Attack on Zombies

@Hange Zoë the GOAT Pieck kept her breathing steady, having both heard the cans rattling and the voice that followed. In a few moments, their safe haven would no longer be safe and it was entirely her fault. If she'd never taken it upon herself to enter this shop, Hange would never have gotten involved like this. Even after their night getting closer and learning about her past, knowing how hard it was for her to open up, everything was over.

Slowly, her eyes opened to meet the familiar face of nonother than Moblit Berner, aka the pastor's . He wasn't the one who busted her knee, but he certainly played a part in it... a vital part. Pieck doubted he'd remember her face among the many he'd abused in his time in their cult and didn't spend long waiting for him to recognize her. "Didn't expect to be followed." She reverted to the same charismatic smile she often relied on when meeting new people, hoping her charms could win them out of their new predicament. Her words were the truth, however. Why they would follow her after spending so much of their time trying to cripple her and banish her from the establishment was a hard concept to grasp. "I was lucky enough to be able to patch up my injury. Don't worry." She patted her knee, though the movement it took to do so, earned her the attention of a few gun barrels.

Her gaze shifted to Hange, however, realizing that the pastor's and Hange knew each other. She kept her tiny hands up in the air, giving the taller woman a sorry look. It didn't matter that they knew each other; Pieck knew exactly what he was capable of. Moblit was nothing more than a monster. "Leave her out of this and I'll come along peacefully. No need to disturb the shamblers, right?"

@Pieck (Me) Finger (Me) @Hange Zoë the GOAT This was getting good. He hadn't thought that he would see Hange again after that day. The Pastor was right for wanting to capture back the Doctor. Sure, the Doctor had a hobbling start. But Moblit had picked up skills since his days from before, ans although there were a few close shaves — the small group had lost one or two people; they don't matter — Moblit had finally caught up to Pieck. And she had led him to a better find: Hange.

He motioned to Pieck with his gun. "Wake her up, carefully. We don't want to attract any of them monsters." Pieck was doing a fine job at pretending to be asleep. To the untrained eye, that is. He nodded to one of the lackeys. "Take everything of substance. You know the drill." This convenience store was a gem! Hange definitely chose the right place for a hideout; as expected from the Squad Leader.

@Pieck (Me) Finger (Me) The base. Pieck must have meant the group that crippled her. Hange had a nagging feeling. She didn't like it, frowning, distracted as Pieck set up the cards. She wanted to ask if Pieck had been alone at the stadium or if her father had been there too, but she knew better. The other must have been a stray for quite some time now, fully adapted to surviving alone. She let out a small grunt when she was addressed. "Fish and chips. Fried, steamed, or baked, it didn't matter. As long as the fish wasn't canned." There wouldn't be a chance to eat it again, not any that Hange could see.

"How're your skills with instant noodles and baked beans?" There were a few canned goods left, but Hange didn't want to splurge on food, not when they had limited resources.

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There was a scraping sound. A sound of metal rolling before it quickly ceased. Hange's arm moved before her mind caught up, identifying the noise as one of the empty food cans she'd set as a warning device. Her fingers clutched around the barrel of her gun, positioning themselves naturally. Her bloodshot eyes flew open. She lifted the eyepatch and surveyed the scene: beside her, Pieck was resting her head on Hange's shoulder, an uncomfortable slump to say the least; the oil lamp that had been between them had been moved closer to Pieck when Hange moved — it had burned completely; there was a faint ray of moonlight coming through the door of the storeroom that illuminated her face; a figure blocked the rest of the moonlight; a gun was pointed at them.

Hange's fingers worked to the trigger and aim. "I wouldn't do that if i were you." Hange paled. She recognized that voice. "Mob–lit?" The figure stepped into the room. More figures poured in silently, carrying various weapons that pointed at the two curled women. A lit oil lamp was passed from back to front; the gun-carrier's face was revealed. "Squad Leader." Moblit grinned, a crazed look in his eyes.

@Hange Zoë The threat, as real as it likely was, didn't instill fear in the smaller woman like it was suppose to. She'd been close enough to death to know that it would have only provided her solace. Her reason for living was merely due to her innate desire to survive, but this was a desire most human's could not escape. Pieck's large grey blue eyes landed on the piece of metal in the strangers hands. No doubt could she be cold, the petite woman didn't doubt it, but even so... Pieck tried to imagine her in the before time. She was probably a smiley person then, with dishevled clothes and smudges on her glasses, just as she did now. This person, the one in survival mode, was not who Hange was. If the younger woman took the time to ensure that she proved herself to her, then all would be well.

"I used to play with the kids and elderly at the base." She smiled, setting up a game of go fish for the two of them to enjoy."They belonged to my father... though I'm not sure where he got them before that." It would have surprised her to hear that the deck had come from her grandfather, but it wasn't entirely impossible. She'd only taken a liking to them after the world ended. "Hmmm, Hange Zoe..." She said the name aloud, tasting it on her tongue. "If you don't mind me asking, what was your favorite food in the old world? I'm actually quite the cook~" Pieck attempted to make small talk again, though she made sure to keep her voice down. Shamblers were still outside of the shop and with it being such a late hour, they were likely to be quite active right about now.

In truth, the petite woman normally had a hard time sleeping and was grateful to have someone to play cards with... at least for a little bit.

@Pieck Finger They sat in the storeroom, isolated from tbe outside world. Hange had returned her eyepatch back to its original position, the oil lamp lit for both their use. Gun in hand with safety on, she focused her ears on their surroundings. Her half-empty bottle of water was beside her. The chatterings were faint, yet one couldn't let their guard down completely in the new age. It was the reason the store's floor was in a haphazard state. She observed as Pieck devoured her chocolate bar. It reminded Hange of when she took over the convenience store. Finally, she could rest, even if it was temporary. A shelter that had food and drinks, she didn't expect it to last long. The past three weeks have been relatively smooth-sailing — the first sign of a huge storm heading their way, in Hange's view.

Only when the shorter disrupted the silence between them did Hange flick her eye back to the former. Kindness? In this day and age? "Don't misunderstand. I'm merely taking a chance on you. Should you prove me wrong–" She cut off with a huff of laughter, making a show of the gun in her hands. "There's already a dead body within the premises. Another one will just cause more trouble for myself." Despite being crippled, the neurosurgeon could prove to be useful.

She stared blankly as Pieck continued with her rambling. Firstly with the attempt at lighthearted humour; next, she wanted to play cards? Hange didn't see how distracting oneself would benefit them; the base could be overrun, and they'd only know at the last minute. Still, the last time Hange met an amicable human felt like months ago.

The loner was intrigued by the deck of cards. It was worn out, clearly used for years. "A family heirloom?" Hange had come across survivors with weirder things that they considered most sacred to them, the most recent being a baby's shoe. Hange herself had a photograph deeply tucked away in her pocket, safe and secure. She couldn't care less what game they played. It was only a disappointment that the cards were not new; she would've taught the doctor how to throw cards.

The other looked hopeful... "You're the one with choice as a name. You Pieck."

@Hange Zoë Maybe it didn’t seem genuine to offer condolences in a world where the undead took their friends and families from them so frequently, but Pieck still felt it necessary. Regardless of their new normal, this was no where near ordinary. Each and every one of them was suffering from PTSD to some degree. How could they ever live well again when they were all constantly in survival mode? She found herself grieving the long 12-hour shifts in the hospital and brief conversations with her parents on the phone no matter how far away it seemed or how others expected her to move on. Apparently, she’d grown sentimental in this way.

“I used a stick.” Humans often travelled with large sticks or trekking poles; she could very easily pretend that she wasn’t crippled carrying on of those. Well maybe not easily, but she could at least not look weak and helpless. Her reasoning had become much sharper in this new world, though she could see that no amount of good decisioned could make the tall woman standing before her, trust her by any means.

She watched Hange Zoe remove the eye patch from one eye and onto the other, the action itself causing her to feel a bit silly. Ah, right. The woman used it to adjust to low lighting… she was not actually a pirate after all. Pieck leaned carefully against the counter nearest to her, not wanting to overstep in the stranger’s personal space as she moved around. Her gaze did, however, shift about the store, observing it now that the pain in her leg was a little less pressing. It wasn’t until she felt the candy bar against her chest that she realized Hange had returned. Her large grey eyes shifted to its shiny cover as she took it and the bottle of water into her tiny hands. This was the nicest thing anyone had done for her in weeks…

“R-Right…” Pieck gave her signature sleepy smile, tipping her head with gratitude. She’d had just enough food to make it through the night, but much of the items wouldn’t have done them any good with the shamblers mucking about. It must have been hard for the woman to be kind to her after all the both of them had experienced, but this extension of kindness was not something the smaller would take lightly.

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Outside the building, the sound of shuffling presumed. Shamblers were far more active at night and far more dangerous in a sense. She’d only been caught outside at night a single time, but she knew better than to ever get stuck doing it again. As a scientist, she wondered what made them partial to the sun and given how hot the sun had been that summer, she wondered if maybe it was an attempt to preserve their already decaying bodies. At night, they travelled by the thousands in some areas, groaning and chattering their teeth in search of flesh. They could hear very well, she assumed, but thankfully, their sense of smell was hit or miss. The two of them would be okay so long as they kept themselves quiet and unseen.

Hange had picked a tiny inner room for the both of them to settle in for the night. Remaining locked away in here would allow her to eat her candy bar without having to worry too much about the increased activity just a few walls over. Pieck tore open the wrapper, glancing up at the fake pirate sitting across from her, very much alert with her gun in hand. In between them sat an oil lamp, set to the lowest setting. This room was more like a closet, but the concern was likely not concealing the light and more so related to conserving energy. “You’ve been kind to me. Kindness does not present itself very often.” Pieck may have come off as weak and absentminded when she stated her feelings aloud, but in her experience, living this way was better than any alternative. Her eyes observed the stranger from a much closer perspective, noting how her skin seemed much softer than her gruff exterior would lead one to believe. Pieck took a bite of the chocolate bar and washed it down with some much-needed water. “Those boots you have on suit you well, are they men’s boots?” She was normally quite flirtatious with everyone; it was no different now… especially with the tiny buzz of sugar running through her system. “They really bring out the amber in your eyes~” The petite woman used her lighthearted behavior to lighten the mood a bit.

She’d been in quite a dark place for some time now… regardless of how hostile it felt to be here, she was somewhat glad to finally have someone to talk to. Whatever Hange chose to do with her was fair enough as Pieck knew she wouldn’t last long anywhere else. "Should we play cards?" She pulled a deck out of her coat pocket, her leg propped up on a couple of pillows. "I bet I could beat you in anything you pick~"

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@Pieck Finger Hange stiffened. "It was a long time ago." It wasn't. Even now, when she slept, she still dreamt of her colleagues, her close friends, her family, who succumbed in one way or another. Yet, why should this stranger be apologetic? Hange had never understood that phrase. It always sounded superficial to her. Pieck surely had her own grievances; they could only move forward.

She eyed Pieck as the latter slid down from the cooler. "Where's your crutch? What did you use to hobble here?" If the doctor was indeed by herself, Hange hoped the former had enough foresight to hide her crutch; she didn't need it announcing their hideout anymore than the hole in the wall did. The hole was miniscule, fortunately. Easy to camouflage.

Hange listened to the other's story, now more interested. A stadium in the center of city? It hasn't fallen? She snorted at the use of refugees. From the way they supposedly mistreated Pieck, savages was the more accurate term. If they were still operating from the stadium, they would be a huge threat... trouble liked to come knocking. Hange would rather choose the shamblers anyday.

She ignored the other's needless claim. If the other did slip up, she would be taken care of promptly. Hange had survived up till now alone and just fine; the doctor was not a great asset as she thought she was. Not yet, anyway.

The sun had set completely, leaving a dim shine from the moonlight. It was dark within the store. Hange adjusted her eyepatch so that it was now covering her supposed remaining eye. This was the real reason she wore an eyepatch: to better attune her eyesight to the darkness. She clearly saw Pieck's sleepy features and the mess in the store. Hange expertly navigated the store to obtain a piece of chocolate bar and a bottle of water. She headed back to Pieck and stood an arms length from her — close enough so that Pieck could see Hange's face but not too close for any surprise attack.

Hange passed the bar of chocolate and bottle of water to Pieck. "The bar's not much but it'll do for now." There were noodles, both cup and packet, in the store. However, the shamblers were more active at night. Noises needed to be minimized so as not to attract their attention.

@Hange Zoë The response was harsh, but no different than any she’d received from anyone else in their new reality. The social kindness that existent for them previously didn’t exactly take precedence over survival. In fact, kindness was a known killer to anyone who truly wanted to survive. Thos who had trouble learning that lesson had probably joined the shamblers early in the pandemic. Then again, maybe she was desensitized to such pain due to her profession.

Oh, a little bit of personality yet, Pieck was pleased with her somewhat lighthearted response but continued to focus on creating the split to make her knee better. “Yeah…” She was also aware she’d have a limp the rest of her life. Medicine was fascinating but it certainly fell short of doing miracles, which was exactly what she’d need if she wanted to be able to run again. “Sorry to hear about your ship…” Pieck glanced up from her work after hearing the stranger’s story, shifting a bit so she could get down from the cooler. It sounded similar to her own story and to so many other people she’d met since the dead started terrorizing the living.

Pieck, unlike the stranger, was petite. and with her handicap, her usefulness was limited. Neurosurgery worked well for aneurysm and brain swelling, sure she had practiced as a general surgeon, but surgery really wouldn’t do them much good in this state. It was more important to have knowledge of trauma and what she knew came from after the collapse of the world. This trauma was unique after all.

“I was at a settlement in the center of the city… Refugees had taken over the stadium there and scalped me from a smaller nearby settlement.” It wasn’t uncommon for larger groups to go around pillaging smaller ones, stealing anyone they felt was useful to their wants and desires. Ironically, she was not picked for her knowledge of surgery or medicine, but rather, her body. It was only after they took her that they realized she was more of an asset to them as a doctor. Not only had she not had the opportunity to decline joining their homestead, but she was forced to help them in unethical ways. “I told some bad men I wouldn’t do their dirty work and they decided to cripple me and leave me out to die.” She honestly wasn’t sure how she survived. “Being as small as I am… I did a lot of hiding…” Pieck observed the woman, leaning against a nearby counter for support. She left out the part where she bit off a gentleman’s ear and threatened to cut his off. One would find it difficult to imagine such a small, fun-loving individual getting so violent. “You don’t believe me… and I understand your concern. but I promise I can help you out if you let me… Whatever you need, I can-“ Pieck winced a bit at her leg, but did her best to look strong. "If I don't and you think I'm lying, you can kill me however you see fit."

@Pieck Finger Hange scoffed mentally at Pieck's sarcasm. "I can outrun a cripple." It was perhaps rude, yet they had forgone pleasantries from the beginning.

Pieck was clever enough to discern what Hange wanted from her. It was indeed a test of the doctor's skills. Hange knew that medical supplies were among the first to deplete. It was only standard — inventory being wasted on the ones who were beyond saving. They hadn't known of the severity back then. She recalled the first few weeks after the outbreak: the ugliness in mankind quickly surfaced; looters targeting food, medicine, emergency equipment, and of all things, toilet paper; riots happening commonplace. More people had actually died from the mass hysteria from the shamblers.

She digressed. Pieck wouldn't have found the tools she needed to treat her injury; yet, a simple knee brace was easy to construct. Clothes and rigid plastic were in abundance. The doctor must have been scared of germs. She finally found an empty pump bottle that was flat enough. Unscrewing the pump, Hange then passed the bottle to Pieck. It had been a soap bottle. Good to freshen up the other while being the backing of the knee brace. "It's kind of fat, but it'll do the job."

She leaned back against an empty rack, observing Pieck wrap her knee. Her arms were folded.

"You're a neurosurgeon?" Hange's interest was piqued, her eye widening slightly. "I'm no doctor, but even I can tell you'll be limping for the rest of your life." How short it will be remained to be seen.

She contemplated the other's question. There was no malice that Hange sensed, and small talk could pass the time. That did not mean that Hange trusted Pieck. She in the air through her teeth. "A while." It was the best answer she could give. Nothing revealing. Hange's next answer was more fun. "I didn't have a gang. I had a crew. Captain of the Hemlock's Harvest, me was." She curled her finger in the shape of a hook.

"... Until our ship got destroyed." It wasn't so far from the truth. She had been a crime scene investigator, lead of her team, before the building fell. Her eyes burned. She blinked, but wanting to drench the eyepatch. "What about you? How did your knee get destroyed? And how did you get to this store without being followed?"

@Hange Zoë Hange. She’d have to remember the name, not for any particular reason. Pieck just had a feeling that calling the stranger a pirate would earn her a one-way ticket to getting shot between the eyes. In truth, she really couldn’t have known she wasn’t being followed and it wasn’t out of place for her to suspect that maybe she had been. Even now she could sense the judgement emanating from her one eye. “Y-Yeah… I know it’s bad.” It probably made her look like a poor surgeon to approach now with a swollen and bleeding knee. Being kicked out of the settlement was tough. She was allowed so little time to treat herself and the dead had been lurking around every corner.

Her last settlement was in the city’s center. The undead was in abundance there.

Immediately, Pieck could see that her behavior was not being taken lightly. Hange must have traveled alone for quite some time. Her behavior right now was indicative of that. “I see…” She realized upon hearing her words, that she any freedom of choice she had went right out the window the very moment she entered this humble building. Pieck glanced around the store in question, noting how full of items it really was. She had a hard time believing that it was ever a store to begin with considering all the supplies it had. “Your suspicion is fair, I understand.” The petite woman was no idiot. There was no reason to fight her over it.

Her lips tugged into a playful grin. Apparently , she couldn’t help herself. “Are you going to handcuff me to the freezer? I might be less of a threat that way.” Despite her playful demeanor, she was grateful to finally be in the position to fix it. Medicine was a rarity and being in a place that had all the supplies she needed was nothing short of a miracle. “I’m not familiar with surgery involving bones.” I’ve only ever had to saw into the skull.” Pieck settled on the ice cream freezer as she’d been asked to do, propping her leg up onto its surface and peeling back her sweatpants to give it a good look. No signs of necrosis, thankfully, but it was still painfully swollen. They’d surely succeeded in breaking the bones and she knew this because she could feel the fragments grinding in between the joints and torn ligaments. There likely wasn’t anything she could do to herself. “I’m not going to be able to fix it...” It looked a lot worse than she thought it would, though she was momentarily distracted having the medicine shoved into her chest. The woman was slightly rough around the edges, she could see why no one had taken her in. “You’re testing my skills, right?” Pieck offers a sleeping smile, using the products given to her to begin fixing up the wound.

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been held up here?" In her eye, she was an enemy. That didn't stop her from trying to be friendly at least. "I'm sure you had a life before the collapse...You strike me as the type to live dangerously. Perhaps you owned a gang~"

@Pieck Finger Oh, she thought she was funny. "Hange will do." Her voice was clipped. Better Pieck think that she lost an eye than Hange revealing the truth. The jagged scar on her face did nothing to prove otherwise; in fact, it reinforced her supposed disadvantage. Hange didn't miss the limp when Pieck turned.

Her discomfort became even more pronounced as she disclosed her history, something which Hange listened to halfheartedly. Even though she had largely been alone ever since Day Zero, corrupt tribes were not foreign to Hange. The raider had laughed at Hange's choice of word — apocalyptical times called for archaic terms. It didn't matter to Hange whether tribe, group, or cult was used. They all meant the same to her.

She was more interested in seeing the raider place her weight onto her uninjured leg. Even under her baggy pants, there was a bulge around Pieck's knee area. So it was a truthful injury. And she claimed to be a doctor. That could be useful, although she didn't do much for her injury. With her uncovered eye, Hange scrutinized the doctor. She paused, straining her ear. No moans. No scuffles outside. Despite her busted knee, Pieck could still enter the premises without attracting attention. Either that or she had help. Hange slid her free hand down to the pistol tucked in her waistband. If the /doctor/ had help, they'd better be skilled.

A derisive laugh was drawn out of Hange when the doctor acted cute. "You'll be on your way? And go where?? The surrounding is full of danger. And this!" She spread her arms. "This store is a treasure trove to you, is it not?! How do i know you won't go back to your 'group' and inform them of this gold mine!?" Even depleted, there were still a couple weeks of stock. The real treasure, though, were the first aid kits and medicine bottles, limited as they were. She flicked back the knife's point to the other. "No, you're staying here. Any companions you have — they'll be in over their dead bodies."

"First things first." Hange pointed at the ice cream freezer (https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/31dyiGqi8-L.jpg) with the tip of Pieck's knife. "Your busted knee: fix it." She gestured for Pieck to lay on top of the freezer. The latter would only be a burden if her knee injury stayed unhealed. The knee wouldn't fully recuperate, but at least it wouldn't be hideously swollen as Hange knew it was. She rummaged around the store for elastic bandages and flung the roll onto Pieck's chest. "Go ahead, doctor."

@Hange Zoë Of course, it was too good to be true. Pieck had only guessed the store was unoccupied, she really didn’t see anything to tell her it was. A lot of stores had been boarded up; stores included. If she’d been looking for rations, she likely wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but it was sufficient for a night out of the rain. And of course, now she’d gone and gotten herself in a mess, like usual. Her tiny hands lifted as the stranger instructed them to, referring to her with terms that took away from her cruel actions. It was best not to say anything to piss her off even more. Humans were quite territorial of their ty shacks.

She didn’t particularly mind the idea of having her brains splattered all over the walls, but such a confession wasn’t necessary and quite possibly a little ironic coming from a brain doctor. The woman, whoever she was, meant business to some extent. She had a pistol, but hopefully she wouldn’t be dumb enough to use it. Lest she planned to very quickly escape this place afterwards. Any shambler in the surrounding ten-mile radius would very quickly pick up on the noise and make their way over. “Firing such a loud device would be a mistake, don’t you think?” Her voice was polite, and her words were kind, fitting easily with her sleepy gaze and round expression.

If for some reason the stranger shot the gun and didn’t kill her, she’d be in no position to run anyway. She reluctantly handed over the knife, feeling her heart constrict in her chest. That knife had been so hard to come by after the last group she’d escaped from. Pieck turned when asked, observing the stranger now despite the dim lighting of the store.

Wait, was she a woman? Pieck’s eyes travelled to her chest, which was clearly viewable given the tank top she was wearing. She was quite a bit taller, clearly very thin. Not at all the image that popped into her mind upon hearing her coarse voice. “My tribe?” The petite doctor laughed a bit at the terminology. She never knew if she was supposed to answer others honestly in this new world. “You can call me Pieck. Should I call you pirate, that’s a very lovely eyepatch you have there-” Now that it came out of her lips, she regretted saying it. “I’m sorry that, was a lot better in my…” Her smile faltered a bit seeing the gun still pointed at her. Her normal charisma was not working well for her here.

Oh, right… She needed to take this seriously. “I was in a group… but they were corrupt.” Big groups like that tended to take advantage of doctors whenever possible. “I was in a group before that, and they were also corrupt.” She cleared , ignoring the ache in her knee as it grew more and more unbearable. Hopefully the woman wouldn’t notice. Who knew who else was hidden around here, just waiting for her to give the signal. “As of this moment, I’m wandering on my own.” Disclosing her handicap would only help or hurt her case, but perhaps it was necessary. Her last group had casted her out for refusing to allow the men there to continue to utilize women in their humiliating games, for not mixing up drugs the way they wanted to, and for not allowing them to use her body. She was kicked out, after they busted her knee with a baseball bat. Knowing she wouldn’t last outside the shelter with an injury, they were pleased enough. “I… I don’t walk well.” She shifted finally, taking her weight off it. “But I’m a doctor…” Pieck made sure to sell herself well by taking out some of the bad and quickly adding in some good as well. She’d become pretty good at it. “I’m not a threat to you, I can’t even run away. It’s why I sought refuge here for the night.” She sent a smile in the stranger’s direction. “If you give me a couple hours, I’ll be on my way. Cross my heart~” She traced a heart crossing over her chest for cute effect.

@Pieck Finger Hange had just finished eating her dinner, a chocolate bar, when she heard a scrapping noise. The entrance of the store. She swallowed the half-melted remains and carefully tossed the wrapper away, making sure not to let it crinkle. Human? Or ... a shambler? Hange skillfully made it to the front counter, walking on the tips of her toes to dampen the sound of footsteps. The whole place was a mess; Hange had enough practice to avoid her own detection traps.

The bleeding sunrays shone through the very top of the boarded windows, casting a faint glow within the store. The remaining unlit lamps huddled in one corner; those used scattered about the floor. Hange had come across the small convenience store weeks back — needless to say, it was a huge relief for the scavenger. It was rare that she found what seemed like an unused safe space; most other stores have been picked clean or were filled with shamblers. Perhaps it was because of the store's deserted location or perhaps it was due to the misleading storefront that alluded to toys; either way, Hange was fortunate enough to come across the convenience store.

The owner had been smart enough when he was still alive. Hange had been on the run, exhausted and parched, when she saw the intact windows and door. "G-SPOT BUSTER: ALL YOU NEED FOR PLEASURE" read the sign. Hange had been close to delirium at that point. Two days without water, coupled with the stress and adrenaline that had spiked her heartrate and pushed her body past its limits — Hange had estimated she had a couple hours, if lucky, before she collapsed fatally. The bits of food she had managed to scavenge didn't help much. She had desperately needed water. The store's sign hadn't roused her; Hange had bet her life that there would be at least one bottle lying around in that store.

In the near distance, a moan had sounded, arising corresponding moans. There had been no time. Hange had tried the front door: unlocked, surprisingly. Slipping into the untouched store, she had come face-to-face with the owner of the store. He had launched. She had driven her thick branch into him.

Barricading the store had been particularly easy, especially after the owner's efforts. Hange had dragged the body into the connecting restroom. Water and gas had long been disrupted. What had been stocked in the convenience store had been a gold mine in the loner's eye. There was even a pistol. Full magazine. The owner probably didn't even have a chance to use it on himself.

And now, some enemy — Hange had learnt from the early days that despite being intact, humans were more of a threat than shamblers — some raider wanted to steal her fruits?? Her safe space??? It was a small woman who had the sense of plugging back the hole. Hange mentally cursed herself for viewing the hole as a minor threat. She should have known there were minute people out there. She had known such adults.

Noiselessly padding towards the raider, Hange slid the pistol from her pocket and placed the muzzle onto the back of the former's head. Click. "Careful now, pretty girl. Or your brain will be splattered all over the walls." Hange wasn't stupid. She knew the sound of the firing pin striking the primer would attract shamblers, and worse, other raiders, to their location. It was a ruse; Hange would strike using the gun's base if the aforementioned pretty girl made any weird moves. The click was from a pen — Hange hoped her enemy wasn't knowledgeable enough to tell the difference. Peeking over her shoulder, Hange caught the glimmer of the metal weapon.

"Hand over your knife. Handle first. And slowly," she emphasized with a nudge of the barrel pressing into the other's head.

She could tell the other was reluctant to give up what was probably her only weapon, yet Hange didn't give in. Grabbing the knife when it was handed over, Hange moved backwards to create distance between them, keeping her eye on the enemy all the while. "Hands in the air and turn. Slowly." Her hacked, messy locks framed her face. An eyepatch was over her left eye. A scar ran over her forehead to her cheek. Hange was sure she looked like a sight to the unknown woman. She kept the pistol — safety was on — and pointed the enemy's knife toward herself. "Now, who are you? Who else is in your tribe?"

@Hange Zoë When the pandemic started, it dismantled life as they knew it almost instantly. Though it was several months ago now, the chaos could not so easily be forgotten and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t forget the cries for help she ignored as she left them all behind. Afterall, the petite woman once called herself a doctor. It was her job to put her life on the line to save others, wasn’t it? Before seeing the illness that resurrected so many she would have said yes, but now, sauntering along beneath a broken sky within a broken world, her answer had changed. Nowhere in the ethics manual did it lay out the proper protocol for dealing with a zombie apocalypse, then again, she was sure the ethics committee dissolved quite quickly in the wake of society’s collapse. Even if she required some sort of reprimanding, there was no one to hold her accountable.

There wasn’t really anyone around to do much of anything. Humans had learned quickly to avoid other humans or risk being robbed and killed. Even if she suspected others were near, she very quickly avoided interactions altogether. Pieck had been burned far too many times, travelling with a pack and she’d vowed not to fall prey to their tricks again.

She looked up at the weeping grey sky, wondering when she'd last seen the sun. There was so much death and destruction in the air, seeing the sun would become yet another rare commodity. Her arms wrapped around her tired aching frame, though the gesture did very little to shield her from the chilled rain. The past week, the weather had been forgiving enough to allow her a couple nights under the stars. The onset of winter would likely make sleeping on the roof difficult.

It was better than checking every nook and cranny for something unsettling-- or staying in a building long enough to impose upon a newly affiliated territory. Pieck could no longer afford the luxury of such excitement. She leaned against her makeshift crutch, cursing the fact that she could do nothing as a surgeon to fix her knee, simply because the new world wouldn’t allow it.

If she could make it to a place for the night, perhaps there would be enough supplies for her to rest a while. It wouldn’t heal perfectly, but at least it would function with a little more efficiency. Pieck found a boarded-up building and observed it momentarily. The undead hadn’t been inside and if any humans had been able to get through, they did so without leaving any evidence of doing so.

Her cloudy gaze shifted around to ensure no one was watching as she stuffed her crutch into a tiny hole she found hidden behind a rock and crawled into the space with a pained grunt. The weight against her knee brought tears to her eyes, but she ignored it, plugging up the small hole with a nearby piece of furniture and quietly looking around. No normal sized person could have fit through there. The petite woman was fortunate to be so tiny.

The space around her was messy to say the least. She could see that, despite her initial speculation, someone had indeed been living here and judging by the rations and oil lamps scattered about, they’d been living here a while. The dark-haired woman felt her heart beating profusely against her rib cage as she reached into her back pocket for her knife. Whoever resided within this building would not be willing to share it with her, she was certain of that. To seem less vulnerable, the woman stood up straight, trying to avoid making a pained expression if she could, holding the knife in front of her. It wasn’t until she felt the cold metal against the back of her skull that she realized she was too late. Her hands lifted to show that she indeed meant no harm. “I’m just trying to get out of the rain...” She shivered even now thanks to the cold, but also due to the pain of pretending not to be useless. “I swear, I’ll leave right now…” Though, with the sun going down, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find anywhere else.