major_west

If I-- that is, my... soldier... shagged any of... er, your loved ones, I apologise. My men... they were all really quite young, and they hadn't seen any women in quite some time before we died. They thought the human race was dead-- all of it, except for us. You can imagine the relief, then, that one would feel upon coming out of that situation.

That's all I have to say about that flood.

[ADDED LATER: Private to the Admiral & Morgan]
I want them back. I don't care if they're here or on another Barge, somewhere else.

[OOC: ALRIGHT, so Clifton was sort of hitting on all sorts of ladies because he just got back from an apocalyptic sausage fest; HOWEVER, I'm not patient enough to hit on all the girls, and I didn't troll quite as many as I'd intended. If you were playing an easy chick and want to assume he boned you, GO AHEAD. Otherwise, I figure there's just an annoyed Paddy and Cox C:]

It occurs to me now that my birthday is probably coming up, seeing as it has already passed here once before. I was probably dead at the time-- Barge dead, that is, since I am already as deceased as can be-- or in a port, or lost in a flood. I don't know how old I would be... Thirty-two forever, or would I be approaching thirty-four now? I don't feel any older, physically; no wear and tear outside of injuries. Mentally, I suppose it's a different matter entirely.

It's odd to think that I've let my last birthday slip without any thought. But then, I hardly keep up with time at all any more. It's difficult to think of it continuing for me when I'm no longer part of any world. The only way I really ever track it, these days, is through this...

[There's a long pause as he looks over things in his journal and begins to do the math]

Oh, you have got to be joking. I could not have possibly--

[HAVE SOME OUTRAGE]

ONE HUNDRED ENTRIES?! I have been here for over a year; have I really done nothing more with my time than dawdle about with a journal like a teenage girl? This is what my afterlife is?













I could use something to drink. Right now.

[OOC: I've decided that West's a Scorpio, since it seems to fit his moody craziness, so YAY I GUESS THIS MEANS HIS BIRTHDAY'S COMING UP IN A COUPLE MONTHS LOL. But only Billy and probably Morgan would know that]

Congratulations. You won. Here's to an eternity of the status quo.

[After a pause]

Billy... Please tell me you're alright.

[AND IN THE BACKGROUND YOU CAN HEAR RAYNE SHOUTING THE FOLLOWING]

JESUSFUCKINGCHRISTMONKEYBALLS! SOMEONE BETTER BE LETTING ME OUT OF HERE OR-

[OOC: Major McCrazyface is in Level 0 now with a bandaged, possibly broken hand, a STILL stitched up leg, and a frown :c I'm pretty sure Inmates can't initiate private filters, hence his having to ask about Billy in public. ANYWAY. Visit him if you'd like; just spam it in this post]

The first time I had to shoot a civilian-- hostile, actually. They lose civilian status the moment the Infection hits their system-- it was the first I'd actually been faced with the Infected. In my position, I only had to supervise. Direct. For the first days, I was perfectly isolated from what was really happening. But as our numbers dwindled and the other officers...

She was an older woman, blonde, dressed as though she'd been coming back from a nice dinner. She reminded me of my mother. From a distance, I might've even thought it was her, but... No. I don't believe she ever made it out of London.

Still, the similarities were there-- strengthened, because I wanted to see them, I think, despite the blood on its face and clothing, even in its hair-- and I didn't know what to do. For all my training, I froze, and I let it tackle me. Perhaps I should have died then, but I managed to grab hold of my service pistol, and I shot it once, in the stomach, and it was enough to momentarily stun the Infected. I got out from under it, and I shot it again, in the head.

I thought it was the worst thing I'd ever done. But every time I had to kill an Infected-- adults, children, men and women-- it became easier, until I thought nothing of it at all. Sometimes, it was even fun. A game.

That day, I found my men and returned to the base. Every day, less and less came back. Eventually, we moved to a barricade outside of Manchester. After that, a fortified manor. It seemed safe, at first, but I knew it was a tomb. By then, I'd realised that dealing with the Infected was little more than attrition warfare. We just had to wait until they'd exhausted their numbers.

It's simple enough, in theory.

[OOC: BACKGROUND! He meant to make this private to Billy, messed up, then when he realized others had read it just went "Well... FUCK IT, IT'S TOO LATE >("]

I just wanna go home. Why can't-- why can't things be like they were? No more Infection, anything. Just... reset. Go back to normal. Can I go home?



Dad, Mum-- I miss them.

Where's Selena?

[OOC: Strikes legible, but the last one's crossed out the most]