Fic: Bulletproof (1/3)
Title: Bulletproof
Author: Gixxer Pilot
Summary: Star Trek Zombie!verse AU. (Yes, you read that right!) What is ethical isn’t always right. What is right isn’t always ethical. For Chris Pike, the key is finding that perfect balance between the two...and then living with the consequences of his actions.
Warnings: Blood, gore BAMFery and minor character death. It’s a zombie!verse, folks. People die.
Author's Notes: Yes, I am alive. I do apologize for the radio silence of late; real life tends to kick me squarely in the head this time of year. (Stupid, stupid gubbmint - taxes are the devil!) But I am back, and back with a shiny new zombie!verse AU. As you know (well, you’d know if you’ve read my fics before) I can’t write oneshots nor can I contain my muses once they get on a roll. Let me tell you - they’ve been rolling since last winter. This particular story is a teensy, tiny, itty bitty tip of the zombie!verse AU iceberg, which, incidentally is much bigger than the one that sank the Titanic.
This particular story is tilted a bit towards the darker side, but done so purposely as it kicks off the ‘verse and paints the world. It’s, as I call it, ‘patient zero’. The rest of the stories, I promise you, will not be this sad. In fact, if all goes well every major character (and just about all the minor ones, too) are slated to be written in at some point. Like my cop!verse, Pike, McCoy and Jim play large roles. Also along for the ride are Spock, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Scotty, Olsen, Cupcake, Gaila, Sarek, Winona, Boyce, a couple crossover-inspired additions and a crap-ton of redshirts, the latter group now cowering in their boots. Sucks to be them, I guess. Anyway, comments are loved but not required. I only hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor do I own a zombie. Boo. I could probably make money off both, but since I own neither, no money is being made here.
Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 |
========
Chapter 1
Chris Pike wondered what kind of ungodly miracle it was going to take for the world to un-fuck itself.
He’d whittled his choices down to three options: A) A second Big Bang, B) A big ass nuclear bomb, or C) An actual cure for the zombie apocalypse.
Despite the fact that Chris was a bit of an optimist at heart, he wasn’t about to hold his breath for Option C to come to fruition. If there was a cure (‘was’ being the operative word in that sentence), he thought it would have been multiplied and distributed en masse long before ‘epidemic’ became the standard phrase. Option A required some intervention from God or whatever created the universe, which was, subsequently, help that was looking less forthcoming with every passing day. And since the world also seemed to be running a little short on human-staffed armies, he wasn’t entirely sure Option B was going to cut it, either. For better or for worse, it was clear that if he wanted to survive, he was going to have to do it on his own.
Looking around, Pike decided that ‘screwed’ was a pretty accurate description of what his life had become.
But he wasn’t ready to fold just yet. Making his own luck suited Chris just fine. Though he traded his combat boots and M-16 for a cushy House of Representatives seat and a non-regulation haircut a decade back, life as a politician was sometimes just as cutthroat as his former life in the service. The only real differences he noticed was that in the army, it was usually a fair fight - he saw the enemy coming first instead of being blindsided or stabbed in the back, as was the norm in Washington. That, and words only stung. Bullets killed.
Though there were quite a few things he disliked about his years in the military (oh-dark-thirty PT, ALL of the chow), he was however, very thankful to the army. Most specifically, he was thankful for the lessons it felt necessary to impart upon him when he was a young man. Pike’s advanced knowledge of hand to hand combat didn’t do much for him in the halls of the US Capitol, but it sure was going to come in handy as he made his way out of a completely overrun, infested and batshit insane Washington, D.C.
Check that. If he made his way out of D.C.
If Chris thought he looked out of place in his three piece suit and wingtip shoes, he didn’t let it bother him. There were more important things that demanded his attention at the moment. Namely, like staying alive. Even though his skills were rusty, he at least had skills to begin with. Most of the people he ran into along his frantic trek to the Capitol building weren’t as fortunate. And by ‘not as fortunate’, what Pike really meant was ‘turned’.
But even he wasn’t invincible, and he knew that. If not for his training, Chris might not have even made it past the Capitol steps. Running up the stairs and past a few small alcoves, Pike nearly forgot to turn around and check his rear before he proceeded deeper into the building. His old training officer’s voice bounced through his head as he skidded to a halt, craning his head towards the darkened spaces.
Almost immediately, one very large, dark and rotting hand slammed down on his shoulder. The force knocked him clean off his feet and sent him tumbling back down the stairs he’d just run up. Winded by the impact of his ribs against the floor, Pike rolled away from the advancing threat. He scrambled backwards, scanning his surroundings for anything that he could use as a weapon. Chris’ hand ghosted across the fabric of the American flag, once proudly displayed at the entrance, now torn and ragged. His hands closed around the brass pole and in one solid motion, Pike picked up the flag and thrust it with all his strength at the advancing zombie. The sickening crunch of bone and cartilage rang in his ears as he shoved the pointed end of the eagle straight through the former security officer’s nasal cavity. Direct hit to the brain - instant death. Or, instant death again. Or...whatever.
Pike: 1; zombie: 0.
Chris scrambled off the capitol’s regal marble floors and ran towards the congressional wing. Dodging frantic people as he passed, he finally reached his office. Slamming the door shut and locking it securely behind him, Pike leaned on his desk and stabbed the ‘speaker’ button on the phone on his desk. He sent a silent prayer for a dial tone and just about jumped for joy when he heard the plain note ring. His fingers danced over the number pad, punching in digits he’d been calling for every reason under the sun for the past seven years.
Amidst all the uncertainty of his new world, Pike was sure his loyal Chief of Staff Sam Kirk wouldn’t have a goddamned clue how to deal with a zombie apocalypse. Navigating the shark-infested waters of Washington? No problem. But zombies? Who the hell thought of a contingency plan for brain-craving, flesh eating people?
Chris hoped Sam had enough sense to run while he still could. But before he could ponder any further, Sam’s frantic voice streamed through the speakers. ‘Chris, Jesus Christ! That better be you!’
“Yeah, it’s me.”
‘What’s going on there? Jim and I are watching all this coverage on the news. Crazy talk, man,’ Sam said, letting out a very long breath.
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” Pike began, cringing as he heard the telltale pop-pop-pop of gunfire as it echoed down the hall from a distant part of the historic building. Settling into his chair for the last time, Chris ran a dirty hand through his hair. He lifted the framed photo of him and his staff at his last inauguration, sighing as he tossed it back on his desk. In the sternest voice his could muster, “Look, Sam, I need you do something for me.”
‘Name it.’
“I need you to close up the office. Send everyone home. Tell them to prepare for the worst. The things that are going on here are just---there isn’t any way to describe it. I’m on my way back, but in case I don’t make it---”
“Yes you will,” Kirk interjected smoothly but firmly as he’d done countless times in the past.
“In case I don’t make it,” Pike reiterated, cursing the slight warble he heard in his own voice, “I need you to try and do what you can. Don’t be a hero, but help if you’re in the position to do so. And look after that family of yours for me, okay?”
Silence rang on the other end of the phone line. For a moment, Chris thought the line had gone dead. “Sam?”
‘Yeah, I’m here. I’ll do it. But you have to promise me that you’ll do everything you can to make it back here.We could use some of those Ranger survival courses I know are still rolling around in that old head of yours,’ Kirk finished lamely as he tried to inject a little bit of humor into a bleak situation.
“You know I will. You promised me a meeting with your little brother, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m turning that down. If the kid is even half of the pain in the ass as you are, I think I’m going to like him,” Chris replied, his tone surprisingly light and carefree.
‘My mom says I learned it from him, not the other way around.’
“Oh, that I highly doubt.” Pike let out a little laugh before he took a deep, shaky breath. Sobering, he instructed, “Sam, take care of that family of yours for now, and I’ll meet up with you when I can. I trust you. Just do what you do.”
‘Roger that.’
Pike stabbed the button to end the call, letting his finger linger on the device longer than necessary. Making a phone call - it felt so normal. But as he spun around in his chair to face the window, nothing that met his eyes even came close to the Webster’s definition of ‘normal’.
The walking dead.
Good motherfucking god.
========
Next Up: Chris meets up with his chief of staff and is forced to make a choice.
Author: Gixxer Pilot
Summary: Star Trek Zombie!verse AU. (Yes, you read that right!) What is ethical isn’t always right. What is right isn’t always ethical. For Chris Pike, the key is finding that perfect balance between the two...and then living with the consequences of his actions.
Warnings: Blood, gore BAMFery and minor character death. It’s a zombie!verse, folks. People die.
Author's Notes: Yes, I am alive. I do apologize for the radio silence of late; real life tends to kick me squarely in the head this time of year. (Stupid, stupid gubbmint - taxes are the devil!) But I am back, and back with a shiny new zombie!verse AU. As you know (well, you’d know if you’ve read my fics before) I can’t write oneshots nor can I contain my muses once they get on a roll. Let me tell you - they’ve been rolling since last winter. This particular story is a teensy, tiny, itty bitty tip of the zombie!verse AU iceberg, which, incidentally is much bigger than the one that sank the Titanic.
This particular story is tilted a bit towards the darker side, but done so purposely as it kicks off the ‘verse and paints the world. It’s, as I call it, ‘patient zero’. The rest of the stories, I promise you, will not be this sad. In fact, if all goes well every major character (and just about all the minor ones, too) are slated to be written in at some point. Like my cop!verse, Pike, McCoy and Jim play large roles. Also along for the ride are Spock, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Scotty, Olsen, Cupcake, Gaila, Sarek, Winona, Boyce, a couple crossover-inspired additions and a crap-ton of redshirts, the latter group now cowering in their boots. Sucks to be them, I guess. Anyway, comments are loved but not required. I only hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor do I own a zombie. Boo. I could probably make money off both, but since I own neither, no money is being made here.
Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 |
========
Chapter 1
Chris Pike wondered what kind of ungodly miracle it was going to take for the world to un-fuck itself.
He’d whittled his choices down to three options: A) A second Big Bang, B) A big ass nuclear bomb, or C) An actual cure for the zombie apocalypse.
Despite the fact that Chris was a bit of an optimist at heart, he wasn’t about to hold his breath for Option C to come to fruition. If there was a cure (‘was’ being the operative word in that sentence), he thought it would have been multiplied and distributed en masse long before ‘epidemic’ became the standard phrase. Option A required some intervention from God or whatever created the universe, which was, subsequently, help that was looking less forthcoming with every passing day. And since the world also seemed to be running a little short on human-staffed armies, he wasn’t entirely sure Option B was going to cut it, either. For better or for worse, it was clear that if he wanted to survive, he was going to have to do it on his own.
Looking around, Pike decided that ‘screwed’ was a pretty accurate description of what his life had become.
But he wasn’t ready to fold just yet. Making his own luck suited Chris just fine. Though he traded his combat boots and M-16 for a cushy House of Representatives seat and a non-regulation haircut a decade back, life as a politician was sometimes just as cutthroat as his former life in the service. The only real differences he noticed was that in the army, it was usually a fair fight - he saw the enemy coming first instead of being blindsided or stabbed in the back, as was the norm in Washington. That, and words only stung. Bullets killed.
Though there were quite a few things he disliked about his years in the military (oh-dark-thirty PT, ALL of the chow), he was however, very thankful to the army. Most specifically, he was thankful for the lessons it felt necessary to impart upon him when he was a young man. Pike’s advanced knowledge of hand to hand combat didn’t do much for him in the halls of the US Capitol, but it sure was going to come in handy as he made his way out of a completely overrun, infested and batshit insane Washington, D.C.
Check that. If he made his way out of D.C.
If Chris thought he looked out of place in his three piece suit and wingtip shoes, he didn’t let it bother him. There were more important things that demanded his attention at the moment. Namely, like staying alive. Even though his skills were rusty, he at least had skills to begin with. Most of the people he ran into along his frantic trek to the Capitol building weren’t as fortunate. And by ‘not as fortunate’, what Pike really meant was ‘turned’.
But even he wasn’t invincible, and he knew that. If not for his training, Chris might not have even made it past the Capitol steps. Running up the stairs and past a few small alcoves, Pike nearly forgot to turn around and check his rear before he proceeded deeper into the building. His old training officer’s voice bounced through his head as he skidded to a halt, craning his head towards the darkened spaces.
Almost immediately, one very large, dark and rotting hand slammed down on his shoulder. The force knocked him clean off his feet and sent him tumbling back down the stairs he’d just run up. Winded by the impact of his ribs against the floor, Pike rolled away from the advancing threat. He scrambled backwards, scanning his surroundings for anything that he could use as a weapon. Chris’ hand ghosted across the fabric of the American flag, once proudly displayed at the entrance, now torn and ragged. His hands closed around the brass pole and in one solid motion, Pike picked up the flag and thrust it with all his strength at the advancing zombie. The sickening crunch of bone and cartilage rang in his ears as he shoved the pointed end of the eagle straight through the former security officer’s nasal cavity. Direct hit to the brain - instant death. Or, instant death again. Or...whatever.
Pike: 1; zombie: 0.
Chris scrambled off the capitol’s regal marble floors and ran towards the congressional wing. Dodging frantic people as he passed, he finally reached his office. Slamming the door shut and locking it securely behind him, Pike leaned on his desk and stabbed the ‘speaker’ button on the phone on his desk. He sent a silent prayer for a dial tone and just about jumped for joy when he heard the plain note ring. His fingers danced over the number pad, punching in digits he’d been calling for every reason under the sun for the past seven years.
Amidst all the uncertainty of his new world, Pike was sure his loyal Chief of Staff Sam Kirk wouldn’t have a goddamned clue how to deal with a zombie apocalypse. Navigating the shark-infested waters of Washington? No problem. But zombies? Who the hell thought of a contingency plan for brain-craving, flesh eating people?
Chris hoped Sam had enough sense to run while he still could. But before he could ponder any further, Sam’s frantic voice streamed through the speakers. ‘Chris, Jesus Christ! That better be you!’
“Yeah, it’s me.”
‘What’s going on there? Jim and I are watching all this coverage on the news. Crazy talk, man,’ Sam said, letting out a very long breath.
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” Pike began, cringing as he heard the telltale pop-pop-pop of gunfire as it echoed down the hall from a distant part of the historic building. Settling into his chair for the last time, Chris ran a dirty hand through his hair. He lifted the framed photo of him and his staff at his last inauguration, sighing as he tossed it back on his desk. In the sternest voice his could muster, “Look, Sam, I need you do something for me.”
‘Name it.’
“I need you to close up the office. Send everyone home. Tell them to prepare for the worst. The things that are going on here are just---there isn’t any way to describe it. I’m on my way back, but in case I don’t make it---”
“Yes you will,” Kirk interjected smoothly but firmly as he’d done countless times in the past.
“In case I don’t make it,” Pike reiterated, cursing the slight warble he heard in his own voice, “I need you to try and do what you can. Don’t be a hero, but help if you’re in the position to do so. And look after that family of yours for me, okay?”
Silence rang on the other end of the phone line. For a moment, Chris thought the line had gone dead. “Sam?”
‘Yeah, I’m here. I’ll do it. But you have to promise me that you’ll do everything you can to make it back here.We could use some of those Ranger survival courses I know are still rolling around in that old head of yours,’ Kirk finished lamely as he tried to inject a little bit of humor into a bleak situation.
“You know I will. You promised me a meeting with your little brother, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m turning that down. If the kid is even half of the pain in the ass as you are, I think I’m going to like him,” Chris replied, his tone surprisingly light and carefree.
‘My mom says I learned it from him, not the other way around.’
“Oh, that I highly doubt.” Pike let out a little laugh before he took a deep, shaky breath. Sobering, he instructed, “Sam, take care of that family of yours for now, and I’ll meet up with you when I can. I trust you. Just do what you do.”
‘Roger that.’
Pike stabbed the button to end the call, letting his finger linger on the device longer than necessary. Making a phone call - it felt so normal. But as he spun around in his chair to face the window, nothing that met his eyes even came close to the Webster’s definition of ‘normal’.
The walking dead.
Good motherfucking god.
========
Next Up: Chris meets up with his chief of staff and is forced to make a choice.