I found a cabin in a lightly wooded area along the side of a road a ways away from the last town I had been in. Because of the typical things that tend to happen in towns, my torso was beat up with “|” left and I must have been pretty tired as well, because I managed to fall asleep around 5pm and woke up around 2 or 3am.
Hunger was getting to me, so in total darkness, I wandered aimlessly through the surrounding fields and forests looking for tasty things. Relatively unsuccessful in the dark, dawn came and allowed me hunt out some breakfast. I checked my map and noticed I had wandered a fair distance northwest of the cabin, but just a bit farther northwest was an NPC, whom I decided to see if they’d have anything to spare.
He came into my view and I allowed him to approach on his own terms, and upon getting near enough, he shouted something to the effect of “Drop the fuckin’ weapon! Put your hands in the air! Don’t move a mafuckin’ muscle!” I noticed he had a Taurus Pro drawn, the same gun I had just laid on the ground. He began rooting around in my backpack, taking my money–“who needs that in the apocalypse anyway?”–my antibiotics–“never used it much”–some extra guns and corresponding ammo–“I’ve done fine without those”–and my three lighters and pocket knife–“ooh, that’ll set me back a little.” He thanked me and addressed me as “cocksucker” as he walked away, and I remained motionless.
I checked my backpack to see what I had left, and it occurred to me… What if… I looked down at my feet, and my Taurus Pro was still laying there, still loaded. I pursued him cautiously, with great consideration to my wounded torso. I got close enough so that I could fire accurately at him, although that meant he could fire just as accurately at me. I took the chance and hit him, he fired back and hit me. We ran through the woods while exchanging fire a few more times, both of us hitting each other, although I started losing ground due to pain. I kept up with him though by dodging trees and shrubs, fired and hit with my last bullet, and tried to reload only to realize he took the rest of my ammo. In desperation, I threw my meat-cooking stick, then my empty gun at him, and missed both times. I stood there quite dejectedly over my fruitless efforts.
I watched him head south toward a spectacle that I had just now seen and he must not have: another NPC fending off a bear with naught but a pointy stick. The bear tore though the poor, hapless person and, already enraged, charged toward the thief. He was thoroughly distracted by having to aim and fire at the oncoming bear. I whipped out my crowbar, sprinted up to where he was making his stand against the bear, and started wailing on him from behind with such fury that I paid no heed to my own safety. I wanted him dead at whatever the cost.
And so I made him dead. And while my thirst for blood was quenched, the bear’s was not. The bear had taken a few bullets, but so had I, and despite how hard I ran, the gray B was gaining. There was nothing I could use to my advantage in the clearing the chase had taken us to, so, with only “” on my torso left, I turned around and received two gashes while dealing three fatal, euphoric blows to the bear. Blood stains on my ripped clothes were getting darker and larger by the second with only “:” remaining for my torso, and as I prepared to cauterize myself with a heated knife, I remembered with horror that my lighters and pocket knife were still on my thief’s body.
Resignation washed over me and I was ready to die. I was content. Out of curiosity, I took a closer look at the felled beast.
It was carrying a soldering iron.
In a glorious, searing 65 pain, I merrily ambled over to where my thief had died, and proceeded to butcher and mutilate that piece of shit’s body beyond recognition.
