The next morning, the Nancy Foster leaves the Marina area and heads to the Harbor. More of an industrial area, the place looks like a warzone. There was clearly a lot of military action here. Now it seems ruined. However, many building look intact despite the damage to the general area. Looking with binoculars or other such tools, several of the dead could be seen roaming about. Not in large groups, but there nonetheless. In addition, large pile of corpses could be seen. None of them seem to be moving, and some are piled for burning-or already have been. The smell still lingers in the air, even after all this time.

Max looks about the harbor with his own Binoculars from the Deck of the Nancy Foster. He does not look happy to see such a place at all.

Rebecca scans the shoreline with her own binoculars. She's got her combat boots, army uniform, helmet and body armor on already. "I see a few walkers but no humans. Unfortunately there's a lot of rubble to hide in out there, so everyone should stay on alert. It'll take them longer to move by land, though. The area's real shot up, but at least I don't see any evidence it's been looted."

As their ship cruises towards the harbor zone, Zoe's eyes widen, taking in the apocalyptic scene below. Her fingers absentmindedly fiddle with the braids in her hair, the new style courtesy of Rebecca's deft hands from last nights cozy movie night.

Despite the grim surroundings, there's a surge of adrenaline and excitement coursing through her as she tightens her grip on Rusty nestled in her backpack.

"Whoa, this place, what happened, who did this?" she shifts restlessly, her gaze darting between the wrecks and the eerie scene unfolding.

The sight of the wandering dead sends a chill down her spine, but she's determined to stay on edge.

"I'm not feeling those walkers," Zoe mutters under her breath, her voice low. "but at least there's no live humans... yet."

OOC: +1 if someone wants to roll for Scout.

In reply to Rebecca Saroyan (msg # 2):

Many people are on deck, clearly wanting to see something new after months of sitting at the Marina. Oddly enough, Juan makes an appearance. While he does move around the boat, he often spends most of his time in engineering working on his many projects. This time however he is carrying Zoe's coat. He smiles upon seeing the sisters, and heads for them. "Good news, I was able to sew in the metal plates with no issues. Please, try it on and make sure it give you full mobility."

He hands Zoe her jacket, pets Rusty-who seems to enjoy the attention, and turns to Rebecca. "I may be a little delayed in getting you clothes-I am very sorry to say. The place I am thinking of is no where near the harbor." He pauses and looks out at said harbor, and grimaces at the condition of the place. "But it should be no problem once we head back to Marina."

I notice the stench before viewing the scenery ahead of us. The rotten, yet sweet, odor of death lingers in the air. It drifted beyond the decks and into the rest of the ship. The three of us- Andy, Devon, and myself- make an audible disgusted sound before heading up to the deck to join everyone else. The scene is far worse than I had anticipated. Everything was in complete ruin.

The sooner we get out of that mess, the better. Judging by the piles of stacked bodies, I'm willing to guess it was the military that caused the destruction. I refrain from answering Zoe's question, who did this, since her own sister might have partaken in the operation. It's too late to point fingers and debate moralistic values. We need to stick together and fracturing the group won't help anyone.

"Can you tell if the remaining buildings are accessible?" I ask Rebecca as I walk past her and towards the dinghy along the side of the ship. Removing the tarp takes a moment and once the inside of the small boat is exposed, I toss my backpack into it. "It might be wise if someone keeps scanning the area from the Nancy since it provides a high viewpoint over the port."

Devon volunteers by raising a hand. "I'll keep watch, if Max doesn't mind sharing binoculars."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:17, Tue 16 Apr.

As Juan approaches with Zoe's jacket, she can't help but feel a flutter of shyness in his presence. "Sweet, thanks Juan!"

Slipping into the jacket, Zoe tests out the mobility with a quick spin and a few arm stretches, "Dude, this is awesome." a grin spreading across her face as she moves with ease.

Turning to Juan, Zoe gives him a playful salute, her cheeks tinged with a hint of blush. "You rock, Juan! Seriously, thanks for hooking me up and I can't wait to show off this bad boy on this mission! Um… I mean, hope I never get to test it…" Zoe shakes her head and look over at Rebecca.

"Fuck me, it's Detroit," says Ryder, watching the harbor swing into view.

He stands at the gunwale, AR-15 across his back, Kimber custom in his waistband. With slow care, he binds his hands with boxing tape, working his fists to sit the tape carefully. Better the bindings get dirty than he get blood from one of the walking bastards in an inadvertent cut on a knuckle.

He wrinkles his nose.

"Man, that place stinks worse than the head."

He finishes binding his hands and puts one foot on the rail, eyeing the madness left by the end of the world. In his crazy journey across the States, he saw similar scenes. Not many on this scale, or with such devastation, but he saw towns that were nothing but ash, still smoking weeks later, hospitals piled so high with bodies it was like a toddler'd gone berserk with a macabre Lego set, and enough insane answers to the question of 'what shall we do?' that he didn't think there was anything left to surprise him.

Maybe he was wrong, he thinks now.

"We did, Zoe. People just like us. Scared people fighting to save the world when it was already lost, trying to stick to orders and discipline and ever more extreme solutions long past the point of it's all gone to shit. Whatever the fuck they were doing here, though, they didn't finish. I guess they got overwhelmed before they were done burning."

Which doesn't bode well for minimum walker action.

"I'm not seeing a whole load of movement." He holds his hand over his eyes, squinting to see against the reflected sunlight off the water. "But if even a few percent of that necropolis is alive and biting, we're in for a lively time."

"Wait up, Ahab, I'm coming with you," he tells Sean. He turns away from the devastation. It never quite leaves his mind that Phoenix is more likely lying at the bottom of just such a horrible pile than living on easy street. If it wasn't for the small, persistent rumors. Just enough to give hope guttering life. It is, though, an unpleasant thought.

"Call me Ishmael, indeed." He heads for the dinghy then turns belatedly to Juan. "Hey, Don Juan, could I borrow one of those crossbows? I've a feeling we might need to creepy creepy if we want to avoid being zombie lunch, and those things are the bomb."

---

OOC: not sure if that's enough, but trying to give +1 to Scout for someone.

In reply to Sean Anderton (msg # 5):

Max hands over the Binoculars to Devon. "Better to have young eyes looking for trouble..." He looks very unhappy. "This whole damn place looks like a death trap. We have no way of knowing how many of those things are in there. Plus, the whole place looks wrecked." He looks at Sean. "If the radios get jammed, I want both teams out there ASAP, hear me?"

In reply to Zoe Saroyan (msg # 6):

"Do not try and test it, ok!" Juan says, grinning at the compliments but getting worried about Zoe's image of invincibility. "Stick with the discoball! Works much more reliably." He paused, realizing he never told anyone the name of his device. "It's...ah...what I am calling final version of the metal ball that makes noise."