#bromptoncxcktail

[mykcnos]

@bromptoncxcktail

“What the hell is scurvy?”

[hungercfthepine-blog]

I love you for your wit not the  shit  you spout in your dreams.

@bromptoncxcktail

[mykcnos]

@bromptoncxcktail

Stomach growling, you’re digging through garbage to find something to eat. You have to be nimble && quick, ready to dart at a moment’s notice, but currently, you’re face-deep in a moldy loaf of bread, too busy devouring rotten sustenance to be totally aware of anything around you. 

One of the main reasons you’re so at ease is because the garbage you’re raiding is on very secluded property, so the chances of discovery are very low.

[hungercfthepine-blog]

Awake O’ Sleeper

@bromptoncxcktail

Everything’s a haze.

You take your aim, body low to the ground. You’ve been shot, sliced-- possibly burned, but you aren’t so sure. Eyes on the last woman standing, a heavy pipe pistol. She’s looking for you. She saw you mow down her allies, but she hasn’t seen you.

And she never will.

She hears you reload, she sees you-- son of a bitch-- and she takes aim.

You slam your face back into the ground, protected by your helmet.

She fires, and you can feel the fucking bullet hit, jarring your neck with the force. She thinks you might be dead, out of the corner of the visor  you see her turn away. Idiot. You take your aim again, gazing through your scope only to ensure you have a clear shot.

Bang.

How’s it feel, you filthy bitch?

She was the last-- she had to be. There were thirty-two, no more, no less.

You reload.

Thirty isn’t a lot of people, considering the surplus of your own people. Getting up is another war to be won, your legs threatening to give under your weight, but you persevere. You stagger and your body threatens to fail you, but you will NOT allow it as you lean up against the wall of a metal structure-- you’re pretty sure it’s the butchers’ shack. Edging around the corner, you’re relieved to see bodies littering the ground-- only a couple seem to be yours.

It isn’t until you’ve come out of your hiding spot do you see the last-- the ACTUAL last, who quickly makes use of your mistake to gun you down. The round pierces your belly, but nothing else-- but, unfortunately, it’s enough to bring you back down.

But still not enough to take you out.

You fire your loaded round into him-- hits his chest, from what you can tell. You wait until you hear him drop before you lean up again, groaning as you survey the area again. Yes, everyone’s dead now.

Again, you fight to get to your feet, using your rifle to support yourself as you shove your helmet off without too much care so that you can breathe again. You make a beeline for the clinic-- if the Doctor isn’t there, you’ll patch your damn self up. As you bleed, your strength leaves, and by the time you use your key to unlock it, you’re hitting the floor, wheezing from the pain. “Doc--” You hiss, trying so hard to SPEAK despite the fact that you can’t breathe with how winded you are. “-- Doc, you gotta.... You gotta see if everyone’s alright.... I can’t get up--”