Post by Blake Abbot on Apr 12, 2009 2:54:23 GMT
Blake had to take a chance. He sure as fuck wasn't making any progress here, sitting idle in what appeared to be an office. A lot of commotion he heard the night of the SWAT team massacre.
Why the fuck me, and now?
Shots had been heard, he counted at least 7. Drawing his cig to his lips he killed it off, flicking the cherry into darkness. It was about the seventh one he smoked since arriving, leaving him with less than half a pack.I'm sure as hell gonna let the cancer kill me for these bastards.
So that left two points, either there was humans and those diseased things, or those decomposing bodies enjoyed shooting each other, and possibly the humans? He wanted to go with the first point. He wanted to know how the fuck, where the fuck, and who the fuck. Blake's second thought came to just trying to leave, but he didn't even know where he was.
Gotta find the warm-blood. Most logical idea he had. Blake stood slowly, his body feeling achy from his drop upon the cement earlier.He kept his Deagle up, and opened the door he leaned upon.
Now where had those shots rang out? He made his way toward the right, away from the area he had seen those, things. Turning on the first street he came to, he circled around, nothing. His legs carried him quickly, until he heard the scream. It was high and shrill, but not human. No way was he gonna stand vulnerable in the middle of the street. He tucked into the nearest building, which appeared to be a shop of sorts.
All the items were construed and in disarrangement, but those were few. Lighting a match, he surveyed the area. Moving toward the counter, he shot a glance behind. A baseball bat lay on the floor, next to a corpse. The smell made Blake's face draw back and cough. But the smell didn't match the appearance. Sure, he wasn't no expert in autopsy, but besides the skin turning a green-ish yellow and the curled lips revealing teeth, it looked pretty intact.
His gun was on the dead as he reached carefully down for the bat. His fingers grasped darkness. The sound of tongue on lips rang to his ear, than a break in the darkness. His Desert Eagle exploded, point blank range on the mother fucker on the ground, blowing it's head clear in two. Blake breathed in quickly and grabbed for the bat, retreating to the wall opposite of the door which he came. Letting the bat fall he reached in his pocket, drew his smokes, and let one live.
Blake stood there contemplating for a minute, walked over, and let another barrel explode into the dead fucker.
"Don't know if you were the ass-wipe that jumped in my SWAT car, but that's karma, asshole."
Why the fuck me, and now?
Shots had been heard, he counted at least 7. Drawing his cig to his lips he killed it off, flicking the cherry into darkness. It was about the seventh one he smoked since arriving, leaving him with less than half a pack.I'm sure as hell gonna let the cancer kill me for these bastards.
So that left two points, either there was humans and those diseased things, or those decomposing bodies enjoyed shooting each other, and possibly the humans? He wanted to go with the first point. He wanted to know how the fuck, where the fuck, and who the fuck. Blake's second thought came to just trying to leave, but he didn't even know where he was.
Gotta find the warm-blood. Most logical idea he had. Blake stood slowly, his body feeling achy from his drop upon the cement earlier.He kept his Deagle up, and opened the door he leaned upon.
Now where had those shots rang out? He made his way toward the right, away from the area he had seen those, things. Turning on the first street he came to, he circled around, nothing. His legs carried him quickly, until he heard the scream. It was high and shrill, but not human. No way was he gonna stand vulnerable in the middle of the street. He tucked into the nearest building, which appeared to be a shop of sorts.
All the items were construed and in disarrangement, but those were few. Lighting a match, he surveyed the area. Moving toward the counter, he shot a glance behind. A baseball bat lay on the floor, next to a corpse. The smell made Blake's face draw back and cough. But the smell didn't match the appearance. Sure, he wasn't no expert in autopsy, but besides the skin turning a green-ish yellow and the curled lips revealing teeth, it looked pretty intact.
His gun was on the dead as he reached carefully down for the bat. His fingers grasped darkness. The sound of tongue on lips rang to his ear, than a break in the darkness. His Desert Eagle exploded, point blank range on the mother fucker on the ground, blowing it's head clear in two. Blake breathed in quickly and grabbed for the bat, retreating to the wall opposite of the door which he came. Letting the bat fall he reached in his pocket, drew his smokes, and let one live.
Blake stood there contemplating for a minute, walked over, and let another barrel explode into the dead fucker.
"Don't know if you were the ass-wipe that jumped in my SWAT car, but that's karma, asshole."
