The Wolf's Den

[flynntaggart]

The Wolf's Den
 
(for any of you who have read my story, this is considered a different universe, yet still based in the df world, also, some details about the 12 story may be inaccurate, if this is true pm me and ill fix it)
 
The dusk began to slowly creep in as the blood red sun passed below the ridgeline of skyscrapers. Suffocating darkness poured into every corner. A trash can in an alley off to Flynn's right let out a loud clatter as is tipped over, dumping a liquid filth across the sidewalk. Flynn stepped up his pace as he jogged down the center of a road cluttered with old, rusted vehicles. A few stars shown in the early night sky and a breeze blew gently across Flynn's sweat soaked forehead. It would be a nice night if...hell. It was a nice night. 
 
A rhythmic, uneven patter alerted Flynn to the fact that he now had a follower slowly gaining on his position. Before the incident, the night was only fed by our imaginations. Now, those nightmares were real. Flynn began to run as he checked with his right hand to make sure the colt 1911 was still secured in its holster. The patter behind him grew louder as it gained, Flynn could now make out a wheezing as the beast drew in air with its rotted lungs. A roar of anger erupted just as Flynn dodged a shadow that lurched out from behind a car. 
 
Flynn began to sprint as he jerked the pistol from its holster. 
 
God what I'd do for a cheap drink.
 
The patter behind him became erratic as the numbers of his pursuers increased. The night sky was now complete. Only the light from the stars and full moon guided him through the streets. The soft glow from the moon that was caste across the city calmed Flynn and allowed him to gain control of his fears. He drew strength from it as a son from his mother. 
 
Almost there.

Another one of the beasts scream as it drug talons through rusted metal of a van Flynn just passed.

"Let me in!" He screamed as the faint orange glow of candles in the windows of the building up ahead signaled he was only a block away. The creatures behind him quickened as if his screams gave them encouragement.

"What's the password?!" he heard a man from behind the barricade scream.

"FUCKIN FLAPJACKS LET ME IN!" Flynn never heard of a password before but figured Sean was guarding the door again, being a **** like usual.

The door swung open just as Flynn felt a breeze of air kiss his neck as a talon passed too close for sanity.

Flynn barreled through and whirled to see Sean slam the metal door shut and latched it. The door rattled in its latches as the beasts pounded on it with mutated limbs.

"Good to see you Sean." Flynn gasped as the young man grabbed a metal shaft that was sharpened at the end and began ramming it through tiny holes to dispatch the dead.

"You're welcome nut hugger."

Flynn tried to keep the smile to himself as he walked through the tiny lobby of the Eastmore Apartments. A set of stairs awaited him.

After ascending twelve flights of stairs plus the fifteen minute run from Nastya's, Flynn was exhausted. He had passed many members on his way up. Some stood at attention while others simply greeted him and went about their business. This was a place to relax and have fun away from all the other so called "survivors" and he wasn't going to let formalities get in the way of it.

A single door at the top greeted him. A rough wooden sign above it was painted in red paint. "The Wolf's Den"

Flynn opened the door and a wave of warm air, chatter, and alcohol overflowed his senses. Flynn stepped in and shut the door behind him.

"What'll it be tonight Mr.Taggart?" the bartender boomed from across the room.

"What ever's cheapest Jack!" Flynn yelled back, already his spirits had risen.

"First drink's on the house and you know it!" the bartender said with a smile as Flynn closed the distance between the two and leaned upon the wooden bar.

"Jack you know the cheaper the better. I'll take a vodka and a can of coke if you got any still lying around."

"Sure thing, I think we still got some soda cans lying around here."

As the bartender poured the vodka into the glass, Flynn dug in his pocket and pulled out a few rounds of .357 and dropped them in the tip jar.

Flynn grabbed the vodka and coke, said his thanks, and left the bar that he helped build with his own hands and blood.

He would have stayed and talked more but he had nothing to say, and Jack usually just liked to listen. His own secrets kept that way.

The fire place on the south wall crackled as a few fangs hung around it talking ****. Each of them holding a beer. Flynn made his way to the west wall that was completely glass. Before the outbreak, this place was the top suite of a luxury apartment. Now the place had been converted into a pub by and for the agents of the Black Dragon and members of Fenrir's Fangs. The bar that had existed in the suite had been damaged by the undead to the point of unusability before Flynn and a few others from a looting party had discovered it. Together, they cleared and secured the building and made it something more than it once was. Tables and chairs from the building itself had been moved to this room to make a pub that everyone could come together and enjoy themselves. Flynn made his way to the west wall and looked out over the city that was covered in a white moonlight.

"It's beautiful...isn't it?" asked a man wearing all black clothing with a shaved head, siting at the table closest to the windows. Flynn looked and noticed that the man's eyes never left the moon as he spoke to him.

"Indeed it is." Flynn said as he sat down at the table.

Tratpan sat unmoving, his hand next to a glass of untouched red wine.

"Do you think we'll see him tonight?" Flynn asked as he popped the top of the coke can and poured about a fifth of it into the glass containing vodka.

"He's out there somewhere." was all Tratpan answered with.

Flynn drank deeply from his glass.

[R. S. Packman]

  Awake. Ryan hated to be awake, as it meant that he would have to come to the realization that he did, in fact, live in a zombie infested hell hole and he had, yet again, lived through the night.  Living was something most others strived for, but the way he looked at it, living through your sleep meant you would only die awake and aware.  Grudgingly getting up and out of bed, he thought of the few things that made life worth living in this god forsaken city, and actually cheered up a bit.  Those things were underaged drinking and friends.

  After taking a quick shower, he looked at his reflection debating wether or not he should shave.  Quickly deciding not to he headed to his near empty closet.  Most people would have complained at his lack of clothes had they been in his shoes, or boots rather, but he liked it fine living off of what he needed, and not much more.  His closet was almost completely barren with the exception of his usual gettup, which he had cleaned everyday.  Mumbling to himeself, he dried off and got ready to put on what seemed to him like the only thing he had ever worn.

  Ready to leave, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  Ryan stood nearly six foot five inches and had a muscular build that could have been compared to a marines body back in the days before the outbreak.  His hair was a light brown color and was cut in such a way that it resembled the Beetles haircut, just slightly longer.  He was dressed in his usual outfit, a black LR8 Reactive chestplate trimmed with silver fox and wolf pelts, black cargo jeans, black combat boots, and a pair of millitary issued combat gloves.  In his pocket he carried a silver flask adorned with celtic markings and filled with Stags Head Irish Whiskey.

  After only five minutes of leaving his room he was flooded with salutes, most likely cliaths and fostern trying to get on his good side.  Blaming this on his recent rise in rank, he chuckled a little bit.  Out of all of the people who he had just passed, at least 1 would be leaving today.

  Finally reaching the top of the stairs Ryan entered what had now become the Wolfs Den, a lounge for all of the Black Dragon Agents and Fenrirs Fangs Members.

  After making a trip to the bar to pick up a bag of chips and a shot glass, he left half a box of .50 caliber rounds in the tip jar and walked over to a now chuckling Flynn and still as stone Tratpan.

  "Always have to try and out do me, eh." Flynn said jokingly, reffering to the type of ammunition the two of them had put in.

  "Out do you?  Never, just sharing some of the wealth that I found in my room."

  "What do you mean found?" Flynn said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

  "Yea, I noticed that the top to my closet had been removed before and decided to check it out.  I found a few boxes of .50 ammo and a big ass pistol that has a broken firing mechanism.  I have Hollister fixing it up right now, but you know just as well as I do that if it is any good of a gun he will probably keep it."

  "To true, I lost a perfectly good Colt .45 like that."

  Pulling up a chair, Ryan sat down and began to watch the moon as he took a sip of his whiskey, and wondered were the rest of their small group of friends were.

[TRHeadshot]

   Carter Gison, at this very moment, is quite happy to be alive. In fact, he's so damn happy, that he actually enjoys the Zombacalypse. But... It wasn't always this way. Before the event, he was living the simple life. You see, Carter used to work for the military as a sniper for the Marines. Eventually, due to his excellent marksmanship, a promotion was in order. He was called upon to lead The Fangs. An elite group of highly trained specialists. You didn't join the Fangs... You had to prove yourself. Once all of the **** hit the fan, The Fangs decided to stick together, and to survive in this new hellhole.
 
 Over time, running The Fangs (Now known as Fenrir's Fangs) became a burden. Seeing brave men and women die under his leadership took a toll on his abilities. Soon thereafter, he was forced to leave the burgeoning clan to fend for itself.

   But one day, Carter decided he couldn't live with himself and his previous actions. So, he decided to return to his home, whatever the cost. Asking around within the safety of Nastya's, he was quickly rewarded with heartwarming knowledge.

   "Yeah, I've heard about em', leader's name is Flynn.. They've set up a bar out in Death Row. Not worth yer' time, goin' out there's suicide."

   Well, now that you know my story, let's get back to buisness.

   The stifled moans of infected call out around me, as I sprint, unfaltering, towards my destination. *Crack* I laugh as I relieve a nearby Long Arm of it's head. With my Dragonuv now securely on my back and my trusty Colt 1911 Fang in my holster, I un-sheath my Amputator. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.... The LA spreads it's arms wide, the Hug-O'-Death I've nicknamed it.
 
   "Well Anal Beads Mr. Zed! Surprise!" I call out merrily, driving the cool steel of my blade directly through it's sternum and bringing it up through the poor bastards head. I kick the thing in the chest, removing my blade.

   "Hey guys! Guess who?" I eagerly approach the door, hammering away. "Let me in! It's TR, you know, Carter Gison!" I bang away some more, "Sean! I know you can hear me, stop screwing around!"

[Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!]

James walked calmly through the streets of the dead and silent city, he had decided to go catch a drink at the bar after his most recent Zero mission, he was nearby anyway, as he brushed some of his medium length silver hair out of his eye he noticed something in the corner of his eye, with lightning reflexes expected from all Zero Agents he withdrew his signature Black revolver and trained it on the area, Turned out there was nothing there. "Hmmph.." James replaced his carefully cared for 50. calibre revolver back into its holster.

A couple of streets up he saw the door of the bar, a large thick steel door, he knocked and in that calm cold voice he always seemed to have he stated "Open up, its James" The door swung open and there stood Sean on guard "Well well well, we don't see you round here often!" James walked inside as sean closed the door and bolted it "I decided I could use a drink.." Sean Looked back at James after finishing securing the door "Hey...is that Human blood on your coat?" Sean had noticed that the blood was not blackened or coagulated like infected blood was, James suddenly looked directly into sean's eyes with his own deep, grey, cold ones, Sean looked away quickly, people were usually unnerved by a combination of James's toneless voice, Expressionless face, and his eyes. "Recent mission, can't go into details" Sean collected himself "Right right, go on up then."

James left Sean to his guard duty and began climbing the twelve staircases, there were a lot of lower ranked Fenrirs members on the lower floors, Most of them sort of shied away from his as he went by, a couple shouted out "Hey Modemkill!" Modemkill was a nickname he could not seem to shake, it was due to the fact that he used to be a high class hacker before the outbreak, about the only thing people knew about his former life, not that those skills did him much good in a world where electronics barely existed anymore.

He reached the top and was faced with a door with the words The Wolf's Den inscribed into it, he opened the door and walked in, went straight to the bar, the bartender Jack leaned on the bar and said "Havn't seen you in awhile, Dont you have that big ol gun with you anymore?" Jack was refering to the M60 James had looted from the old Army barracks near here, the place is a death trap to anyone who can't handle himself very very well. "It was too heavy to lug around with me for what I was doing today, I left it at home" Jack did not inquire further as to what he was doing today, That's one thing he liked about the Barkeep, he will always lend an ear when you want it, but will never nose into your buisness if not asked "So, What can I getcha?" "Give me a beer" "Coming up" Jack grabbed a bottle from under the counter and handed it to James, As James wal walking away the Barkeep shouted out "What, No tip?" James replied "I'll tip if the service is good" The barkeep slapped the counter and laughed quite loudly.

James made his way to an isolated table in the back, sat down and lit a ciggarette, and drank his beer in silence, Noone seemed to have noticed he had arrived.

[CrazyHobo]

Viktor Korzun woke up from his bed. As he realised, that its still night, he whispered "****...".
"Well, I guess I'll start the day as usual" - sayed the crazy russian of the Fangs.
He got up, killed a roach, that was under him, went for his closet. Opening it, he saw his usual 2 suits. One was a black LR8 suit - standart issue for the Athros. It protected well from most attack, but it wouldn't help much against a longarm. Viktor has been an athro for 4 months now, and the armour never got a scratch. Everyone, expect the higher ups, always asked him on how he manages to roam around the city unharmed, to which he simply replied "I have... dodging skills". Some black boots, black gloves, a black cape. That was his inner city suit, he wore it everytime he went outside the base.
"Why is it black? I am a **** emo or a goth?...oh...right. Camouflage" - realised the person.
"No point in being a glamorous **** these days. Now the hottest women wear either camouflage or are dead zombies. And we still don't have a frigging strip club here"
His other suit was a white labcoat. See, before the ourbreak, Viktor was a surgeon. So everyone called him either Crazyhobo or Dr.Scalpel. Crazyhobo because he was sometimes crazy, Dr.Scalpel because he was a damn good doctor. Though he isn't the main doctor of the Fangs, because Viktor prefers to roam around the city, instead of citing in the base like an idiot, hearing boring complaints from other Fangs about what is hurting them, be it either a mental problem or a longarm talon in their leg.
So Viktor puts on his inner city suit, because his day usually started from a looting run. No, his day started from breakfast first, so he first goes to the Wolf's den.
On the way there, as usual, a bunch of fosterns and cliaths were saluting him, he simply ignored it, they really have nothing good for him to say.
Making it to the twelve story, he saw the sign "The wolf's den", so he opened it.
His old buddy James, knows as Modemkill was waving him, saying "Anal Beads". So Viktor waved back, then went to the barman.
- What will it be, Vik? - asked Jack.
Viktor puts on two full boxes of .32 bullets on the table, and says
" I want...a coca cola...and cheese".
Suddenly everyone stared at him, surprised, that everyone grabs alcohol, while the russian grabs a cola. Damn stereotypes. They always think, that russians drink only vodka, while Vik really doesn't drink alcohol, nor does he smoke.
An Adren aproached Hobo and asked him "Sir, are you sure you want a cola?"

"Do you have something against a cola?" - replied hobo with an annoyed voice.
"of course not, I just though..."
"that I would grab a vodka? Yeah, that's what everyone usually things".
Jack gives Hobo his coca-cola and cheese, then takes away the two boxes, whispering "**** pocket change".
And so, Hobo grabs his "breakfast" and makes it to Modem's table.
While on the way there, he noticed the fresh human blood on Jame's cloak.
Sitting next to him, he asked "Let me guess... Ardent Angel officer?"
To which James only replied "Sorry, I can't say.
"
"well, I'm gonna finish this thing I bought and head to the city. Who knows, maybe an Ascending Dawn idiot went here, died and left his katana nearby. Or a VOID member thoughts too much of himself and died too, leaving a K-50M near his body. Or a damsell in distress is in need of help and I can get some easy booty from her. Only fate knows what's gonna be there"
James replied "Good lukc, mate."

And so, Hobo passes the large window, saying "Hi" to Flynn and Trat, but got no reply. He ignored it, went all the way downstaris, went to the gate, saw Sean and sayed "Open the door, I'm getting the **** out of here"
Sean replied "what, again?"
"yes...again. There better be no **** password, once I'm back"
Leaving the safe compound, Viktor wanders into the abyss of the burning city, like he did many times before.
Maybe he will get lucky and find something good. Hell, even food is nice. Some morphine would be good too.

[Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!]

James Drained the last of his beer before muttering "Crazy ass hobo..." He stubbed out his smoke before making his way toward Flynn who is staring aimlesley into the godforsaken necropois of Fairview, what a disgusting sight..."This is for you" James hands Flynn an envelope containing the bloody ID badge of the man he "Executed" earlier, without another word he returned to the bar and ordered another drink then returned to his table and light another smoke.

[Thuggernaut]

*Sits at the bar smoking a joint, gives the bartender a couple of 12.7s to leave him be*

[Tratpan]

Ominous clouds slowly departed, revealing the moon in the night’s sky, distant echoes was humming another unsung tune of death, and lurking shadows danced around every corner.

In the distance, high above the battered streets, the warm alluring aroma of alcohol comforted the mind of Tratpan as he savoured memories of recent events:
~ Agents that remains missing
~ Defected Agents that no longer belong in BD or FF
~ Armies of the living dead that plague the world
~ Petty missions from Nastya’s holdout
~ The fallen empires
While Tratpan sat to next window, enjoying the company of solitude, reminiscing in the cool breeze creeping through the cracks of the window. A familiar voice derailed his thoughts with the word “Flapjacks”. The word reminded him of London, the lost kingdom he once called home and the family he had lost.
Tratpan returned to his original thoughts and gazed upon the pale illumination of moonlight, as he looked up at the moon, a strong presence was close by. Anticipating the stranger, Tratpan looked up at the moon asked a question aloud to confirm who it was...
"It's beautiful...isn't it?" Said Tratpan



A dark figure crept within Tratpan’s peripheral vision, Flynn Taggart responded.
"Indeed it is." As Flynn sat down at the table.

Flynn began to make small talk, but Tratpan only responded with conversation killing answers. Tratpan wasn’t at all unsociable, he prefers to listen and avoid any attention as he sat quietly and enjoyed Flynn’s down to earth commentary.
There were many moments of awaked silences as bystanders like Viktor went by barely unnoticed. Until that is, when James handed something to Flynn, the mood lifted and Flynn was cheerfully ranting about Sean when Ryan’s presence beside the bar got Flynn's attention.

[Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!]

James puts the half empty bottle of beer on the table and takes his revolver and a rag from his pocket and begins to clean the already shiny black weapon, this is the fourth time today he has polished it, after he finishes up he examines it closley and replaces it back into the holster, he lights another ciggarette and takes notice of how much Flynn has cheered up since he handed him the package.

James wonders when his next mission is going to be and what it will involve, Suddenly James finds himself thinking about the last time he was in nastyas, over a month ago when he had to execute a high ranking member of the OG who did not agree with something or other, He was snapped back to reality by a loud crash, the barkeep had dropped a glass and then he stated "God damnit, Now someone has gotta go get some more glasses from somewhere"

James went back to his beer and put out of mind all the people he had killed over the years.

[CrazyHobo]

Viktor was roaming around the city, searching any corpes, car he could find. The sun will rise soon, making it a lot easier to navigate. After five hours of countless roaming, Viktor decides to get on top of a building to get a better view of the city. Viktor notices the ten story building and climbs it's fire escape, avoiding the building's interiour, that is usually full of zombies.
It was a good view, but the moon is leaving, the dawn is aproaching.
Dr.Scalpel enjoys the view and watches the city. To the west of the base, there is a large pack of Longarms...must be a preparation for another outpost attack on Nastya's. To the south west of the base, there can be heard sounds of gun fire. Sounds like a .45 caliber weapon, singled shots. Someone is runing around the city with a Colt1911. Suddenly, Viktor hears a louder noise of a round of fire, probably an assault rifle...quiet pop souns, that's what an AK-47 sounds like, 7.62 is quite rare these days, so not many people use AKs. Must be someone rich.
Viktor climbs down the fire escape and makes his way to the roof of the 8 story building, fire escape again. He watches, as a survivor is firing an AK-47 at 5 longarms, despatching them, then runs into another longarm. The unknown survivor dodges the attack, then pulls out a katana, slashing of the head of the beast.
"Katana?...this must be my lucky day." -  thought to himself the doctor.
The unknown survivor is wearing white clothes, has blonde hair, is wielding a katana. Definetly Ascending Dawn soldier.
"So it's a colt1911, an AK-47 and a katana. All for me? I should just kill him and take his gear, but one thing doesn't make sense: AD's base is in the south, there must have been a large reason for someone to head here. Ambassador? Scout? Spy? Defected member, trying to join Fenrir's Fangs? Who knows, but it probably wont end well, if I kill him and loot his body. Truly sad, I could have gained some good money from him" - thought the Fang.
Another pack is coming from the east, the survivor is ready to face them, he has reloaded all weapons. Suddenly, a grenade falls from the skies, it explodes, decimating the pack of longarms, charging the survivor.
The survivor looks at the skies, noticing Vik waving to him, pointing to the fire escape.
As the survivor climbs all the way up, Viktor asks him "The hell you doing here? This is the Fenrir's Fangs base, this aint Ascending Dawn territory. The **** you doing here?"
"My friend sayed this place is good to loot." - replied the survivor.
Viktor didn't reply, he was annoyed by the stupidity.
Viktor kicks the survivor in the stomach, forcing him to fall all the 8 stories down. Viktor fires a round from his UMP to make sure he is dead, then climbs the way down.
"Guess it really is my lucky day" - happily thought the russian.
When he reaches, the survivor is still alive, but Viktor quickly solvese that problem.
So it's another LR8, an AK-47, a Colt1911 and a katana in one loot run. This really is a lucky day for Viktor, albeit he didn't find it, he stole it. Vik still needs to check the pockets, that are in the armour, but that's for later times. Four thousand dollars in the pants.
Truly a good find, but it might get better, once Vik searches the armour.

[TRHeadshot]

   Trheadshot, bored as hell, decides to relax in peace... outside. Crazy I know, but crazy he can handle...
   "Hmm... It'll be dawn soon" he notices with some disappointment, as he realizes that the zombies should be lackluster in numbers. They aren't harmed by sunlight, these aren't **** vampires, just nocturnal. *BA-BOOM!* "Wha-!" Carter jumps up, startled, as a loud explosion can be heard somewhere in the vicinity. Chuckling softly, he begins to calmly stroll towards the epicenter, mumbling, "Crazy Russian sunovabitch, ha ha!"
    He soon comes upon a pretty sight, a lone survivor plummeting eight stories. Even in the low light, he could spy the powerful armaments of the poor dead bastard. Weaving in and out of the shambling masses of Long Arms wasn't really that tough, just a matter of timing. After slaying a few with his Amputator he finally arrives at the body... Just as a dear friend finished off the loot.
   "Hey! Crazy! How's it hanging? Pretty swag **** mate!"

[CrazyHobo]

Notices his old buddy TR.
"You won't believe what I stole today. I found this idiot AD member in our area, so I took him to the 8 story roof and asked him why he was here. Turns out he was looting our territory. So I killed him. Look at this neat gear he left. LR8, Katana, Colt1911 and an AK-47, plus 4k cash" - happily sayed the crazy.
A distant roar can be heard from the vicinity.
"I should have known, that the grenade will attract them. Carter, let's get the **** out of here, before they catch up" - suggested the russian.

[Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!]

A muffled explosion can be heard in the distance, Noone in the makeshift bar seemed to take much notice, they were here to relax, not sort out problems, James remembered noticing a couple of grenades strapped to Viktor's belt, James smiled to himself as he thought of the poor guy who had the misfortune to run into him on his loot run "Haha...That crazy hobo" James got to his feet and ordered another drink, this time he dropped $100 on the counter before he returned to his table and repeated the rutine of lighting another ciggarette and drinking his beer in silence.

[TRHeadshot]

   "Run? Are you nuts?" TR inquired, incredulous, "Let's kick some ass! Lock & Load!" he grins slyly, revealing an M79 he had gotten cheap off of the Market. Loading a round into the tube, he digs in behind a car.

[CrazyHobo]

Viktor silently watches at Carter.
"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I got a katana, an AK-47 and another LR8 to carry to the base, and it's really uncomfortable to kill anyone or anything with these things" - complained the russin.
"Listen, either we get the **** out of here or your on your own. I can't fight in this situation." - offered the hobo.
The swarm is aproaching, it's now or never.