Know what? Fuck it Eli got tired of waiting around. Flipping the knife around into a stabbing grip, he stepped forward, jamming the knife as deep as he could into the closest War Boy's solar plexus, ripping it viciously si all of the poor kids innards spilled out onto the sand. He had to dodge a swipe from a baseball bat with nails inside of it, and block a swing of a hockey stick with his arms before dancing out of reach. The entire process didn't take longer than 4 seconds.
Zara snorted in slight surprise, lifting the shotgun to fire off a few shots at a guy just beyond the man, coming at him with some sort of sledge hammer. One down, two down. Let's go. She pushed off her truck, her change in demeanor almost scary as her bored expression turned into a wicked grin. She was reckless, that was for sure, but it somehow managed to work out, as she bashed the stock of the shotgun into a War Boy's skull.
Eli was then wrapped up in a deadly dance with 2 of the Boys while the other two fling themselves at Zara, both lashing out at the same time. Eli's parrys, dodges, and blocks seemed almost beautiful as he became consumed in the thrill of the fight. In a flash, his left hand reached out and grabbed the hockey stick from the grasps of one of the teens and the knife came down on the top of the head of the other. All of the grace from a few moments ago fell away in an instant as he proceeded to beat the War Boy to death with his own weapon.
One gun and two opponents didn't exactly give Zara a whole lot of options. So a split second decision left her with some sort of sharpened stick in her side, and an empty clip. "Fuck." She stumbled back, a little too disoriented at the sudden hindrance to do much more than block a blow with her emptied gun.
The sound of the chunk when the broken pipe crashed into Zara's gun pulled his attention away from the bloodied, unmoving figure on the ground. Eli lifted the hockey stick over his head and lunged, breaking it over the head of the owner of the sharpened stick and knocking the guy cold. He brought what was left of the stick up to block a swipe from the pipe-wielder, counter-attacking with a kick to the balls that dropped the War Boy. Just to make sure he wouldn't get up, he jammed the jagged end of the hockey stick as deep as it would go into the stomach of the teen, ignoring his cry of pain. 7 people walked up. All of them were now dead or incapacitated. Most of them taken down by a bone tired wanderer who looked like he could barely lift a stick before they approached them.
"Y'know, for the scrap o' a bein' you are, you got some fight in ya." Zara said, leaning heavily against her truck to take in the carnage. She was very much attempting to ignore the fact that he had just saved her life, and the shitty weapon she was holding level, to keep it from piercing anything important.
"I've had a bit uh trainin'," he mumbled, looking down at his heavily bruised forarms. "For cancer patients, they sure pack ah punch, huh?"
He seemed to be avoiding looking down at the bodies and her side, finding different things to keep him occupied.
(Why is this a thing?)
((I don't know and I'm honestly afraid to ask.))
Zara snorted wryly, nodding. "That's for sure." After regaining some minor composure, she reached into her truck, blindly searching for something to staunch the blood flow. She wasn't about to turn her back on the man, especially after that.
He finally spared a glance down at to bodies, a frown of thought passing through his head. He began to search through the pockets of the War Boys, occasionally glacing up at the cars they had rolled up in. "How connected are ya to tha' truck?" he asked.
(Eli's theme song)
(BooooooooooooooP)
((Sksksksk are all of your characters just Old beings from times long forgotten?))
"Been my only companion for years now." Zara said, finally getting a hold of a spare shirt. She pulled it out, tearing the shirt in order to wrap it around her torso. "You sound like you're plannin' somethin'."
"Well," he explained as he fished through the pockets of a War Boy, "The way I see it, the only way no' to get attacked by these fucks is ta look like 'em. Take one ah these cars, and they won' even come in fo' a closer look."
It was odd as hell that he was offering her help, considering she wouldn't have even hesitated to kill him a few moments ago.
(Don't worry about it)
"An' this involves me how?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She was a shit person, and she was well aware of that fact. It made no sense to bring her along. Before even giving him time to answer, she was gritting her teeth and yanking out the stick.
He didn't look in her direction as he pulled out a key from the last body. "You're hurt, ain't ya? Can' imagine ya fightin' with a hole in your side. And, as you can see, I'm pretty useful in those types of situation."
The world did its best to kill chivalry, but at least a little of it lived on in this guy that she came across. Although this wasn't something he'd usually do.
She didn't answer until she'd stuffed a small wad of cloth into the wound and wrapped, speaking through gritted teeth. "Question now is, why. I was abou' t' rob ya, and possibly kill ya. Don' think tha' makes for a great survival partner."
"Better," he said, picking up the broken pipe from the ground and weighing it in his hands, "than no partner."
"Ya sound like you got a death wish. But a'ight, I'll play." She shook her head, carefully pushing off her truck. "I got shit in here for fixin' up my truck, bring 'em or ditch 'em?"
He studied the carnage he had reeked one last time before shrugging. "It would be useful. Doubt these fucks brought any with them."
"Dumbasses." She grumbled, hesitantly turning around to pull open the truck door, digging around in the back. "Grab anythin' ya think'll come in handy.'
He picked up all of the melee weapons they had brought with them, walking over to the closest car and trying the key on the door. It opened first try.
He tossed the weapons into the backseat, his eyes finding the Glock in the driverside door and the shotgun in the passenger seat.
"We're lucky I looked like shit, or they would've brought their guns," he called out over to her. "Try and find the guns in the other cars, while we're at it."
(That car's sexy as shit)
"Got it." Zara said, hefting a duffel bag and an old, rusted toolbox out of her truck. She managed to make her way over, setting the toolbox in the back and slinging the bag over her shoulder. She crouched next to one of the bodies, searching for another key.
He watched what she was doing, then reached back into the backseat and produced the pipe. "Here," he said, tossing it over to her with a wink. "Universal key, if you know what I mean."
She caught it easily, though her reflexes were slowed a bit. She looked down at the pipe, then back up at him, lips twisting up in a smirk. "Point." With that, she stood, making her way to one of the trucks to peer through the windows, before smashing the pipe straight through the glass.
Eli slid into the driver's seat of the car, checking over to two guns. The shot gun was a 5 shell lever action, a mechanism that he quite liked. It was fully loaded, along with the Glock, so he set them on the floorboard next to the brake and gas. "We lucked ou' with these guys," he called over to Zara as he climbed out of the car again. He slowly began to walk around the exterior of the vehicle, not really sure what he was looking for. But then he noticed something weird. It was like a plaster mold that bulged out a good two or 3 inches off of the side of the car. It was around 3 feet long, and painted to the color of the car poorly. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled the shirt from his neck and wrapped it around his right hand and balling his hand into a fist. A single punch to the middle of it shattered the entire thing, and dropping to the ground was something that he was very happy about. A hunting rifle. Next to it laid about 30 bullets in a Ziplock baggie.
(Bop)
"Ain't that the truth." Zara called back, grumbling to herself as she brushed away the bits of glass to pull open the door of the vehicle. Blinking away the spots threatening to invade her vision, she leaned through the open door, searching for anything worth bringing along.