Red Dawn-The Beginning

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:10 a.m. EST

Suddenly, the group hears distant gunfire inside the building, and yelling. The two soldiers nearby jump to their feet just as five National Guardsmen enter with a crate of guns. "All of you! Grab a weapon. Those who are able, come with me! Wreakers are attacking us and are attempting to breach our perimeter. We need volunteers!" The soldiers distribute M9s, M4s, and other military grade weapons and grab everyone able to come with them to an area that has plenty of windows. Outside, a flood light is illuminating the road and lawn where about ten Wreakers zoom about, eerily shrieking and staying evasive, and soldiers let out a few bursts of fire. "They're scouts," a man whispers.

Meanwhile, Matthew leaps to his feet at the sound of incoming Wreakers, and puts on his fatigues and ignores the protests of the medics. He hurries down the hall to the armory and grabs a Molle vest and a rifle, and hurries to join a group of civilian volunteers.

Mila sighed as an M9 was pushed into her hands. The fact that the military was now giving out guns haphazardly meant that those in the room were not only in danger of being eaten by zombies, but also of being shot by anyone who was stupid enough to be careless with their weapon. Although she'd only fired a live firearm a handful of times, all of them in the past 24 hours, she knew enough to keep it pointed away from anyone who wasn't a target. For now, she left the safety on, deciding to only switch it off if she saw something she needed to shoot.

“This building sucks defensively. Way too many windows. I know you’re gonna hate me Sam, but I think we should try to sneak up to another level. Being higher up will give us more of a vantage point.”

Mila took off quietly in the opposite direction from the main group, and the soldiers didn’t seem to notice. York trailed behind her, walking a little easier now that he had his injured paw wrapped up. Both beast and master paused at the base of the stairs at the back of the room, turning to make sure the others were following.

"Oh this is bull, always with you military- horrible hours." Mike grunted as he grabbed an M4 similar to the one he had taken before. After so many hours of using it he had found it to be quite comfortable in his hand, enough so to feel confident of its use. At least confident enough not to shoot himself in the foot or shoot someone else worse than in the foot. Pulling back the hammer with a click, he made sure the gun was still on safety. For safe measure he took an M9 as well, when he had first arrived here, the MPs took away the gun he had before. Though Mike couldn't blame them at first, it seemed annoying now.

Looking back at the college girl, he was about to tell her to be careful with that gun -- he had no idea if she had used one before -- but instead he found an empty space where she just was. His head jerked around trying to catch sight of her again until finally managing to look over the crowd of people he saw her running off to a set of stairs. "Where's she going?" was his first thought. Likely she was going to get the height advantage. A smart idea, if the wreakers ever got to where they were it would mean more trouble. He should have just left her to do her own thing, let her get lost or killed. At the thought of death, his mood went gloomy. "Damn it..." he spat before looking away from the hallway she had gone down. Another cast glance, and then a final third confirmed his decision.

Looking at the crowd, he managed to work up the energy to jog after her. Besides, it was probably good for him to hang back; in his sleep deprived state it was sort of a bad idea he be in a crowd while trying to fire at moving targets...

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:15 a.m. EST

An officer notices Mila walking away and raises a hand. "Wait. She has a good idea. I'm going to take a squad up there. Height will be a good advantage." Matt waves a hand at a squad of Rangers he has met before to follow him. "Glad to see you boys still alive," he says with a wry smile. "Oh and Sergeant, teach these civvies how to use their guns." The Sergeant grits his teeth and nods, beginning to lecture the civvies quickly on the basic uses of their weapons.

Matt follows Mila and taps her on the shoulder. "Hello ma'am, I'm Second Lieutenant Matthew Gibson. I'm sorry for what might've happened earlier, but thank you for saving my life. It's time we got properly introduced. My men and I would like to assist you in guarding the high ground." He produces his hand. He feels uncomfortable, and can't help noticing how attractive Mila is. He almost laughs. Wasn't it just like the world to get him attracted to a civilian woman who was no doubt younger than him, and at the end of the world. Well, he would have time to deal with his personal feelings at a later time. Right now, it was combat mode.

Taking Matt's hand, Mila shook it firmly and smiled, aware of how unkempt she probably looked with her recently-washed hair and souvenir clothing. "You're welcome, Lieutenant. I doubt that you should really be up and running with a wound like the one you've sustained, but your assistance is appreciated nonetheless. Just be warned that the military hasn't had the best of luck around me so far," she explained, moving up the stairs quickly now that she saw the others catching on to her idea.

At the top of the staircase, Mila turned and looked at Matthew again. "Oh, I'm Mila by the way."

The old office building had dozens of stairs, and after going up several flights to find a clear view, the group exited onto the rooftop. All of this felt like deja vu to Mila, but this time she felt more confident for some reason. Far down on the lawn below, the group could see giant floodlights illuminating patches of darkness just fast enough to catch a glimpse of several wreakers doing a strange sort of evasive run toward the building. They were howling and shrieking like usual, but something about the way they ran set off alarm bells in the back of Mila's paranoid brain.

Daniel was about to respond about how only gamers have zombie plans when an M4 was shoved into the hands he was motioning with. If they were that desperate things were worse than he thought and they were going to become a, what did they call them again, a Wreaker meal. He followed Mila up the stairs without hesitation holding the M4 carbine in one hand while carrying his son in the other. He knew enough about weapons to know where the safety was and checked that for the moment it was on. No sense in shooting one of his newest friends or in Mila's case oldest.

He whispered to his son as they climbed.

"Look booger you need to stay with the doggy okay? There are going to be lots of loud noises but you stay with the puppy and hide until you hear me okay?"

His son nodded reluctantly as he clung to his father, his face buried in his shoulder. When they reached the roof, Daniel put him down and smiled at him reassuringly even though that was the furthest feeling from the father at the moment.

Growing deadly serious he went to the edge of the rooftop and clicked the safety off aiming down toward the illuminated patches.

Just like Call of Duty he thought to himself. Sure without the continues.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:20 a.m. EST

Matt looks at Daniel's son a little nervously. "Sir? I don't think this would be a safe area. Can I have one of my men take him down to a secure area? He can take the dog if he wants." Meanwhile, a Ranger is setting up a massive M82 .50 caliber sniper rifle on the roof, attaching the optic scope. Meanwhile, another Ranger is carefully keeping a count of the number of hostiles while yet another three Rangers set up a .50 caliber M2 Browning Machine Gun. The sniper, finished with his setup, carefully locks onto a target and squeezes. The roar kicks the man's shoulder back, which must hurt, but a Wreaker's chest explodes. The sniper fires again, and the Wreaker flips and tears in half. The sniper takes careful aim and fires again, each shot a thunder crack.

Matt fires his M4 in a few bursts but decides to let the sniper, Sergeant Knowles, do his job. Meanwhile, the Browning gunner opens fire in bursts, and together, the Rangers begin to take down the Wreakers until they are either dead or have fled. Matt sighs in relief as the floodlight illuminates seven Wreaker bodies, and has his men shoot rounds into them to make sure they are dead. The scene returns to stoic silence besides noisy radio chatter. "This is roof. We spy seven dead hostiles. Do we know what they were doing this far behind the perimeter?" Matt radios in. "Negative. We suspect they are scouts. Our perimeter is falling back again. Plenty of cracks to slip through. We have to assume we will get no support. All troops are already engaged."

Meanwhile, Jonathon is facing a dilemma. His Joint Chiefs insist that the government leave to a safe house to preserve it, but Jonathon is adamant that the troops assigned to him remain. "Sir. We. Have. To. Leave," the Joint Chief grits. "No." "Very well gentlemen, it seems President Roth is having some trouble. Pack it up. We're leaving. He can come if he wants." Jonathon's jaw drops, but doesn't even bother to say anything as the nervous staff, after a moment, begin packing up, albeit with glances in Jonathon's direction. Jonathon walks out of the MCC, his anger growing. How could the world come to this? That in their darkest hour they would be divided? He pulls aside a Captain Sanders. "Sir, I'd like you to know my men stand behind you. We are reserving our C-135. It seems though that the safest area to be is the Old Executive Building. They have holdouts here. And it doesn't seem like we have much chance of changing anyone else's minds." Jonathon nods. "Yes, you're right. Have the plane moved. And rally our men. It seems that the Joint Chiefs have decided that our agendas are not the same. So be it. Requisition as much equipment and gear as possible and try to convince others to join us. And get me a Humvee. I'm heading over to the Eisenhower Building." The Captain nods and radios an order, and moments later a five vehicle convoy is ready to bring the President over. Meanwhile, aircraft take off, carrying a large amount of D.C.'s garrison, leaving behind those deemed "lost."

Daniel looked to his son and then back at Matt.

"Is anywhere really safe at the moment? We are on the roof with tons of armed men. Here he is with his daddy. If I leave him now who knows what happens. What if we get seperated? No sir with your permission I'd like him to stay where I can keep an eye on him for now. I'm no coward and I'll fight to protect him but I can't let him go right now you understand?"

Moments later he realized that it was his selfishness at the moment, not wanting to lose his son too, that kept him clutched close up here when he could be in some place safer. He looked back over at Matt moments after he finished talking.

"Is it really safe? He won't be harmed?"

As the base's perimeter fell back slightly a friendly face appeared on the roof beside Matt. "Hello boss. I didn't expect to see you so soon." Sergeant McFist had a grin on his face, which was about the only good looking thing on him. His clothes were blood soaked and showed a few rips here and there, his gun was still smoking and his helmet had a visible dent in the front. All in all it made the manner in which Chester was smiling somewhat unnerving.

"Before you ask I've been at the bridge amongst other places. Doing your job. Why do you always get injured on the busy days?"

Sam meanwhile was shaking on the roof, a whole machine gun entrusted to him. He hated it. He hated the way that every time he pulled the trigger he had to be aware he could kill someone if he aimed it wrong. He hated how every time he pulled the trigger his shoulder felt on fire. Above all he hated how hard it was to kill this time. It had been so much easier earlier but things had being very different; it was a case of if he didn't he and Mila died. Now the soldiers around were doing a much better job so Sam's life was not so dependent on his own ability to take life.

"Mila?" He said faintly as his gun shook with him, "I haven't slept in nearly a day. The last thing I ate was a bar of processed shit. My family is dead and I'm surrounded by people I don't know and I'm clinging to you because I know your name. I'm not sure I can do this."

He licked his lips and tried to steady his rifle. It wasn't really working. "I think I'd really like to be high right now."

Mike trailed behind from the group, slightly the foreigner since he just met these people and he figured he wouldn't stay that long either. Soon enough he saw Matt appear with them, running up behind and thanking Mila for something. Mike couldn't be sure what it was about but it didn't entirely matter. Something about the bridge, had Matt been at the bridge? Recalling the event he did in fact remember these people on the bus. He hadn't exactly paid attention to it at the time but there was no denying it, these were the same people from the bus. Hm, small world after all was the first though in his head though he wasn't entirely sure that was the appropriate phrase for the situation.

Also nearby was the dog and the son, likely following his father who spoke to him every so often. A very interesting group he got mixed into indeed.

Reaching the roof the sound of gunshots and cries could be heard all around them. They were also met by the gruff sargeant from before, on the bus as well. He seemed to know Matt and the two talked while the kid with the glasses wandered next to Mila. Mike was close enough to hear and he couldn't help but look at the timid kid, hands shaknig like he was having a panic attack. How was he suppose to hold up in a time like this?

Mike just sighed and stepped over. Patting the kid on the back he said," You and me both, kid. My name's Michael Burkes, you can just call me Mike or Mikey. So there, thats two names you know so don't freak out just yet kid, don't need you waving that toy around." He gestured to the rifle in Sam's hand.

After popping out on the rooftop, Mila had gone to the edge to be ready for whatever might come toward the building, but for now it seemed that the soldiers had it under control. She was happy to let them do their jobs, as she had trouble seeing long distances anyway and her weapon wasn't exactly capable of the most range.

As the shots rang out around the roof, Mila walked back over to her oddball group of survivors. Poor Sam was shaking like a Parkinson's patient. "Don't lose it on me now, Sam. Just take deep breaths, okay? Why don't you have a seat over by Logan and York, and I'll play lookout with the others for a while. I think they were exaggerating just how many there were, because it's gone quiet again. Here, just trade me," she said, swapping her sidearm for Sam's rifle.

The thing was heavy and she didn't like the way it felt in her hands, like it was meant for someone much bigger, but at least she wasn't trembling to the point where she might accidentally discharge the weapon if her finger twitched. Sam looked uncomfortable, and she couldn't tell if it was because he was disappointed in himself or something else. He was obviously completely worn out. He needed sleep. At least she had managed to get a few precious hours in, tossing around in the blankets aside.

Mila gave Sam a semi-hug of reassurance then walked to the line of soldiers along the edge. A few other civilians had joined, and they looked like they actually knew how to handle their weapons, so she assumed they had volunteered because of prior experience. Mila on the other hand, hoped she could rely on the others to take care of things, as she really didn't want to have to use a rifle again after the last time had nearly snapped her collarbone.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:30 a.m. EST

Matt glances at Daniel's direction and bites his lip. "That's fine I guess. If it makes you feel better." He turns to Sam and is glad the kid is sat down with a lesser weapon. His men keep careful watch, and look up in surprise as several choppers and airplanes fly overhead, and radio chatter ceases to one voice. "This is Joint Chief of Staff William Shepherd. Those of you on the ground....I have reverted control to General Harrison. The Joint Chiefs and other American administration are now airborne. The President has elected to remain here. The Vice President has assumed power with us. God save your souls, and best of luck," the man says, finishing with distinctive sarcasm. The radio goes back to panicked chatter, and a Ranger turns down the volume to blot out the many voices.

"OH SCREW YOU ASSHOLES!" Mila shouted to the sky as if the vehicles in flight could hear her. "I hope you all run out of gas over the ocean somewhere, or crash into the ground... Or better yet, do those things and then get eaten by wreakers! Fuckers..."

In her anger at the betrayal by some of her country's leaders, Mila kicked an AC unit on one side of the rooftop, only to grumble in pain as she realized that she shouldn't have done that. She was wearing boots, but they weren't thick enough to stop her from stubbing her toe. Apparently Washington liked to have thick air conditioners.

With a sigh, Mila rubbed her foot and then returned to her position along the ledge, sitting with her legs dangling over the side as she squinted in an attempt to see further out. "You know it figures they'd ditch us. At least the president is here somewhere. Glad I voted for him, though I doubt it'll do us any good if his own staff have abandoned him."

Mike couldn't help but chuckle. Looking to Matt he gestured to Mila, "I like this girl. Can't say I'm fond of anyone that gets that much power, but I really doubt the president can do much now. Looks like our military might've just screwed us over."

He spat on the ground in contempt, "I say good riddance and bon voyage to them; don't come back...."

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:35 a.m. EST

Suddenly, there is loud gunfire, and the Rangers scramble to their feet. The sniper scopes up and yells that he counts at least twenty five hostiles. The floodlights illuminate said hostiles, and Matthew yelps. They aren't regulars. Huge, muscular Wreakers charge forward, along with lithe, agile ones. Others lurk in the shadows, almost undetectable, and others seem to be normal, but subtle movements are intelligent.

The Sniper fires once, nailing a normal looking one, but it gets back up, and it takes rounds from the M2 and the sniper to finish it off. Suddenly, four Wreakers jump with incredible strength and latch onto the side of the building, a mere two stories down. Two leap inside the building, and the group hears gunfire and screaming, and shrieking Wreakers. The other two jump up onto the roof with one leap, and two Rangers are thrown off the roof, and go down multiple stories, screaming. Matthew whirls and fires, slamming rounds into one Wreaker, getting it off-balance as another charges another Ranger. The man slams his blade into the Wreaker's face, but gets thrown off as well, and cartwheels before disappearing from view. Matthew locks on and fires his M4, blasting the Wreaker's face clean off. The thing keeps coming, it's head hanging by a thread, and then the M2 gunner swivels his weapon around, opening fire so that the Wreaker begins to tear apart. The other Wreaker charges the gunner and knocks him away, and kicks the sniper to the ground and begins smashing his face into the cement. Matthew draws his knife and charges the Wreaker, latching onto the creature's back and slashing at it's neck with his knife. The thing screams and scrabbles at him, and Matthew keeps cutting, until he feels the Wreaker collapse as its head flies off. Matthew flings the head away, the body spasming. Matthew reloads his M4 and fires rounds into the spasming body to be sure while his Rangers kick the other Wreaker, a messy bundle of flesh, over the roof.

Outside, the Humvee convoy stops as it is assaulted by Wreakers. There is loud gunfire and explosion as a Humvee explodes, and Jonathon covers his head, his two loyal Secret Servicemen looking around anxiously as the soldiers begin firing at unseen targets.

It happened so fast Mike wasn't prepared to even react before it was even over. He only just managed to get the safety off and point it in a direction before it was over.

"So much for height.." he muttered, still slightly shocked at the sudden event. These things could swim, they could jump, and they could go on steroids and be massive hulking monsters or be insanely agile. He did not like the odds of any of this at all.

"I had to open my big dumb mouth. Had to say it had quieted down. Couldn't just enjoy the moment," Mila thought as she started to back up, withdrawing her legs from the ledge. As she turned around to stand up, something wrapped around her foot and yanked hard, sending her down onto her chest, hands clawing at the roof as she slipped backwards, gasping with the wind knocked out of her. She could hear a rattling sound, almost like someone trying to breathe through a head cold, and her insides turned to mush.

"Sam! Daniel! Anybody!" She doubted she could be heard over Matt's spastic barrage.

Unlike some of the more unfortunate soldiers, Mila clung to the railing which bordered the rooftop, refusing to be pulled to her death though her rifle wasn't as lucky. Falling end over end, the weapon fell five stories before smashing into the concrete below.

For those not looking directly over the edge, the only thing visible of Mila now would be ten white-knuckled fingers gripping falteringly to a bordering metal grate. Though terrified to look, she couldn't resist, and glanced down. Not only did the distance to the ground make her sick, but the thing latched onto her leg was drooling, and looked like it was ready to enjoy a Mila burger. "No..you..don't!!"

The monster got a taste of boot instead of her exposed calf as she kicked at it furiously with her free leg. Unfortunately, though the motion was keeping it from chomping into her skin, it was loosing her hold slowly. She clenched her fists tighter, and cried out as the wreaker tried to claw its way higher for a better position to gnaw on her, fingers making little rips into her flesh.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:40 a.m. EST

Matthew whirls around at Mila's voice. "Mila!" he cries out, and looks down to see a Wreaker latched onto her leg. "Hold on!" He takes out two thick ropes and attaches the carabiner ends to a pole. He dashes back, slamming one end of one rope into Mila's hand, and attaching the other carabiner to his belt. He checks his weapon and gulps, then jumps off the roof, the rope keeping him from falling and slamming him into the side of the building. The air in his lungs wooshes out in a gush and he is stunned for a few seconds, but whirls. "Hold on to that rope!" He fires at the Wreaker with his M4, and the thing writhes. It lashes out with its legs and slams Matt into the wall again, and he snarls, drawing his bloody knife. He was ready to get personal.

Matt pushes off the wall, hard, and slams at the Wreaker, stabbing it in the torso. It lets go of Mila to attack him, and Matt hopes she isn't falling as he yells for someone to help her back up. The Wreaker snarls and snatches at him, biting into his shoulder and piercing skin. He yells in pain as his shoulder starts to feel strangely numb. Matt pulls out his combat knife and slams his head into the Wreaker's head as he feels the creature's claws digging into his Molle vest, hanging on. He slams the knife into the side of the Wreaker's head, and twists, letting the creature squirm. He cuts, and blood spurts everywhere. The Wreaker thrashes, and Matthew yells in pain as a leg slams into his, and he feels the rope straining.

He twists again and the knife sinks too far into the Wreaker's head. Matt goes for his sidearm but the Wreaker thrashes and it drops from his grasp. Matt snarls and grabs onto the Wreaker, feeling its teeth bite into his hand. He screams but gets both hands into it, and snaps its jaw back hard, feeling it break. The Wreaker thrashes even more, its broken jaw spasming as its brain function finally begins to cease. It thrashes some more before stopping, just blinking at Matthew with its broken jaw. Matt gasps in pain, and then slams his head into the Wreaker again, feeling its claws go loose out of his Molle vest. The Wreaker drops, slamming into the pavement hard, splashing blood and guts all over the cement.

Matt yells for help and sees Sergeant Knowles, the sniper, hauling him up. He collapses on the roof, feeling vehemently sick. "Is...Mila....okay?" he asks, before vomiting his lunch and a whole lot of blood. The other Rangers are actively engaging the Wreakers, and a medic looks at Matthew worriedly. "He's infected. What should we do?" he tells the Sergeant, who grimly looks down at Matthew. There was a standing kill order on infected. The reality sinks into Matthew. "Kill me. Please. I don't want to be one of them," he gasps, vomiting more blood and feeling liquid running out of his nose, ears, and mouth. It was happening far faster than he remembered.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Mila flinched as bullets flew around her, most of them impacting the wreaker below her and the rest going clear of them both. Suddenly the pain in her leg subsided, and she cracked open an eyelid in time to see the zombie leap away from her and up toward the Ranger instead. Now that she had a bit of rope in her hands, she tried kicking at the creature again, trying to get it away from the soldier. Before she could make contact, however, a pair of strong hands had hoisted her up so that her kick only impacted on a window pane. "Hey! Help him out! I'm fine!" she complained, but they were focused on getting her back onto the roof first.

Once she was secured, she could hear the sounds of struggle cease, and Matthew was pulled up shortly after. A medic began to wrap something onto her leg, which she noticed was bleeding profusely and turning several different shades of yellow and purple around the edges of the scrapes. Just then, the medic looked away from her and focused his attention on the vomiting Lieutenant. Mila made a face as her rescuer expelled quite a bit of blood onto the rooftop. She had never seen someone turn into a wreaker before, only seen the after-product, and she had no idea what was going on. All she did know was that the Sergeant began to lift his rifle towards Matthew's face, an apologetic look haunting him.

In an instant, Mila was on her feet, having literally shoved the medic away from her. Stepping between Matt and Sergeant Knowles, she put a shaking hand on the weapon and pushed it aside. "D-don't. He's just sick... He.. he's had a lot of medication and has been running around with a stomach wound already. Maybe it's just that..."

She began to understand how dumb she sounded. There was obviously something much worse going on with him than a shrapnel injury. And it was her fault too. If she hadn't been sitting on the damn ledge this wouldn't have happened. Probably.

"Why am I so stupid? Now I'm going to get shot too. I should just back away. We're even now. I saved his life and he saved mine. We don't owe each other anything. So why can't I move? God I'm an idiot."

Daniel scrambled towards Mila even as Matt leaped off the ledge to save her. Turning, he marked where his son and York were and when he turned his head back Mike was vomiting onto the roof and people were suddenly talking about him being sick. If that was the case he could become really dangerous really quick but Daniel just couldn't let them shoot him until that point. He wouldn't let Mila stand alone.

Daniel rushed to her side his hands on his rifle with the safety off.

"No. He isn't one of those things yet. We don't know if he will even change just yet. You shoot him and you're as much of a monster as those things. I saw you abandon people that weren't even sick at my job site and now you're just going to shoot a man without even checking to make sure he is actually sick? What, so now that our ass hat government has abandoned us we just turn into savages?"

Even as he spoke, he glanced at Matt and didn't truly believe his words. This wasn't that much different from what happened to his co-worker. Still, it hadn't happened yet, and whoever this brave ranger was he had saved his good friend Mila's life and that was good enough for him.

Day Two
Washington D.C.
12:40 a.m. EST

Outside, the Humvees finally are able to drive away four Wreakers, and the main group of Wreakers fall back to regroup. Soldiers and VIPs who decided to stay with the president pile out, and they are let into the building. Soldiers drop what they are doing to turn salutes at Jonathon. He waves them off and tells them the generic "You're doing such a great job." Meanwhile, he glances at his brother, clutching an M16A4 and looking like he knows how to use it. "Kev, take some men and head up to the roof. Looks like they might be needing reinforcement."

Kevin nods grimly and waves at ten others to follow him up to the roof, and Jonathon is glad to see the soldiers have returned to various duties, though they steal glances at him occasionally. He hustles into a side room with a few staff members who haven't abandoned him. He pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. "Captain, have you been able to requisition some aircraft?" "Yes sir. With some resistance. I have been able to gather a C-130 and another C-135. We're getting attacked by Wreakers, sir, but we're bringing the aircraft about, ETA 10 minutes."

Meanwhile, Kevin and his men burst onto the roof. The Rangers whirl to see a man who looks astonishingly like the President and salute. Kevin waves a hand impatiently. "I'm his brother. Hmm, he looks infected," he says thoughtfully. "Men, report to this man and figure out what you should do up here," he says, and his ten men march over to Knowles and distract him for a bit. The gunfire has ceased for the moment, and the lull in combat is nice. Kevin kneels next to Matthew and looks at a man and a woman standing protectively over him and smiles. "Hello. I'm Dr. Roth. I may have something to help him...." He withdraws a syringe marked 'Proto 1' and carefully jabs it into Matt's arm, and then begins mopping up the blood oozing out of his various facial openings.

A sigh of relief escaped Mila's lips when the gun was finally lowered as the men distracted the Sergeant. Looking at Daniel, she smiled. "Thanks. I don't know why I did that, but uh yeah. I've watched enough people die today. Or I guess yesterday... I don't even know what time it is anymore."

Turning, she saw the man who very much resembled the president, and recalled hearing him say something about a brother from across the rooftop, though it hadn't registered until now. "You're Roth's brother? Er, I guess that'd make you a Roth too. But anyways, what is that?" she asked with a nod toward the syringe in his hand. It was twisted at an angle from her, so it seemed to read "Photo!" but that didn't make any sense.

Sam desperately tried to place the pistol he now had away, so Mila could not see what he had been doing behind her. How he'd been pointing the pistol at Matt's head.

He gripped the pistol tightly and looked at Dr. Roth. In a matter of seconds, he had exploded. "We need to get the fuck out of here now! You're the president's brother, which means you must have a way out of here. Come on; let's get fucking going! We can't just stand around like this!"

Sam started taking steps forward, not realizing the gun in his hand was still very much a threat to everyone else. "Where are the planes? The helicopters? What's the fucking plan?"

Mike could barely hear Mila over the sound of gunfire, some of it from himself as well. When he did glance in her direction he saw Matt and Daniel rushing to a set of white fingers and knuckles grasping on for dear life. Mike made the connection instantly and moved to help Daniel pull her up while Matt grappled with the thing that had latched onto Mila. What the hell is he doing?! He's going to get himself killed acting like some kind of hero! he thought.

With Mila safe, Mike made a move to help Matt but the deed had been done, with the help of the Sergeant he was pulled back up though for moment Mike wished they hadn't. He sighed a curse at the sight of the bad wounds he had, glancing at the other soldiers around he knew the orders they had and from the looks of Matt it didn't seem good at all. He felt a sadness for the man, knowing he was about to die but it was replaced with a sort of resentment. He knew the risk and he took it, if he didn't act like a damn hero... his thought trailed off, no.. he was right but that didn't make the situation any better. He wondered if they were willing to do it, to kill their friend. Before Mike even knew it he was gripping his pistol. Was he so intent on killing the man? There was nothing they could do. The words kept ringing like a lie. He ignored Mila, he ignored them all, only the sight of Matt turning into one of those things. One of those things that caused himself to be consumed in fury hours ago. It was strange to imagine he was becoming one yet there was no denying it.

Suddenly Mike's tunnel vision was broken by the sound of rushing feet up the stairs. Had those things already breached the building? The door was opened and Mike was just about to point and fire like hell was after him but stopped himself. That face, it couldn't be, yet it made sense. It took a moment for the other guardsmen to realize it but Mike knew it instantly as the President's brother, a brilliant scientist and by the looks of it a man that could take care of himself. Mike sighed with relief as he produced a syringe," Glad to know that's convenient," he said with a chuckle, though forced.

It was around then did Sam start panicking, the shock of what happened must of gotten to the poor kid. Moving by the side, Mike approached Sam. He didn't look happy at all. Grabbing one of his arms gently he said in a cold whisper," What did I tell you about that damn gun, Sam?" He let his grip go and said calmly," Place the gun down, kid, real easy and calm down Sam. Don't need your ass getting shot by these nice soldiers here, eh?"

Sam gave Mike a bewildered look, "What gun? I don't know what...the...oh. I see."

Sam lowered the gun to the floor very slowly, his heart pounding in his ears. He took a step back from the gun, his hands half raised. Looking at Mila and Mike he shrugged slightly, "I still have a bloody point though. If we stand around we're more fucked than a Nazi at a gay pride festival."