Chapter One: You Killed A Fucking Priest!
My name is Jane Austin. My boyfriend wass a column writer for the Daily World, a local newspaper. I lived in the city center which according to the media was the source of a highly viral virus that was going to desecrate America. I used to believe in sanity. Now, I am not so sure.
I was gripping the emergency Glock for the 7/11 I worked at. I was gripping the gun handle tighter then I should have. I was walking in the middle of the road (I know, it was stupid. I just thought no cars really passed during 3 in the morning.) looking for the source of the gunshot. I stumbled over bags tossed aside by uncaring shoppers. The old tarmac felt solid beneath my feet. The street was dirty, vomit on the ground and sometimes blood. This was the city I grew up in. A town of scumbags and rotten police. I grew up without drugs, since I didn't want to end up sucking cock for pennies to buy crack.
Sadly, this mattered for fuck when I ended up in this situation.
Even for 3, it was still oddly quiet. Another shot rang out, this time somewhere near the church.
This wasn't a true church. The priest sold crack behind the 7/11 I worked at. Not only that, but he was also part of the church's "Ignore The Pedos And They'll Probably Stop" campaign, since he had made approximately 76 boys and girls give cock to him over 10 years of being a priest. I fucking hated the bastard. He was a shit, pure and simple. I know this because he told me. Happily.
The church was dark. Too dark. I had to use my cheap-o flashlight to illuminate the place. Surprisingly powerful, but it only punctuated the fact that the church was too dark to be OK. Churches were lit up at night, hell, the entire city was lit up at night. This darkness belonged at the edges of suburban areas, the in-fill, not the city. Too dark. Too quiet apart from screaming and gunshots. Even for this city called the crime capital of the 21st century, it's still pretty bad.
This red-head walks in. She had a kitchen knife in her hands, and it was stained with recent blood. The Redhead looked about 16 or 15. She was pale, and looked like she has had a few scratches. No, not scratches. Bite marks. She looked around the place, searching for an invisible enemy. Her name was Shayna.
"Are you OK?" I asked like an idiot.
"No! First I get grounded by my parents for not coming back by 11 at my own damn birthday party, then I have to climb out the window because my dad is fucking pounding at the door yelling at the top of his lungs! Then, I keep getting attacked by crackheads vomiting blood! Can you fucking believe this? By the way, my name is Shayna." Shayna said. I realized she was a valley girl.
Christ, I thought,
I have to babysit an overgrown five year old.A forlorn moan escaped from the door. Who else but the priest of this parish, in a vomit stained t-shirt and jeans. He looked rotting, like a corpse left out to dry on a gallows. Some of his flesh had peeled off in places, exposing the dull red of his muscles. He smelt like rot.
He stumbled forward and grabbed Shayna with strong hands. She screamed, and chopped off his hand. He didn't seem to notice. He continued. She stabbed him in the heart, what should be a killing blow. Nothing but foggy eyes on his face. She stabbed him in the head. He fell over, and died.
"
You just killed a fucking priest!" I shouted.
*
Chapter Two: Wherein Respect For The Dead Is Desecrated.
While Shayna killed the undead with her kitchen knife, I hung back and thought. Everything had turned upside down. I briefly remembered a snippet from Fresh Prince of Bel-air. The theme song or something. Anyway, everything had changed. I had played the game peacefully with Life, and then Life stamped on the board and shouted "YOU KNOW FUCKING WHAT?! WE ARE PLAYING SCRABBLE NOW! YOU DON'T LIKE SCRABBLE? FUCK YOU!" into my face. A hilarious image for such a life changing event.
While wandering, I found a map on the side of the road. It was a military style map of the city. Certain buildings were marked DISSENTER OUTPOSTS and others SWAT OUTPOSTS. Others yet were marked CIVVIE OUTPOSTS. The Dissenters were marked Red, SWATs marked Blue and civvies white. Something big was going on, I knew it.
When I asked Shayna about it, she made a smug remark about her internet buddies "Being all over that conspiracy shit" and said "You should have that checked out, idiot."
I already knew I would love to see her die. Sighing, I marked my 7/11 on the map.
I peeked into a door leading to Brett's Warehouse. It seemed to be looted, long gone. A single corpse made me gag. I walked in, cringing at the stench.
I stared at the corpse, feeling horrible as I reached down and searched it's pockets.
Author
Topic: Let's Play Survival Crisis Z. Roger Arrives! (Read 3683 times)