286. Please file under" 'Apocalpyse, Zombie'

[moar_power]

Welcome to...

the Zombie Apocalypse Meme!

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Charles Xavier | XMFC Au | 5

[brokenoptimism]

Charles has had better days, to be sure. Slumped over his knees in a raggedy set of clothes and tousled hair, he looks the picture of a man out of his luck. He was currently having a seemingly one-sided conversation with a vicious looking dog, all bones and fur, blood and teeth. What may once have been a German Shepard is chained to a stop sign, just out of reach of it's human companion, watching with glossy dead eyes for a hand to stray into reach

Hello -- >>;

[mylifeasitwas]

Company was one word for it, though he had hardly been good company for some time now-- killing zombies didn't have the same appeal as humans; too dumb, unorganized, but on the other hand far more unpredictable in their movements. The ones that lumbered were easiest to take out, no real problem with their movements and far easier to distract-- the ones that run however posed quite a threat. Hungrier and faster, or so it seemed. And the fucking animals-- creeping around in silent movements, a direct contrast to the thudding steps of the undead humans. It left Wesley shooting most everything that moved-- and he almost did again, however there were words there-- fuckin' wordsIt's been so damn long since he's heard someone else's voice

This is hilarious

[brokenoptimism]

It catches Charles off guard for a moment, but this man's mind is clearly not the familiarity of his own, and his brief bouts of mental instability - longer now, then they used to be, if he was honest with himself- didn't usually come in the form of suspicious dopplegangers. Still, he's keeping a steady grip on the shotgun, letting it fall to his side. This person was alive and real. For so long he has been in the company of dead minds, that he almost can't keep the murmuring volley of whispered thoughts from his mind. Hello, Wesley. He doesn't even realize right away when he speaks straight into the other man's mind at first

I figured it was better than tagging with Charles Duex.

[mylifeasitwas]

He furrows his brows a little bit, mostly because the other didn't seem as surprised as he was. Though after some sort of fucking flesh-eating plague takes over most of the earth he supposes most other things aren't as much of a surprise. He snorts in reply, his breath in a short huff as blues peer at him and then that fucking-- what the actually fuck? "Is that dog infected?" He hissed, because it's probably the least sane thing he's heard of in his travels; keeping one of those things is basically asking to be bitten at some point. He could understand the desire for companionship-- he had felt it himself after the past few months, but the infected were hardly worth the risk. Wesley kept his guns close, instead

Probably though that would have also been interesting

[brokenoptimism]

Charles hesitates to follow the other man at first. Buildings were dangerous. It was harder to keep an eye out for dangers. Too many corners for things to wait behind. After a moment though, he releases his grip on the dog's collar, following a few steps, the sound of a chain clanking and tugging behind him

Maybe next time :3

[mylifeasitwas]

"I'm not worried about the dead fuckers," He clarifies easily enough-- he needed food, water and a few bandages if there were any left. He wasn't going to let a few shambling bastards interfere with that. Wesley had no trouble with the slower ones, and the faster ones proved to be decent target practice at least.

"I've got things to look for there, plus if I'm lucky I'll find some stocked ammo-- I'm starting to run low and it's been a while since I ran across a shop." He takes the name and files it away, Charles, huh. He might be more interested in the fact they look so much alike if it weren't for the fact he didn't want to waste the time or the energy with that now. There was time for it later. "--Can you lead me to the store, I can handle the rest if you don't care to go in; but I'm not going to make it too much longer without water and a cover for my wound."

[brokenoptimism]

Charles had stopped caring too much about any of the zombies. He was in survival mode, more than he was really living. It was just see how long he could last at this point. But right now there was a real living person to help, and that was something, at least.

"I think I can manage that much." It felt good to have a two-sided conversation with anyone, really, and keeping that for a little longer was worth the risk. He left the canine to its post and trudged along down the slight hill, glancing over at his strange lookalike. "That one on your head looks especially unpleasant. If we find some bandages I'll help you wrap it up. Not much life past this way for a while now, so you shouldn't have a problem finding things you need."

[mylifeasitwas]

"Yeah?" He wasn't sure if that was encouraging or discouraging-- he liked being able to get what he needed but at the same time there were even fewer people than he had expected if Charles hadn't seen any for a bit. He gives a short nod, absently flicking the safety on and off on his pistol, always anxious and always waiting for the next undead to pop up. He watches the other man closely for a few seconds, he could spot as many if not more similarities than differences, it was a curious thing. "So-- are you from around here?" He asks, it's a stupid question and he knows it, but Wesley has never been too good at small talk though he prefers it to silence right now. Besides, it was quite interesting to see a man who could be his twin let alone his brother or something akin to that.

sorry for the delay, my tags haven't been e-mailing.

[brokenoptimism]

Bright blue eyes met identical blue eyes for a moment before Charles was focused on keeping them on the surroundings again, the heavy weight of the shotgun still in his hands. He could have rattled off the alphabet the the telepath and the sound of another human voice would have been enough. Dead silence began to get to anyone after a while. With Charles it was double

That is perfectly alright, I'm slow with exams anyway ♥

[mylifeasitwas]

"Surviving is better than not." He mutters as he follows along away from the front entrance and to the secondary one. Propping the door open he eased in first-- not that he didn't have a little bit of manners left, but judging by the way the shotgun hung in Charles' hands he had the feeling it might be best for him to take the lead. He raised the familiar weight in his hand, the other coming up to help steady his aim by bracing under the clip. He peered left and then right, before easing inside, turning each corner with purpose and without any real fear. So long as they didn't get the drop on him he would be able to take them out. After a few paces, however, it seemed the dead haven't returned for this afternoon and Wesley holsters his pistol-- it isn't as if he can't draw it with superhuman speed anyway

[brokenoptimism]

Charles follows behind him, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, and the only other door he knew of, the one that led to the storage room in the back. He shifted the shotgun back onto his shoulder and glanced at the food, pushing a few bulging cans aside to rummage for some of the less dangerous looking ones

[mylifeasitwas]

"Yeah," He sounds dismissive of the bandages only because he's far more interested in ammunition. He didn't want to get septicemia or anything akin to that, it'd be a lousy way to die after everything that he's managed to live through-- but without anything in the clip he was sure to die after a while. A low noise passing his lips as he turned his attention toward Charles again, he was an interesting sort, held his gun like a thinking man

[brokenoptimism]

There's a wince from the telepath at the echoing noise, and the sound that follows sends a shudder through every fiber of his being. He doesn't bother to look to Wesley, eyes scanning for the slightest movement, the gun held tight in his hand. Of course. Ammunition would be at the other end of the store. When he speaks, his words are sharp and low.

"The back room." The room he avoided as much as possible. The worst possible place to go. Two doors. One to the alley, the other to the store, and between them the darkness of a windowless storage room. A death trap.

"It's a kill box," He took a few steps closer to the other man, keeping his eyes focused on the opposite direction. This was why he hated buildings. Too many walls, too many obstacles in his vision. At least the zombies were generally not exactly intelligent enough to duck behind rows. It was just that some of them were short, or shambled, or crawled. Others seemed to sprint and those were the worst of all of them.

[mylifeasitwas]

"You should go to the front corner of the store, put your back to the walls, shoot anything that isn't me, I'll be back." He flashes a smile, one that says he might not be entirely sane-- of course this wasn't the smiling sort of situation to begin with. He takes off toward an aisle, pacing himself-- if they couldn't keep up they would surely go after Charles-- and making quite some noise with his footsteps

[brokenoptimism]

"Wait," There wasn't enough time to protest before he was watching Wesley disappear, hoping for the best, expecting the worse. He had no qualms with staying far away from the death trap, watching the unusual antics of his new companion only briefly, before his attentions flew to the door.

He moved to the front, supplies forgotten in favor of the shotgun's reassuring weight, eyes wide and alert. Every slam and crash drew a reflexive cringe. He focused, instead, on Wesley's mind, keeping a thin connection, just enough to know that the other man was still there, still thinking, still aliveHalf-tempted to cut corners and reply straight to the other man's mind, he keeps his mouth shut, the only sound of reply two shots from the shotgun. Distracting Wesley sounded like a deadly dangerous option, if the gunfire from the back was anything to go on, but whatever he was dealing with sounded worse than the shambling duo of curious killers setting off the all too familiar chime of the door sensor on his half. It still took him two shots to stop

[mylifeasitwas]

Fortunately for them both, Wesley does return, a backpack stolen from the small section of camping gear and stuffed with a few things (mostly ammunition and some canned goods) he raises his hands up over his head as he steps out of the end of the aisle; making sure Charles wasn't startled and wouldn't pop off and shoot him on accident. He could dodge and deflect a bullet or two but a shotgun blast was still a big danger. He lifts his gun and wiggles it a little bit to put the now fully loaded pistol on display. "Backs clear, got ammo and some canned crap on the way back up--" He gestures to the pack, swinging it off his shoulder and dropping it onto one of the register counters, the thing was obnoxiously heavy but he could handle it in favor of having ammo and not starving to death