TEAM CHEWBACCA

[willkissawookie]

Who: Leia Organa, Julian Sark, Han Solo, Danny Archer, The sexy medic (Jack Shephard)
What: Zombie port! Killun Star Wars style
When: Let's say the second day, early morning
Where: N'awlins (In a small shelter/house)
Warnings: Guts and gore, Han Solo being a badass, Jack being sexy. Mod NPCs are all good, man.

Comments

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark was always a light sleeper, but at this particular moment, he wished that weren't true. At the sound of Leia's voice, he hissed out a curse in Russian, eyes squeezed shut and slammed a hand down on the shotgun he'd procured for himself. Such an indelicate weapon, but one he'd always favored.

Gun in hand, he crawled out of the sleeping bag, revealing his gore splattered white shirt, ripped in odd places, although in a far better state than his suit jacket, which had been abandoned after a particularly nasty encounter with a horde and a barbed wire fence. He pumped the weapon once and padded over to the window, pressing his back against the wall just beside it.

"And what tactical feat of brilliance do you have in mind?" He wasn't quite addressing Leia, as much as he was addressing the group as a whole. All in all, they'd been quite the team, so the remark wasn't as sarcastic as it could've been.

[diamondtherough]

"Shoot 'em in the head, huh?" Danny mused from the last sleeping bag, quiet in the darkness. He slid from the allegedly comfortable resting place where he had yet to sleep, pulling himself up to sit on a nearby crate. The M-16 was still resting against the crate's edge beside him, an amusingly familiar throwback to the time he was from. Sliding his carton of smokes out of his pocket, the inmate started lighting a cigarette for himself. He was obviously used to this kind of near-death on a regular basis.

THE SEXY MEDIC EMERGES

[jungledoctor]

Jack had hardly slept a wink all night, but it wasn't the visions of gore they had faced the day before that had kept him awake. It was the worry that he was in a situation beyond his control and the need for vigilance had crept through him enough to take hold of his will. He held the hunting rifle he had pried off a torso on his lap, ready to take aim at the moment it was required. The attached sight on the gun had been helpful, allowing him to pry off targets from a distance to make a path for the team to pass through.

"Disrupting the central nervous system from the body makes sense in theory and even worked better in practice." Jack fell into the jargon unknowingly. He stood up from his seat by the barricaded window, setting his rifle down and fishing through his pockets for the small bottle of ibuprofen and the first aid kit he had found earlier.

"Anyone need a patch up while we can?"

ooc: might not be on tomorrow for very long. you guys have permission to NPC Jack. He'll do first aid and shoot zombies pretty tirelessly with

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark grit his teeth a little tighter. "Of course. With all this weaponry lying around, you would hope that there would be something a little more efficient."

He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at Jack, as if the offer had personally offended him. "Only if you can recover my dignity."

He was trained for combat scenarios, but those combat scenarios were the kind of controlled, sensible things that didn't occur in the bloody Bayou and involved zombies of all things.