Dave's Zombie Proof Bunker and Refuge for Unattached Wimmens
- Thread starter Chaingun
- Start date
- Status
WhipLuvr
Lost Inside My Own Mind
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2012
- Posts
- 1,728
* squeals in delight and kisses him full on the lip*
I can't wait! Lets you and me go out together to get it once the light improves!
How'd you know I wanted another tank? Mobile fortresses are awesome.
* turns to the side, doubled over in a coughing fit*
Booze time.... Double rum and coke, if anyone's on the bar.
PlayfulLittle1
ButchFemme?
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2012
- Posts
- 17,184
*grumbles about it being entirely too quiet in here*
*stalks over to the sound system, picks something suitably raucous, and cranks it up*
*finds a couch to lounge on while I wait for anyone else to show up*
*stalks over to the sound system, picks something suitably raucous, and cranks it up*
*finds a couch to lounge on while I wait for anyone else to show up*
Ellafun
Just Visiting This Planet
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2010
- Posts
- 12,697
(Secretly hoping Adam Levine and Justin Timberlake survive the zombie attacks and find a studio...)
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
*Stumbles in and trips and falls to the floor. Luckily, I hold the bottle of Blanton's bourbon up as I fall so it doesn't break. Sets the bottle down carefully and apparently, says, "Fuck it" and lies face down on the floor. The effort to get up is too much.*
TongueLust
Bruja-Hija De Yemaya
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2012
- Posts
- 125,710
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
*Places a pillow under your head and covers you with a blanket* Goodnight hun.
You're sweet. Thank you.
*goes back to drooling*
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
I wake up and stumble in the direction of my room. On the way, I pass the big co-ed shower room. One shower head has been left on. I wonder, "by whom?" I walk in to turn it off and forget that I'm dressed. I end up standing under the steaming water until I am soaked. The hot water runs out and turns cold. I stay and figure it's punishment for the things I've done. Eventually, I turn off the water and continue on my journey.
Outside, dripping in the hall, I forget again what I was planning on doing and head off in the direction of the motor pool. Sunrise will find me in the tank recovery vehicle ready to go recover the M60 Patton tank. I decide to sleep in the passenger seat so that Whip will find me there and take me with her. After all, I'm the one that knows where it is.
Clermont isn't that far. We'll be there in under an hour barring an incident. I realize, I will need a firearm and some ammo. I'll get it in the morning.
*Dozes off in the most incredibly uncomfortable seat I've ever seen.*
Outside, dripping in the hall, I forget again what I was planning on doing and head off in the direction of the motor pool. Sunrise will find me in the tank recovery vehicle ready to go recover the M60 Patton tank. I decide to sleep in the passenger seat so that Whip will find me there and take me with her. After all, I'm the one that knows where it is.
Clermont isn't that far. We'll be there in under an hour barring an incident. I realize, I will need a firearm and some ammo. I'll get it in the morning.
*Dozes off in the most incredibly uncomfortable seat I've ever seen.*
Last edited:
PlayfulLittle1
ButchFemme?
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2012
- Posts
- 17,184
*suddenly wonders if there are any Legos to be had in the post-apocalypse*
RubenesqueAphrodite
Educated Redneck
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2012
- Posts
- 22,763
*giggles and drops off a gift for PL1*
http://24.media.tumblr.com/0f2c31df7b2b4e6f6dd05bf8c9db9575/tumblr_mjbzbfU2Ul1qzgqzto1_500.jpg
http://24.media.tumblr.com/0f2c31df7b2b4e6f6dd05bf8c9db9575/tumblr_mjbzbfU2Ul1qzgqzto1_500.jpg
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
We're in luck. There is a store at Walt Disney World that was nothing but Lego's. I will go and fill a truck full of them and bring them all back here for Kitten to play with as long as you make me a promise...
...you will keep them out of the way of nekkid wimmins wearing high heels. That just seems like a recipe for disaster. And you know how much I like nekkid wimmens wearing high heels. Let's be safe.
...you will keep them out of the way of nekkid wimmins wearing high heels. That just seems like a recipe for disaster. And you know how much I like nekkid wimmens wearing high heels. Let's be safe.
Ellafun
Just Visiting This Planet
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2010
- Posts
- 12,697
We're in luck. There is a store at Walt Disney World that was nothing but Lego's. I will go and fill a truck full of them and bring them all back here for Kitten to play with as long as you make me a promise...
...you will keep them out of the way of nekkid wimmins wearing high heels. That just seems like a recipe for disaster. And you know how much I like nekkid wimmens wearing high heels. Let's be safe.
Always thinking, this one.
PlayfulLittle1
ButchFemme?
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2012
- Posts
- 17,184
*gigglefit*
That is the definition of a lecture that requires a "Yes, Daddy" I think.
I promise!
That is the definition of a lecture that requires a "Yes, Daddy" I think.
I promise!
WhipLuvr
Lost Inside My Own Mind
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2012
- Posts
- 1,728
* decides not to wake Dave up by turning the tank on underneath him and simply strokes his cheek until his eyes open. He's a mess, still slightly damp around the joints, hair plastered to his face. Ive brought a bag of food and ammo for the both of us, water bottles loaded in the back , the tank freshly refueled and with all its bolts tightened. I'm ready to add to my collection. *
Rise and shine sweetie!
Rise and shine sweetie!
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
Always thinking, this one.
About sexy wimmens, yes.
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
*gigglefit*
That is the definition of a lecture that requires a "Yes, Daddy" I think.
I promise!
Good enough for me.
But I'm not Daddy ok? That's not me right now.
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
Ugh, good morning. I'm not sure if my neck or my back is broken...or both.
I can barely sit up. And I'm wet. Great. Um...I'll try to work the kinks out if you'll start this thing up and head west and north on the turnpike. Careful on the long hills out there; the bridges at the bottom are good choke points for an ambush. But then, we're pretty secure here, I think.
Alright, let's roll this thing. I'm ready.
*slaps a magazine into the provided rifle and checks to make sure the safety is off*
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
After a half hour on the road, the kinks in my back and neck are beginning to go away. My bad leg, however is another story and it is throbbing in time with the noises that the tank makes as its treads propel us north on the Ronald Reagan Turnpike. I am starting to feel human again and remembering that "if you're feeling pain, that's good; it means you ain't dead."
I can still remember the black drill sergeant back on the Island with the half smoked cigar clenched in his teeth yelling that exact phrase at us as we returned weary and dragging from maneuvers in the swamps and woods around Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island. Gunnery Sergeant Higgs was merciless on us, insuring that we would be ready to "eat our own guts" if he asked us to. My head is filled with so many things that we heard him say in our time with him that I could write a book.
"Well, I definitely ain't dead, Gunny," I say to nobody as the roar of the engine competes with the wind to drown out my voice, "'cause this fucking hurts."
Whip doesn't hear a bit of it--at least I think she doesn't--as she pilots the tank expertly north while I sit above, ready to use the mounted M2 gun atop the turret at the first sign of trouble. We've got a lot of fuel on board and equipment to transfer it to the other tank when we arrive at the site where I had to abandon it. We need to protect that fuel since most people still alive and sentient, would probably love to have it at any cost. Near its top speed, the Abrams is able to easily move around the pile ups of vehicles that still block parts of the turnpike and the fifty feels like security in my hands. It's black barrel pokes out in front of me like a smaller version of the death dealing main gun of the tank itself. At one point, I see feral hogs feeding on the remains of something, and assuming that it is/was a human, I loose a couple of the big rounds at the disgusting animals in an attempt to make them into roadside bacon. The long barreled machine gun chatters as I traverse it to try to hit the pigs on the run, but I miss completely. Hot brass and expended links fall down into the hatch and I get a very annoyed look from Whip. As I open my mouth to apologize and realize that she won't hear it, I see her look that says, "Now you know. Just don't do it again."
I close my mouth, admonished without having to apologize. I'm guessing that most people don't enjoy a lap-ful of expended shell casings falling onto them...and I immediately regret my action; she's the last person on earth that I want to hurt in any way.
I go back to watching the road. At this speed, the tank is an angry iron block of rolling thunder and any who stand in its way risk everything they are and everything they're ever going to be. But that doesn't mean anything to some who live out here by the skin of their teeth, scraping out a living by pillaging...and attacking other living souls. North of Clermont, my prediction about choke points comes true. From both sides of a narrow, two lane bridge, men begin moving up from below the span to take up positions against the oncoming vehicle. I doubt they were expecting a tank though.
Two turn and run, a third lifts a rifle to his shoulder and aims in our direction and one second after I see the muzzle flash, a bullet makes a spang as it ricochets off the hull below where I am sitting. The fourth and fifth men are either encouraging him or trying to get him to realize the error of shooting at an armored vehicle and I decide to reinforce their efforts if indeed they are trying to get him to stop doing something so futile. The fifty rumbles again in my hands as I depress the butterfly trigger and bullets stitch a line across the ground towards where they stand. The rounds make a line that runs between them and the last two men turn and run. The asshat with the rifle takes one more shot and joins them in headlong flight back into the space beneath the bridge. Whip doesn't even slow the tank. Secure in the knowledge that five idiots with small arms cannot hurt an Abrams tank, she ignores their "threat."
Five miles further, I nudge her right shoulder with the toe of my boot to indicate that the other tank is ahead in the woods on the right. She slows and pulls off the shoulder of the road and once stopped, I jump down from the hull and move to clear the area so that she is safe climbing out of the tank. I signal that the area appears clear and she hops down with her own rifle and moves to circle the Patton tank with me. We meet on the other side and silently move to climb aboard and make sure the interior is clear.
While atop the turret, I hear a noise. She and I both instantly turn at the sound of a bicycle bell. A rag-tag man, on a Schwinn ten speed is approaching. His clothes are old, shabby, and dark in color. His navigation skills are shaky as the bike weaves all over the road. He acts like he doesn't see us and continues peddling the old bike. Our rifles cover him and if he makes a false move, I know that one or both of us will shoot him. Thinking that perhaps he is the diversion for an ambush, I look around behind us quickly and see nothing.
He gets closer and I realize he is wearing a mask. A Guy Fawkes mask to be exact. "Geez, the silly bastard is even wearing the hat..." I say as Whip watches vigilantly the silly spectacle approaching us. She says, "What are you talking about?"
Then she realizes that I'm referring to the goofball on the bike who thinks he's on his way to blow up Parliament. He gets close and still makes no threatening move. As he rolls by, he waves and rings the bell. The leering mask give us no indication of what his expression really is. But since he's on the down slope of the highway, he continues to pick up speed as he weaves back and forth. He's no threat and we both agree wordlessly to discuss it later.
An hour later, the Patton tank is fueled and running again. It appears to be undisturbed since I left it. We make a plan since surely, the numbskulls at the bridge will play their troll act again. In fact, they are possibly laying a trap for us right now.
I break out the gunner's technical manual for the older tank and read up on some last minute info that I may need for our plan. Off we go.
Four minutes later, I stop at the top of a long hill as the Abrams in front of me continues to roll at top speed towards the bridge. The configuration of vehicles at the bridge is different than before. There is now a bus parked across the lane we used coming north a while ago. Whip continues in the newer tank and shows them no sign of slowing. I carefully site the main gun of the Patton on the center of the bus where I can see figures moving around inside. Whip is less than an eighth of a mile from the new obstruction as I send a HE round downrange, to its target.
The center of the bus explodes dramatically as the High Explosive round hits home. Flaming debris flies in ever direction and I wonder if our point has been made with any remaining marauders hanging out in support positions nearby. An old Scout starts up and rumbles up a sandy incline and into the woods and it appears that there are at least three figures in it. I load a Willy Peter round and send it after them into the woods and white phosphorous explodes and several trees catch fire. I've made my point. The old International truck does not reappear. I move back to the driver's position and begin rolling after Whip.
I watch her approach what is left of the road block and two gunmen stand from behind the safety of concrete barriers and open fire on the massive battle tank. Rounds bounce harmlessly off of the hull and turret, but if I know her, this is annoying her more than anything.
She never slows. The frame of the bus and its debris field are no challenge for the M1 and as she crashes into the remains, it all falls apart all over again. The Abrams is barely phased. Bus parts again are tossed around like toy car parts. She continues and heads up the hill, knowing that I am following in my older tank. The Patton approaches the scene and the same two men are shooting at the buttoned up steel monster. I hear the rounds striking harmlessly outside but realize that they're trying to hit the small armored windows that allow me to see from inside. One man steps out from behind the concrete barrier that used to keep speeding cars on the bridge and I make a motion with my hands and the tank's trajectory changes slightly. He is crushed before he can even know that he was in danger.
An hour later, after making a few detours around traffic jams, burned out vehicles, and improvised road blockages, WhipLuvr and I roll into the area around the bunker. I'm exhausted and probably stink from the fumes of the fuel and the expended rounds that I fired back on the turnpike. Whip's tank is covered in scratches and burn marks from where debris from the burning bus scraped against it and held on for a few miles. Otherwise, we are undamaged. In the motor pool, I park the Patton in the space behind the Abrams, where I'm sure it will get a thorough going over and preventive maintenance check. We'll deal with that later.
Right now, I want to pet my favorite kitten, greet our friends, take a shower, and get something to eat. I hope everyone is hungry. I feel like making a big meal.
I can still remember the black drill sergeant back on the Island with the half smoked cigar clenched in his teeth yelling that exact phrase at us as we returned weary and dragging from maneuvers in the swamps and woods around Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island. Gunnery Sergeant Higgs was merciless on us, insuring that we would be ready to "eat our own guts" if he asked us to. My head is filled with so many things that we heard him say in our time with him that I could write a book.
"Well, I definitely ain't dead, Gunny," I say to nobody as the roar of the engine competes with the wind to drown out my voice, "'cause this fucking hurts."
Whip doesn't hear a bit of it--at least I think she doesn't--as she pilots the tank expertly north while I sit above, ready to use the mounted M2 gun atop the turret at the first sign of trouble. We've got a lot of fuel on board and equipment to transfer it to the other tank when we arrive at the site where I had to abandon it. We need to protect that fuel since most people still alive and sentient, would probably love to have it at any cost. Near its top speed, the Abrams is able to easily move around the pile ups of vehicles that still block parts of the turnpike and the fifty feels like security in my hands. It's black barrel pokes out in front of me like a smaller version of the death dealing main gun of the tank itself. At one point, I see feral hogs feeding on the remains of something, and assuming that it is/was a human, I loose a couple of the big rounds at the disgusting animals in an attempt to make them into roadside bacon. The long barreled machine gun chatters as I traverse it to try to hit the pigs on the run, but I miss completely. Hot brass and expended links fall down into the hatch and I get a very annoyed look from Whip. As I open my mouth to apologize and realize that she won't hear it, I see her look that says, "Now you know. Just don't do it again."
I close my mouth, admonished without having to apologize. I'm guessing that most people don't enjoy a lap-ful of expended shell casings falling onto them...and I immediately regret my action; she's the last person on earth that I want to hurt in any way.
I go back to watching the road. At this speed, the tank is an angry iron block of rolling thunder and any who stand in its way risk everything they are and everything they're ever going to be. But that doesn't mean anything to some who live out here by the skin of their teeth, scraping out a living by pillaging...and attacking other living souls. North of Clermont, my prediction about choke points comes true. From both sides of a narrow, two lane bridge, men begin moving up from below the span to take up positions against the oncoming vehicle. I doubt they were expecting a tank though.
Two turn and run, a third lifts a rifle to his shoulder and aims in our direction and one second after I see the muzzle flash, a bullet makes a spang as it ricochets off the hull below where I am sitting. The fourth and fifth men are either encouraging him or trying to get him to realize the error of shooting at an armored vehicle and I decide to reinforce their efforts if indeed they are trying to get him to stop doing something so futile. The fifty rumbles again in my hands as I depress the butterfly trigger and bullets stitch a line across the ground towards where they stand. The rounds make a line that runs between them and the last two men turn and run. The asshat with the rifle takes one more shot and joins them in headlong flight back into the space beneath the bridge. Whip doesn't even slow the tank. Secure in the knowledge that five idiots with small arms cannot hurt an Abrams tank, she ignores their "threat."
Five miles further, I nudge her right shoulder with the toe of my boot to indicate that the other tank is ahead in the woods on the right. She slows and pulls off the shoulder of the road and once stopped, I jump down from the hull and move to clear the area so that she is safe climbing out of the tank. I signal that the area appears clear and she hops down with her own rifle and moves to circle the Patton tank with me. We meet on the other side and silently move to climb aboard and make sure the interior is clear.
While atop the turret, I hear a noise. She and I both instantly turn at the sound of a bicycle bell. A rag-tag man, on a Schwinn ten speed is approaching. His clothes are old, shabby, and dark in color. His navigation skills are shaky as the bike weaves all over the road. He acts like he doesn't see us and continues peddling the old bike. Our rifles cover him and if he makes a false move, I know that one or both of us will shoot him. Thinking that perhaps he is the diversion for an ambush, I look around behind us quickly and see nothing.
He gets closer and I realize he is wearing a mask. A Guy Fawkes mask to be exact. "Geez, the silly bastard is even wearing the hat..." I say as Whip watches vigilantly the silly spectacle approaching us. She says, "What are you talking about?"
Then she realizes that I'm referring to the goofball on the bike who thinks he's on his way to blow up Parliament. He gets close and still makes no threatening move. As he rolls by, he waves and rings the bell. The leering mask give us no indication of what his expression really is. But since he's on the down slope of the highway, he continues to pick up speed as he weaves back and forth. He's no threat and we both agree wordlessly to discuss it later.
An hour later, the Patton tank is fueled and running again. It appears to be undisturbed since I left it. We make a plan since surely, the numbskulls at the bridge will play their troll act again. In fact, they are possibly laying a trap for us right now.
I break out the gunner's technical manual for the older tank and read up on some last minute info that I may need for our plan. Off we go.
Four minutes later, I stop at the top of a long hill as the Abrams in front of me continues to roll at top speed towards the bridge. The configuration of vehicles at the bridge is different than before. There is now a bus parked across the lane we used coming north a while ago. Whip continues in the newer tank and shows them no sign of slowing. I carefully site the main gun of the Patton on the center of the bus where I can see figures moving around inside. Whip is less than an eighth of a mile from the new obstruction as I send a HE round downrange, to its target.
The center of the bus explodes dramatically as the High Explosive round hits home. Flaming debris flies in ever direction and I wonder if our point has been made with any remaining marauders hanging out in support positions nearby. An old Scout starts up and rumbles up a sandy incline and into the woods and it appears that there are at least three figures in it. I load a Willy Peter round and send it after them into the woods and white phosphorous explodes and several trees catch fire. I've made my point. The old International truck does not reappear. I move back to the driver's position and begin rolling after Whip.
I watch her approach what is left of the road block and two gunmen stand from behind the safety of concrete barriers and open fire on the massive battle tank. Rounds bounce harmlessly off of the hull and turret, but if I know her, this is annoying her more than anything.
She never slows. The frame of the bus and its debris field are no challenge for the M1 and as she crashes into the remains, it all falls apart all over again. The Abrams is barely phased. Bus parts again are tossed around like toy car parts. She continues and heads up the hill, knowing that I am following in my older tank. The Patton approaches the scene and the same two men are shooting at the buttoned up steel monster. I hear the rounds striking harmlessly outside but realize that they're trying to hit the small armored windows that allow me to see from inside. One man steps out from behind the concrete barrier that used to keep speeding cars on the bridge and I make a motion with my hands and the tank's trajectory changes slightly. He is crushed before he can even know that he was in danger.
An hour later, after making a few detours around traffic jams, burned out vehicles, and improvised road blockages, WhipLuvr and I roll into the area around the bunker. I'm exhausted and probably stink from the fumes of the fuel and the expended rounds that I fired back on the turnpike. Whip's tank is covered in scratches and burn marks from where debris from the burning bus scraped against it and held on for a few miles. Otherwise, we are undamaged. In the motor pool, I park the Patton in the space behind the Abrams, where I'm sure it will get a thorough going over and preventive maintenance check. We'll deal with that later.
Right now, I want to pet my favorite kitten, greet our friends, take a shower, and get something to eat. I hope everyone is hungry. I feel like making a big meal.
Last edited:
PlayfulLittle1
ButchFemme?
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2012
- Posts
- 17,184
*I slip past, kissing Dave on the cheek* Welcome home. Shower's already running, and there's clothes waiting in there for Whip and fresh towels.
*I flash a wide grin and run back off to my wreck of room, pondering reorganizing for the 3rd time this week*
*I flash a wide grin and run back off to my wreck of room, pondering reorganizing for the 3rd time this week*
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
You're sweet. Thanks.
*Heading off to the large co-ed shower, I stand under the stream of hot water for several minutes before even reaching for the soap. The heated water is steamy, cleansing, cathartic. I killed a man today. Damn, I killed several men today.
Yeah, they were trying to kill me, but I could have rolled on by and ignored them. Leaving them alive might have jeopardized these women here, my friends. Who knows? Maybe they would have never come here. But I can't take that chance, can I?
But the killing is getting old. I question myself about it. Too much sometimes. It has to be done. It's what keeps us alive. Why is it always the men? They are the most threatening, aren't they? I wonder for the thousandth time today whether I kill them because they're actually threatening my friends here...or is it to prevent them from coming and winning the heart of one of these ladies...?
Ellafun
Just Visiting This Planet
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2010
- Posts
- 12,697
You kids and your tanks! I think you got a little carried away with the menu tonight...we have lots of leftovers! Glad you two are home safely, at any rate.
*wanders aimlessly around the bunker, trying to walk off dinner...wondering for the billionth time how I ended up here...how to find some kind of purpose...how to stop thinking about everything that was lost. I do what I always do when I start pondering the pointless: I crank up my iPod and cry.
*wanders aimlessly around the bunker, trying to walk off dinner...wondering for the billionth time how I ended up here...how to find some kind of purpose...how to stop thinking about everything that was lost. I do what I always do when I start pondering the pointless: I crank up my iPod and cry.
PlayfulLittle1
ButchFemme?
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2012
- Posts
- 17,184
*Stops Ella on her third circuit of the bunker and drags her off to a couch in the corner of the party room for some hardcore cuddling and footrubs*
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
A back up might come in handy since the Abrams that we have, we were lucky to get. Most of them were either in the Middle East when the zombie plague broke out or were employed against the rapidly sickening populace and are spread all over God's creation. Difficult to find and worse, they are out there, where others amongst the still-living may get one or two running and use them against us. So Whip and I are going to need some spare parts and in this case, I wanted a spare tank. Besides, the older Patton model uses an easier to maintain diesel engine and has a few advantages over the newer, heavier Abrams.
Boys and their toys, right?
I'm sorry. How about some comfort food? I made pudding for dessert. You favorite flavor is vanilla, right?
Ellafun
Just Visiting This Planet
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2010
- Posts
- 12,697
No, thank you. The last thing I need is more food. I'm more of a chocolate person when it comes to sweets; just vanilla in everything else.
Chaingun
Who do ya love?
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2008
- Posts
- 8,203
No, thank you. The last thing I need is more food. I'm more of a chocolate person when it comes to sweets; just vanilla in everything else.
Yeah, and I'm Bowser from Sha-Na-Na...
- Status
