Bad Medicine For a Nasty Temper
It was with extreme caution, that he set foot into the building.
He was very slow. Meticulous. Pressing only enough to test whether the floor would creak beneath his weight, or not. His grip on the metal pipe that was his current weapon only grew. His knuckles slowly bled dry, turning pasty white. He held his breath. Not to refrain from breathing in the awful scent of the zombies, but to keep from being heard too easily. His eyes scanned about in a frenzy. Taking quick survey of the home. Searching for all the places one could be hiding. Waiting to pounce. But he knew, zombies didn't stay still when they sensed their next meal nearby.
The subtle dripping of red fluid falling from the tip of the pipe to the floor, was loud. So very loud in the eerie silence that was now the world. His jaw was clenched, his grip growing even more. Slowly, he made his way towards the staircase. He glanced about him even more, and upwards. Nothing. Yet. Slowly, he made his way up. Holding his breath, waiting for the stairs to creak. To give away his exact position. When they did not, he progressed up the stairs.
Once at the top, he paused and scanned his surroundings again. Slowly, he made his way to each room. Being slow and cautious as ever. He did not see a zombie. And he did find a mess strewn about in each room. But he was used to it that way. Either from flight, a fight, or both. Usually it was both in scenarios such as the one they were living in. What items they tried to take with them in their haste to evacuate, was likely with them. If not gone on the wind in some capacity. As he went through each room, he wasn't just looking for clothing, medicine, or stashes of snacks. He was also looking, for a new weapon.
He was rather fortunate to find the metal pipe in his hand, in the laundry room of his own family's now abandoned home.
But he wanted something a little more, er. Dependable? He wasn't sure if that was the right word. But it would suffice for the time being. He let out a small irritated huff after he'd swept the entire upstairs to find little. A few snacks. Mostly chips and small candies. Nothing that would last. Even if he was doing his best to make his stock stretch. He'd been doing a decent job, even if his alpha appetite was now raging worse than before.
He just had to adjust.
As he clenched his jaw even tighter, he ground his fangs together in growing agitation. With a growl tickling the back of his throat, he turned and made to head back down stairs. Despite his anger building, he was still cautious regardless. All he had to do now, was clear out the main floor. Of both any potential zombies, and food he could take with. And any other supplies he felt would be of use these days.
Once back on the main floor, he slowly made his way through the house as he had before. Slow and cautious. Being very much aware of his surroundings. He also was cautious as he unlocked any locked doors. With his claws now useless in a fight with another wolf, they were certainly useful for lock picking. Thank the gods and nature no one ever thought of their use in such a way until now. And by this point, he was very good at lock picking. Not a future he'd seen for himself. Just as he made to return to the kitchen, he stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. His gaze narrowed. His jaw and fist clenched even tighter. The blood to the areas effectively cut off. His ear flickered, and turned. Picking up the unmistakable shuffle of a zombie.
His eye twitched.
His anger was starting to grow.
With the unnatural growling sound he was growing used to, the thing lurched at him. Without hesitation, Jisung turned with his metal pipe. He raised it, and hit the zombie. After that, things went black for him. They did frequently when he was killing one of them. By the time he finished, he was huffing. His pipe dripping quick and frequent. New fresh blood. Covered in bits and pieces of flesh. On the floor at his feet, a body. Head smashed so far in, it was unrecognizable on any level. Once more, he felt a little bad. That had been a wolf like him, once. A neighbor, maybe. But he had put them from their misery. Releasing what soul may have remained trapped.
But he also didn't like the fact he was using his uncontrollable rage to do it.
After making sure their scuffle hadn't drawn anymore, he brought his backpack around and set it on the couch. It was filled with some clothing, but also plenty of food and snacks. And what medicine he could find. With eager fingers, he gripped the white bottle of his medication. Upon opening it, he nearly pouted. He was almost out. He should have been saving them as best he could. But he'd just been doing as his doctor who'd prescribed them to him, told him to. After every blinding rage where he blacked out like that, he took them. True, he shouldn't be following a now dead doctor's orders. But he also knew he should take them when he needed to.
And they were becoming a frequent need.
But he was almost out of his medication. What was he going to do? He'd kill innocent wolves if he didn't find a way to keep himself relatively calm. Pheromone imbalance was a bitch. With slightly shaking hands, he put the two pills in his hand into his mouth. Swallowing as fast as possible. It wasn't an addiction. He just had a very ugly temper that was next to impossible to control, without his medication. Or some soothing music. And to an extent, the scents of betas and omegas. Once he closed his medication up, he tossed it into his backpack. He quickly sealed it, and went to the kitchen to see what he could snag.
Needless to say, living in a neighborhood just on the edge of the city had its advantages. Without any poachers yet, he'd been sitting on a gold mine of supplies. He didn't leave any scrapes, if he could. After raiding their kitchen, he went into the small storage room they had. And while the freezer held nothing for him, his eyes landed on something that made him grin like the Cheshire cat. He turned, and set his well used and now rather dented pipe down. Effectively abandoning it. He then reached out and felt the cool of the new metal in his almost burning grip. As he hauled it close, he nearly exclaimed in glee.
Yes!
A crowbar!
With his new and now favorite weapon, Jisung turned and grabbed his now stuffed full bag. He looked to the corpse, and only gave it a small apology. And told the soul to finally rest in peace. With that, he turned and left the home. His new crowbar resting on his shoulder. He stood in the sunlight. Feeling his medication slowly work to keep him calm and satiated, his eyes narrowed. His gaze taking in the tall and slightly ruined skyscrapers he could just make out. And the billowing black clouds from fires that would go out.
Eventually.
With a small huff, he started his journey to get there.
//
With zombie movies and shows being reality now, he knew it was absolute insanity to be heading in to Seoul.
Every major city, no matter where in the world they were, was often where the biggest number of zombies were. They would not leave, until the city itself was vacant of the living in any and all manners. So, Jisung was walking into the heart of infestation. But he wasn't afraid. And while his pills were nearly gone, he could count on his blinding rage to see him through. Or keep the bite and pain of dying from really doing much to him.
At the beginning of this, he had been furious about walking home from school. Now, he wasn't so pissed at the prospect. Cars drew too much attention. Besides, he would have to get used to making it all by foot. After all, gas would eventually become extinct. And as he stated previously, cars drew too much attention. From both zombies, and the psychotic living. In the time he was walking, he didn't really happen upon many others. Of either type. Most were fled. And he kept a fair berth from most of the potential zombies to avoid being noticed.
And while he could have stopped and raided every home he passed, he knew he could return to those at a later date. If he remembered or was lucky to return this way, that is. He also needed more bags to haul things around in. His current bag was filled to the brim. And while he could stop and chow down on what food he had, he didn't want to be wasteful in this regard. True, he could ditch some of the medicines. But they'd be worth it for bargaining. Or who knew what they could be used for.
His main mission: find something to replace his almost gone medication.
That was all. He wouldn't stay in Seoul any longer than necessary. And while he could pack more from the stores while he was there, he was just looking for anything to help keep him fairly calm. Otherwise, there would be more blood than was already spilled in the past week. And more, of course. Given this was liable to be a global issue. And it would never stop. It would just become a semi irregular occurrence.
He was already sweating, and he could feel his anger slowly building up once again.
He could have huffed.
Nature really liked to make his life miserable, didn't she?
He was diagnosed with IPED.
Or for the laywolf, Imbalanced Pheromonal Explosive Disorder. He had a very imbalanced pheromone count. It made him angrier than was average for alphas. The littlest things could set him into blinding fits of rage. He was also classified as dangerous. At least, when he was first diagnosed and given his prescription. It was hard to keep him calm. One time, Jihwan had truly pissed him off. Made a comment he more than likely shouldn't have. And Jisung blacked out. He was more beast than hybrid. When his alpha sire held him back from really pummeling Jihwan's face in the first time, he was foaming at the mouth. Alphas that foamed at the mouth were extremely dangerous. Often they were institutionalized. But after his diagnosis, he was given his prescription.
And they helped.
Eh, sort of.
He didn't go into such blinding fits of rage he foamed any more. Though if he didn't find something to keep him fairly calm in leu of his medication, he likely would. And even psychotic wolves would be wary of him. He didn't want to be another monster ravaging the world. They had zombies. It was enough for the time being.
So the blinding sun, his quickly building anger, and his low supply of calming medication were a recipe for disaster.
He needed something.
Anything.
Hence, his arrival in Seoul.
//
He stood at the cusp of the city limit, taking quick survey of his surroundings.
Just as he predicted, almost filled to the brim with zombies. They were stationary. Clearly looking for their next bite. It had been a week. He wasn't sure when they'd start migrating to search for their next potential meal. But he wouldn't take any chances. He had to find as many stores as he could. And find something for his hard to control temper. That was what he was classifying it as, and that's what he'd stick with. A very nasty temper. With his grip on his new crowbar tightening, Jisung set his jaw. And after taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down, he made to enter the infested city of Seoul.
He remained vigilant as he walked. He would not go down without a vicious fight. Perhaps unleashing a furious Jisung would end the apocalypse sooner. A very tempting thought. But Jisung was pretty sure he'd just get bitten before he got too far into the annihilation process. As he surveyed his surroundings, he was taking inventory of both the hordes, and the potential shops he could raid for anything to keep himself fairly calm. With quick thinking, Jisung took to the alleyways.
Narrow and made escape more dicey, but they would keep the zombies from fully noticing him right away. He could do his best to be as silent and stealthy as possible. But he would be heard before long. The walls would echo. So, he threw some caution to the wind. While he wasn't running to make too much nose, he didn't make careful steps as he had in his old neighborhood. Which was kind of nice. His muscles were thanking him for the reprieve. Though he could have growled. He was an alpha, they could more than handle it.
Before long, Jisung came to a store that would be easier to enter. The others were closed in some fashion. So opening them was asking for trouble. He wouldn't start that process until he was certain he had no other alternative. After reaching the store front and seeing it was currently vacant of zombies, he brought the crowbar around. He gripped it even tighter, ready to fight. His jaw clenched, and cautiously he entered.
His foot on the broken glass on the ground, only made small sounds that echoed about him. Reverberating where need be. He scanned the area quickly. There was liable to be zombies here. But so far, he couldn't hear them. Once fully in out of the blinding light of the sun, Jisung made for the medications section. The shelving looked ransacked. As was typical in these cases. What was left would be picked clean before long. He just hoped there was some medicine to help with his temper.
With careful steps, he made his way to the drug part of the store. After looking around the corner and seeing the coast clear, Jisung hurried silently towards them. He scanned each. Some he took knowing they'd come in handy in the future. Along with so many more first aid supplies. But as he looked through drugs that could potentially help him, he'd huff. He threatened to break things as he set them down. He clenched his jaw, trying to remind himself not to get so angry he destroyed the store further.
And draw unwanted attention his way.
With a final huff at finding nothing that could even remotely help him with his temper, Jisung turned to leave. If he had to stay in the neighborhoods he was familiar with most, then so be it. At least others would be safe from him once his temper became uncontrollable. In a final ditch effort, Jisung stopped near the register for checkout. Sometimes, they had medications there as well. With a slightly annoyed huff, he turned to leave. Nothing. He supposed he'd try the other stores. However as he turned, his eyes caught something else. He reached for the cardboard box. Upon inspecting it, he was met with something that would actually do what he was hoping for.
Without hesitation, he grabbed all he could and stuffed them into his bag. Once the last was in, he turned and grabbed all the matches and lighters he could. As his hand began to shake indicating an incoming fit, he pulled out a cigarette. After setting it between his parched lips, he shook one of the lighters. After getting the cigarette lit, he put the lighter away. He then pulled the cigarette from between his lips, and slowly exhaled. As he did, he could feel his anger dissipate on the smoke.
He'd found his new medication.
As unhealthy as it was.
It was better than nothing at all.
Just as he turned to leave, he heard something. And a whimper. Along with the familiar groaning of a zombie, and the shuffling of its feet. With the cigarette in his mouth, Jisung gripped his crowbar tight. And went to investigate.
Just as he reached the end of the aisle where he could see something, he noticed a zombie heading for him as a result. Deciding to check the disturbance once he was finished, he turned to face off with the zombie. The groaning grew as the zombie reached out, ready to sink its claws into him and eat him. With a final huff, Jisung turned and swung the crowbar. Listening to it make a satisfying cracking sound against the zombie's jaw. The zombie stumbled back. Before he could give it a chance to recover, Jisung swung the crowbar down again. Sinking it into the zombie's skull. He repeated the process, even when its body hit the floor.
Once he was certain the zombie was thoroughly dispatched, he turned to the movement behind him. He raised the crowbar, and stopped to see a survivor. His grip on the crowbar grew, even as he stared down at the other. Hands reached up towards him, hoping to ward off his attack. He noticed the other gave a chewing motion. A chewing motion was often from a younger weaker, to a stronger older. Indicating a lack of a threat. This one was telling Jisung, he was no threat. He huffed, taking quick stock of the situation. The other was definitely younger than him. And he saw he had no weapon on him. No bat or other laying nearby. How long had he been hiding here, crouched like that?
Slowly he lowered his crowbar.
A small voice softly pleaded with him, "P-Please."