(Untitled)

[backatthehotel]

[Who:] Pink Floyd, OPEN. Civilians, Militants, anyone.
[What:] Back where he started.
[When:] Day 8; Day 9 too, unless something happens before then.
[Where:] The Hospital

Comments

[theviralsource]

Alex had made his way back to the hospital. It seemed to be the only building in this place that didn't have the infected scattering about looking for their next prey. Ironic, considering the bodies littering the hallways; at least they remained perfectly still. Unfortunately, the smell of decomposition was worse. With his abilities, it'd been easy to make a pathway through the walking corpses, well, before his hands unintentionally shifted back to their human form.

It was surprising, somewhat of a shock, but all in all, it pissed Alex off.

Now weakened and being cornered, Alex had only one place to go in hopes of regaining his ability back. Once inside the hospital, Alex began to explore the hallways as a dead calm lingered with him. Something about the absence of sound was a bit unsettling, if you were anyone but Alex, and instead of being fearful of the unknown, he took the time to listen to any oncoming presence.

[backatthehotel]

The absence of sound was more than unsettling to Pink. It was maddening. He had always hated silence, even back home. Even in his worst moments, he'd had the television's white noise to drown his thoughts out. Here, he'd have to remember how to improvise.

His voice drifted out of the abandoned room he'd tucked himself away in (once an office, maybe, and thankfully clean), the soft waver of someone singing to themselves instead of an audience, accompanied by the scrape of sandpaper against rusty metal.

"...sea may look warm to you babe," scrape-scrape-scrape, "and the sky may look blue," scrape scrape-scrape-scrape. "Ooh, babe..."

All this noise would make him easier to find if someone was looking for him, but he was barely functional enough at the moment to consider that possibility, and far beyond caring. Staving off the silence was the priority.

[theviralsource]

Maneuvering his way around the building, a distant humming could soon be heard that brought with it another strange sound; a sort of scraping. The closer he walked ahead, the louder the noise became. Alex had been able to identify what was making the singing, but the other sound, well, now he was curious as to what it was. If there was life in the hospital, Alex was going to find it.

It’d been easy to trace the sound; it was after all, the only source of noise in the perimeter, and Alex made it to a set of doors where he could distinctly pinpoint which room it was coming from. Human, or other, he was about to find out. He didn’t wait to open the door slowly, no, instead, Alex took a hold of the door handle, twisted, and swung it open forcefully; eager to meet whatever, whoever, was inside.

Surprise.

[backatthehotel]

'Surprise' was one way of putting it. Pink would say it another way:

"Fuck!"

He threw the only thing he had readily in hand at Alex, but it was unlikely that a sheet of sandpaper was going to do much good at fending the other man off. (The axe was not so much 'at hand' as 'in lap,' and also not terribly throwable.) As it caught up to him that this was not actually a life-threatening situation, he sat up straighter -- getting up wouldn't really do him much good, would it? -- and glared.

"The hell are you?"