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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 25, 2009 20:47:18 GMT -5
London. A beautiful place that is now deserted. People have withdrawn themselves into the shadows after losing all sanity. A neurochemical called Rage virus has taken over. A disease that cause human agression and anger.
The host that have been infected with the virus solely rely on killing and infecting other people that have not contracted this epidemic. Brutally murdering their victims in a fit of anger.
Hell on earth it seems. There are plenty of civilains that may have survived this...Hopefully, they'll escape and look for a better place...
Rules: 1. No godmodding( As in killing each other characters) 2. Try being detailed in the gore and action. 3. Write at least three to 4 detailed sentences. 4. Have Fun 5. No superhuman powers or anything to that effect please. It kills the whole story.
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 28, 2009 4:02:51 GMT -5
Bonnie awoke with a white light glaring in her eyes and the feeling of dampness on her cloths. She raised an idled hand to shield her eyes from the shaft of light peering through the small bathroom window. Her mind still half asleep, she could hear the droning of many familiar voices whisper in her ears all at once. The voices she new too well seem to grow louder, overwhelmed with fear and rage. This made her heart race as her memory began to flood back into place from the very thought of that word. She finally uncovered her face and shook her head, Oh God, it can’t be real, she thought . But she knew denial won’t stop what has happened. Bonnie got up weakly, walked over to the sink, looked in the mirror for only a moment, and then grabbing a butcher knife she was able to obtain from the kitchen. Last night she had had an uninvited visitor come knocking on her door, and was chased into the bathroom. She leaned against the wooden door, pressing her ear so she could listen for any sign of movement. She was only answered by silence. Even if he was out there, she would have to face him sometime if she didn’t want to starve to death in a bathroom. Bonnie jiggled the brass knob opening the door only slightly ajarred as she observed the hall way. The sickening still atmosphere was so stagnate that she could hear the echoing of her own heart beat from her chest. She had her knife close to the center of her body, grasping the handle tightly until her hands began to sweat. She held her breath for just a moment as she took one step out of the bathroom. She slowly walked out, closing the door behind her, but as she closed the door, there was a dead weight in her throat that made her whole body stiffened. Behind her, Bonnie could hear the person inhaling deeply and expelling breaths that emitted the stench of an old decaying corpse. She fought with her mind, trying to keep fear from reigning over her body. She turned her head slightly, and then fallowed by her body as she saw it was him. There stood before Bonnie, was once a young man that she fell in love with, had become something that was not human. Jake Jake looked like he could hardly keep his balance or even stand up for that matter. Some of the fingers on his hands were shortened to little nubs, most likely his hunger was getting the best of him. The corners of his mouth were oozing with blood for they had been ripped through the cheek, kind of like the Joker Character in Batman. All over his skin was discolored, open wounds on his body revealed that he was rotting from the inside. Bonnie could only stare in horror at the site of him. Jake hungrily sucked in air into his shriveling lungs, making a gurgling hiss noise as his glazed eyes turned from the back of his skull and focused on her, “Bonnie…”
I'm sorry if that's too long D: next post I'll try shortening it.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 28, 2009 20:07:39 GMT -5
Clyde was sitting on his couch. Legs crossed. Watching TV. Th sky outside was gray. Therefore, no sunlight was shining through his window. Suddenly, a noise came from his door. Loud banging. He turned his attention away from the television.
"Why not just use the f*ckin' doorbell?" Clyde murmured.
He stood up and walked over to the door. He put his ear to the door. "Who is it!?" he shouted. No response, but the loud banging continued. Clyde shouted again."What do you want!?"
No response. Clyde shook his head. "F*ck!"
He opened the door and saw a man looking at him. The strangers eyes were bleeding. His lips were saturated in saliva. He looked as if he saw a ghost. His skin turning pale. Dirty brown hair drenched in sweat as if he ran 5 miles, if not more.
Clyde looked at the man. He was in shock. Wondering what was wrong with the man.
"Please help me...please?" he cried.
Clyde looked at the man."We have to get you to the hospital. That's the only way I can help you."
"No, not the hospital. They'll kill me!" he pleaded.
Clyde eyes grew big."Kill you? Why would they kill you?"
The man looked at Clyde. He then slowly pulled up the sleeve on his right arm. Now just showing Clyde a huge bite mark on his arm. This was no ordinary injury. The flesh was revealed. Savagely torn skin that was beyond repair.
"What the f*ck man!?" Clyde stared at the gruesome sight." You sure you didn't fall or somethin'?"
"I didn't. Please just let me in."
Clyde stared at the man for a few seconds." Ok. Make yourself. Don't bleed yourself all over my couch."
The man scurried inside the house. Taking deep breathes. Laying on Clyde's couch. With the door shut right behind him.
"Tell me how did you get that nasty bruise?Even your eyes were bleeding."
The man looked up at Clyde. "No need to explain now."
"Whatever. I'll go get you some towels. Whatever you need. I'll be back." Clyde walked into the basement gathering towels and whatnot.
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 28, 2009 22:04:30 GMT -5
Bonnie held up her butcher knife, her voice quivering, “Jake, please don’t make me do this.” But he only looked blankly black at Bonnie, her words meaningless. His torn lips curled back into a wide grin and started foaming at the mouth. Bonnie had the butcher knife clutched in both hands still, not knowing if she was facing her fear or frozen with fear. His body hunched over as he dragged himself off the floor and reflexively lifted his head once he inhaled Bonnie’s scent. She gasped and bit her tongue. She closed her eyes, telling herself that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but deep inside she knew that he was still in there. Bonnie opened her eyes and in one motion, without hesitating, she threw the knife at him with all her strength. He stumbled back at the impact of the knife stabbing into his chest. His infected body began to writhe and finally crumbled to the floor as a dead corps. Bonnie looked down at his body, wiping her hot tears away, and took in a deep breath. She went down stairs and ran into the kitchen, gathering food and water and then stuffing it into a black back pack. After she finished packing her money she dashed out the door and hopped into her cherry red Shelby Mustang. Turning the keys, the engine ignited and the car let out a low rumbling growl as she pulled out of the drive way.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 28, 2009 22:40:10 GMT -5
Grasping a purple rag in his palm. He was on his way back upstairs. The towel was wet. Not dry yet. A loud noise came from upstairs. It's was the sound of glass breaking. Followed by small growling that could hardly be existant only if your hearing was advanced.
"Sh*t! He's messin' up my house!" Clyde said in anger. He ran upstairs in a hurry.
"Hey, Your messin' up my house. Your suppose to-"
Clyde stopped. His TV was laying on the floor. The screen was smashed. Bits of glass scattered everywhere. The door was still locked. He looked down and saw droplets of blood leading upstairs to the bedroom.
Clyde immediately walked to the bottom of the staircase and looked up. Still the trail of red substance was in his sight. He walked slowly up the stairs. His heart beating fast. Nervous. even struck with fear. It's his house so he has to defend his ground.
Reaching the top flight of the stairs. A distorted sound of growling became louder. Coming from his bedroom.
Clyde walked slowly to the doorway of his room. Peering inside. Only to see nothing. Surprisingly, the man jumped out and shoved Clyde into the wall with force.
"F*ck!" Clyde grunted in frustration.
The man was now striped of his small bit of sanity. His skin was dark gray. Eyes were bloodshot red. As well as his teeth being yellow. Feeling handicapped. Clyde mannaged to push the creature off of him.
He jet down the stairs. Not looking back. Heart was still racing. The beast raced down the stairs with speed. Tackling Clyde in the living room. The beast took a couple of fist to the face. He's still stuck like a parasite.
Clyde pushed the man off of him. Crawling towards the TV. He obtained a shard of glass. The size as a bowie knife. As soon as the zombie-like creature lunged towards his victim. Clyde held up the sharp glass. Closing his eyes with his face in another direction.
The glass pierced the beast throat. Tearing up the dead skin and felsh that was already inside. Blood was spilling out of his mouth. He was dead now. Throwing him to the side. Clyde got back to his feet. Catching his breathing.
"You piece of sh*t!"
He kicked the dead man in his face in anger.
"They say never disrespect the dead. They make acceptions for you!"
Looking down at his shirt that was covered in blood. He walked over to his front door. Leaving out of his house. Wanting to know what the f*ck is going on.
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 29, 2009 3:15:47 GMT -5
Bonnie cruised down the empty deserted road, but hardly noticed since the only thing on her mind was what had recently happened. The car stopped abruptly, the front end parked on the curve. Hopping out of the car, not bothering to lock it, she entered the bar. The bar was completely empty, the fan overhead aimlessly spiraling. Bonnie sat in the stool and leaned over the counter, grabbing a bottle of beer and sucking it down. After a long swig she grabbed as many as she could carry and tossed it all in the back of the car. She sat on the hood of her car with the bottle in her hand, staring up at nothing in the sky. She reached into her wallet and pulled out a picture of her with Jake at the same bar. She crumpled the photo into the empty beer bottle and threw the bottle on the pavement, shards of glass scattering everywhere. Bonnie let out a sigh, grabbing another beer bottle and sitting in the driver’s seat, thinking about what had become of everyone here. Is everyone infected? She jumped from her seat as she spotted someone in the corner of her eye not too far away. Opening the car soon, she got out to get a better view. He looked like someone that needed help. Bonnie about to call out to him until she saw something that made her choke, he was covered in blood. He must be infected She bashed the bottle on the side of the car, making a blunt weapon. The feeling of anger tightened her throat. She wasn’t going to give up so easily.
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Cerberus
Unblooded
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Post by Cerberus on Jul 29, 2009 18:42:51 GMT -5
The field was a rolling blanket of waist high yellow grass, spotted here and there with small rocks or clumps of dead and dry bush. It extended several hundred meters to the North, finally terminating at a rough rock cliff. There was no sunshine to glint off the simple and outdated rifle scope. That particular floating nuclear explosion in space was obscured by a thick blanket of gray and heavy clouds. As a result the entire scene looked like it had been filmed in a gray filter. Colors had been bleached from their homes. Everything was dull, and gloomy. Exactly how I liked it. I never could understand the desire for brightness, and colors, and sun. The only things they did was bring attention to themselves and politely provide you with headaches.
I was stuffed into a crevice. Quite literally for that matter, the crack in the cliff wall wasn't a lubricated squeeze by any means, but it was a very excellent and surprisingly comfortable position. It provided a full view of the entire field, and also an excellent level of concealment. The only way I would be found was is a suicide jumper decided to pick this exact spot on the cliff edge to hop off. He'd come to a rather rude and fleshy stop two seconds later when gravity helped him find an innocent hunter wedged into a crack halfway down the cliff.
I had been there for roughly two hours, stretching occasionally to prevent the muscles from becoming too stiff. I had started counting as many stalks of grass as I could maybe half an hour ago but gave up rather quickly. There's not much to do when watching through a rifle scope, save wait patiently, and I was rather good at it to. I find that I am rather amiable company, and keeping myself entertained was no tedious task. The rifle was a bolt action .30 .06 M1903 Springfield, same model that the American's used in the second Great War, although I'd slapped a more modern stock onto it, as well as a new scope. Although it was hardly 'new.'
The clouds passed. The grass shuddered in the breeze. Small rodents would make their way through the field, seeking their burrows. The world passed, and I waited... Waited... And my wandering eye finally settled on something darting through the field. Dark, large, and on two legs, no less... I frowned and settled my cheek to the wooden stock of the rifle, quickly finding the person (?) in the scope. There was no round chambered in the rifle, but I was keeping my finger on the trigger guard and away from the trigger out of simple habit anyway. That changed rapidly and in three seconds there was a .30 caliber cartridge in the chamber and an anxious finger on the trigger.
There was man running through the field, which was a rather curious action on its own. But the swaths of dark red that he was leaving smeared along the grass behind him definitely made this an attention grabber. That wouldn't cause me to load and aim a rifle however. In all likelihood the poor sod may have been simply injured and was seeking help. There weren't many people this far out from the city, although the fact that he was running was rather unusual. But it was the fact that there was something else behind him. Running after him, chasing, but there was something wrong with it... With... her? Her arms and legs were splayed out wards, and her entire face was a dark mask of blood. She wasn't running so much as stumbling. There was no coordination, no sense of balance, but she was nonetheless keeping up and steadily gaining on the man I had first seen.
And then she vanished, disappearing into the ocean of grass. I rapidly swung the rifle to the right, using my left eye to find the rapidly moving speck in the field and using my right to find him in the scope itself. He was still running, seemingly without a destination in mind, but the look of sheer terror on his face was all I really needed to know at the moment. That and the fact that his chest was heaving and there was a gallon of sweat rolling off him. How far had he run? He continued to run South-East, in a ragged zig-zag of a line... I was utterly at a loss regarding what to do. The smart choice was the inhumane one. The humane one was the stupid one.
Ten seconds later I was blowing into a whistle and shaking a red cloth in my hand, yelling at the bloke to get his arse over here, all the while examining the field for any sign of the woman. I had utterly no idea what was happening. For all I knew this guy could pull out a pistol and shoot me at first sight. But I had a simple little motto: Fuck it.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 29, 2009 19:23:00 GMT -5
Clyde saw a woman up ahead. He walked slowly towards her. He knew she might be help and that she wasn't one of those mindless creatures that he encountered earlier. He had walked far from his house and this was the only sign of life he found.
Focusing his eyes on the glass botle she had in her hand. He wasn't too nervous. Walking closer.
"I'm not goin' to hurt you!" Clyde said softly.
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 29, 2009 21:32:11 GMT -5
Bonnie raised the broken bottle at him, "Stay were you are!" she took in a deep breath, "Tell me why is there blood all over you?" she stepped back trying to hide her fear but felt her hands shaking.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 29, 2009 21:36:03 GMT -5
Clyde looked down at his shirt." Fighting with some f*cked in the head guy!" he said. The very thought of that made him angry. "He was inside my f*ckin' house!" He turned his attention back to the woman. "So yeah...That's my small story."
He looked down at the bottle." I think it'll take more than a bottle to handle those things."
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 29, 2009 21:59:36 GMT -5
Bonnie tossed the broken bottle asside, "You could at least give me some credit for trying." "Come on let's get out of here before more come." she got into her car and unlocked the otherside for him.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 29, 2009 22:04:47 GMT -5
Clyde smirked."Well sorry about that, but it's true." He got into the car. Closing the door. He looked behind the passenger seat. Peering out the back window. "We're lucky for now. Nothin' is following us. Not yet anyway."
He looked over at the woman." You think you have enough gas in this car?" he asked. Hopefully, they'll get some place far.
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 29, 2009 22:19:13 GMT -5
"should be enough to get out of this hell whole." she started the car and as she pulled into the street, scraped the bumper of another parked car. Bonnie raced down the streets, looking for something as she glanced every so often out the window.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 29, 2009 22:22:06 GMT -5
Clyde looked out the window. Daydreaming. Not making eye contact he spoke. "What's your name?" he asked softly. The carnage on the streets hypnotized him and caught his interest at that moment.
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 29, 2009 22:30:20 GMT -5
"Bonnie Viviana." she kept her eyes on the road ahead of her,
the thought of the sun falling made her feel unneasy. "and you?"
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 29, 2009 22:56:11 GMT -5
Clyde kept his eyes on the streets." My name is Clyde Monteiro." He paused. Looking over at her slowly." You know somethin' about that is ironic." he laid his head back on the window.
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Jul 29, 2009 23:59:14 GMT -5
The day was turning out to simultaneously be the most difficult and easiest clusterfuck Mike had ever been in. On one hand, there were no flying bullets and no need to take cover. On the other hand, the speed of the outbreaks was absolutely unparalleled.
The 999 calls had started pouring in early on in the day, and within an hour authorization had been granted for armed forces to take over from regular police, which were being ripped apart. Exactly by what however, wasn't understood. The only information that the London police had at the moment was that the threat was coming from psychosis, which seemed to be based in Biohazard. No specialist forces for hazardous environments had yet been authorized, but until then full bodily substance isolation procedures were in place, and even more astonishing, they were not only authorized for 'shoot-to-kill' tactics, but ordered to do so. Secured regions were cordoned until Hazard could get in, and at the moment, the entire police force was stretching to the breaking point.
Mike would respond to one of rapidly multiplying 'hot points' where the infection was concentrated, drive out with two Armed Response Vehicles, use them to road-block an intersection, and then start shooting. It was completely insane, they'd get called over for only a few lunatics, and by the time they got there'd be over 20 of them, and trying to distinguish between targets and civilians was becoming insanely difficult. They'd even stopped bothering with Oral warnings there were so many of them.
As it was, Mike was currently crouching behind the hood of an ARV, the strobe lights still flashing, and carefully aiming at rapidly approaching targets. He was wielding a standard issue H&K MP5, modified for semi-automatic only and a red dot sight. He was using the hood of the car to provide support for steadier aim, and currently focused on the chest of the closest target, some twenty meters away, and rapidly getting closer. Next to him crouched his driver, John, who was aiming a Glock 17 in the same fashion. They'd rapidly adapted to this setup after responding to a few hotpoints. They had eight men total, four of which were armed with MP5s. They divided up so that one officer with a carbine was situated at the trunk of the car, and the other at the hood of the car. Both were supported by officers armed with handguns. Four per car, two cars blocking up the road, those on the left took those on the left, and the same for those on the right. The whole idea being that anyone with a carbine provided slower, longer-range, accurate fire to closing targets. If any got closer, those with handguns opened up with rapid, close-range fire.
The end result was a growing line of corpses no closer than ten meters from the two ARVs. Although the psycopaths were easy to actually hit, as they stupidly ran in a straight oncoming line, the police had rapidly learned how difficult they were to take down. It could easily take three rounds or more; the bastards hardly responded to pain. Those equipped with carbines had rapidly begun going for failure-drills, putting two in the chest and one in the head.
The glowing red dot in Mike's sight was currently hovering over the sternum of a quickly growing target, his finger already taking up slack on the trigger. For the countless time, he performed a well practiced drill, and fired. The recoil was very light, and he took it straight back, releasing the trigger and immediately taking up slack as the slight muzzle jump settled, and fired again. The rapid double-tap put two jacketed hollow-points a centimeter apart from eachother directly in the targets breast-bone, stopping him dead in his tracks. A third of a second later, a third bullet punched through his nose. The infected crumpled, and Mike was already aiming onto the next closest target.
Each failure-drill took about 1.3 seconds, and there were at least three dozen of the things charging down the street this time. Four of them dropped every two seconds, but that still wasn't fast enough, and before they could have even called in for support over the radio, over fifteen infected were far too close for comfort. Instantly supporting officers opened up with their Glocks, not bothering with precision fire, but just emptying a few bullets into each target as fast as possible. It was at these moments that it grew really crazy, gun-smoke was wafting across their vision, spent shells bounced off Mike's back, and within seconds the line of infected had been practically ripped apart. In movies, bullets left a neat little red hole and the person went down; in reality, bullets did a hell of a lot more gruesome damage than that. 9mm hollow points leave big holes and just tear the entire area apart, headshots would blow the face apart, leaving only fingerprints to provide identification.
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And just like that, dead silence. There was a ringing in Mike's ears. No traffic, no passerby, no sound. Just a long line of bodies stretching down the street. For the first time since pulling up, Mike let his breathing collapse into nervous panting. His muscles were still tensed up, his heart pounding up against his ribs. With nothing in sight to kill, he reflexively removed his finger from the trigger, resting in up on the trigger guard. He started to speak, cleared his throat, and called up, "Anyone see any more?"
Across the line, negative shouts came up. Mike stood up, stepping over and pulled open the passenger-side door, calling down to the second car, "All right, set up another cordon and follow us down. We have even less time to do it than before, just rope it off, leave the corpses! Next stop is at Lever and Bath street, we'll wait up for you there."
John settled into the driver seat, waited for the two accompanying officers to get in the back, and took off, quickly accelerating up to fifty kilometers an hour. Mike wasn't even looking at the road, but clearing and re-loading. There were several boxes of 9mm ammo stacked up below the seat and backseats, literally over a thousand rounds of ammo. A few of the boxes were opened, their contents spilling out. Mike tossed a couple into the backseat, and removed the magazine from his He shoved the half-spent magazine under his thigh and reached over to John, "Here, give me the Glock."
A moment later the pistol was in his hand. "How many did you fire?"
"Ah... one and a half, here."
An empty magazine was slapped into his open hand, and Mike started loading it back up as John sped down the road. Once it was topped off he dropped it back into John's lap, who didn't even look at it, and ejected the partially emptied one from the pistol, starting to load that one up too.
Another hot-spot cleared, 30 more corpses. Good Christ how many had already died? At least a hundred? Aw bloody Jesus how bad was this going to turn out, a death toll bordering hundreds? In three fucking hours!?
From the back, "How many are there gathering up at the next one?"
"If first-grade math is anything to go by, at least forty this time?"
"Aw what the hell, we need another Arv. Two at least. We're getting far too outnumbered with this bullshit mate."
"No, what we need is the bloody military. Get a few tanks in, have the SAS drop in and deal with it. If this keeps going on, we're fucked."
"How much brass you got up there?"
"Still plenty, least a few hundred."
"I think we've spent so much that this thing's going to start jamming the next time I fire it..."
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Post by Danikaiju on Jul 30, 2009 14:21:48 GMT -5
Bonnie couldn't help but let a grin creep on her face, "Just a bit." and then sat up straight in her seat, "Hey do you know anything about guns?" without warning she turned the wheel and the car swerved sharply to the left, diving straight into a store. The car crashed into the wall, wood splinters and shattered glass were the only remains of what use to be the front of the hunting store. Bonnie pushed her long hair out of her face, her head aching after the impact of the air bags, and then glancing over at Clyde making sure he was alright. Stumbling out of the car, Bonnie picked her way through the rubble and broken glass window of the hunting store she just enterred. She searched through what was left of the gun case, grabbing a shot gun and looking around for ammunition.
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Post by thapunkpred15 on Jul 30, 2009 19:56:33 GMT -5
Clyde pushed open the car door. His head was aching. The collision made him feel intense pain shoot right into his skull. "I like how you just sit there a leave me in the car!" he said with sarcasm. Constantly coughing from smoke that surrounded him.
"We're just fortunate to run into a place like this." Clyde said softly. Holding his head." Besides since your car is destroyed beyond repair. I say we find a somewhere to stay for the night."
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Jul 31, 2009 13:29:38 GMT -5
Ok, I'm gone for about ten days, so don't expect anything else from me or Cer during that time. Unless we find online access on a ship.
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