Post by Lorcan Mephisto Night on Dec 21, 2013 1:34:08 GMT
this world is only gonna break your heart
The basic instruction for this mission seemed quite straightforward: I kept some stranger alive and I got a small wad of paper in return for my service along with a couple of packs of cigs to sweeten the deal. As long as this guy didn't turn out to be a total twat made of the same calibre as my stepbrother I could be done for the day in time for supper and without losing my nerve. That would definitely be the ideal ending scenario. But, if sod's law was as whimsical as usual, I'd probably do best to not get any hopes up. I bet you five quid I get a moron with a gun who thinks he's invincible and, in the worst case, needs protecting more from himself rather than from the Infected.
Seventy-five pounds may be a nice weight to carry in my wallet but it's not an amount I'd be willing to risk my skin for. I figure that I'll just have to see how this turns out and cast aside my (totally comprehensible) concerns for the time being.
Asides from the possibility that my client could be dangerous dimwit with a firearm, there wasn't anything else to note gnawing away at me. It was almost inevitable that we'd encounter a biter or so but no longer did that bother me too much. After seeing them day in, day out, week after month, I'd grown fairly accustomed to seeing them meander aimlessly about. Desensitized to the death wandering our streets.
All I was really carrying on my persona was my weapon, a baseball bat; and a ratty grey backpack because you never know what you might find out there or what someone could have left behind in their haste. I can't say I'm a fan of weapons like this wooden bat though. It feels almost prehistoric to trudge around whacking the rotting predators on their skulls with a club, albeit a nicely polished one. One of these days I'd have something better suited for my style; a crossbow preferrably but I'm not lying when I say I'd settle for a bow like the one Alex has. That undeserving little shit.
I shifted the little weight of the bat's barrel resting on my shoulder as I waited for the man, my hand tightening gently on the grip bound with worn leather. It'd be quite shitty for the client to arrive late for a mission they'd requested, I thought as I glanced at my wrist watch. A year or so into the outbreak and its hand was still faintly ticking although I believe I can safely say it stopped keeping time accurately months ago, not that it matters too much. Exact times don't exist anymore for us, just vague guesses and estimations sadly. Exhaling softly but with the slightest exasperation, I lifted my chin and set my mismatched eyes on the gate. It might be harder to be on time but it wasn't excuse enough yet for it to be admissable when concerning a mission.
I should have perhaps brought my cigarettes to pass the time.
Seventy-five pounds may be a nice weight to carry in my wallet but it's not an amount I'd be willing to risk my skin for. I figure that I'll just have to see how this turns out and cast aside my (totally comprehensible) concerns for the time being.
Asides from the possibility that my client could be dangerous dimwit with a firearm, there wasn't anything else to note gnawing away at me. It was almost inevitable that we'd encounter a biter or so but no longer did that bother me too much. After seeing them day in, day out, week after month, I'd grown fairly accustomed to seeing them meander aimlessly about. Desensitized to the death wandering our streets.
All I was really carrying on my persona was my weapon, a baseball bat; and a ratty grey backpack because you never know what you might find out there or what someone could have left behind in their haste. I can't say I'm a fan of weapons like this wooden bat though. It feels almost prehistoric to trudge around whacking the rotting predators on their skulls with a club, albeit a nicely polished one. One of these days I'd have something better suited for my style; a crossbow preferrably but I'm not lying when I say I'd settle for a bow like the one Alex has. That undeserving little shit.
I shifted the little weight of the bat's barrel resting on my shoulder as I waited for the man, my hand tightening gently on the grip bound with worn leather. It'd be quite shitty for the client to arrive late for a mission they'd requested, I thought as I glanced at my wrist watch. A year or so into the outbreak and its hand was still faintly ticking although I believe I can safely say it stopped keeping time accurately months ago, not that it matters too much. Exact times don't exist anymore for us, just vague guesses and estimations sadly. Exhaling softly but with the slightest exasperation, I lifted my chin and set my mismatched eyes on the gate. It might be harder to be on time but it wasn't excuse enough yet for it to be admissable when concerning a mission.
I should have perhaps brought my cigarettes to pass the time.
carrying: baseball bat(5/6), basic backpack (5/6),
tagged: moderator (hope post is okay?)
- - - made by bluu - - -
