Post by albub on May 6, 2008 18:32:04 GMT -5
From his perch atop the Sertin building, Alex surveys the street outside of Beacham cinema. The scorched ground and rubble around the entrance and on the roof trouble him, but zombies were already smashing through his makeshift pipe barricade downstairs and it was only a matter of time before they got on his express elevator to the roof. A grin came to his lips as that last thought passed through his head, picturing a crowd of zombies shuffling aboard the elevator, growling and moaning, then going quiet suddenly as soft music began playing in the background. Swaying softly as the elevator began its ascent to the roof. Quickly growing rambunctious again as the doors opened and they swarmed out of the enclosed space.
After his moment of daily levity, Alex decided he ought to get to work. He finished the scotch that remained in his glass before lovingly wrapping it first in a silk cloth, then bubble wrap. The self control it took to save the bubble wrap for his scotch glass rather than popping it all was monstrous, but it was little struggles with himself that kept him sane, or at least he hoped he was sane. He carefully placed it in his bag on top of his jacket, and then placed his sweatshirt on top of it before zipping the bag closed. It was full to the zipper with his effects, and the tight fit kept the glass from moving around too much in his bag.
Shouldering his pack, he took quick stock of the rooftops around him. The blasted concrete around and on top of the cinema would be awful for parkour, and he didn't want to chance it. If he fell he could break a bone or worse, his scotch glass. Opting for a safer route, he ran along a metal strut emerging from the corner of his building and leapt out into the air. He landed on a sloped spire of the nearby hotel roof, and slid down to the eaves.
He took a moment to make certain his pack was secure, and still zipped shut. With a quick look to his previous rooftop, he noted the zombies hadn't found the stairs or the express elevator yet. He crept along the eave, and then dropped on to a balcony below. He tried the glass door, but it was locked. Glass was rare in Malton, most of it had been broken by now. He opted to leave it be, perhaps drop by some other time to appreciate it in the midday sun. He leapt across to the adjacent balcony, and the glass door was indeed shattered. Luckily, it had broken inwards. Zombies couldn't parkour, so he doubted one had gotten to the balcony from the roof or adjacent balcony, and he guessed the room was safe. After a quick sweep, he determined it was indeed devoid of any life, and besides the empty minibar, and slept-in look of the bed, there was hardly any sign of inhabitants, past or present, at all. There was still a little bit of water left in the tap, so he added it to his depleted canteen, along with a chlorine tablet.
Moving on, he managed to leave the hotel without a single run-in with the undead. However, once he made it to ground level he chanced a peek at the Sertin's rooftop. He could see a few zombies milling about, and one even spotted him. He winked at just before it tipped over the side of the roof and fell 14 stories to a messy end.
He strode over to the cinema's entrance, appraising the damage from closer up. He whistled with amazement, it looked as if some moron had fired a bazooka at the front doors. No doubt some juiced up freak, maybe trying to settle a score, or maybe just looking for an adrenaline rush.
At any rate, the blast had destroyed the front doors, and caused a serious fire in the lobby area. What had likely been barricades were strewn across the floor, and a drink machine had been blasted open, scattering soft drinks everywhere. He picked up a fanta and cracked the top, drinking deeply from the delicious grape soda. Opening his bag, he took out his shirt and jacket. The shirt was crisp, but unremarkable. The jacket on the other hand, was a veritable treasure. It was a beautiful Cornelian linen jacket, and had cost him more than 2000 dollars. He had bought it while on a trip to eastern Europe, and besides the scotch glass, it was his favourite possession. He also pulled out Steyr-M handgun, it was a beautiful firearm, and had recently gone out of production. He made sure the scotch glass was still wrapped in protective clothing, then zipped his bag shut again, and set out for the first time in weeks without his scotch in hand. He wanted to savour the fanta.
After his moment of daily levity, Alex decided he ought to get to work. He finished the scotch that remained in his glass before lovingly wrapping it first in a silk cloth, then bubble wrap. The self control it took to save the bubble wrap for his scotch glass rather than popping it all was monstrous, but it was little struggles with himself that kept him sane, or at least he hoped he was sane. He carefully placed it in his bag on top of his jacket, and then placed his sweatshirt on top of it before zipping the bag closed. It was full to the zipper with his effects, and the tight fit kept the glass from moving around too much in his bag.
Shouldering his pack, he took quick stock of the rooftops around him. The blasted concrete around and on top of the cinema would be awful for parkour, and he didn't want to chance it. If he fell he could break a bone or worse, his scotch glass. Opting for a safer route, he ran along a metal strut emerging from the corner of his building and leapt out into the air. He landed on a sloped spire of the nearby hotel roof, and slid down to the eaves.
He took a moment to make certain his pack was secure, and still zipped shut. With a quick look to his previous rooftop, he noted the zombies hadn't found the stairs or the express elevator yet. He crept along the eave, and then dropped on to a balcony below. He tried the glass door, but it was locked. Glass was rare in Malton, most of it had been broken by now. He opted to leave it be, perhaps drop by some other time to appreciate it in the midday sun. He leapt across to the adjacent balcony, and the glass door was indeed shattered. Luckily, it had broken inwards. Zombies couldn't parkour, so he doubted one had gotten to the balcony from the roof or adjacent balcony, and he guessed the room was safe. After a quick sweep, he determined it was indeed devoid of any life, and besides the empty minibar, and slept-in look of the bed, there was hardly any sign of inhabitants, past or present, at all. There was still a little bit of water left in the tap, so he added it to his depleted canteen, along with a chlorine tablet.
Moving on, he managed to leave the hotel without a single run-in with the undead. However, once he made it to ground level he chanced a peek at the Sertin's rooftop. He could see a few zombies milling about, and one even spotted him. He winked at just before it tipped over the side of the roof and fell 14 stories to a messy end.
He strode over to the cinema's entrance, appraising the damage from closer up. He whistled with amazement, it looked as if some moron had fired a bazooka at the front doors. No doubt some juiced up freak, maybe trying to settle a score, or maybe just looking for an adrenaline rush.
At any rate, the blast had destroyed the front doors, and caused a serious fire in the lobby area. What had likely been barricades were strewn across the floor, and a drink machine had been blasted open, scattering soft drinks everywhere. He picked up a fanta and cracked the top, drinking deeply from the delicious grape soda. Opening his bag, he took out his shirt and jacket. The shirt was crisp, but unremarkable. The jacket on the other hand, was a veritable treasure. It was a beautiful Cornelian linen jacket, and had cost him more than 2000 dollars. He had bought it while on a trip to eastern Europe, and besides the scotch glass, it was his favourite possession. He also pulled out Steyr-M handgun, it was a beautiful firearm, and had recently gone out of production. He made sure the scotch glass was still wrapped in protective clothing, then zipped his bag shut again, and set out for the first time in weeks without his scotch in hand. He wanted to savour the fanta.