Everybody Dies: Resurrected [Text]

[Telamon]

Mirror can be found here

>Adventure: Resume! If you've already read through Part One, click here for the first post in the new plot line, and information on the new approach. If you haven't already read Part One, I recommend you do that first! It starts down there, after the spoilered art and stuff.

(awards, fanart and shortcuts are contained herein)

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Spring 2010 MSPAFA Awards:

Won:
Best Writing

Best Supporting Female (Fran)

Nominated:
Best Story

Best Relationship (Chet and Fran)

Best Active Adventure

Fan-Art and Fic:

Long time coming, sorry for the wait. Really tough to draw without really knowing what the characters look like. Decided to go with Fran and Chet's first meeting, before everything happened.

Everybody Dies is my favorite story yet on this forum! Please allow me to submit a tribute to old Fran (without sidetracking the story):

Theme Song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paz85EEJdXw

Also from Strawbouri, made for the Spring 2010 Awards Entrance:

Fanart.

Fan-Fiction:
Team-Made fic

Slash-Fic by The Random One

Slash-Fic by Dentrala

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Map of major locations.

SHORTCUTS:
Part One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
PART ONE SUMMARY

Part Two

You are Chet McAuliffe Forsythe. You just turned 24, and with that milestone have gained full access to the massive trust fund your incredibly wealthy grandfather left you when he died. He said he left you the majority of his fortune because you were his favorite grandson, and while that praise is somewhat suspect, you being his only grandson, you are not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Your new-found fortune has finally freed you from the asinine expectations of your parents, which have so far forced you to waste your time with a series of unproductive spells at various prestigious boarding schools and universities, and a few short-lived jobs working for various politicians, lawyers, and Fortune 500 companies. Independent at last, you have now embarked on something worthwhile, namely a Roadtrip-To-End-All-Roadtrips. To that end you have purchased a Maserati Quattroporte (so much more exciting than the German things you parents always gave you) and headed south, just in time for Spring Break.

You have just stopped off at a diner in some small town off of Interstate 95 between Washington, D.C. and Richmond. It is the middle of the lunch-time rush, and you have just been seated and are thumbing through the menu, waiting for your waitress to arrive. Across from your booth, some locals eat silently at the bar, and all around you is the chatter from the crowded booths. Sizzles and shouts come from behind the door leading to the kitchen.

What will you do now?

[Yourself]

Either...

> Venture into the kitchen to meet some underpaid chefs.

Or...

> Meet up with your best friends, Frank and Joe Hardy.

[Archduke_Ferdinand]

>Reveal yourself to be homosexual

[Languidiir]

Buy the diner.

[Reecer6]

> Eat the gum that is under the table

[Telamon]

Meet up with your best friends, Frank and Joe Hardy.

The diner you are in happens to be the very one in which you have arranged to meet your best friends, Frank and Joe Hardy. And by "best" friends, you of course mean "best for mocking as obviously closeted homosexuals." You whip out your celly and give them a ring to ascertain their current location. They assure you that they are mere seconds from their destination. They also assert that they are seriously looking forward to scoring some major spring break action. You counter by asserting that you will be scoring more spring break action than both of them combined, for a variety of reasons, including their lack of appeal to the opposite gender, as well as their obvious nature as closet homosexuals. They assert that you should become intimate with yourself and hang up.

Having settled on nothing less than a cheeseburger with bacon and ham, you close your menu, and cast a lazy gaze around the restaurant. Above the bar is a TV, currently showing CNN or some of that boring shit. The newsreader is talking about some economic summit or something that only homosexuals such as Frank and Joe Hardy would be interested in. You speculate that the newsreader is himself a homosexual. You wonder why the hell they are not showing some sort of basketball game. It is March after all, and there are more basketball games being played than you are going to get play on this roadtrip. But not by much.

Suddenly you are brought from your reverie by the appearance of your waitress, who has finally chosen to make her appearance. You readily forgive the delay however, as she proves to be a being of singular hotitude. Suddenly the urge to get to the alcohol-soaked beaches of Florida seems much less pressing. Full-figured without being a fatty, her face carries the charming, small-town innocence rarely seen in the Girls Gone Wild crowd of Daytona Beach. Real prime-for-corruption material. "My name is Fran, and I'll be serving you today," she says. Shit, Fran? That is one whack-ass name, but again you are willing to forgive. "Can I start you out wi-"

Suddenly, she collapses onto her back on the floor. Simulataniously, every other person in the restaurant does the same, the people at the bar toppling backwards, patrons in booths slumping forward into their entrees. From the kitchen there comes a series of mighty crashes. You sit stunned for a few seconds, and then with an almighty cacophony of twisting metal and shattering glass, a car barrels through the diner's front door, feet behind your back. You leap into the air, hitting your knees against the top of the table and nearly soiling yourself.

What will you do now?

[Reecer6]

> RUN. RUN LIKE MICHAEL PHELPS'S TWIN.

[Gustave]

>Check to see if the hottie is ok.

[Waterlemon]

> Throw food at car.

[kzager20]

> Everybody: die.

[Telamon]

Check to see if the hottie is ok.

You know where your duty lies. You quickly scramble out of your booth and kneel next to Fran. Sweet, sweet Fran, your pawing fingers quest for a pulse, but there is none to be found. She looks so sweet, lying there, eyes closed as if in a light sleep, pert lips slightly open. You look around, thinking maybe there is a doctor here who can help. But no, it is clear that everyone else has suffered the same fate. All around you are quiet forms. You have no doubt that they are as dead as Fran. The car, hood protruding into the diner's waiting area, was probably being driven by someone who was struck down in the same moment, their vehicle hurdling out of control into the nearby building.

Feeling forlorn and confused, you look up at the TV, and with an even deeper shock you see the newsreader slumped forward over his desk. The news ticker proceeds uninterrupted, but the camera doesn't move, doesn't cut away from the inert figure on screen. With growing horror, you realize that this disaster has spread far beyond your current location. Is anyone still alive other than you?

With the greatest shock yet, you suddenly think of all those party girls down in Florida, probably just waking up from the previous nights drunken revelry, all struck down at the height of their nubile debauchery. Could Fran here may have been the last living woman you ever saw. Looking back down at her, you can almost believe she is still alive. The top button of her blouse has come undone, and her legs are slightly spread, skirt hiked up a provocative inch. You probe again for a pulse, and feel the desire for them to probe further afield.

It suddenly occurs to you that you are reacting fairly oddly. Maybe you are simply traumatized.

What will you do now?

[HaloKirby9]

Call people you know

[Telamon]

Call people you know

Totally disturbed by your apparent necrophilic tendencies, you desperately try to focus on something else. You decide to try to use your cell phone to search for other survivors. You pull up your call log and decide to try calling Frank and Joe again. Your phone seems to work as the call goes through, and you desperately pray that someone will pick up.

From somewhere behind you you suddenly hear a guitar riff, coming from a tinny speaker. It's a familiar riff...what is it...oh yeah, it's "Aqualung" by Jethro Tull! Good stuff. Your friends used to joke that this was your theme song, mainly because of the one line, "eying little girls with bad intent!" Fun times. As you turn around to look for where the music is coming from, you even let out a little chuckle, remembering when Frank and Joe set the song as the ring tone that played on their phones every time...you...called them. Oh shit.

You turn to face the car that's enmeshed in the front of the store. With a feeling of physical revulsion, you realize that it's Frank Hardy's Acura. There is blood on the shattered windscreen. Suddenly an alarm goes off. Smoke is pouring from the kitchen door.

What will you do now?

[andrewdoyle8]

exit the building in a calm and orderly fashion, drag fran out with you though

[Gustave]

>Pick up Fran and put her in a seat, then go get Frank and Joe out of the car and put them in nearby seats as well.

[Reecer6]

> Run to the nearest police station

[DimJim]

>Pick up Fran and put her in a seat, then go get Frank and Joe out of the car and put them in nearby seats as well.

[Telamon]

exit the building in a calm and orderly fashion, drag fran out with you though

The fire focuses your mind. You know you have to get out of here, and you know you can't leave Fran. The only problem is that your friends' car is blocking the only door. There's enough space for you to crawl over the hood and out, but the thought of dragging Fran through all that broken glass and twisted metal is unacceptable. There's only one thing you can do.

You scramble over the Acura and onto the roof, trying not to cut yourself of the glass shards, and you are outside. You open the front driver's side door, and it opens just enough for you to climb inside. Trying desperately not to look, you shove Joe out of the driver's seat, and over onto his brother's lap. Neither of them was wearing a seat-belt. Not that it would have helped. The engine is still running, and you fumble with the gear stick, trying to put it in reverse. You never had time for this manual gearbox shit. The car clunks into gear, and you back it out, slowly. There's a tremendous racket as it scrapes free, and more glass falls. You back it up until you are well clear of the restaurant, and jump out. There's blood on your hands from where you gripped the steering wheel.

You run over to your own car, pip the locks open, and open the front passenger door. You then rush back into the restaurant, finding Fran where you left her, untouched by the fire. It's getting pretty smokey in here, but the flames have not yet spread out of the kitchen. You bend down and pick her up gently. A light tweak from your lower back makes you briefly wish you were into skinnier women. Still, you feel quite heroic as you stride from the diner and back out to your car. You place Fran in the passenger seat, and, just to be safe, buckle her seat-belt. As you close the door, you look back at the Acura. You know you can't take your friends with you, but you feel bad just leaving them there. Maybe you should give them some sort of funeral?

What will you do now?

[andrewdoyle8]

put your friends in the back seat of your car and go on the road trip while singing songs from your roadtrip mix-tape loudly and obnoxiously! :mrgreen: Best. Road. Trip. EVER! :mrgreen:

[Dentrala]

> Everybody: die.

[andrewdoyle8]

> Everybody: die.

in a more dying way

[Languidiir]

I think everybody died, guys.

Just a hunch, really.

[Dentrala]

You're still alive. That's not everyone.

[Gustave]

>Cut off Frank and Joe's heads and bring them with you.

[Reecer6]

> Just drive away to the nearest school.