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 Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 5:57 pm
 ✖✖✖ｍｅｒｃｙ✖ｄａｌｔｏｎ✖✖✖ ╔════════════════════════╗ ✖✖✖Gaia Name: AmaiKitsune ✖✖✖Name: Mercy Dalton ✖✖✖Age: 19 ✖✖✖Gender: Female ✖✖✖Skills: Good aim, basic knowledge of martial arts ✖✖✖Personality Types: ✖✖✖✖Negative: Annoying, easily upset, anger issues ✖✖✖✖Positive: Quiet, generally non argumentative ✖✖✖Weapons: ✖✖✖✖Primary: Ruger M77 Mark II Magnum Bolt Action Rifle ✖✖✖✖Secondary: Ruger .22 CAL Long Rifle Automatic Pistol ✖✖✖✖Melee: Crowbar ✖✖✖Background: Mercy grew up in a very military/law enforcement centered family. Her father made sure she knew how to load, reload, assemble, and shoot guns, making sure her shot was always accurate. He had taught her how to drive a stick, change a tire... Everything "every woman needs to know" to survive. For years, she had dreamed of joining the military, or becoming law enforcement, but followed the safer career path of becoming an artist like her mother. Her father and mother left her at home, however, to retrieve both sets of grandparents. She is now at home, awaiting a response from either, and debating on whether or not to go after them. ✖✖✖Likes: Silence (or extremely loud music) and big guns ✖✖✖Dislikes: Perverts and classical music ✖✖✖Fears: Becoming a zombie, getting eaten alive, going out quietly ✖✖✖Wearing: ✖✖✖✖Head: Black bandanna, hair pulled back in a clip ✖✖✖✖Torso: Black wife beater with belts crossed over either shoulder, black hoodie with thumb holes ✖✖✖✖Hands: Fingerless leather gloves ✖✖✖✖Legs: Grey, boot cut jeans with holes in knees, various band patches sewn over holes ✖✖✖✖Feet: Combat boots ╚════════════════════════╝ That's my real Ruger .22 *Points up*
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 6:00 pm
✖✖✖ｍｅｒｃｙ✖ｄａｌｔｏｎ✖✖✖ ╔════════════════════════╗ ✖✖✖✖✖Mercy kicked in the large wooden door to her father’s gun room with a grunt, the door splintering around her leg. She pulled it out, and reached through the door, unlocking it and entering quickly. “The fairer sex, my a**,” she grumbled under her breath, as she forced open the gun locker, taking everything. A quick overview told her that there were at least 6 handguns, .22mm and .9mm’s, a few rifles, and a shotgun (which she despised for the kick), but she couldn’t find her favorite: the AK-47. Racking her mind, she remembered why, cussing aloud. <********! Not California legal…” She pursed her lip angrily, remembering her father had sold the thing. She narrowed her eyebrows and stomped a foot in a child-like gesture. Her father had also taken the other two good ones, as well as his government issue Walther .9mm. No time for a temper tantrum, Mercy. She let her anger abate, gathering all of her father’s ammo cans, filling them up with any and all loaded brass. Only a small pile of empty brass remained, but her father had plenty of gun powder and lead; she would easily be able to reload these bullets and make them useful again. It probably wouldn’t hurt to bring the gunpowder with her either. But this would have to wait. She kicked aside the carpet in front of the entrance to the small room, and unlocked the safe below. She could hear the subtle clicking of the gears that comprised the combination lock as she twisted it left and right a few times, until it clicked louder, and the door opened. She grabbed the vacuum sealed documents which could be absolutely vital, should she survive to find herself at the end of this Armageddon. She put it on the desk, next to her pile of ammo cans and hand gun cases. ✖✖✖✖✖Mercy walked out of the room, and into the garage, whose doors she had made sure to lock so nothing could get in. It was dark, as the electricity had been shut off, which was probably for the better; knowing her clumsiness, she might trip some alarm, and alert the entire world to her location. She felt her way around the pitch black, outdoor garage, looking for her father’s heavy duty flashlight. After tripping over an electric drum set (thank God for it being electric, and not real), she found her way to the tool table, grabbing the long, cool handle of the large, metallic flashlight, and hitting the ‘On’ button. She ran to a set of cabinets, opening the lowest one to find three flats of water bottles. She smiled, glad that her father was always well prepared for dire situations. He had once been convinced that a nuclear apocalypse would happen, though they never had gotten to build the bomb shelter under the house like they had discussed. Currently, her father was on his way to his parents’ house to bring them here to be safe. She hoped he would make it across the state into Arizona without interruption. From the water cabinet, she made her way to the room that had once been a darkroom, now converted to storage. She opened it, and shone the light through the door. There were bins upon bins of non perishable goods that would last her a few months, maybe more if she rationed it out. In the corner, there was a duffel bag and a cardboard box, both filled to the brim with MREs. Thank God for little miracles, she loved those things. ✖✖✖✖✖From the other side of the garage, she heard a small rustling, causing her to jump and draw the weapon she held at her hip. Her father had always praised her for her quick draw. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, adrenaline instantly pumping through her veins. She shone the light through the doorway at the corner where she heard the noise, and saw her cat, which proceeded to meow at her, but continued to stay curled in the corner. Mercy sighed in relief. “Stupid a** cat,” she growled at the thing that had almost caused her to scream, resulting in a loss of secrecy and cover. She walked lightly back to the door of the garage, peering through the peep hole. She could see none of the wretched creatures that had destroyed the better part of the carefully built society humanity had worked hard for centuries to create. For now, all seemed safe. She popped back in to her father’s gun room, and fingered the police radio. She didn’t know any of the frequencies, but she knew she would have to try to contact someone. She hit the ‘On’ button, and held down the ‘Talk’ button. “Is anyone there? This is Mercy Dalton, Deputy Dalton’s daughter. If anyone is there, please respond.” Her voice was shaky, as she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to say. She waited a few minutes, before repeating her message clearly and concisely. “Repeat. Is anyone there? This is Mercy Dalton, Deputy Dalton’s daughter. If anyone is there, please respond.” From the other side of the radio, she could hear fuzzy voices speaking. “10-1, please repeat!” She growled. She just wanted to hear a real voice. “10-4, Mercy. Is everything alright?” She recognized the voice as Deputy Spencer’s, and exhaled a breath of happiness. “I’m fine, Spencer. Any word from my father?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but she knew she needed to. “He’s fine, Mercy. Contacted us about 20 minutes ago. He made it to your grandparent’s house, they’re fine, too. The infection hasn’t reached that part of the desert, but he’s on his way back with them.” There was a laugh in his voice, causing Mercy to smile. “10-4, Spencer.” She flipped through the Code book, and hit the talk button again. “10-23, just in case I have a breakdown or something." “10-4, Mercy, good luck.”✖✖✖✖✖Mercy sat on the stool in the gun room, rocking back and forth. She was beginning to get thirsty, but decided to wait to drink anything, so as to save the water she had. In her boredom, she began cleaning her baby: The Ruger .22mm. She cleaned it almost obsessively; she liked the little logo to glimmer in the light as she shot and killed the demons that now inhabited her world. The Ruger was her pride and joy, and her only company, besides her orange tabby, who had decided to curl up on her lap. He purred loudly, and Mercy took comfort in this. It wasn’t human contact, but at least he wasn’t infected. She had thoroughly checked for wounds and blood before petting his hyper form into a purring ball of cuteness. She had been alone for 2 days now, and though it wasn’t long, she was already beginning to feel lonely. She hadn’t been this alone since she started college a year before. Of course, the few weeks after she had arrived home for the summer, the infection had spread to her city, causing her family to hole up in their less-than-secure home.╚════════════════════════╝
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