A wild Cholo appears! [OTA; battle damage! Medic needed ;;]
"Come on, Fox, let's get the hell out of here."
Cholo turned around, having just killed his umpteenth walker, but saw nothing of his friend on the dark path where street lights were just a distant memory. He did an about-face, but the alcove where he'd just dropped the corpse was gone, as was the path he'd just come in on. Everything was suddenly unfamiliar, and it made gave him just the slightest of panic attacks- what if he'd passed out? Were there more stenches around? Was he dead? Was he undead?
He took a breath, and counted backwards from ten. "It's alright, baby, you just weren't paying attention to where the fuck you were going, is all. Fox! Foxy!" There was no answer, so he kept his spear gun in hand just in case.
Cholo started walking, presumably in the direction he'd just come from, but found that the further he walked, the less like Pittsburgh everything looked. His side started to ache, and he slowed his pace just for a moment to put his hand to the fresh wound. His fingers still came back sticky, damn. He'd need to get something on this soon.
"Fox! Where the hell are you, man?" Any time things were this dead quiet for this long, it could only mean one thing. Cholo tried to ignore every bone in his body that told him Foxy was probably stench-food by now, and stamped down the panic at being without the one person who had stuck by his side all these years. "Come on Foxy, say somethin'!"
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ooc: Cholo got shot in the side just prior to all of this, but he's acting all macho about it -_-
Cholo turned around, having just killed his umpteenth walker, but saw nothing of his friend on the dark path where street lights were just a distant memory. He did an about-face, but the alcove where he'd just dropped the corpse was gone, as was the path he'd just come in on. Everything was suddenly unfamiliar, and it made gave him just the slightest of panic attacks- what if he'd passed out? Were there more stenches around? Was he dead? Was he undead?
He took a breath, and counted backwards from ten. "It's alright, baby, you just weren't paying attention to where the fuck you were going, is all. Fox! Foxy!" There was no answer, so he kept his spear gun in hand just in case.
Cholo started walking, presumably in the direction he'd just come from, but found that the further he walked, the less like Pittsburgh everything looked. His side started to ache, and he slowed his pace just for a moment to put his hand to the fresh wound. His fingers still came back sticky, damn. He'd need to get something on this soon.
"Fox! Where the hell are you, man?" Any time things were this dead quiet for this long, it could only mean one thing. Cholo tried to ignore every bone in his body that told him Foxy was probably stench-food by now, and stamped down the panic at being without the one person who had stuck by his side all these years. "Come on Foxy, say somethin'!"
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ooc: Cholo got shot in the side just prior to all of this, but he's acting all macho about it -_-