Thread: Survival Instinct (rant at the end)

(I was playing the Parish campaign on normal, and we all made it to the bridge.)

They'd made their way past the infected, the military and CEDA, and were now running across a bridge packed with vehicles and the dead. Matthias, a middle aged writer, clad in jeans, a fur trimmed hoody. Michael, a young military sergeant. A layabout called David and an office worker called Melissa.

Matthias stalked forward, the AK in his hands stuttering as he fired single round after single round at the first few infected that came his way. Sergeant Michael Rivers was crouched over the corpse of the dead tank, firing quick, economical shots with a sniper rifle. David and Melissa packed desert riflese and were adding their own firepower to the storm. As one, they crept forward, making progress over the corpses of the dead.

Matthias looked over his right, seeing the transport helicopter, eyes widening a little. He called out to his teammates to alert them. As one, they moved indecently quickly, beginning to come apart, rushing ahead. Matthias lingered at a stranded military jeep, grabbing one of the pipe bombs and turning to throw it.

He felt a horrific weight on his chest, as if he'd been kicked into the ground by an angry god. Stinging hot breath that reeked of cinnamon and blood, a shrieking in his ears. Hoody. Pouncer. Hunter.

"Hunter on me-" His cry for help broke down into a scream as he felt the hunter gouge his claws into his chest, fists flailing at the hunter's face in a frantic attempt to stop him. Half a second later, the hunter's brain was burst open by a high caliber bullet, limply falling backwards as Matthias beat it off him. Sergeant Rivers was there past the wire, rising from his hunting stance and turning to move.

Matthias threw the pipe bomb before grabbing the last, hearing the horde's nagging screams grow a little distant. He took out a tub of painkillers, shaking a generous dose into his hand before gulping them down, teeth cracking the sugar coated casings. The bitter taste woke him up as the painkillers did their work, feeling his head swimming as he continued to run.

Cohesion had broken down. It was little more than a desperate run. Another pipe flew into the air, sending the infected scurrying after it as they passed a large military truck with a machine gun on it. Matthias had for a split second considered commandeering it, but he doubted he'd make it off the turret for his own escape.

They heard a bestial roar, a chunk of concrete sailing through the air and crashing off the side of the raised road. Another tank. Matthias leapt down onto the roof of a bus, tracing the gun towards the source of the noise. Michael was navigating his way past an array of fencing, favouring his left leg. The other two people he'd come with were safely within the chopper's range. Matthias started firing at the Tank, the stinging bullets finally getting the monster's attention. It growled, it's massive paws pulling it onto the truck.

By the time it was on top of the bus, Matthias had leapt from it and was racing past the fencing, turning occasionally to harrass the tank with the Kalashnikov. He leapt onto the helipad and turned once more, cursing to himself. The tank had switched targets, and was bearing down on Sergeant Rivers. Matthias kept firing as Rivers stumbled upon the white ramp, as the Tank swept it's arms down in a brutal arc. Sergeant Rivers collapsed, crying out in pain and rage.

"Come on out and help me guys!!" Matthias yelled at the other two survivors. To his credit, David emerged and started blasting into the Tank's face with the SCAR before he was knocked flying, two or three feet away from the edge of the helipad, dangerously close. The Tank suddenly succumbed to the crossfire, stumbling, fumbling, falling backwards off the ramp. Matthias ran over to the sergeant, firing until he ran dry, urging the other members to cover him and get Rivers up.

The frying pan no longer clearly resembled a frying pan. It had been repaired and customised frequently, now looking like some multitool, or a crude axe. He swung it down on the first infected that came at him, glad that Rivers had fallen in such a convenient spot; the white ramp only had two clear exits where they could get attacked. He heard the metallic snap of a magnum being fired, looking over his shoulder. Rivers was firing past him, shooting any zombies that came from behind. The other two survivors were hiding in the back of the chopper.

Matthias felt indignation flare as he swept the pan around, caving in an infected skull before resolving he'd have to get Rivers up himself. He bent down, grabbing Rivers free arm, looping it over his shoulder. He paused to deliver another blow to an infected, again ruining an undead face before he resumed carrying Rivers. Rivers muttered a few hoarse words of grattitude, still firing the magnum.

"Cover us!" No help came. Nevertheless, Matthias and sergeant Rivers made it onto the chopper, regarding their own comrades with new eyes as the chopper pulled away.

-Rorhag has left the game.

(RANT TIME.

Not a particularly justified or angry rant, but a rant none the less. All of that happened, particularly the part where someone got incapped just outside the helicopter. Really, just outside on the little white ramp.

It was on normal, and the pair of 'em were in good health! They surely could have risked coming out and beaning a few zombies whilst I got poor old sgt up? They didn't even stand on the ramp and fire outside; they hid in the very back of the heli, where you can't see nothin'. They recieved the bridge burner achievement, so they're forgiven. Judgement comes with practice, I suppose...)

nice story

nubcaiks dont help