Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2014 13:29:03 GMT -5
Blinking, the cyborg looked at his subordinates. A smirk flashed on his mouth, as the scientist allowed himself a moment of pride. As calm or normal as they may act, the pair he had picked up were just as capable of wild, crazy ideas as he was. He would wipe a tear from his eye, but that would be overselling it. "Flint, aim your gun at the pipe directly above us, the large one bolted to the ceiling with a blue symbol painted on it. When I give the word, blow a hole in it." Turning back, Flynn's arms went snicker-snack, and another Zombie lost an arm. It groaned, and tried to bring it's other arm around in a scything slash. Hopping back, the lanky man managed to dodge, but the bladefingers nicked his coat none the less.
Eyes narrowing in rage, Flynn's foot hooked around a nearby metal stool, and with a spin, the seat was thrown with great force into his opponent's head, knocking the creature to the ground. Bringing his foot down, the seastone coated chainsaw blade sliced the head in half, and it sparked uselessly. Turning back, the cyborg flicked his arm in an odd circular fashion. A blob of emerald oil went hurtling through the air, catching fire after a second, and landed firmly on the pipe indicated before. The burning oil began to heat the pipe, a faint red appearing around it. "Good, he hasn't fixed that. Flint, Aim for the fireball. It should be weaker there." Looking out at the swarm of zombies still approaching, a feral grin spread over his face.
Bringing all four arms back, the doctor flicked them down all at once, as blobs of green oil hung in the air. As his lanky limbs snapped forward, a cry escaped his lips. "Ban Fuirseior: TINE MEAR! NOW FLINT!" With a flurry of air, the fuel was sent hurtling across the room, blazing green. Some caught zombies, setting the dry flesh alight. Others landed on the floor, the flame spreading from impact along the sawdust that lined the floor, soaked with oil and other mechanical things. As it approached the group, chewing across the floor like a wild animal, Flint fired.
Down from the pipe came a spray of water, turning into a gushing waterfall. Water pooled around their feet almost instantly, soaking the sawdust, and moving across the floor until it found drains. A Square of soaked floor kept the flames at bay, and the stone floors and walls contained the heat. Within, however, the cybernetic monsters began to fall, the flames eating away at their dry, mummified flesh. One, who had nearly reached the barricades, turned to look at the assembled CAZADOR staff. For a moment, he seemed to be smiling, before collapsing into the heat of the floor. From all across the room, a low groan of release seemed to be echoing. Zombies raised their arms, as if cheering, as they were released from the pain and insanity of their forced, technological existence.
Thankfully, almost all the doors in the room had been closed, so the sprinklers were able to take care of the flames in short order. Despite the leak in the pipe, the water doused the floor in only a minute or so, allowing further exploration of the room. Flynn was the first to move, entering the blackened area before all the flames had fully died. Navigating around the last stubborn pockets of fire, the longarm made his way over to the metal filing cabinets on the far wall. The bottom drawers had been open, and mostly empty, before the room had even been entered. Pulling open one of the top drawers, he flicked through, pulling out file after file. Finally, he had amassed a stack about an inch thick, which he placed into the pack he wore."Right, that's all the research we need from this room. Let's get moving, unless there's anything else that needs doing in here."
Giving the room a final once over, something caught his eye. On one of the table behind the door they had entered, a bulky shape sat, covered in a large dusty tarp. That corner of the room had been ignored, as it was only wide enough for two rows of tables, and contained no entrances. To the right, through the door the zombies had entered through, a hallway led on, beckoning.The scientist, however, was too intrigued to ignore this find. Stalking over, he yanked on the tarp, to reveal a partially disassembled Pacifista laying there. The hat was gone, as was the shirt, and the legs had been placed by the side. The chest and arms were in various states of disrepair. With a wide eyed stare, the Marine seemed to just appear on the other side of the room. Pulling out screwdrivers, wrenches, and various other tools from his labcoat, Flynn began to poke around inside the war machine's torso, removing something from within.
Eyes narrowing in rage, Flynn's foot hooked around a nearby metal stool, and with a spin, the seat was thrown with great force into his opponent's head, knocking the creature to the ground. Bringing his foot down, the seastone coated chainsaw blade sliced the head in half, and it sparked uselessly. Turning back, the cyborg flicked his arm in an odd circular fashion. A blob of emerald oil went hurtling through the air, catching fire after a second, and landed firmly on the pipe indicated before. The burning oil began to heat the pipe, a faint red appearing around it. "Good, he hasn't fixed that. Flint, Aim for the fireball. It should be weaker there." Looking out at the swarm of zombies still approaching, a feral grin spread over his face.
Bringing all four arms back, the doctor flicked them down all at once, as blobs of green oil hung in the air. As his lanky limbs snapped forward, a cry escaped his lips. "Ban Fuirseior: TINE MEAR! NOW FLINT!" With a flurry of air, the fuel was sent hurtling across the room, blazing green. Some caught zombies, setting the dry flesh alight. Others landed on the floor, the flame spreading from impact along the sawdust that lined the floor, soaked with oil and other mechanical things. As it approached the group, chewing across the floor like a wild animal, Flint fired.
Down from the pipe came a spray of water, turning into a gushing waterfall. Water pooled around their feet almost instantly, soaking the sawdust, and moving across the floor until it found drains. A Square of soaked floor kept the flames at bay, and the stone floors and walls contained the heat. Within, however, the cybernetic monsters began to fall, the flames eating away at their dry, mummified flesh. One, who had nearly reached the barricades, turned to look at the assembled CAZADOR staff. For a moment, he seemed to be smiling, before collapsing into the heat of the floor. From all across the room, a low groan of release seemed to be echoing. Zombies raised their arms, as if cheering, as they were released from the pain and insanity of their forced, technological existence.
Thankfully, almost all the doors in the room had been closed, so the sprinklers were able to take care of the flames in short order. Despite the leak in the pipe, the water doused the floor in only a minute or so, allowing further exploration of the room. Flynn was the first to move, entering the blackened area before all the flames had fully died. Navigating around the last stubborn pockets of fire, the longarm made his way over to the metal filing cabinets on the far wall. The bottom drawers had been open, and mostly empty, before the room had even been entered. Pulling open one of the top drawers, he flicked through, pulling out file after file. Finally, he had amassed a stack about an inch thick, which he placed into the pack he wore."Right, that's all the research we need from this room. Let's get moving, unless there's anything else that needs doing in here."
Giving the room a final once over, something caught his eye. On one of the table behind the door they had entered, a bulky shape sat, covered in a large dusty tarp. That corner of the room had been ignored, as it was only wide enough for two rows of tables, and contained no entrances. To the right, through the door the zombies had entered through, a hallway led on, beckoning.The scientist, however, was too intrigued to ignore this find. Stalking over, he yanked on the tarp, to reveal a partially disassembled Pacifista laying there. The hat was gone, as was the shirt, and the legs had been placed by the side. The chest and arms were in various states of disrepair. With a wide eyed stare, the Marine seemed to just appear on the other side of the room. Pulling out screwdrivers, wrenches, and various other tools from his labcoat, Flynn began to poke around inside the war machine's torso, removing something from within.