[EVENT POST] I FEEL STUPID, AND CONTAGIOUS.

[dishearten]

CHARACTERS: Open to all!
DATE: 3/11-3/12, ICly
WARNINGS: Zombie attacks? Violence? Shopping???
SUMMARY: Lockdown at the mall! Grab your CDs and your soft pretzel, it's about to get bad.

LET'S GO TO THE MALL LOCKDOWN Business has been rough for Woodhurst Shopping Center ever since riots and unrest about the Bristol Virus have shunned most to their homes. Perhaps ill-advisedly, in attempts to draw a few more customers back into the polished halls of the grandest shopping experience Woodhurst has to offer, a weekend of big sales, great bargains, and fun family activities was widely advertised in the Woodhurst Watch. There was even a scheduled public concert, performed by the University Choir. The turnout was smaller than hoped, yet the air was quite optimistic. Shoppers enjoyed the day of activities and fun, and the sense of security was bolstered by the increased security detail. There was even some members of the press on hand to document this return to normality in a troubled time. Everything was going well, until a scene broke out in the food court. Security tried to quietly remove members of the choir that suddenly seemed to snap, plowing into one of the food stands and starting to feed on raw meat. However, a good handful of them escaped instant confinement, and while many of the visitors fled the mall as soon as they could, soon Police Detail arrived and put the entire building on lockdown. Nobody in and nobody out until the situation was resolved. 18:00 TO 23:00 HOURS Anyone unlucky enough to be trapped in the mall is left to their own devices, with very little knowledge to go on. This includes many civilians, as well as a small number of Audentes agents. This also includes a small number of infected, more than just the university choir. There's a voice over the loudspeaker imploring people to hide in stores, barricade doors, and stay put until help arrives. The majority of the infected seem to linger in the Food Court especially. Bad news for anyone trapped and starting to get hungry as the hours pass by, without any obvious assistance from the outside. The members of ALASTAIR have a choice, help protect or just do their best to avoid the infected themselves. Characters can get into the Security Office for a camera feed on what is happening in the mall, and potentially use it as a base of operations to work from. 00:00 TO 02:00 HOURS It becomes apparent that the number of infected in the mall are somehow increasing, despite the lockdown. It means that those that have squirreled away into stores and outlets are growing less and less safe as infected numbers multiply and they begin attacking barricades. To make matters worse, anyone that hasn't found cover will find the infected extremely reactive, and willing to give chase around the mall. The security feed indicates the infected seem to be coming in from the Parking Garage. Investigation will reveal a sewer outlet on the bottom floor. Characters will have to decide whether they should utilize the tunnel as a means of escape, or if sealing it off would ultimately leave the remaining hours of lockdown a little less violent. 04:00 TO 09:00 HOURS It's been an agonizing 12 hours, and with surprisingly little aide from the outside. With time to make preparations and put plans in place, now it's time to end this lockdown once and for all. Audentes is tasked with neutralizing the remaining infected as well as escorting any remaining civilians to safety, by any means they decide on. It is up to Audentes to decide how the end of this event plays out, be it removing or otherwise drawing away the lingering infected, or putting them down once and for all. There are plenty of civilians that have been bitten and attacked, leaving the question in the air as to whether they are infected as well. What should be done with those that could be bringing the virus back to their families? The team is going to have to decide on the answer to that.

Comments

04:00 to 09:00

[digiorno]

[That's naive, whispers a voice in Giorno's mind. It doesn't belong to any devil on his shoulder--it's just his own voice, saying what he already knew he believed. There's no point in trying to save them, that's what his exhausted mind is telling him. There's no point. You can't save the dead.]

[But he knows, too, that there are factors working here that aren't at all related to the reality of the situation. He wasn't like this in Perdition's Rest, even though the chances of success were realistically lower there and the people's brains were already dead.]

[He's not in his right mind. He's exhausted. He's been panicked from not having ready access to food, and the potential for Fugo to get hurt, and the potential for Fugo to hurt. And what he knows is: they can't argue. He can't take a hard stance. Find the middle way. Be a leader. And soon enough his time will come.]

[His voice is soft, when it comes, though his eyes are glassy with fatigue and stress.]

Would the security of an abandoned warehouse be enough, perhaps?

Re: 04:00 to 09:00

[skelepun]

[Everyone could look better, but this one in particular had the air of a man who'd lost maybe one too many battles. When he speaks, Sans' focus shifts in on him, watching his movements specifically even as others speak.

People say you can't figure a book by its cover. Hell, Sans says that. Still, in practice, he couldn't really buy that. A cover might as well have been a book all its own. Did someone ever drop it in the mud, for instance, or how many times had the spine been cracked. Was it loved enough for someone to tape up split binding or had time and lack of care worn away any distinguishing marks aside from pure age.

Contents weren't everything.

And this guy? Pretty interesting cover.]

If it's got a lock and a way to feed 'em, don't see why not. [He says, stepping forward.] You got a line on one?

[digiorno]

[To carry on with a metaphor, the book of Giorno is a strange one. It's a book whose text is written overtop the scribbled-over story of another boy's life. Giorno was another boy once, but he's the one who dropped his own story into the mud, scratched it out harshly with night-blank ink, and changed his own reality to match a brand new story of his invention.]

[It's hard to be both creative and destructive force in one--not that he'd tell anyone. And not that it'd show to most people. But the way his gaze flicks from Sans and away and then back again shows impossibly quick thought despite all his obvious exhaustion.]

There are so many abandoned buildings here. I know of . . . two warehouses, one gym. It would take me a bit to make sure any of those were secure.

[By which he means: break into and steal them. Steal a warehouse. Maybe several. He glances at the ceiling, doing some quick mental math.]

A maximum of four hours, should I encounter resistance of some kind.

[skelepun]

[If Sans is taking inventory of the kid (and he is, of course), it's not readily apparent. The cant of his head is as skeptical as it is curious.]

Four hours, huh? [He seems to be doing his own mental math, or maybe he's just imitating the guy. Unclear.] Little long, dontcha think? Know any shortcuts, chief?

[digiorno]

[For a moment Giorno just stares at him. Then, with total impassivity, he shrugs one shoulder.]

It's a very generous maximum. I know shortcuts, but as I understand it we're to adhere to the kindest and gentlest standards of morality in this particular crisis.

Four hours for me to legally obtain a warehouse. One and a half to do so after the commission of several felonies.

[skelepun]

[Well, that cleared things up. Sans shrugs again.]

And how much of that is travel time, kiddo?

[digiorno]

In the case of the latter? About forty-five minutes.

[This is getting annoying, now. He hates being bossed around on the best of days, which this is not.]

What are you angling towards, exactly?

[skelepun]

I'm offering to help you cut that time down.

[It's sincere, despite it all.]

If you're the kind that accepts help, I mean.

[digiorno]

Really.

[He's doubtful, but--]

I accept help when it's good. How?

[skelepun]

I know a shortcut. [Sans shrugs, looking equal parts coy and laid back.] A pretty fast one. Anywhere you need to go.

You can owe me one.