Mark’s declaration made the others gasp, Jasmine was the most surprised out of them all. She may have hesitated to support Ailetta during the multiple times that her life was at stake, but for her brother, she was already standing by his side before she realized it.
As Noah registered Mark’s threat, his narrowed gaze was brimmed with hostile intent. Considering Mark’s current prowess, Noah knew that Mark wasn’t a threat in the slightest, but his body reacts to threats all the same. When prepared to respond with the same energy given, Noah felt a tug on his arm. Glaring towards the source, his budding aggressiveness receded when noticing Ailetta’s concerned gaze.
That look she gave him was a reminder of the character they were once talking about not too long ago. His gaze softened as he returned a wry smile in her direction before returning his focus to Mark.
"I think you all have forgotten that I didn’t want to travel with you in the first place. I’m only here because of Le....And if you understood what happened between me and Neal, then you should also understand that I’m no threat to you till you are a threat to me. So answer me so I can quit wasting my time here." Noah "nicely" answered Mark’s worries out of consideration for Ailetta.
With Noah’s answer, Mark suggestively exchanged glances with his sister before observing everyone else’s reaction. Although frightened, it seemed their apprehension was at least less than what it was moments prior, giving Mark the confidence to proceed with his choice.
"We are willing to still follow you, at least until we make it to our destination."
Their travels through the ruined empty street was filled with an uneasy silence, with only the noise of nature filling the gaps. However, as they proceeded towards the mass of undead; Mark and others whose attributes were relatively higher, making their senses more acute than the rest, stopped in their advance. Their ears strained at the sound that they grew to become very familiar with.
Wanting to sate their anxious curiosity, the others increased the speed of their steps, but not without vigilance, always making sure to keep a considerable gap between them and Noah.
Noah wasn’t oblivious to their change of pace, nor was he ignorant of the screams up ahead. He was aware of the screams a mile ahead before the others. However, his pace remained the same, yet his anticipation grew; although the thought of more experience and loot enticed him, it was the growing sensation of the shop as they headed in the direction that fed his excitement.
"Noah? What’s that look for?" Aietta asked, there was a touch of distrust in her tone. She wasn’t aware that the shop was nearby, she could only believe that Noah had somehow came up with a silly idea that presumably wouldn’t end favorably for anybody else.
"Do you remember when I asked if you could feel anything when thinking about the shop?" He asked, the eagerness in his voice not escaping her as she nodded. But then her eyes widened at what Noah was insinuating. "Do you mean...."
"Yes," Noah blurted without giving her the chance to finish, his own steps quickening in its pace. "It’s time for another power up."
Beyond the roving horde of zombies, a barricade of police cars stood as a first line of defense, each vehicle meticulously lined up bumper to bumper. And behind the improvised barricade laid a police station. The entrance, now a fortress of its own, was fortified with jagged planks ripped from tables and chairs, forming a haphazard yet sturdy barrier. A police van, strategically positioned in front of the door, further obscured the entrance.
Inside, a jumble of heavy furniture barricaded the already reinforced door and nearby windows. The inhabitants had long abandoned the main entrance as a fighting front, instead designating the employee-only parking area as their tactical strongpoint.
Outside, the additional parking lot was shielded by a tall security gate, crowned with menacing coils of barbed wire. Inside this fortified perimeter, police vans and two imposing armored vehicles stood guard near the gate. Perched atop these vehicles were a mix of defenders, gripping small pistols and semi-automatic rifles, their eyes scanning the undead horde. Alongside a few of the men in uniform stood intimidating mutations of german shepherds, carrying a heavy resemblance to the dog Noah earlier encountered in terms of pure size. They were alert, defensive, and carried a stronger sense of intelligence about them.
Although the dogs could be counted as a task force of their own, none of their owners allowed their companions to recklessly leave their defensive stronghold.
The rooftops mirrored this scene, with armed figures unleashing a relentless barrage of bullets, and the occasional spell upon the advancing zombies, their gunfire drawing in the focus of all the undead in the area. Among these defenders were not only police officers but also civilians, though a glaring tension divided them into distinct groups, their mutual distrust was evident in the way they kept to their own.
Adding to this complex arrangement was a third faction, a group of almost twenty individuals who rejected firearms altogether. Clad in diverse armor, reminiscent of the gear looted from the drop chest. This group operated on the perimeter, away from the other two factions, vaulting over sections of wall cleared of barbed wire.
With an eerie cooperation, they engaged the zombies, ensuring they never attracted more than a manageable number. Despite their numbers, they adhered to an unspoken rule: never confront more than ten sprinters at a time. The undead, now majority at the stage of sprinters, demanded this cautious approach.
The scene was a grim tug of war for survival, each faction playing their part in the desperate defense of the police station. The relentless tide of zombies surged forward, met by a hail of bullets and the swift, coordinated strikes of the adapted fighters.
As the fight continued, three individuals stood out from the rest, standing on the roof platform with calculating expressions. These three had an aura about them that was different from the rest of their peers. The three in question were also the founding leaders of the factions, and also awakened.
Obviously in charge of the police faction, wearing a similar uniform as his fellow officers was a middle aged man, Detective Peterson. His pose was straight as a nail as he radiated discipline and authority. His grey hair, meticulously slicked back, frames a face marked by years of dedication and experience. A full, neatly trimmed mustache accentuates his stern gaze, which seems to pierce through deception and disorder. His uniform, now worn and tattered, bore the marks of countless battles, yet it was clear he made an effort to keep it as presentable as possible. His boots, though scuffed and dusty, were still laced tightly, reflecting his unyielding commitment to order amidst the disorder. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novelꞁire.net
On Peterson’s left was the leader of the civilians who were brave enough to bear arms against the zombie horde. But the identity of the fellow man was questionable, not even a day ago, the man was behind bars.
Levi, a young man in his mid-twenties with fiery red hair, presented a paradoxical figure within his faction. Strapped with two pistols and one rifle of his own, he stood vigilant against even his "allies".His expressionless face masked a complex inner world where rebellion and leadership intertwined. Despite harboring a deep-seated loathing for authority, Levi holds a prominent role as a leader among his peers. Levi’s demeanor exudes a quiet intensity, drawing others like him with a magnetic presence.
And lastly out of the three, a woman stood a few feet away.
Raven, once a vision beauty, now bore the marks of hardship and survival. Her long, blond hair hangs in unkempt disarray, jaggedly cut and framing a face marked by a prominent scar that runs across her features. Despite the harshness of her glare, there remains a trace of the allure she once possessed, now contrasted with the hardened resentment etched into her expression.
Adorned in a full-body armor ensemble of black and grey, Raven’s attire not only offers protection but also accentuates her physical prowess and enticing physique. In her hands, she wields a spear, one that was much sturdier and longer than the one’s wielded by those before her.
The three watched with solemn expressions as their groups confronted the undead for the uptenth time. With the combination of being in the midst of a city and the use of overly loud gunfire, their confrontation with the herd has been going on for what felt like hours. The three were aware that attacks wouldn’t stop unless they were to kill the remaining zombies without the use of guns. The notion was instantly thrown out, only one out of the three groups were capable of properly defending themselves if that were to happen.
Their next option was to abandon the police station, venturing further away from the center of the city to reach the nearby checkpoint. Although almost all forms of modern technology have become unusable, they were also able to come up with the same creative ideas as Jasmine and the others.
However, the reason why they didn’t leave was linked to the very reason they were still able to defend for so long. Inside of the station housed one of the very mysterious shopkeepers that Noah was searching for. Through the shop, the group were able to continue to resupply on bullets, while also splurging on food that became a paramount necessity now that their numbers bordered almost at four hundred people; with only about half of those people being willful enough to fight.
Because of the shop’s importance, it created an interesting dynamic between the three factions. Those of the police and those under the fugitive were always at odds with each other. Although they understood the importance of obtaining gold, they also knew that the quickest and easiest way to gather strength was to continue using firearms, giving them a shortcut to fast and safe leveling.
But because of their rivalry, that left Ravens group with the task of amounting the funds for the civilians and the ammo. Despite the seemingly disadvantaged role Raven’s group was subjected too; it was also because of this very reason that Raven was the neutral factor of the three-way struggle.
Being an awakened one that didn’t resort to the use of the quick and easy way as the others, her awakened class gave her the prowess to contend with both faction leaders if the need arises. Her strength gave her the autonomy to continue caring for the civilians while also being able to use the loot her team gathered for their own usage.
Observing from the rooftop, Raven’s solemnity soon morphed into a scowl, her focus has always been on her squad of elitists, All of them being of female descent, besides one male figure that was usually used as the forefront of their attack. Unlike the others who were able to hide behind the safety of the gates, her followers’ stamina and mental strength were constantly being challenged. And the results of said challenge showed itself. the woman made a mistake in her positioning, causing her to become caught in one of the zombies unnaturally strong grasp.
The scene was very similar to deaths they had witnessed before. The zombie, that Noah defines as sprinters, instinctively bit into the woman’s face. The sprinter’s bite force performed a grotesque feat, half of the woman’s mouth, including the flesh and muscles of her cheeks were now within the zombies’ jaws; even her bones weren’t spared, three cracks simultaneously sounded at the time of the bite. Her cheek, along with parts of her jaw bone had multiple fractures, preventing the woman from being able to properly cry out her pain.
Seeing this, Raven promptly began to move.