There it is. The gorram book that I’ve been needing for the last six months, in the window of the high security electronics store. The corpse of another survivor lies next to the locked front door.
Pulling out my hacksaw, I start sawing through the metal bars on the window. I haven’t cleared this area, focusing more on finding loot and avoiding the half dozen riot control bots that patrol these streets. The noise keeps drawing the attention of zeds, so I try moving around to the back, only to be attacked by some unholy abomination from under the ground. I whip out my Glock from my ankle sheath and fire at the thing as I retreat.
The noise draws the attention of not one, but two shocker brutes and a zombie hulk. For some reason, though, they start fighting among themselves as I dive into the shadows. The hulking brute punches one of the shocker zombies through the wall of the electronics store that I’ve been trying to break into for the last four hours.
My luck runs out as the destruction summons another eyebot. The hulk chases the shocker into the store, and suddenly my treasure trove becomes a battefield I want no part of.
…At least, not in the gear I’m currently wearing.
I head home and craft a whole new set of armor for myself. My tailoring skill gets up to 7, unlocking a brand new set of gear, so I craft that too, and give the previously top-tier gear to one of the half dozen survivors that are loitering in my bunker.
Armed to the teeth, covered from head to to in Kevlar, I hop in the kit-bashed cop car I’ve nicknamed Chelsea, and drive into town in broad daylight. I park two blocks from my target and walk down the middle of the street, defiant, ready to take on all comers.
The first zed that pops its head up is some kind of new acid zombie. I’ve never seen its like before. Never even heard mention of it from the other survivors (ie, literally never seen this thing in all my playthroughs – though I’m also an entire season past my previous record, so not surprising).
Five minutes later, my legs have nearly melted off, my left arm is crippled, and the only thing that saved my beautiful face is sheer luck.
I limp back home. “Ready for anything,” I mutter. “Better visibility in daylight,” I curse.