go off i guess

Rich had gone through every single plausible explanation at least a thousand times. All of them. There was no phone call that was going to explain away what had happened to any of his superiors. There were no photos, and there was no evidence that what happened... Happened. What was worse, was that the majority of Blackvale had resumed their lives as though nothing had happened. It was mind-boggling. Maddening. Sleep itself was fleeting. The only thing that kept him going was the copious amounts of coffee that (he's sure) nearly replaced the blood in his veins. The diner booth is the very same one he'd spent many of his mornings. The java was terrible, but the service was fine. No one really bothered him. It was quiet... Bang. Rich's fists come down on the table. Slam. Once more they smash against the cheap wood, vibrating the silverware off the edge and onto the floor. His frustration gets the better of him, and he doesn't care who's watching. "This is a joke. This whole damn town is going to drive me out of my mind!"

It took a lot and then some to get Doug to panic, but in this very moment, he surely felt close to it. Not only the fact that there were actual zombies roaming around, but also the fact that the innocent humans in this place probably had no clue as to what was going on. Then again – did anyone really know what the fuck was going on? In all those years Doug had been around, zombies had never really been a thing. Sure, the occasional resurrection every now and then that ended up in death after all, but this? This was something else. 

“Well it sure as hell ain’t Halloween, buddy,” Doug implied, and while his words had the slightest edge of humor, his face showed otherwise. There was a sour expression sitting on his features, lips pressed together tightly as his brows pushed together, forming creases into his forehead. “People isn’t… exactly what I’d call them.”

The stranger who'd answered was the first person besides Rich to break the silence. Maybe it was because he'd been just as uncomfortable stewing in the thickness of it as Richie had been. Or, maybe all of this was just part of that je ne sais quoi that was Blackvale. With each day that passed, he'd almost learned to expect something more inexplainable- more dangerous- than the day before. But... Zom-- No, he can't even bring himself to think the word. "Hell of a way to party outside of October." The man had nearly choked out, now safely slipping his hand into the folds of his torso and flipping the safety from the strap. He'd pull his gun free, completely unaware that bullets devoid of silver would do him little good in this town. "Any other place in the world and this might be the dumbest question you've ever heard, but-" His expression scrambled, eyes averting from the man's face as he finally drew his gun. "-Anything like this ever happened here before?" He can see the headline now: Army Of Undead Lead By Vengeful Ex-Mayor

Bennett Delaney had seen a lot of messed up shit in his lifetime thus far — people with missing limbs, children with wounds beyond repair, parents lying still and cold on his metal table — but nothing could have prepared him for this. He had seen many dead people before, the idea relatively leaving him unfazed, albeit a little sad; this was different. This was absolutely and complete mayhem, something straight out of the horror movies he grew up watching as a child. But this was not an explicitly rated movie he had snuck into after hours; no, this was hell on Earth. This was a nightmare, straight out of something horrific and unimaginable, something he could only think of in his darkest moments.

He had been backed into an area that was occupied by a handful of other people, hues not particularly registering the interior of the space as they were too busy making sure no undead bodies came crashing through the front door. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, breaths uneven and shaking, as he allowed himself to take note of the other people occupying the same quarters as himself. And, luckily or unluckily, he saw a familiar face — arguably, an angel in the middle of hellfire, not that he would really admit that to himself.

“Rich?” Bennett spoke, making his way over to the man quickly and without much hesitation. “What the fuck is happening? Do you know who orchestrated this?” He asked, voice having to be rather loud and projected over the sound of the moaning and cursing from outside the door.

For a while, the only solace Rich receives is the handful of faces who wear an expression eerily similar to his own. Confused, and disheveled. Irrational. Right? It had to be some sort of erratic reaction that had caused him to believe he was seeing reanimated corpses. Surely it was just one guy. A man who’d taken too much acid, or had too much to drink. However long Rich had entertained the idea, it didn’t last. There are men and women with open wounds, and screams of terror, and the smell of death. When he hears Bennett’s voice, and sees the man before him, it takes him a moment to truly register that it’s happening in real time. His lips split, dark eyes coming in and out of focus as he blinked rather rapidly. Richie reached forward and grasped at Bennett’s shoulder, drawing him closer as he expelled a soft sigh of relief. “You’re okay?” It’s a question. A demand. Confirm your safety before we move on. Rich would continue on, after a slow shake of his head. “I don’t know.” He swallowed, not at all comfortable with the way the unknown tasted on his tongue. “It’s gotta be staged. This is an attack, bottom line. Who’s here? Who are they after?”

Kit really should’ve been enjoying himself. The atmosphere was what he was used to back east, Lexington would throw plenty of back country bonfires and rodeo events. But something about Blackvale made any sort of event sinister. Like there was a higher supernatural power that coated the town. Kit had to be on his toes, nothing was as it seemed and don’t trust anyone. (hell he even brought his shotgun in the back of his truck if any wolf thought they’d try something.) The expression on Kit’s face couldn’t be described as anything other than impassive as he watched the strange man in front of him. He wasn’t familiar with Rich; which wasn’t too strange. It seemed like a lot of people flocked to Blackvale; and it wasn’t like Kit was apart of the welcoming committee.  

“That’s funny,” the corned of his mouth twitched up in a smile but only for a brief moment before falling back into it’s familiar un amused scowl. Although his skills with picking out vampires from humans was sub par, there was nothing about Rich that screamed vampire other than being unnaturally attractive. Tipping his half empty beer can towards him with a raise of his eyebrows, “You’d be surprised. I have no doubt someone will end up with blood on themselves by the end of this.” he lifted his beer to swing down the rest of it’s contents before reaching into his pocket to fish out some cigarettes. “You smoke, friend?” the hunter asked, cigarette already in between his lips turning his voice to a mumble. 

Rich waves a hand at the offered smoke and adds a quick, "No, thank you." He might have had a palpable temper, but he wasn't without manners. He does, however, press the flask to his lips and take a hefty pull. The gin coats his throat nicely and settles somewhere in the depths of his stomach. "What makes you say that?" He'd ask, plain as day. No muttered words or coy syllables. More often than not, the man asked what he wanted, and spoke what was on his mind. If he didn't, it was for good reason. "I would assume you're joking but, well." Both corners of his mouth press into a slight grin, but it's wiley in nature. "Something tells me you're not the jester in this story." Rich allowed his eyes to flicker from Kit out over the crowd, sizing up the masses as they traipsed around haphazardly.

OPEN TO: Anyone @ The Silo

Rich Rockwell has no clue what the actual fuck is going on right now. He'd heard the screams first, ears perking at the sound and instinctively he'd reached for his gun. Thinking better of it, somehow, for some reason, he'd decided it was a better idea to investigate first. Before, you know. completely blowing his cover. The man has been trained better than that, and he'd had to remind himself of this constantly. But then the hollering picked up, and the screams became more consistent. The sounds of the undead began to drown out the distress of the crowds, but it's only when chestnut pools fall upon one human being seemingly feasting on another that he'd started to feel alarmed. "This can't be real. That shit out there? That cannot be fucking real." Rich exhales, forcibly, fingers raking through the front of his mane as he paced back and forth. Fists, and fingers, and limbs, banged on the walls outside of the Silo, and the echo was almost enough to drive him mad. "Those people, they're-" The man swallowed, knowing damn well he didn't need to finish the sentence. He could smell them, and he knew the rest of them could, too.

Rich Rockwell was someone Audric didn’t know much about. He knew that Rich Rockwell was on his phone quite a bit, and was a bit of a sass monsters. That was the extent of his knowledge, but was the sass all human? The man hadn’t meant to stop short beside Rich and his haughty conversation regarding someone named Marcus. However he coolly glanced towards the other with a curious tilt of his head.

“About what exactly? The weather? Entrapment? Aliens? I believe you have enough opinions for us both Mr. Rockwell.” Audric mused without withdrawing the tiny notebook from his pocket to jot a note. That wasn’t necessary as of right now.  “This fucking town is dangerous if you hold the wrong opinions.” He merely warned, his voice of apathetic nature lacking the gusto to make the comment a threat.

Rich was prepared to wave off the man as soon as he'd started speaking. The comment was rhetorical because frankly, Rich didn't care at all. He wanted different kinds of answers but had been asking the wrong types of questions. The paltry derision (however tightly woven) was fucking exhausting, and every single day he hoped he was twenty-four hours closer to getting the hell out of Blackvale. 

Then this guy, this strange as all hell guy, calls him by name and Richie has no choice, really, but to turn his attention back to him. "Sorry, do I know you?" The look on his face is almost incredulous, but he's leaning back in his chair and making a grab for the small glass tea-cup from the patio table. "This town is dangerous no matter your opinion. You'd be wise to remember that." He’s not even referring to the supernatural. As far as he’s concerned, the whispers around the undead and the wolf-like were mere wives tales.

Mackenzie: Well, oops. Who is this? You're delightfully surly. I'll buy your shitty ass a drink.

Mackenzie: I'll get on my soapbox and everything.

Rich: You have no idea. You should see my resting bitch face. It's chill-inducing.