Smoke and Mirrors [bex]

[JAMES FLINT]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=vAlign, top] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 110px; height: 22px; margin-right: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #43425D; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #43425D; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 5px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; border: 5px solid #D8D8D8; margin-right: 10px; background-color: #D8D8D8; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #43425D; width: 90px; height: 35px; margin-right: 10px; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left; letter-spacing: -2px;] NOTES ! [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D8D8D8; width: 100px; height: 200px; overflow: auto; margin-right: 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 10px;] TAGS. James Flint, OPEN WORDS. 656 LYRICS. this is war, 30 seconds to mars. NOTES. He with the numbered name[/style]

[STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 390px; padding: 5px; font-weight: bold; text-transform: uppercase;]to the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim.[/style] [STYLE=float: right;][/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #D8D8D8; color: #43425D; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial narrow; width: 380px; padding: 0px 20px 0px 0px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -2px;]THIS IS WAR[/style] [STYLE=float: right; background-color: #43425D; color: #D8D8D8; font-size: 9px; font-family: verdana; width: 360px; height: 400px; overflow: auto; padding: 20px; text-align: justify;] "Well well well, a high school." James Avery Flint whispered to himself as he crouched down in the street, slowly moving towards the Green Valley High School. "This brings back a lot of memories from my own school.." he said edging closer to the high school, as he thought back to the countless hours he spent after class, playing basketball and studying for his classes. Nearing closer to the high school, which seemed to be void of all forms of life, well no signs of life through James' eyes, as he believed that since these zombies had already died, they were no longer alive, just something else entirely different. "Might as well check it out, might find something in there." James Flint whispered to himself, while yanking the black bandanna out of his back pocket, so he could wrap it around his chin to protect his mouth. While James neared closer to the doors to the the high school, a zombie shuffled its way out from the side. It was a fresher zombie, having turned very recently seeing as its body hadn't decayed at all. The only way to tell the difference between this zombie and a normal human, besides the shuffling of its feet which is common behavior for zombies, was the blood still smeared around its mouth, fresh from its latest feed. James hopped up to his feet, excited to check out the school in hopes of being able to find something useful. Maybe even being able to hide out in the high school for a little while, at least until the zombies found him. Whilst thinking about the possibilities of the school, James was tackled from the side by the fresh zombie, which proceeded to pin him down to the ground. "Damnit!" James yelled out as the zombie tried to lean forward into James. Barely able to hold the zombie off of himself, James moved his hand down towards the waistline of his pants, which held his Makarov Pistol. He pressed the gun up against the zombies forehead, closed his eyes, and began firing into the zombies brain eventually killing it. "Im so sorry..." James whispered to the dead zombie as he shoved it off of himself. "I better move." he said struggling to pull himself up to his feet, as he heard the sounds of groans off in the distance, the sounds of shuffling feet moving closer towards the origin of the gun shots. "Now to go in the school without drawing to much more attention..." Once James entered the school he was flopped on by another zombie, presumably attracted to the door from James loud gun shots. Unlike the previous zombie this was an older zombie, already weakened and beginning to decay. "Errhhh!" James yelled out shoving the zombie off of him. Before yanking the metal baseball bat, which he now kept secured to the side of his pants with a few lose leather straps, and repeatedly bashing the zombies limbs with the bat, eventually smashing any bones in the old zombies arms and legs, rendering the zombie incapable of moving after him. Spotting a nearby open locker, James shoved the zombie into the locker, jamming the locker door up against his neck. "Why wont these things just die!" he yelled out, backing away from the locker, before running back towards it, slamming his foot into the side of the door. "I hate these damn things!" James said in fear, as he continued to kick the locker door, which eventually snapped through the zombies neck, slamming the door shit and trapping the severed head inside. "I can't do this anymore." James said, with a tear in his eye as he opened the nearest classroom door he could find, checking the room for any signs of zombies. The red headed boy would drop his bat to the ground before sitting down in the corner in the classroom, directly next to the door. [/style]

[STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; font-weight: bold;] template by darkee of btn.[/style]

[ROSSI]

It had felt like ages since Rossi had been in a high school. It felt like an entire lifetime had passed since his own days in school, which had ended over twenty years ago. As a teenager, he had actually liked school. He had thoroughly enjoyed reading, off in his own little world. People didn't tease him or ask him questions about his handicap there. People left him alone when he was in the library, going though the suggestions the librarian would give him for something to do in his free time. Like many of the people who had survived through all of this zombie bullshit, Rossi wasn't exactly a people person. He never had been. He was always the guy that just usually blended into the background due to his permanent silence. He couldn't talk and wasn't exactly great at conversation. He hadn't ever really had many friends and mostly hung around his sister, who had plenty of friends. He was the brother who was just kind of there, though he was rather helpful when it came to choosing a designated driver. Rossi did well in most of his classes, he never had to work terribly hard, as much of it came naturally or it was easy to do once he grasped the concept.

The black haired man had always had a difficult time associating with people. He often found that his handicap was a good excuse to not get to know people. He didn't click with people the way some people did, his sister included. He didn't want to go as far to say that people didn't matter to him, it's just that he sometimes had a hard time caring about people who he didn't know or especially if they were not a 'good' person. Maybe that was apart of the reason why killing zombies never had much of an effect on him. He never pictured them as being human. They were monsters in his eyes. The mute didn't enjoy killing them, however. He had seen many survivors get some kind of twisted enjoyment out of shooting and beating the undead hell out of them. Some of the people that had survived this bullshit were clearly sick in the head. Though he supposed he couldn't exactly talk. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Rossi wasn't exactly the picture of prime mental health. He wasn't insane, though he often felt like it. He also supposed it didn't help his cause to be wearing a mask, even if he had valid reasons. One, it protected his face, which in this new world, wasn't exactly a bad idea. Most of his body was covered, actually. No direct contact with the skin and his coat was far more durable than it appeared to be.

Rossi bounded up the stairs of the old high school, careful to not linger near the zombies. Some had been killed, recently, he noticed. Others could barely be considered corpses anymore, given how much the sun and the rodents and it's fellow dead had eaten away at it. Quietly, he entered the school and began to wander around aimlessly in the hallways. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly. Supplies? It seemed unlikely. Whatever supplies would've been snatched months, if not a year ago. He soon found himself in the main office, meandering around the receptionist's desk. He was a bit surprised by the mutilated corpse that was slumped on the floor. He shoved it on it's back with the toe of his boot to confirm if it was truly dead, though he was nearly positive that it was, it was always good to check. Other than the dead secretary, there wasn't much to look at. Rossi only sighed to himself and carried on towards the nurse's office.

The nurse's office didn't seem to be in much better shape. The nurse's desk/station proved to be useless, as all of the cabinets and drawers had been ripped open and picked clean. He moved passed the desk and entered the patients room, which was aligned with only cots and a few lights that hadn't worked in a long while. There was a small storage room in the far left of the room, which may still have supplies. Rossi left the door wide open, in case it was necessary to make a quick escape. He wished that he had a flashlight or a cellphone to help him see better, instead of having to put his hand against a wall as he moved deeper into the room. The masked man soon touched the cold, steel handle of the storage room door. As he opened it, he could've sworn he had heard a dragging of feet somewhere in the room. Rossi flinched and turned around, unable to see the assumed zombie in the room. He opened the door to the storage closet and slammed it, attempting to lure the zombie near the door. Just as he had suspected, a zombie was there. It stopped near the door, confused as to where it's potential meal had gone to. He sucked in a gulp of air and opened the door, knocking the creature off it's feet.

Rossi stepped out of the storage closet and narrowed his eyes, seeing the body shape of a zombie a few feet away. He pulled out his large knife and lumbered towards it, his disgusted face twisted, but hidden behind his mask. He stomped his foot on the creature's chest, ignoring the fact that it's arms and head were flailing, hoping to grab a chunk out of his leg. The dark haired man crouched down, just out of immediate reach of the creature as he jammed his blade through the zombie's eyeball. He pulled out the blade and quickly moved away from the zombie, not wanting to go back near the storage closet. The dark haired man started for the door, only to be alarmed when a yellowing hand smeared blood across his mask and attempted to bite his neck and claw at his eyes. If he had not been mute, he would've screamed, as the walking dead had surprised the fuck out of him. Rossi's knife dropped from his hand and skidded a few feet away, the zombie snarled and tried to rip at his arm. The masked man elbowed the creature in the jaw repeatedly, until it broke and he was able to pry off it's grabby hands and move away from it to grab his knife. The zombie charged again and was soon stabbed again by Rossi's knife, which was now lodged in it's throat. Rossi pinned the zombie to the floor and stabbed it in the head repeatedly, in hopes that it would stay the fuck down this time.

The masked man quickly left the scene, shutting the door to the room behind him. Not wanting to be taken off guard like that again, he decided to keep his knife unsheathed. He wiped the blood off his knife on his coat as he tiredly trudged back out into the main hallway. Rossi soon found a recently turned zombie dead near a row of lockers, one of them being stained with fresh blood. Curious, he opened the door to the closest room. Closing the door behind him this time, he looked around. The room was clear of the walking dead and looked remarkably untouched for the zombie zone this shithole was. The dark haired man stepped further into the room, only to see that a red haired boy was slumped against the wall near the door. A baseball bat was at his side and his head was hung low in his hands. He blinked. What was this kid doing?

words: 1285
notes: ehehe, sorry it's so long. |D;