given the effect of one figure.

Immediately a dog started a furious barking that came closer and closer as he ran toward the door of a nearby room . Then the weight of his body landed against the door of the room. The weight of his body landed against the door again and again until the door began to shiver from the impact of his weight. There was the horrid sound of his nose snuffing up air, trying to get his scent. And then his weight hurled against the door again.

A sudden burst of white filled Mark's eyes, as a shiver of pain krept up and down his body. That man was now upon him. The constant darkness no longer frightened him. The yellow film covering his attacker's distant pupils had paralyzed Mark with fear. Slowly, he sank to the ground under the man's immense strength...the two figures melted into one under the darkness. The soft sound of flesh giving and tearing nurtured the bleak atmosphere of the building.

[I]Another notch in Stone's supposed losing streak.[/I]
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time to try to wright myselg in
------------

Steven started to check his weapons but acedntly bumed into someone.

Stevn:oh sorry

Danny: the name is danny and don't worry about it but you should be more carful about these people If you have bumed into the wrong person they would have killed you.

Steven:thanks for the sdvice.By the way wht are you in for?


Danny: I haked in the the mints computer and have them send me monny but I got cought.What about you?

Steven: I was fraimed for killing 3 people and arson. But I was serprised that the only crimes I am involed in ishaking into banks and robing them but I never got cought.Maby after we get through this we might start working together. How about it.
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As 1:00 a.m nears the group readys all of their weapons and supplys when something starts to knock against the door.Something shoots past the windows on all sides of the Victorian House windows.

Kain-Huh?

Kame-Huh what?What are you..

Kain-ShHHH!!

Kame-Sorry..

All except Kame-SHHHHH!!!

Kame-..........

Kain draws his 9mm and slowly opens the big door.As soon as he opens the door a half dead looking dog jumps in and 5 more through the windows.

Kain-WTF!!

Danny-Ahhhhhh!!:bawl:
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Andrew lazily pulled himself out of his bed. His hair was messy and ruffled and his eyes had great bags under them. He slowly got tto his feet and stumbled a little but got his balance in the end. He walked over to the set of draws near the bed and took his pistol from it and stuff it down his jeans so that the handle was sticking out. He picked up his shotgun and spun it round placing it under his jacket and then he picked up his grenade launcher and walked out of the room. While he was walking towards the stairs he began loading his launcher and then he headed towards the stairs and began walking down.
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