"Where are we going?" asked Nathaniel, panting as he jogged while pushing Diana's wheelchair forwards.
"It should be the next street over. Michael's house is number eight and has a pale blue so we should be able to find it easily," answered Diana as she read a local map the pair had managed to find. Michael had given them directions to his house using various landmarks and the cardinal directions but a map is always helpful. [Diana is surprisingly good at orientating herself and reading maps,] thought Nathaniel, [much better than last time at least].
The pair rounded the corner to find the very house they were looking for. It was at the end of the street, a street that was surprisingly steep. They also found half a dozen undead, all of which had begun limping towards the duo.
"Do you feel comfortable taking a few shots at them Dee?" inquired Nathaniel, bringing the wheelchair to a gentle stop, "Or would you prefer me to handle them? I understand if you are not yet ready to fight again - it's hard to process taking a life like you did, even if it was for self defence. I'm here to talk about it too if you want or need, Dee. Just say the word."
Diana looked down at the handgun in her hand. It was a matte black Glock 17 that contrasted against her own milky white skin. Turning her head, she looked over her shoulder and up to Nathaniel.
"Yea, I don't want to handle this one. They aren't really people but I did just really kill a person." Diana sighed before continuing, "I think I just need a little time to process it."
"That's okay, Dee." consoled Nathaniel as he unholstered his own Glock 17, "I'll handle these guys then. And remember, it's okay to talk about things. Mental health is important, even in the apocalypse. Especially in the apocalypse actually."
"You're right," Diana said with a weak smile, "although I don't think this is the best time for this - we're about to be mauled by some Undead."
"No we're not," replied Nathaniel with a smirk. The FBI agent took a step forward into a shooter's stance and unleashed a barrage of bullets that barrelled towards the attackers. Almost instantly, three of the undead shuddered as though they had been struck by lightning. They then collapsed, sprawling around on the ground with shattered shoulders and knees. Nathaniel dashed forward into a sprint towards the nearest Undead. The Undead in turn stumbled forward in a limping half-jog. Barely a metre away from the creature, Nathaniel dived feet first and collided with the former human. Legs forced back, it smashed its jaw into the icy asphalt before going limp.
[Just two left,] thought Nathaniel as he reloaded his handgun. He was starting to run low on ammunition and wanted to save as much as possible for fighting hostile survivors, rather than Undead. Unfortunately that meant more melee combat which is always riskier. Nathaniel did have years of experience in the last Divine Tournament however all his muscle memory and physical abilities had been reset. Only his knowledge prevailed, his memories intact and unchanged. Including memories of various tactics.
Nathaniel swiftly stood up from his slide, running past the Undead and around to the opposite side of an abandoned car. The creatures turned to face him, power-limping towards the car. Undead, or at least basic Undead, lacked any level of cognitive prowess. As a result, they can be easily tricked or out-maneuvered if one is smart enough. Both Undead moved around the car towards Nathaniel in the shortest direction possible, allowing the man to circle around and cause the creatures to change direction. The result; a game of cat and mouse that provided Nathaniel did not tire the Undead could never win. However, that was not his plan.
Wrapping his fist in his stolen 110th Division jacket, he smashed through the car's passenger window. With all electrical devices magically disabled by the Gods, the car's alarm did not go off. Nathaniel reached through the window to release the car's handbrake and force the vehicle into neutral.
The effect was instantaneous. Gravity took hold and the car began to roll down the hill, colliding with the two Undead. A sickening crunch echoed after the collision as the Undead's bones were crushed by the car which kept rolling down the hill. Eventually the car itself crashed into a large truck parked halfway down the street - sandwiching the Undead between the two vehicles.
"That was," began Diana before being cut off by Nathaniel.
"Impressive? Ingenious? Another word starting with 'i'?" joked Nathaniel as he casually walked back over to his companion.
"Well, I wasn't going to say impressive or ingenious." replied Diana with a smirk, "I was going to say 'interesting' or unnecessary."
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha", he said sarcastically, "very funny. Now let's head inside, it's freezing out here and hopefully Michael will be here soon too."
Diana nodded in agreement.
Gripping Diana's wheelchair tightly, Nathaniel carefully walked down the street towards the soldier's house. The concrete pavement was incredibly slippery, several sections completely covered in ice. However the ice was not white, it was a more dirty brown. Like the colour rain water made when combined with dirt.
After a few minutes the pair made it safely outside Michael's house. Like many houses in Birmingham, it was constructed from faded red bricks and seemingly shared walls with his neighbour's houses. Nathaniel helped Diana up the steps to the pale blue front door.
"How do we get in?" asked Nathaniel, narrowing his eyes, "I would rather not break a window. Did he give you a key?"
Diana shook her head and smiled before saying, "No! Remember my powers - I can unlock any locking mechanism. For example, doors. Master Key!"
Precisely at the moment Diana said the words 'Master Key', the internal lock in the door clicked - unlocking itself.
"See?", said Diana with a smirk.
"Now that is impressive, ingenious and interesting." Nathaniel teased back. [I'm glad pretending to forget about her power led to some banter,] thought the FBI agent, [it seemed to cheer her up a little].
After heading into the house and locking the door behind them, they drank in their surroundings. The house was old but had relatively modern and mostly wooden furnishings. Picture frames of photographs of Michael and a lady with short hair greeted them in the main hallway. [Probably his wife,] realised Diana as she explored the house. Generally, the house was fairly minimalist - as though neither Michael or his wife spent much time at home. Diana was looking at the different books on a shelf when Nathaniel called out to her.
"Hey, Dee", he shouted from another room, "come here to the dining room."
The blue hair girl complied, rolling her wheelchair to the dining room.
The dining room was also minimalist. Light blue wallpaper covered the bare walls. A small circular table surrounded by four chairs sat in the centre of the room. On the table were two ceramic bowls with two silver spoons in them. Inside the bowls was a large mound of frosty white vanilla clouds - ice cream.
"How did you get ice cream?" asked Diana as she took one of the bowls. She scooped a spoonful of the heavenly desert into her mouth. It tasted exceptionally good. So good she almost cried.
"Michael had some in his freezer and it has been so cold that despite the power outage, everything has stayed refrigerated." answered Nathaniel, taking a bowl himself.
Diana suddenly rolled her wheelchair forward and hugged Nathaniel.
"Thank you." she whispered.
"You're welcome, Dee." replied Nathaniel.
The two finished their ice cream together, talking and relaxing after an extremely eventful day. Eventually they went to bed, Diana in a spare room and Nathaniel sleeping on a couch. He could never bring himself to sleep in someone else's bed, alive or undead. After what felt like hours, Nathaniel fell into a restless slumber. He was plagued with dreams of the terrible past and the potential future.
"Nathaniel," called out a voice, "wake up".
Rubbing his eyes, the former FBI agent found Diana sitting in her wheelchair across from him. Early rays of sunshine filtered through the window, illuminating the room.
"What's up?" he asked groggily. [I really need to have a good sleep one of these days,] he thought.
"Michael isn't here. He said he'd just be a few hours behind us." began Diana, "and my patron God visited me last night. She gave me a new ability, called Perspective Shift. It lets me see what another person sees in real time, for about a minute once a day. So I used it to see if Michael was okay."
"Is he okay?" tentatively asked Nathaniel, now fully awake.
"No," answered Diana, "he's being held by the 110th Division in some kind of cell. An old man wearing a uniform was there, threatening him I think. I couldn't hear anything, only see. But I did see him lock the door and leave Michael in the dark."
"Well," started Nathaniel, "guess we're just going to have to go back and get him then, Dee."
"Really?" asked Diana, "but there's so many soldiers - way too many. You're strong, but you did get beat up by that one Angel. What if they have Angels?"
"That's true," said Nathaniel with a smirk, "but you also defeated the Angel that defeated me. Plus, I have a plan."
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[Enhanced Appraisal]
Name: Nathaniel Marshall Torres
Title/s: None, (One Hidden Title)
Essence: 13
Favour: 5
Reserve: 3
Power Level: 21
[End Appraisal]
=========================